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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months ago

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Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way. I think leaving it open-ended like this suits the theme of the saga and Miss Raven's struggle to find her freedom.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

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wonusite · 1 year ago

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Sweet Dreams

❝ You dream about a beautiful man nearly every time you fall asleep. After getting to know him and everything about him, you see him outside of your dreams—in a museum painting. ❞

PAIRING: joshua hong x female reader

GENRE: vampire au, reincarnation au, angst, smut

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: vampire!joshua, human!reader, lucid dreaming, reincarnation, so much yearning, mentions of death, joshua is a brooding mess, protective!minghao, unprotected sex, blood play, biting, creampies

A/N: this has been long overdue, and i hope you guys like it! loosely based off this ask. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Fate.

A simple word that holds more power and venerability than any ruler of the middle kingdom. It’s a mystifying concept that follows no rules and simply is; something that can actively be changed but not avoided. Joshua learns this late in his long life—a derailment of his own making. The lesson comes to him in the form of a fiery witch running from her death.

As a creature that’s lived in solitude since he became immortal, it’s not in his nature to be helpful. It’s why he has no interest in saving the witch from the demons that are hunting her. This, however, doesn’t stop the insolent little witch from forcing herself into his sanctuary. He fights her on it, baring his fangs while saying the most despicable and bone chilling threats to her. The young witch isn’t fazed and makes it clear that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

In the end, he concedes. Not because she’s powerful enough to make him obey her, but because she reminds Joshua of himself when he was desperately clinging to his own survival. Perhaps that’s the reason he becomes inexplicably drawn to her. Josh almost feels like she’s bewitched him, and the most unusual part of it all is that he doesn’t care even if that is the case.

He seeks her out after he helps her despite knowing that it can’t possibly end well. Their kinds don’t mix, and it’s doubtful that two abominations can share something as sacred and beautiful as love. Fate has never allowed it before, but Joshua is foolish enough to try to defy destiny.

Courting the witch isn’t easy. Then again, anything that involves her never is. The witch is a firm believer in being reverent to the same fates that gave her the powers she wields while Joshua couldn’t care less about the fates that turned him into a monstrosity. This creates a disconnect between them because the witch is firm that she could never love such an irreverent creature.

This hardly deters him. Joshua is relentless in his chase, and after the longest decade of his life he’s finally able to win the witch’s thorn-covered heart.

And so, even just for the briefest moments, they’re allowed to create their own destiny with each other.

Loving someone, loving her, is the most addicting feeling he’s ever felt. The love he feels for the witch surpasses even that of his first love who he was convinced he’d never forget. Being with her is the happiest Joshua has ever felt, and he naively thinks it’ll last forever.

This all comes to an abrupt end when the witch finds out that it’s his fault the demons eradicated her coven. Yes, it was before Josh had met and fell in love with her, but that doesn’t change anything. It was still him who had put her on the brink of death and gotten her family and friends killed. Twisted as it is, he doesn’t regret his actions nor would he change them if he had an opportunity to do so.

And so, the love of his life becomes his most dangerous enemy.

It hurts. More so because she discards him and his love like they never meant anything in the first place.

The witch is cutthroat in her hatred. It’s not long before the children of the moon find his sanctuary and nearly send him to meet his maker. Her hexes nearly incapacitate him, but even all her acts of revenge aren’t enough to satiate the vengeance she seeks.

Slowly, the love they grew to feel for each other becomes wilted and corroded beyond repair.

Years pass, yet the feud never dies. Joshua is almost impressed by her determination to destroy him the same way he almost destroyed her.

Hatred has replaced love by now, and it’s almost impossible for him to believe he ever loved the witch in the first place. A decade passes, then two and three until eventually an entire century goes by with the two of them feeling this burning loathing. Their detrimental feelings and behavior push both Joshua and the witch to make a vow never to love again.

But fate has other plans for them.

As time goes on, they find themselves backed into a corner—together this time. Death has returned for them in the form of faes. Neither one of them is willing to relent and give up their land to the insignificant creatures who claimed to have it first. And so, they help each other one last time.

Fighting against inferior creatures together has always been like dancing for them, and it’s easy to fall back into a love language they created. By the end of their battle, they come out victorious. The two are grateful to each other even if neither of them say it outright.

Joshua feels a familiar ache in his chest the longer he stares at the witch who was once his. Feelings he thought were long gone rush back to the surface as if they’d never left in the first place. Perhaps they never really had. He’s never been one to go against his own desires, and so he reaches out for her, craving her skin against his if even for the last time.

Their embrace is sweet, but the kiss that follows is full of passion, longing, and ardent love that seems to have been buried deep within them the entire time. It’s almost like a dream to have her like this again, and now Joshua doesn’t plan on letting her go.

But once again, fate doesn’t leave him with a choice.

Humans grow more wary of the creatures they share the world with. Many go into hiding, but Joshua makes the mistake of thinking he can blend in with his prey. A hunter of his kind has found him, and as a vampire with no coven, he’s left vulnerable. It’s even worse when the hunter and his clan discover his lover and what she is.

It was a peaceful night when they’re attacked. Escaping death doesn’t seem possible, but as always the witch assured him that she has a solution. His love makes him a promise as she casts a spell that will hide his presence. A promise that she’ll find him and reunite with him in every lifetime. He’s confused by her words, but has no time to question her as the spell takes over and dulls his senses until he’s unconscious.

If he’d known his love was going to sacrifice herself for him, he would’ve taken a million wooden stakes to the heart rather than continue existing in a world without her.

Centuries later, he’s never been able to forget her or what her presence had done to his life. Joshua is left alone in a world that now seems intolerable without his witch in it. Cruel irony reminds him that the solitude he once basked in feels suffocating now. All he’s left with is a gaping hole that constantly reminds him of how he lost his one true love.

Joshua eventually joins a coven, but they offer little comfort. At this point in his immortality, he only sticks around them out of habit. It’s not that he isn’t fond of them—he is, most of the time—but it’s not the same as having his lover by his side.

After going through the eternal test of time, Joshua still yearns for her; craves her as much as the blood that he feeds on. It’s the reason he’s spent the last two centuries looking for the one person who filled his heart with so much love.

And he’ll stop at nothing until he finds her.

The first time it happened, you thought it was nothing more than a dream.

Which it was, but it felt different—it was different. Never in your life had you dreamt such a beautiful dream that felt so real and almost indistinguishable from reality. The most memorable part was the euphoric feeling it evoked from you.

Well, that’s not exactly right. There was one single element that had left you unable to forget the lucid dream. One that you believed was responsible for your subconscious forcing you into those dreams every time you fell asleep.

Unhealthy as it is, you chase the lucid dreams. Every night, you look forward to your sleep with the hope of once again being wrapped up in one of those lovely dreams. Any free time you’re left with is used to sleep just so you can escape to the ethereal dreamland your mind has created.

The dreams have ensnared you and make you crave and long for them as if you’re under some sort of spell. It’s become a bit of an obsession because even when you’re with other people it’s all you can think about. And yet you’re unable to let go of your obsession in spite of how unhealthy and irrational it is.

The scene in front of you is familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen the old castle that looks like it’s straight out of the medieval times. You step forward, feet moving on their own as you walk past the large doors. Servants run along with their head down, and you’re not sure why it makes you feel satisfied that they seem to be terrified of you.

“Y/N.”

You turn at the sound of a mellifluous voice. Once again, it’s the beautiful man who’d been visiting you in your dreams.

“Shua.” You call affectionately, running to him as he opens his arms for you.

As always, he catches you easily. You wrap your arms around his neck, softly giggling into his hair as he spins you around. “Where have you brought me this time?”

“This is where I live.” He tells you as you pull back to look at his face. “Do you like it?”

You look around again. The feeling of familiarity doesn’t go away as you inspect your surroundings. Joshua gently puts you down, but doesn’t release you from his embrace. His stare is gentle and observant, curious on how you’re going to react to what he’s showing you.

“This is really where you live?” You wonder in awe. “Are you a king or something?”

His pretty laugh makes you look back at him. Your heart leaps up into your throat when you see the fond look he’s giving you. It’s been months of being on the receiving end of his affectionate stare, but you’re not sure you’ll stop feeling bashful when you catch it.

“I am not. Does that disappoint you?”

You shake your head. “No, but it does make me wonder how old you actually are. Older than Dracula?”

All Josh can do is laugh and laugh. You’re not sure what he finds so funny, but as usual you do not get the chance to ask. The familiar pressure on your bones gets more intense with every passing moment. It’s how you know you’re on the verge of being pulled out of your blissful dream. You can’t even open your mouth to say goodbye because you’re abruptly yanked out of your subconscious before you can.

It’s always hard to keep going on with your day normally after you dream about Josh. You can never really function afterwards, not how you usually would.

“—even listening to me?”

You snap back into reality, realizing that Jeonghan has been talking to you this entire time. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and gives you an accusatory look that confuses you. His eyebrows are raised as he leans forward. “I was saying that Soonyoung thinks you’re fucking someone.”

“What?” You splutter, suddenly feeling extremely flustered.

“I told him there’s no way that’s true because lately you’ve been holed up in your room sleeping every chance you get!”

You manage to not choke on your spit and give your friend an indignant glare. “Both you and Soonyoung need to worry about your own sex lives.”

The gleam in his eye changes, and you realize too late that you’ve made a mistake. “Wait. Are you actually fucking someone?”

“You know I’m not!” You hiss, starting to feel embarrassed.

Clearly, Jeonghan doesn’t believe you. He stares at you before something seems to click in his head. Your nervous stare and angry pout are telltale signs of deceit. His jaw drops a bit as he lets out an affronted squeak.

“No way. That’s why you’ve been in such a good mood lately!” He says with a conniving laugh. “And here I thought that night cream I recommended is the reason you’ve been glowing lately.”

Maybe the most embarrassing part about this is not that he’s trying to discuss your sex life (or lack thereof) at the local cafe and not wine night, but the fact that this alleged glow has nothing to do with a man—not a real one, anyway. But Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that.

“You would’ve heard me if that was true.”

Jeonghan’s ears slowly turn red as he pouts in disappointment. He really hoped you’d managed to break your three month long dry spell, and he also wanted to be right. It’s almost suspicious that he isn’t because he usually is. You’ve been a little too smiley lately like you have some hidden lover.

“If you say so.” He mutters bitterly.

This would be the point where you’d usually panic since Yoon Jeonghan can never be one to let anything go if he feels like he’s right. You feel at ease though because there’s no way he could ever find out about Josh.

“By the way… you’re definitely going to be gone this weekend, right?” Jeonghan suddenly asks in a tone you recognize all too well.

You try not to gag as you nod. “Yes. I already bought the tickets and Hao is in the city setting up his apartment so I have a place to stay while I’m up there.”

Jeonghan smirks victoriously. He nods, not even trying to hide how pleased he is as he pulls out his phone. Suddenly, he’s very grateful that you and Minghao have such an interest in history. When he’s done sending a message you would definitely call sleazy, he just laughs at your disgusted expression.

“Don’t give me that look. Not all of us have to practice celibacy like you.”

“Whatever.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep it in your room this time. I better not find any stains on the couch when I get back.”

He only laughs at you with a promise that you can’t think of as sincere.

“Are you playing with your food again?”

The voice sounds distant as Joshua is gently pulled out of the trance he’s used to being in now. He slow blinks, remnants of the beautiful vision still clear in his mind. Junhui’s words don’t bother him like they usually would’ve. Not when he finally feels alive for the first time in centuries. Still, he can’t control the annoyance he feels that his brother thinks this subject is something that can be joked and talked about lightly.

“You and Soonyoung are the only heathens who play with food.” Joshua’s tone is clipped, bordering on that murderous one that pops up any time someone mentions his latest obsession.

Junhui only laughs, head cocking to the side in interest. “I’m curious. Did you really find the grand love of your life, or is it just some girl who happens to look like her?”

“His obsession wouldn’t be so profound if it was a girl who merely looks like her.” Comes a voice from the top of the grand stairs.

They look up to see the oldest and the youngest of the coven coming down the stairs. Soonyoung doesn’t bother to hide his amused smirk while Minghao wears the same impassive expression he had when Joshua met him. His lack of reaction is the reason why he’s often the voice of reason in the coven, but his callous way of speaking never offers any comfort.

“Our brother is looking for the soul of his beloved—a soul that cannot be replicated nor imitated. Even if he’s to find her doppelgänger, he will not love her completely or sincerely.” Minghao says he takes a seat near the burning fireplace.

Soonyoung sits on the other end of the couch before he raises an eyebrow at Josh. He lets out a mocking snicker. “It’s giving stalker.”

As the most recently turned, their youngest has developed a proclivity for imitating the current slang. Joshua understands it (to an extent), but finds it folly. Then again, he doesn’t think its ridiculous when that person uses it.

But of course, that’s different.

Josh doesn’t bother to sneer at him for his snide remark. As a creature who hasn’t found a mate in the entire century he’s been alive, Soonyoung couldn’t possibly understand the ardent need to be close to the person chosen to be your mate.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Junhui points out, sounding almost bored now. “Have you found her? Your one true love?”

When Joshua smiles, it’s so pretty that even Minghao can’t help but stare. “I have.”

“Are you going to turn her?”

Soonyoung’s question hangs in the air, and as much as Josh wants to hiss at him to mind his own business, he sees how Junhui and Minghao are also looking at him. Turning someone isn’t as simple as it used to be—if it could ever be considered simple. Now there were too many factors and too many risks involved.

“I have to find her physically before I can think of anything else.” Josh sighs deeply.

“Brother.” Minghao says in his serious tone. “Think of your next moves carefully. You’ve found her reincarnation, but she doesn’t remember you, and there’s no guarantee that she ever will.”

For once, the younger ones don’t say anything teasing or goading. They look at him just as solemnly as Minghao is. It’s a harsh truth that Joshua had acknowledged long ago but not fully accepted.

His love doesn’t remember him. This is a fact.

But even if she never does, he doesn’t plan on letting her go. Not again.

“You’re unhappy.”

The observation is astute, and even though it’s been months, you can’t get used to how easily Josh can see through you. It shouldn’t have the affect on you that it does, but there’s just something about having someone know you so well that makes your heart jerk with emotion. Part of you feels insane for feeling this way because this man is just a figment of your imagination created by your subconscious.

Josh smiles placatingly when he sees your pout. He’s sure that you’re not aware that you do it, which makes it all the more cute in his eyes.

“Work hasn’t been great lately.” You say honestly, only hesitating a moment before telling him the rest. “Also... Jeonghan set me up on this blind date. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, but I haven’t been on a date in forever.”

You’re not sure why it feels like you’re saying something absolutely heart wrenching. If you had to describe it, it’s almost like you’re admitting to cheating or something similar which is fucking insane since Josh isn’t your boyfriend—or real, for that matter.

There’s a shift in his kind eyes. A cold rage settles in the depths of his dark irises that makes you feel like you’re staring an evil creature in the face. Before you can ponder it, the expression is is gone so fast that you almost think you imagined it.

“You don’t have to go.” He finally says, and you wonder if he actually sounds like he’s pleading or if it’s just something your subconscious is hoping for.

A teasing smile stretches your lips. “Yeah? Should I just stay here with you, instead?”

Joshua wishes he could say yes. Stay with me and never leave my side again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, and even though he’s dying to say them, he knows he shouldn’t. In this lifetime and your previous one, he had to be patient when courting you. Clearly some things never changed.

“Don’t look so excited.” You joke when you see him hesitate.

His laugh is pretty and soft. You’re not sure why the sound comforts you in a way that almost feels familiar. As if that’s the one sound that could take away any horrible feeling you’ve ever experienced. The longer you listen to the dulcet sound, the more it makes your heart ache for a reason you can’t understand. It’s a type of yearning that feels deeper than the normalcy of seeing him every day.

“I wish you weren’t a dream.”

Joshua’s laughter dies down and the smile slips off his face at hearing your words. You almost regret saying them, but it’s too late to take them back. Not that you would since they’re the absolute truth. He knows you better than most of your friends do, and it’s hard not to feel this intense affection for him. The crazy part of it all is that you can literally feel how much he adores you too.

“Maybe you’re my dream.” Josh’s smile is full of longing and sadness.

Before you can respond, you’re abruptly pulled out of the dream by the blaring sound of a car horn. You startle awake, bleary vision belatedly registering that you’re now in the city. Minghao looks at you with wide eyes, a startled laugh slipping past his lips. “Are you okay?”

You nod wearily, taking a moment to shake of the intense emotions your dream had left you with. It’s clear that Minghao doesn’t fully believe you, but he doesn’t press the subject and keeps driving toward museum.

Being at the museum doesn’t help you as much as you hope. The artifacts and paintings are intriguing, but your irritating mind only keeps associating everything with Josh. He’s always talked like someone from another time so looking at ancient items and old paintings naturally makes you keep picturing his face.

“For someone who kept begging me to clear my schedule so we could come here, you don’t look very excited.”

You give Minghao a guilty look because you know how busy he is. “Sorry. I’m just kind of distracted.”

“And why is that?”

It’s not that you don’t trust Minghao. You do, but you can’t tell him that you’re infatuated with a man who shows up in your dreams.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your friend raises an eyebrow at you. As usual Minghao sees right through your half-truth. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

“Not exactly.” You say. The resolve to keep your secret quickly dissolved when Minghao gives you a look that somehow always compels you to do what he wants. “I can’t sleep because I keep dreaming of a guy.”

“A guy?” Minghao raises his eyebrows in a way that reminds you of Jeonghan.

“It’s not like that.” You say, skin heating up in embarrassment. “I don’t even think he’s real. He just keeps appearing in my dreams, and I feel crazy every time I think about him.”

Minghao doesn’t laugh or tell you you’re crazy. Instead he looks at you with a sharpened gaze that looks like it holds a certain amount of concern and something else you can’t discern. If his heart was capable of beating, his heart rate would’ve spiked at the information you told him.

You’re vague in your description (which was impressive because his gift is powerful enough to get people to admit to murder), but it’s enough to have his mind reeling. Is it possible that you’d fallen into the clutches of an incubus? Minghao isn’t overly fond of humans, but you’re different. He can’t let you become the prey of such a lascivious creature.

“I have some tea that’s good for sleeping." He says as normally as he can as you two walk along the museum. “When we get back to my place, I’ll give you some.”

You nod silently, not entirely sure if his teas will help with your lucid dreaming. Even if they did, it’s not like you want to stop seeing this imaginary man that makes you feel more loved than you ever had. But there’s a part of you that knows you can’t keep sleeping with the hopes of seeing Josh again.

The inner turmoil you’re feeling is interrupted when Minghao pulls you to the section he’d been dying to see from the beginning. His laughter immediately makes you come back down to earth. It’s not like your friend never laughs, but this one is full and louder than you’ve ever heard it. You’re not sure why he finds the painting of a duke so funny. Just as you’re about to question him, you see the painting and feel the world around you come to a stop.

It feels like your heart stopped beating and dropped down to your stomach. Your usually quiet mind is reeling, trying to fathom what you’re seeing. There’s no way.

The painting is of a man, but not just any man.

It’s Josh.

Your Josh.

You keep blinking as if another face will appear in the very old painting. If you felt crazy before, the feeling worsens the longer you stare at the oils that form the face you’ve come to memorize and love. The description of the painting says the man born in 1714 was a famous duke notorious for starting a rebellion against the crown.

“So this is the only painting of the Hong Jisoo?” Your friend cackles, but you’re not sure what’s so funny.

It’s good that he’s so distracted by whatever it is he finds so funny because you’re about two seconds away from breaking down. How is it possible that some duke from centuries ago was appearing in your dreams? Is it possible that you’d somehow seen his image before and projected it into your dreams? You don’t remember even reading about him, and it only makes you feel more crazy.

Back at Minghao’s luxury apartment, you can’t stop thinking about that stupid painting of Hong Jisoo. How is it possible for you to dream about a person that was alive centuries ago? It doesn’t make sense, and the more you think about it, the more freaked out you feel.

“Here.” Hao says as he hands you a warm mug of tea. “Drink it to see if it helps. I’ll give you some to take home if you like it.”

You thank him, really hoping this puts an end to your unhealthy dreams.

“It’s not working!” Josh growls angrily. “There’s something blocking me from seeing her. I’m sure of it.”

Soonyoung and Junhui roll their eyes. Josh has been complaining about not being able to transcend into his true love’s subconscious for the last three hours, and it’s starting to drive them insane. It’s not that they’re not sympathetic, but it was quite literally the only thing the older vampire could talk about. Not to mention the fact that after months of visiting his mate every day, he did nothing to figure out where she was—a total waste in their opinion.

Before Josh can keep repeating the same frustrated things he’s been griping about all morning, they hear the door open and the familiar sound of boots clacking against the marble floor.

“Minghao!” Soonyoung cries when the oldest of the coven walks into the living room. “Finally, you’re back! Jisoo hasn’t stopped whining about his mate since you left! You need to put a stop to him!”

Minghao sets down his suitcases with an exhausted sigh. “What’s going on?”

“He claims there’s a barrier preventing him from entering his mate’s subconscious.” Junhui explains, sending a skeptical look Joshua’s way. “Which is impossible because a mere human isn’t capable of blocking his gift.”

While that is true, there are certain things humans have done for centuries to ward off creatures of the night. However, it is strange that there’s a sudden block to his mate’s subconscious after being left vulnerable for so many months.

“Perhaps your mate has realized that you’re a nefarious creature and not just a figment of her imagination.” Minghao muses as he goes to sit at his usual place by the fire. “If that’s the case, she may have sought out a witch to block her psyche from unsavory visitors.”

The dark look Josh sends his way is amusing to the rest. Maybe it’s cruel to disregard the anguish his brother clearly feels, but being empathetic has never been one of Minghao’s character traits. Even so, some of the humanity he once had still lingers within him.

“However, if you truly wish to find her I can contact Jihoon—”

“No.” Josh snaps immediately. The growl in his voice is menacing as his eyes darken. “I’ll find her on my own.”

The silence that follows is tense until Soonyoung breaks it by insisting on seeing pictures from Minghao’s trip. As always, he obliges to the youngest’s request, tossing his phone over without taking his eyes off Josh.

“If that were possible you would have already found her.”

It’s a frustrating truth. He hadn’t been able to figure out anything that would help him find you because he didn’t want to scare you off. Now he regrets playing the part of a gentleman because it feels like he’s lost you all over again.

“Is this the human you’re always talking about?”

Usually, Josh doesn’t take any interest in humans aside from his meals, but the way Minghao’s sharp gaze switches to an almost fond one intrigues him enough to look at the screen Soonyoung is holding out toward them.

It’s like his heartbeat comes back to life when he sees a video of a beautiful girl staring at one of his old swords.

“Yes. That’s—”

“Y/N.”

Minghao looks at Josh in surprise. He’s incredulous, but it’s soon replaced by horror when he realizes why his brother is looking at the phone with a predatory gaze.

“You…” Minghao’s icy tone makes the younger ones still. They recognize the murderous intent behind that tone instantly. “You’re the one who’s been invading her dreams.”

Josh snarls at his oldest friend. “You’re the one responsible for the barrier.”

It’s like watching two animals raising their hackles at one another. Except both of them are capable of destroying each other and everything around them without caring.

Junhui is quick to step in, holding a firm hand to Minghao’s chest. “She’s his mate.”

It’s meant to make him see reason, but all it does is anger Minghao.

“A mate that he betrayed time and time again!” His words make them all flinch. “You’re the reason those hunters found her and burned her alive!”

Never has a silence so thick and tense surrounded them before. It’s a low blow to bring up Josh’s greatest pain in such a way, but Minghao is beyond seeing reason at this point.

“Both of you need to calm down.” Soonyoung says as he stands in the middle.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Josh demands, not understanding why the person who had helped him search for his mate’s reincarnation for centuries was suddenly acting this way.

“She’s a pure soul.” Minghao says, sounding a little defeated. “One that doesn’t deserve to become a monster like us.”

It’s tense and silent again, but this time the air feels different. All four of them knew how painful and awful it was to turn. Back then, they had been the unlucky ones to survive an attack when they were meant to be someone’s food. Minghao wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you.

“Let her decide.” Soonyoung breaks the silence, being reasonable for the first time in a long time. He looks to Josh, gaze as serious as ever. “If you really love her, tell her the truth and let her decide what to do.”

Minghao has always been an enigma. He’s private to the point where you sometimes feel like you don’t know him at all. It’s why you’re so surprised when he invites you over to his main house which is basically synonymous with prohibited. He never invites anyone there, not even Jeonghan who’s known him longer than you have.

Your friend’s home is expectedly opulent and beautiful, but there’s also this ominous air surrounding it. Minghao remains silent as he leads you to the entrance. His somber attitude isn’t exactly uncharacteristic. He’s naturally quiet and serious, but right now he almost seems angry. You can tell his mind is far away, light years away even.

Before you can think to question him, he leads you to the living room and sits you down on one of the couches. His cold hands don’t move from your shoulders even after you’re seated. You look up at him in curiosity because he seems to be contemplating something.

“Don’t be angry with me.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and you have to wonder what he’s done for him to plead with you like this. (Xu Minghao does not beg.)

Hands fall from your shoulders as Minghao side steps out of the way. Everything goes in slow motion from then on. He’s stepped out of the way to reveal a man who you recognize very well. Your heart jumps and starts to beat erratically as you take in his ethereal features.

What’s happening feels like a more intense version of what happened at the museum. Minghao’s friend(?) looks exactly like Josh. He even looks at you like Josh does.

“Y/N.”

The organ in your chest throbs at the sound because it’s so soft and pretty, just like it is in your dreams. He sounds so similar to Josh that you feel insane for wanting to run into this man’s arms like you always do with Josh in your dreams.

Your mind is a beat behind, and it’s only after this stranger called your name that you realize Minghao had apologized to you before he appeared. When you look over to your friend, he’s observing you carefully in a way you can’t understand.

“What’s going on? What is this?” You ask, feeling like you’ve been set up.

There’s a thick silence, and just when you contemplate on getting up to leave, the unknown guy falls to his knees in front of you.

“Please forgive me.”

Your eyes practically pop out of your head at the unsolicited apology. “I– What?”

The silence is uncomfortable, and you can only look back to Minghao for an explanation.

“You’ve seen Jisoo before—in your dreams.” Minghao says slowly as if it pains him to tell you.

Jisoo?

“When you told me that a man kept reappearing in your dreams, I thought you were being preyed on by an incubus.” Minghao chuckles bitterly. “But I was a fool not to see that the truth was much worse.”

“Incubus?” You whisper incredulously. “You mean those demons that fuck people while they’re asleep?”

Neither men react to your crude words. They’re looking at you solemnly as if Minghao didn’t just say something completely insane. None of it makes sense nor does it provide you with the explanation you demanded.

“You can’t be serious! Incubuses—“

“Incubi.” Minghao corrects you. He regrets it as soon as he sees the dark look on your face.

“—don’t exist.” You finish through gritted teeth.

“They’re not the only demons running rampant on this earth.” Minghao says as he shares a look with the man who is still kneeling in front of you. “Just look at the monster in front of you and you’ll know what I’m saying is true.”

This Jisoo guy looks nothing like a monster. Not even as he’s giving your friend the most withering glare you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t give me that look. I brought her here so she can know the truth.”

At this point, you don’t know if they’re friends or enemies with the way they’re glowering at each other. And you still don’t know what truth they’re talking about, either.

“Jisoo has been trying to find you for centuries.” Minghao finally says, eyes softening just the tiniest bit when he looks back at you.

You don’t say anything because it all sounds like some crazy lie. Minghao isn’t the type to pull pranks, but there’s no other logical explanation for what’s happening. And yet, it also isn’t possible that he could know what the man from your dreams looked like and somehow find someone who looks exactly like him for his prank.

“We’re vampires.” Jisoo says, voice soft and comforting. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

Your words come out before you can stop them. It’s not what you meant to say (not right away, anyway), but you don’t try to backtrack. On the off chance that they’re not pulling some elaborate prank, you need to know that you’re not crazy for kind of believing what they’re saying.

Minghao and Jisoo are looking at you with wide eyes, but the challenging look on your face doesn’t waver. They both know you enough to realize you aren’t going to believe them until they prove that they’re not lying.

Jisoo grins, but it seems bitter in a way. “Okay. Just… don’t be scared.”

You raise an eyebrow when his smile stretches further. It’s not until you see four of his teeth elongating into literal fangs that you feel your pulse start to race. His eyes have darkened into an inhuman shade of black that reminds you of a demon. Now you understood what Minghao meant when he called Jisoo a monster.

But that also means…

In a panic, you look to your friend. Much to your horror, he too is bearing those monstrous characteristics now. Dark eyes and fangs that make them look like the monsters they claim to be. It feels like you’re in one of your lucid dreams, and in the back of your mind you hope that’s what this is.

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You’re surprised that your voice comes out as calm as it does, and even though you’re terrified, you can’t react how you know you should be.

“We would never hurt you.” Jisoo says, features slowly reverting back to normal. “No matter what, I won’t let anyone or anything bring you harm.”

It’s crazy that he’s promising you this with what feels like genuine sincerity, and it’s even crazier that it makes your chest warm with affection. You press your lips together, trying to make sense of how any of this is actually possible.

“You’re the reincarnation of Jisoo’s true love.” Minghao breaks the heavy silence. “He’s been searching for your soul since your untimely death.”

“That’s why you came into my dreams.” You whisper, not sure how to feel about this alleged truth.

“Yes.” Jisoo says, voice soft as ever. “I called myself Josh since it’s a modern name. You can still call me that if you wish.”

You stay silent, trying to deal with the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling without revealing any on your face. It’s hard, but you manage as you look back at your friend. “And you knew about this the entire time?”

“I didn’t know he’d been invading your dreams.” Minghao says honestly. “If I had—”

Minghao cuts his sentence short, and you can tell he’s trying his best to keep his emotions in check. It’s clear that he doesn’t like the idea of you being the reincarnation of Josh’s true love. You don’t understand why he brought you to meet him if that’s the case.

“Minghao.” Josh’s tone takes a threatening tone that you never thought him capable of emitting.

“Tell her.” Minghao says, clearly unfazed by Joshua’s sudden malicious attitude. “She has a right to know the truth before you think you can spend the rest of eternity with her.”

It’s silent for a moment before you see Josh’s shoulders slump. He looks slightly defeated and nervous. Seeing him in distress makes you uncomfortable, and you have to wonder if these are your actual feelings or something beyond your control.

“I first met you five years after I was first turned.” He starts, eyes begging for understanding. “You were running from a clan of demons who murdered your coven.”

The air is tense. You can feel your heart start to throb with hurt that you can’t place. A familiar burning sensation starts to poke at the back of your eyes, but you can’t understand why. “You saved me?”

Minghao clears his throat, eyes threatening.

“Unwillingly.” He admits, head hanging a little lower. “I was content in my solitude, and helping a witch didn’t sound appealing to me.”

“He also didn’t want to help a witch that belonged to the coven he helped exterminate.”

Minghao’s blunt statement makes your blood run cold. There’s a strange feeling that manifests itself in your chest. It’s an odd mixture of resentment, anger, and heartbreak. The feelings are familiar yet foreign. You feel the tears fall from your eyes before you can even think to hold them back. It’s all new information, but something in your bones recognizes the hurt and devastation.

“You killed my family.” The words aren’t yours, but in a strange way it feels like they are. “You almost killed me.”

“It was before I fell in love with you.” Josh sounds defeated. “Back then I was only concerned with my own survival, and I was a fool to let it get in the way of my love for you.”

Again, the air becomes tense. It makes Minghao almost regret doing this, but you ultimately have to know the truth. All of it.

“Tell her how you got her killed.”

More tears keep spilling from your eyes, and you can’t fathom the fact that they don’t feel like yours. A gentle hand wipes them away. Through blurry vision you can see Josh looking pained as he gently cradles your face in his large hand.

“I refused to go into hiding after the humans started to become more wary of our existence. Because of that, you and I were attacked by a group of hunters.” Josh feels a pain he hasn’t in centuries just talking about this to you of all people. “You protected me with your magic. I don’t know why you saved a wicked creature like me instead of yourself, but I really wish you hadn’t.”

The tears have stopped now, but Josh’s thumb is still gently caressing your face. His touch is cold yet comforting. You let out a shaky sigh, not sure what to do with all the information you’ve been given.

“This is why Minghao feels that I don’t deserve you, and maybe he’s right. But I’ve always been a selfish creature which is why I can’t give you up. Not in this lifetime or any other.”

Josh says it tenderly, but somehow you feel like you’ve become his prey.

Sometimes you wonder if letting Josh get so close to you is a mistake. Minghao seems to think it is even if he doesn’t tell you outright. Still, at least he’s supportive of your decision (as much as he can be, anyway). In spite of the fact that you now know the man of your dreams is a dangerous predator, you don’t feel unsafe when you’re with him. There’s also the fact that you can literally see the love he has for you every time you look at him.

Giving into him is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It feels natural and right, especially since he’s so sweet to you. You feel yourself fall harder every time you’re with him. He knows you better than anyone and treats you like you’re his everything.

Your relationship feels completely surreal and fast paced, but in an odd way it also feels like it’s not fast enough. The feeling has something to do with your past life you’re sure. After all, Josh had been waiting centuries for you to reincarnate.

He must’ve been so lonely.

You suck in a quiet breath as the thought comes to you, one that feels like it came from deep in your subconscious and is not entirely yours. Josh’s eyes snap open at the sound. He’s looking straight at you from where he has his head in your lap.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Unlike Minghao, Josh doesn’t have the power of coercion, but you’re still unable to lie to him. (Unwilling is a better term, but, details.)

“Did you really not have another lover after I died?” Your question isn’t accusatory, and part of you hopes he says yes. “Like you never even hooked up with someone else in three centuries?”

Josh’s airy laughter makes your chest warm. He brings your intertwined hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of yours. “If you do not believe me, I shall bring Minghao and have him use his gift on me.”

He’s teasing you, but you also know he’s dead serious. It shouldn’t thrill you so much that he’s willing to do just about anything for you—even subject himself to Minghao who still harbors a bit of a grudge towards him.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just…” You let out a quiet sigh. “You must’ve been really lonely.”

The way you look heartbroken and guilty isn’t satisfying, but it is alleviating somehow. You truly haven’t changed. The beautiful, kind soul he fell in love with remains intact, and he can’t be more grateful for that.

“At first I was. Then I met Minghao and joined his coven. They made it more bearable.”

You bring the hand that’s not attached to Josh’s to his head and run a gentle hand through his hair. “It must’ve been hard.”

Josh only offers you a hum. He can’t deny that it was, but he also doesn’t want to keep making you feel bad with all the details. That would have to be for another time.

“How many dreams did you invade before you finally found me?” You suddenly ask, wondering just how many psyches he had to go through over the course of 300 years.

“None.” His smile is a little bitter. “I’m not a incubus, so I can only enter your subconscious.”

The confused look on your face makes him let out a quiet laugh. It’s so innocent that it’s hilarious. Especially because you don’t remember that the restriction to his gift was your doing.

“Every time I tried to use my gift, I couldn’t. That’s how I knew you hadn’t been reincarnated yet. As soon as you were born I was able to tell, but I still couldn’t get into your psyche until you were ready to let me in—this is all curtesy of you, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He laughs. “Because I can’t dream, you bestowed this gift on me so I would be able to experience a dreamlike state again. Since you didn’t want the bloodthirsty heathen that I was back then to invade the minds of unsuspecting humans, you put all these limitations on my gift.”

His laugh is cute as he reminisces. It makes you smile too until you think of something.

The other day, Josh had mentioned he used to feed off of you in his past life because it tasted different and apparently it was like a kink for both of you. It freaked you out at first, but lately you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Honestly, the more the image plagued your mind, the harder it was not to feel turned on by it. You wonder if it would hurt and if you would like the hurt.

“Do you want to feed on me?”

If Josh’s heart was capable of beating, he has no doubt it would’ve been harshly pounding against his rib cage. He slowly gets up, feeling his cock throb and his throat itch.

“Darling—”

“You’ve never done it, and I was wondering if it was something you want to do.”

Of course he wanted to do it. Your scent is mouthwatering, and he just knows you taste divine. Up until now he hadn’t brought it up because he didn’t want you to think that’s all he wanted. All you two have done this past month is share some kisses, and that was perfectly fine. If that’s all you were willing to give him he’s gladly take it so long as you let him be part of your life.

Josh swallows thickly as he contemplates his answer. While it sort of sounds like you’re offering, he can’t assume anything. Plus he doesn’t want to seem like the monster Minghao told you he is.

When you see him hesitate, you make a decision that really isn’t all that hard for you. With an enticing smile, you tilt your head the slightest bit and offer your neck to him. “Bite me.”

In a split second, Josh pulls you on his lap so you’re straddling him. You gasp quietly when he sits you directly on his hardening cock. His eyes are dark like on the day he revealed himself to you. In the back of your mind, you know this is a dangerous game you’re playing, but you don’t feel one shred of regret or fear.

“I’ll be gentle.” He promises, voice breathy and needy.

Josh trails gentle kisses up and down your neck with patience that you find impressive. His fangs tease the tender skin as he opens his mouth slightly, and it’s almost like you can feel it throb in anticipation. With one last sweet kiss, Joshua sinks his teeth into your skin until you can feel a stabbing pain.

You gasp out a moan at the feeling. The pain lasts a second before you feel it rapidly fade. It’s replaced by images that invade the forefront of your mind. Memories that you don’t remember rush forward as if they were aching to be freed from the depths of your mind. There’s so many, and in spite of the fact that they pass through your mind quickly, you see every one of them.

When you come back down to reality, Josh is still drinking from you. He groans into your skin, reluctantly pulling away and licking the puncture wound he’s left behind. Josh continues to press kisses along your skin and whispered praises that you can’t help but melt into him.

“Jisoo.” You breathe out softly.

Joshua freezes when he hears what you’ve called him. He pulls back, eyes wide as he takes in the way you’re looking at him. Your gaze has always been full of affection, but now it’s full of ardent love that reminds him of the way you looked at him all those centuries ago.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Y/N…” Josh sounds breathless as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to remember.” You murmur as your bring a hand up to caress his cool cheek. “But I guess it’s only fair since you left me first.”

“It’s my biggest regret.” Josh says honestly, grip tightening on you.

You hum, trailing your thumb over his lips. He opens his mouth the slightest bit so you can touch his fangs just like you used to do once upon a time. Goosebumps cover your skin at the familiarity of it all. The feelings in your chest deepen impossibly as you replay all the memories that slowly keep coming to mind. You thought it would be impossible to love Josh any more than you already did, but once again you were proven wrong.

You let out a shocked squeak when he pulls you closer to him. His face is shoved into the side of your neck that he didn’t bite, breathing in your addicting scent. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t remember.”

“If you wouldn’t have been such a gentleman and bitten me sooner it wouldn’t have taken me so long.” You laugh, hugging him tighter.

The two of you stay like that until you shift and realize you’re still sitting on his hard cock. In a flash, the hot memory of Josh ravishing you back then goes straight to your cunt. You lick your lips and decide that you both have been waiting long enough to be with each other again.

“I’m impressed you kept your chastity just for me.” You purr into his ear, gently grinding down on his cock. “Such a loyal lover until the end.”

Josh doesn’t hesitate to take you to bed, cock aching to be inside you once again. He’s gentle when he finally gets you naked, eyes full of desire and love. “So fucking pretty.”

A breathy moan escapes you when his cold hands start to caress your body. His lips trails your neck, gently teasing you with his sharp teeth. Your skin heats up at the attention, and you feel like your floating by the time Josh gets his dick out to finally give you what you’ve been wanting.

“I missed you so much.” He groans as his throbbing cock slowly eases past your wet folds.

You moan along with him, hands finding his to lace your fingers together. “Missed you too, my love.”

Josh’s cock twitches inside you when he hears the pet name come out of your pretty little mouth. His leaking tip brushes against your cervix as your legs wrap around his hips. His pace is slow at first, trying to savor the feeling of your hot, tight cunt wrapped around him. He buries his face into your neck, licking and biting at the skin as his thrusts start to get tougher and deeper.

Your moaning is loud, and you’re amazed that he still knows which angels to hit after so much time. It’s like you’re seeing stars when Josh gently bites at your skin. He does it teasingly until you’re begging him to bite you again.

“Stop teasing.” You whine wantonly, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

His chuckle is low and has your pussy clamping down on his cock, drenching it in your arousal. You can’t remember the last time you were so turned on. It hasn’t been long, but it already feels like you’re about to come.

“Seeing you fall apart like this is my favorite thing.” You can feel his sinister smirk against your neck. “It’s been too long since I last saw it.”

Josh lets go of one of your hands to bring a thumb to your clit. He starts to rub slow circles on the sensitive nub as his thrusts grow more ravenous. You cry out in pleasure when his thick cock hits your sweet spot roughly. Your back arches in pleasure as you feel your juices start to coat his heavy balls.

“Never letting you go again.” Joshua growls lowly, more to himself than you. “All mine.”

With his possessive declaration, he sinks his fangs into your neck for a second time. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you violently come all over his big cock.

“Fuck!” You cry out, hips moving against his arms he continues to fuck you through your high.

He’s licking at your open would now, sharp thrusts angled just right to have you on the cusp of another orgasm. Joshua pulls back, pink lips painted scarlet with your blood. He looks ravenous, and you think you might actually come again from how hot he looks.

“That’s it, darling.” Josh sounds insatiable. “Cream all over me.”

It’s not long before the sight of you completely fucked out triggers his own orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shoot inside your pulsing walls, painting them white with his seed. His moans are as pretty as you remember, and they mix in with your perfectly as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

“Fuck me again.” You pant out, still longing for the second orgasm he was coaxing out of you.

Josh’s smirks as he flips you over on your front. “Still as insatiable as ever, darling.”

You look back at him with a laugh. “Like you’re any better. So hurry and fill me up again.”

You’ll never get sick of the feeling of his cold skin on yours as he grips your ass. Josh’s large hands rub and squeeze before you feel his throbbing cock tease your messy cunt. You let out a needy whine, tilting your hips up more to offer yourself to him.

“Such a needy little thing.” Joshua murmurs in that mean but sweet tone only he was capable of having.

“Only for you, my love.” You mewl, pussy throbbing at the thought of him splitting you open again.

As is his style, Josh slowly pushes his fat cock into your hot cunt, making you feel every inch of him. Then, in a split second he shoves the rest in like he can’t wait to be inside you any longer. The jolt of pleasure and slight sting of the stretch was enough to tip you over the edge for a second time.

You muffle your cry of pleasure in the sheets, fingers clinging to the soft cotton as your pussy clenches down on Josh’s cock, making him feel even bigger inside you. He groans from behind you, loving how your juices coat his cock as if you’re claiming it as yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can you do that for me one more time?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question because in the next second his fingers are digging into your hips as he pulls his cock all the way out before shoving it back into your needy pussy with a sharp thrust. You can feel your body tremble as your pussy grips his cock like a vise.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, voice dripping with lust.

“Fuck me!” You moan, pushing back on his cock with insatiable need.

At your desperate demand, Josh sera a brutal pace. He fuck you hard and rough, leaking tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again until all he can hear is lewd squelching and skin slapping. His hips slam against your ass, obsessed with the way your sweet crema coats his cock. You cry out his name as his heavy balls slap against your throbbing clit.

Josh is pounding you into the mattress, cock splitting you open deliciously. You’re so addicted to the feeling that you can’t help but spur him on. “Don’t stop!”

You cry out in ecstasy when he does exactly as you ask. He pounds his cock against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your fingers grips the sheets as you bounce your ass back to meet his thrusts desperately.

“You’re close again, right, baby?” Josh’s voice is teasing. He doesn’t need to ask, though. He knows you are because he knows your body.

You’re moaning and shaking with overwhelming pleasure. All you can do is nod as you bring your hand down between your bodies to rub your aching clit. With all the stimulation from your fingers and his cock, you fall over the edge once again. Your body tenses as you moan out Josh’s name with ecstasy. The excess of your orgasm drips down Josh’s cock, staining it and marking it as yours.

With one last thrust, he shoots his hot cum inside you, moaning your name like a mantra. He sloppily fuck it back into you before pulling you flush against his chest. You two collapse back on the bed with Josh holding you closely as if he thinks you might disappear.

Slowly, you turn around with his cock still inside you. Joshua’s eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing.” You breathe out blissfully. “And not just because you’ve stuffed me full.”

His cock twitches inside of you, and you can’t help but let out an endeared laugh. Your chest is warm as he hugs you closer to him, lips gently skimming over your puncture wound.

“Jisoo.”

He hums against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“I was so afraid when I first died.” You confess, feeling him tense. You’re quick to pull him closer and caress his cheek. “Afraid that I’d be reborn and you wouldn’t be there when I was.”

Josh swallows thickly and comes to cup the hand that’s still brushing over his cheek. “I’ll never leave you alone again.”

“I know. Once you turn me, we’ll have the rest of eternity together.”

It all feels too good to be true, but you know that this is reality and not just another one of your sweet dreams.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

#joshua hong smut #svt smut #svthub #joshua hong x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #josh smut #josh x reader #svt imagines #joshua hong imagines #seventeen imagines

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amitiel-truth · 28 days ago

Text

River Maiden Pt. 10

(A/N: I call this one, The Crash-out Saga)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 11,

(Y/N)'s sobs echo through the damp, watery cell in Poseidon's Golden Palace under the Agean Sea, her anguish palpable. She has never felt so alone and hopeless before, trapped in this watery prison where she can barely breathe without feeling suffocated.

She's desperate to be with Telemachus, to feel his embrace and hear his comforting words.

"Why... why can't I be with him?" her voice choked with despair and sorrow.

Poseidon's booming voice interrupts her thoughts, echoing throughout the palace. "Because, my dear," he says mockingly, "you're my leverage. As long as you're here, that pesky mortal won't dare to go against me."

He appears outside her cell, a sinister smile on his face. "And I, oh, am going to enjoy this."

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, steeling herself.

"What do you want now?" (Y/N) asked, glaring at her 'Father'.

Poseidon chuckles, his voice dripping with mockery. "What do I want? Oh, nothing much. Just a little entertainment." He leans against the bars, his gaze fixed on (Y/N). "You see, I quite enjoy watching you suffer. It's oh so satisfying to see you, a daughter of mine, so hopeless and desperate."

His eyes gleam with malice as he continues, "And I love even more how that silly mortal believes he can save you. It's hopelessly romantic, really."

"Haven't I suffered enough?" (Y/N) stood up, walking up to the cell, continuing her glare at him.

"I was born from your sins, forced to grow up in darkness, and watch the only parent I know deteriorate because of you, do you know no mercy? Do you even rest? Do all you think of is implementing suffering for others!?" (Y/N) yells, tired of him.

"Mercy? Rest? Those are foreign concepts to a god like me." Poseidon sneers, undeterred by (Y/N)'s outburst.

"You think I care about your suffering?" he asks with a cruel chuckle. "I am the god of the seas, and I do as I please. Your pain only fuels my power, my dear. It amuses me to see you struggle and despair, knowing that you can do nothing to change your fate."

"You're wrong" (Y/N) challenges.

Poseidon quirks an eyebrow, intrigued by (Y/N) defiance. "Oh really now? And how exactly do you intend to prove me wrong, my darling daughter? You're trapped here, completely at my mercy."

"Because Odysseus once defied you...and won." (Y/N) taunted, a smug grin on her lips.

Poseidon's expression darkened at the mention of Odysseus's name.

"Yes, well, that blasted mortal was lucky," Poseidon grumbles begrudgingly. "But there's no chance Telemachus could pull off the same feat."

"You underestimate him." (Y/N) points out, looking at him blankly.

"Underestimating a mortal?" Poseidon scoffs, his arrogance evident. "I am a god. I am infallible. No mere mortal can stand against me."

"You underestimates a mortal once...do I even need to repeat what happened?" (Y/N) taunted, tilting her head.

Poseidon bristles at (Y/N)'s words, his pride wounded. "Enough!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the cell walls. "You forget your place, girl. I am the god of the seas, and I will not be mocked!"

"I am also a product of you, a vile, selfish man, who knows nothing but take, take and take!! " (Y/N) points out, glaring at him.

Poseidon's gaze hardens as (Y/N) continues to defy him. He hates hearing the truth spoken out loud, especially by his own daughter.

"Watch your tongue, insolent child," he growls, trying to hide the growing frustration in his voice. "You speak of taking? Do you know the power and responsibility that comes with being a god?"

"All I see is your selfishness and brazenness, a brute with no mind." (Y/N) glared at him, insulting him once more.

"How dare you!? I am not a brute," Poseidon seethed, his fury mounting. "I am a god, and I rule the seas. You, on the other hand, are just a mere girl, a mortal with delusions of grandeur!"

"Then forget about me as I forget about you!" (Y/N) screamed, holding onto the bars.

"You cannot forget about me," Poseidon thundered, his voice shaking the entire palace. "You're my daughter, my blood, and I will not let you go so easily!"

(Y/N) heart pounds in her chest as Poseidon's words wash over her, but she refuses to back down. She meets his gaze with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Then why keep me imprisoned like this?" she asks, her voice cracking slightly.

"Because you are valuable to me, dear one," Poseidon replies, his voice soft and chilling. "You're the key to my revenge on Odysseus. As long as I have you here, that insolent mortal will do whatever I want."

He steps closer to the bars, his eyes narrowed. "And I plan on milking this opportunity for all it's worth."

Commanding the water around him, he made the watery cage around (Y/N) in the likeness of a giant bird cage, rising her up above the open field.

(Y/N)'s heart sinks as she's lifted from the ground, trapped in a water cage that perfectly resembles a birdcage. She feels imprisoned and vulnerable as she's hoisted up into the open field, the weight of her captivity overwhelming.

"What are you doing?" she demands, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

Poseidon's smug smile widens with satisfaction. "Why, my dear, I'm simply making sure you're...comfortable."

He begins to walk away from her water cage, leaving her suspended in the open field.

"Oh, and do try to enjoy the view from up there," he calls over his shoulder, his tone dripping with mockery.

Poseidon gazes up at (Y/N) trapped in her watery birdcage, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Now, stay up there and wait for Your Prince." he sneers. "Let's see how long your precious hero will take to find you."

Hermes flies both Odysseus and Telemachus towards the massive golden palace of Poseidon, its opulent facade standing out against the backdrop of the sea.

"This is it, lads," Hermes says, nodding towards the palace. "Poseidon's lair is in there, told you it won't be that much of a journey, the Lady upstairs made sure if it. Are you ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Odysseus replies, gripping the bag of Brutus Flowers tightly in his hand.

Telemachus simply nods, his expression stoic, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation with Poseidon.

"Then I should get going now, do try not to get yourself killed, she'll gut me for sure, Good luck~." Hermes bid farewell, before disappearing.

Odysseus and Telemachus watch as Hermes vanishes, leaving them standing before the imposing palace.

Odysseus takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Alright, Telemachus," he says, a hint of determination in his voice. "Let's go get your girl back."

Telemachus nods, his gaze fixed on the palace. "Lead the way, father."

With that, they begin making their way towards the entrance of Poseidon's palace, their hearts pounding with anticipation and a sense of purpose.

Suddenly, they heard cries in the halls of the palace, catching Odysseus and Telemachus's attention. They exchange a glance, both knowing who the crying is coming from.

"That sounds like her..." Telemachus notes, his heart filling with worry and anger.

They followed the sobs, reaching an open courtyard, they stopped in their tracks at the sight of (Y/N) standing next to Poseidon, her face streaked with tears. They watch as Poseidon continues to speak to (Y/), his back to them.

"(Y/N)..." Telemachus whispers, his heart filling with rage at the sight of her tears.

(Y/N) turns around, seeing Telemachus, a bright smile on her lips.

"Telemachus! Your finally here!" (Y/N) cried out with a large smile.

"See Father? I told you he loves me!" (Y/N) proclaims, looking at Poseidon with a smile, confusing Odysseus and Telemachus.

Poseidon hides his irritation at (Y/N)'s outburst, maintaining his composure. He turns to Telemachus with a smirk, playing along with (Y/N) claims.

"Ah, Telemachus," he greets him, feigning a friendly tone. "Welcome. I see you've come to claim your beloved back from me."

"Well, here she is, all yours, I've grown bored of her." Poseidon pushed her towards him, making the (Y/N) run up to him.

"Telemachus! Oh, How much I missed you!" (Y/N) proclaims, holding his hands.

Telemachus's heart leaped at the sight of (Y/N) rushing towards him, but something about the scene felt off. He glanced at Poseidon, who had a smirk on his face, and then back at (Y/N).

"(Y/N)...?" Telemachus asked, his voice filled with a mix of relief and caution as he feels her hands on his.

"What's wrong my love? Don't you miss me?" (Y/N) asked, tilting her head.

Telemachus forces a smile, playing along.

"Of course I missed you, my love," he responds, gripping her hands tighter. "I thought about you every moment we were apart."

As he holds her hands, Telemachus subtly notes the coolness of her skin, a deviation from the usual warmth he remembered.

"Oh, How I missed you, beloved." Y/N) smiled at him, hugging him tightly, too tight.

Telemachus hugged her back, his arms encircling her as she hugged him tight. The coolness of her skin seemed to linger, an unsettling contrast to the warmth he knew her to have.

"It's alright, my love," he murmured, his heart pounding with worry. "I'm here now. I won't let you go."

Suddenly, Telemachus stabbed her back with his dagger, His heart pounded in his chest as the illusion of (Y/N) dissolved into water, dissipating the moment the dagger pierced her body.

He looked up at Poseidon, who had a smirk on his face, clearly pleased with his little ploy. Telemachus clenched his jaw, his grip on his dagger tightening as he realized the extent of the god's trickery.

Odysseus watched with a mix of surprise and confusion. "What just happened?!" he exclaimed.

"It wasn't her, her hands are too cold, and my arms don't fit right around her." Telemachus sheated his dagger, before glaring at Poseidon

Poseidon chuckled darkly, amused by Telemachus's observation.

"Clever boy," he taunted, his gaze cold and calculating. "I see you caught onto my little trick."

Odysseus's eyes widened, his expression turning serious as he realized the implications of what had just occurred. "So, where is she...the real (Y/N)?" he asked.

With the snap of the God's finger, a birdcage made of water began to rise.

Telemachus's gaze followed the ascension of the birdcage, his heart lurching as he heard the sound of (Y/N)'s sobs. Anger welled up within him as he realized she was inside.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

(Y/N) looks out of her cage, her breath hitched.

"You came..."

Telemachus's heart ached at the sight of her, caged and helpless.

"Of course I did," he replied, his voice filled with determination. "I would travel to the ends of the earth for you."

Odysseus stepped forward, his gaze fixed on (Y/N) in her watery prison. "We'll get you out of there," he assured her.

"Ah, ah, ah," Poseidon interrupts smugly. "Not so fast, mortals. If you want your little damsel in distress back, you'll have to play by my rules."

Telemachus's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his anger flaring.

"Your rules?" he spat out, his voice filled with venom. "What rules? You're nothing but a coward, locking her away up there like some prized prisoner."

"Careful, boy," Poseidon warned, his eyes narrowing. "You might not like the consequences of your words."

Odysseus stepped forward, his voice firm but measured. "We're not here to play games, Poseidon. We came for (Y/N), and we won't leave without her."

"Oh, you won't, will you?" Poseidon chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what makes you think you have any leverage here? You're both just mortals, insignificant and fragile compared to me."

Telemachus gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "We may be mortals, but we're not powerless," he shot back. "And we won't let you treat (Y/N) like some bargaining chip."

Poseidon's gaze shifted between Telemachus and Odysseus, his smirk faltering momentarily as he faced the two mortals.

"Is this supposed to intimidate me? A mortal with a spear and another with a bow?" he taunted, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Telemachus!" (Y/N) calls out, before throwing something for him to catch.

Telemachus caught a double-ended spear made of her tears, his eyes widening in surprise. He felt the power within the weapon, the will of the waters flowing within it.

"No way..." he whispered, gripping the spear tightly, a sense of determination coursing through him.

"We're not only mortals...we had a bit of help." Odysseus taunted, before using the Brutus Flowers, with its necter and pollen at the tip of his arrows.

With a flick of his wrist, Odysseus launches a Brutus flower-tipped arrow at Poseidon, the pollen swirling through the air towards him

Poseidon's eyes widen as he realizes what Odysseus has done. He tries to dodge, but the pollen envelops him, rendering him vulnerable

Telemachus charges forward, wielding (Y/N)'s double-ended spear. His movements are swift and precise, every strike aimed at exposing a weakness in Poseidon's defense. His heart beats in sync with the rhythm of battle, his focus solely on rescuing (Y/N) from her watery prison.

Despite being weakened by the effects of the Brutus Flower, Poseidon fights back with the full force of his trident. His movements may not be as quick and precise as before, but he compensates with sheer power and experience. Each swing of his trident sends the air rippling around him, creating small waves with every attack.

Telemachus, his heart racing in his chest, dances around each swing, dodging and parrying with his double-ended spear. The battle becomes an intricate dance of blades and tridents, with each strike echoing across the courtyard, the sound of their weapons mingling with their ragged breaths.

While Telemachus distracted Poseidon, Odysseus used it to free (Y/N), seizing the opportunity, grabs an arrow and expertly attaches a length of rope to it. He swiftly fires it with his bow, the arrow soaring towards the top of Egeria's cage and anchoring itself securely. With a steady grip on the rope, Odysseus begins his ascent.

(Y/N) looks at the rope before looking down, seeing Odysseus.

"Sir!." Egeria whisper yells in greeting

Odysseus glances up, his expression filled with determination as he climbs the rope. "Hang on, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the battle below. "We're getting you out of here."

As Odysseus reached her, she managed to slip out of the cage with her power, as he helped her down the rope

(Y/N) clung tightly to Odysseus as they descended the rope, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and anticipation. Once they reached the ground, she turned to him with a mix of gratitude and worry.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaky. "But Telemachus..."

The strength of the Brutus Flowers began to wear off, and Poseidon's godly powers started to return. As his strength rejuvenated, Telemachus found himself growing tired and outfought. He tried to hold his ground, but Poseidon's power overwhelmed him, pushing him back.

With the lift of the God's trident, he sent a powerful gust of water down onto Telemachus, as he lays down onto the ground, injured.

"NO!!" (Y/N) and Odysseus yells, as they both ran towards Telemachus's side.

(Y/N) and Odysseus rushed to Telemachus's side, their hearts heavy with worry. Odysseus knelt down beside him, taking in his injuries with a grim expression.

"Telemachus," Odysseus calls out, his voice shaky in near tears. "Can you hear me?"

"No! Nonononononono!" (Y/N) panics, accessing his injuries... it's grave, his abdomen and chest feels soft, his ribs are broken.

"Telemachus, please stay with me, please!" (Y/N) begs, holding his hand, patting his cheek.

Telemachus grunts in pain, his body feeling battered and bruised from the relentless attack.

"I...I'm alright," he croaks, managing a small smile despite the pain. He looks up at (Y/N), the worry in her eyes making his heart ache.

"No, you're not! You're mortally wounded!" (Y/ screams, trying to keep him awake.

Odysseus clenched his jaw, his expression turning grave. The severity of Telemachus's injuries was clear, and time was running out.

"Telemachus, you have to stay with us," Odysseus urged, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "We can't lose you now."

Telemachus sees the panic and desperation in (Y/N)'s eyes, and he reaches up to gently touch her cheek, trying to offer some reassurance in his fragile state.

"Don't...don't worry about me," he says, his breathing labored. "I...I'll be alright."

(Y/N) looks at him in distraught, he's the one mortally wounded and yet, he is still worried about her well being, making her clench bee teeth.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I never told you who I truly am, I never told you because... because I thought you wouldn't accept me for who I am, the part of me that I hate, the part of me I rejected all my life." (Y/N) admits, crying heavily as she looks at Telemachus's critical state.

Telemachus gazes up at (Y/N), his eyes filled with love and understanding. He reaches up to wipe away her tears, his touch tender and gentle despite his fading strength.

"My sweet, beautiful (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice weak but steady. "You don't have to apologize. I don't care about who you are or where you come from. I love you for you."

He coughs weakly, pain flooding his body as he tries to speak.

"I...I would never reject you..." he gasps, struggling to speak with every word. "You... you're my world... my heart... my everything."

Tears stream down (Y/N)'s face, her heart breaking at the sight of Telemachus, the man she loves, lying so helpless and vulnerable, whispering his last words to her. She grips his hand tightly, holding onto it like a lifeline.

He slides his hand up to caress her face, his fingers brushing against her skin, wanting to feel her warmth for as long as he can.

"Please...please don't cry," he pleads, his voice growing weaker with each word. "I... I hate seeing you like this..."

Tears stream down (Y/N)'s face as she listens to Telemachus's words. She grasps his hand tightly onto her face, her heart breaking at the sight of him struggling to hold on.

"Please...please don't leave me," she pleads, her voice choked with emotion. "I can't lose you too. I love you so much."

Telemachus weakly continues to touch hee cheek, his hand trembling with effort. His touch is gentle, his fingers tracing the contours of her face, committing the feel of her skin to memory.

"I...I wish I could stay with you... forever," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But... I'm so tired..."

(Y/N) sniffles, taking a deep breath, before finally accepting it, knowing that Telemachus will only suffer in pain from holding on for her, she raised one of her hands, stroking his hair.

"Rest now, my Love, I'll see you in the morning" (Y/N) says softly, kissing his lips.

Telemachus's breath hitches slightly, the taste of her kiss bittersweet. He looks into her eyes, his gaze filled with sadness and love.

"Will... will I dream of you?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) looks at him with a bitter sweet smile, trying to give him at least a smile he could remember of her despite her tears.

"Yes, you will, always." (Y/N) reassures, trying to keep it together.

Telemachus manages a weak smile, his body growing increasingly still. He weakly moves his hand, brushing back a strand of (Y/N)'s hair, his touch tender despite his fading strength.

"Good...that's good," he murmurs, his voice fading further.

Odysseus, witnessing the scene unfold before him, feels a mix of sadness and admiration, knowing that Telemachus will die in the arms of his beloved.

"Rest now, My love, I'll see you in the morning, I love you." (Y/N) presses her forehead against his with a smile, despite her tears falling onto his cheek

Telemachus's eyes flutter closed, and a weak smile plays at the corners of his lips as he feels (Y/N) warm touch on his forehead.

"I...I love you..." he whispers, his voice barely audible now.

His hand, still weakly holding onto (Y/N)'s, begins to go slack, his body finally succumbing to the damage and exhaustion.

The silence is heavy, broken only by the sound of (Y/N) stifled sobs and Odysseus' ragged breaths. Telemachus's hand, now slack in her grip, falls limp to his side, his chest no longer rising and falling with each labored breath.

Odysseus stands nearby, his expression a mix of grief and anger. The reality of Telemachus's death is almost too painful to bear, and he clenches his fists, fighting back the urge to shout in rage and frustration.

(Y/N) looks at Odysseus, her eyes so full of tears. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." (Y/N) begs for forgiveness, as she gently placed Telemachus body onto Odysseus's arms as he sat on his other side.

Odysseus looked at (Y/N) with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He shook his head softly.

"It's...it's not your fault, my dear." Odysseus assures her. "Telemachus's death is a consequence of a battle we had to fight, and he fought bravely for you."

(Y/N) looks at the sight before her, Odysseus, holding his son's body, as she begin to break at the scene, kneeling onto the ground, and screaming in pain, tears endlessly flowing from her eyes.

Odysseus only looks at her, his heart breaking for her loss. He holds Telemachus gently in his arms, his own tears flowing freely grieves with her. The courtyard is filled with the sounds of their shared sorrow, with (Y/N)'s heart-wrenching screams echoing in the air.

Poseidon, now having regained his godly powers, let out a mocking laugh, relishing in the scene before him.

"Ha! Look at you all weeping over the fallen one," he says, his voice full of arrogance and cruelty. "The great Telemachus, defeated by a single blow. What a pity!"

"You really thought you could defeat a god with a mortal's strength?" Poseidon sneers, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. "You were all just playthings to me, nothing more than insects to be squashed under my heel."

He looks down at Telemachus's lifeless body in Odysseus's arms, his taunting tone growing more cruel.

"And now, look at the prize you've lost. How does it feel, hero?"

"Your tears. Your sorrow. They are nothing to me," Poseidon continues his mocking tirade, taking pleasure in Odysseus's grief. "You are all so weak, so powerless. You thought you could defeat me, a god, with your mortal struggles? How naive."

He looks over at (Y/N), now on the ground, her grief too overwhelming for her to hold back.

"And you, hybrid. Do you think your tears will bring him back? You are both pathetic."

Suddenly, the air stills, as (Y/N) sat up from her kneeling, shocking Odysseus at what's happening to her, but Poseidon couldn't see as her back was turned to her, the spear made out of her tears that Telemachus had dropped in his defeat, dissolved, and snaked it's way onto her, slithering on her back to her hair.

Droplets of water began floating around them, as (Y/N) stood up, her once (H/L) (H/C) turned into water in the shape of snakes, similar of that to a Gorgon, as she slowly turned her head towards him, her eyes glowing white, too bright, with endless amounts of tears flowing from her eyes, as the droplets began pelting Poseidon.

"What is this... what are you doing?" Poseidon demands, his voice taking on a hint of panic.

Each hit felt like a rock, completely surrounding him, as it ended (Y/N) was now in front of him, winding back her arm and sending a blast of water in the shape of snakes towards towards him, sending him flying across the courtyard.

Poseidon quickly regains his composure, looking up at (Y/N) with a snarl.

"How...how are you doing this?" he demands, clearly shaken by her newfound powers.

(Y/N) ignores his question, her gaze fixed on him as she continues her approach, each step sending tremors through the ground underneath her. The howling wind sounds like her screams, creating a chilling chorus of anguish and determination.

"What have you become?" Poseidon finally manages to say, his usually mocking tone now tinged with fear.

She couldn't even hear him, all she could hear was...Telemachus.

"I would never, ever let anyone take me away from you"

"You are more precious to me than any Princess or wealth could ever be."

"I'd have stayed in that river with you forever, if I could."

"No one else can have me. I'm all yours."

"My beautiful nymph."

"You're too good for me, love..."

"You are... intoxicating,"

"Please...please don't cry"

"You... you're my world... my heart... my everything."

"I...I would never reject you..."

"Will I see you again?"

"I...I wish I could stay with you... forever"

Imagine being so full of grief and rage, that you force your divine half to take over.

Amidst her anguish, a new title is bestowed onto her.

(Y/N), Mistress of the Waves.

Goddess of the Sea, Earthquakes, Storms and Snakes.

She continues to attack him, every form of water are in the shape of snakes, as if to remind him of his past mistakes, of her mother, Medusa.

Poseidon's fear and disbelief grow as (Y/N) continues her relentless attack, every bit of water shaped like a serpent, tormenting him with the memory of Medusa.

"No...no, this can't be happening," he mutters, struggling to maintain his composure.

Each attack lands with precision, causing Poseidon to stagger back, the pain and fear from his past haunting him once more. (Y/N), fueled by her grief and fury, is a force to be reckoned with, her power growing with each passing moment.

Odysseus struggles to maintain his balance as the wind intensifies, the gusts becoming stronger and more tumultuous. He holds Telemachus tightly in his arms, trying to shield his body from the elements, but the force of nature proves overwhelming.

"(Y/N)..." he calls out, his voice barely heard over the howling wind. "(Y/N), please, you have to stop!"

But (Y/N) didn't listen, or she simply couldn't hear him in her grief, as she continues to attack, in his fear, Poseidon even tried to hit her with his trident, as she caught it with her bare hand, snapping it in two and throwing it to him, making him stumble.

As she throws the broken weapon back at him, the reality of his situation becoming all too clear to him. Poseidon, the mighty god of the seas, is being bested by a woman consumed by grief and rage, her powers beyond anything he could have anticipated.

(Y/N) pants as she glares at him, as behind her she forms a giant snake made out of water, brandishing it's fangs towards him, threatening to attack, an imposing sight that only adds to her already fearsome presence. It glares malevolently at Poseidon, its fangs gleams in a threatening manner, as if ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Poseidon's face goes pale as he stares at the snake, realizing that he's facing a force he can't easily overcome. His fear is evident as he takes a step back.

(Y/N) raises a hand, preparing to send it down onto him, biting her lip so hard that it bled, as she was about to send it down, a familiar embrace stopped her, hugging her gently, with a hand on her cheek, snapping her out of her rage filled state, her pure white eyes returning back to normal, but her hair is still remained made out of water in the form of snakes, gasping as the giant snake made of water drops into nothingness, as she leans onto the familiar, comforting hug.

Hera, the goddess of marriage and queen of the gods, holds (Y/N) tightly in her arms, a mixture of concern and sympathy etched on her face.

"It's alright, child," she whispers gently, brushing a hand through (Y/N)'s hair, which is still in the form of water snakes. "You don't have to do this."

Hera looks over at Poseidon, who stands there, stunned by the sudden turn of events, a mix of fear and confusion visible on his face.

(Y/N) cried out, burying her face onto Hera's shoulder, as she held onto her purple peplus tightly, crying as she screams, and dropping to her knees, with Hera following suit, unable to form any sentence, filled with heartbreak

Hera holds (Y/N) tightly, her own eyes filled with sympathy and compassion. sitting on the ground and continuing to hold her close. The goddess gently strokes (Y/N) hair, her touch soothing and comforting.

"Shh, it's alright," Hera whispers, her voice soft and tender. "Let it all out, my dear."

(Y/N) is inconsolable, to the point Hera has to force her to stop biting her lips so much that it bleeds, as she continues her anguish cries.

(Y/N)'s sobs are heartbreaking, her grief overwhelming and unceasing. Hera, holding her tightly, tries to soothe her, gently chiding her to stop biting her lips.

"You need to stop, my dear," Hera says softly, wiping some of the tears from (Y/N) cheeks. "You're only hurting yourself more."

Despite her attempts, (Y/N)'s anguish only seems to deepen, drowning herself in her heartache and sorrow.

"I...I lost him!" She cried out, burying her face onto Hera's chest, barely being able to keep herself upright.

Her words, filled with despair and heartache, hit Hera hard. The pain in her voice is palpable.

"Shhh, I know, darling. I know it hurts," Hera whispers, holding her close.

Hera gently runs her fingers through (Y/N)'s hair once more, trying to soothe her, but the tears continue to flow, unstoppable in their intensity.

"Please, help me, I'd do anything to give him back to me" (Y/N) begged, gripping onto Hera's shawl

Her pleas pierces through the air, her desperation and pain palpable. Hera's heart aches as she holds her, feeling her anguish.

"My dear, I wish I could bring him back to you," Hera says, her voice trembling as she fights back her own tears. "But even I cannot reverse the hands of fate once death has claimed a soul."

She tightens her embrace, holding (Y/N) close, offering whatever solace she can.

"I'll do anything, please" She begs, holding her hand, unstable.

"I'll give you anything of mine, please, anything but this, anything but him! I can't lose him, I can't lose him like this" (Y/N) begged hysterically.

(Y/N)'s pleading is heart-wrenching, her desperation driving her to make any bargain, surrender anything to reverse the inevitable.

Hera, with tears in her own eyes, tries to console her. "My dear, your pain is understandable, but there are limits to what even I can do. I cannot bring someone back from the dead."

"Please, anything of mine, anything! Just take it! Anything but this, anything but him" (Y/N) begged, burying her face to her Aunt's shoulder.

Hera's heart heavy as she witnesses the extent of her grief. As (Y/N) begs for any solution, even offering any part of herself in exchange for Telemachus's life, a thought springs to mind.

Hera pulls back gently, looking deep into (Y/N)'s tear-filled eyes.

"(Y/N), my child, listen to me. There...there may be a way."

"Please, I'll do anything." (Y/N) begged, looking at her, pleading.

Hera took a deep breath, her expression a mix of hesitation and hope.

"I cannot promise anything," she warned, her voice almost a whisper. "But there is one possibility. You have both mortal and divine blood in you, a unique combination of both worlds."

Hera paused, her eyes never leaving (Y/N)'s face.

"You could...give up your divinity."

(Y/N) looks at her in shock, as Odysseus watches the exchange.

Odysseus stood watching the exchange, his thoughts swirling with worry and disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He silently observed, torn between hope and caution. On one hand, he desperately wanted to see Telemachus alive again, to hold his son in his arms and bring him back to life. But the thought of (Y/N) giving up her divinity, her very nature, filled him with dread.

As he watched, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating the implications and consequences of such a sacrifice.

"I will also offer you my protection, and being mortal, you will cut your ties with Olympus and Poseidon himself from being his daughter, do you accept the terms, my dear?" Hera asked, shocking Poseidon

As Hera made her proposal, a gasp escaped Poseidon's lips, his eyes widening in disbelief. The thought of (Y/N) renouncing her divine heritage and severing her connection to him was both unexpected and jarring.

"No...no, you can't do this!" Poseidon spluttered, stepping forward in protest. "You can't take her from me, she's my daughter!"

"Take it" (Y/N) quickly answers, making both the Gods look at her in disbelief

"I'd rather live a single mortal life with him than live an eternity without him, please, Auntie...." (Y/N) begs, looking up at her with tearful, pained eyes.

"Take it" (Y/N) begged with her broken voice.

Poseidon's protests go unheard as (Y/N) accepts the offer. He stands there, stunned, watching as his daughter willingly agrees to relinquish her divinity.

Hera glances at Poseidon, a look of determination in her eyes, before turning back to her. "Are you sure, child?" she asks gently, her voice carrying a heavy weight.

"Divinity is something many sought after, are you willing to trade it away for his life?"

"How could I ever continue living...without him who truly makes me feel divine?" (Y/N) asked with a broken smile.

(Y/N)'s words hang heavily in the air, her emotions on full display. Her pain is palpable, the love she holds for Telemachus consuming her very being.

Hera gently places a hand on her shoulder, her touch a mix of sympathy and understanding. "I know, my dear, but you must be certain. Once this deal is made, it cannot be undone."

Hera looks over at Telemachus's body, lying motionless on the ground, and a pained expression crosses her face.

"I understand, Auntie, I'm only saddened that I'll never get to see you again" (Y/N) admits with a frown.

(Y/N)'s words hit Hera like a dagger to the heart, her frown deepening. She looks down at student, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride.

"You are a remarkable young woman," Hera says softly, her voice heavy with emotion. "Your compassion and depth of love are admirable."

Hera gently cups (Y/N)'s cheek, her touch tender. "I shall miss you, dear one," she whispers, her voice thick with sorrow.

"Thank you...for everything." (Y/N) smiled at her, grateful for raising her.

Hera smiles sadly as tears fill her eyes. She's both proud of (Y/N)'s strength and saddened by the loss of her divine heritage.

"It was an honor to watch you grow, my dear," Hera whispers, fighting back her tears. "You are a gift to this world, and I shall always cherish our time together."

She holds (Y/N) close, her embrace filled with bittersweet emotions.

"You have a great heart," Hera adds "and it pains me to see it ache like this. But remember this, My Student, and don't forget."

Hera gently lifts (Y/N) chin, meeting her gaze with a mix of sternness and love. "Even as a mortal, you'll retain lessons learned and traits gained from your divinity. Hold onto your strength, your resilience, and above all, your capacity to love."

She brushes a strand of water hair away from her face, her touch gentle yet firm.

As Hera gazes at (Y/N), memories flood her mind. She sees the little girl she once raised, the one she took under her wing, and the woman she has become.

Hera's eyes well up with tears, and a bittersweet smile plays upon her lips. Her heart aches for the loss of their bond, but she is also filled with pride.

Hera takes a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepares to undertake the process of reviving Telemachus. She closes her eyes, her mind focused and resolute. A soft energy emanates from her fingertips, and her voice takes on a incantatory quality.

"Let the threads of life once more become unbroken. Let Telemachus's path be illuminated by the light of the living."

She holds her hands above Telemachus's corpse, channeling her divine power.

As the process ensues, (Y/N) can feel a subtle change within herself. It's as though the threads of her divinity are unraveling, loosening their hold on her being.

Meanwhile, Telemachus's lifeless body responds to Hera's intervention. Color slowly returns to his cheeks, and a faint pulse can be discerned. The process is gradual, but the resurrection is taking effect.

Odysseus, witnessing the scene, observes the changes taking place. He watches as color returns to Telemachus's cheeks and a pulse appears, a sign of life returning to his son's body.

At the same time, Odysseus's attention is drawn to (Y/N). He notices a subtle change in her demeanor, as if something within her is shifting.

(Y/N) noticed Telemachus's slow return, as she runs to him, desperate to see him alright.

"Telemachus! Please wake up!." She begs, as her hair is slowly going back to normal.

Telemachus's eyes slowly flutter open, his consciousness returning. He feels disoriented and weak, but the sound of (Y/N) voice and her touch ground him.

As his vision clears, Telemachus looks up and sees (Y/N)'s face, filled with worry and relief.

"(Y/N)..?" he whispers, his voice hoarse and frail.

As Telemachus gazes up at (Y/N), confusion and awe wash over him. Her hair, made of water in the form of snakes, dances around her head, a striking and unique sight. Yet, despite the Gorgon-like appearance, Telemachus can only focus on one thing - her captivating beauty.

"You...you look astonishing," Telemachus manages to utter, his voice soft and filled with admiration.

(Y/N) looks at him in shock, as Telemachus continues to describe her mesmerizing beauty.

Telemachus's gaze remains fixed on (Y/N), taking in every detail of her appearance. His eyes trace the curves of her face, the way her hair sways around her head like a crown of serpents.

"Your beauty... it's like nothing I've ever seen," he whispers. "The way your hair moves, like a living river... it's mesmerizing."

He reaches up, gently brushing a strand of her snake-like locks away from her face, his touch filled with reverent wonder.

Telemachus chuckles softly as the water snakes surrounding (Y/N) head react to his touch, nipping at his hand playfully. He watches in fascination as they seem to recognize him, their movements becoming more curious.

"They know me," he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice. "They're... they're quite spirited, aren't they?" Telemachus chuckles, looking at (Y/N) with a mix of amusement and fondness. "It's as if they enjoy my touch."

(Y/N) smiled at him as she shook her head, her hair going back to normal as her divinity completely leaves her, pulling him into a hug.

"Welcome back, my beloved." (Y/N) mutters with a large smile.

Telemachus was taken aback by the sudden change in (Y/N)'s hair, returning to its normal state, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. As she pulls him into a tight embrace, he melts into her arms, relishing the touch he thought he had lost forever.

Hera watches the scene with a small, knowing smile on her face. She can see the tenderness and love between Telemachus and (Y/N), and she feels a sense of satisfaction for having facilitated this reunion.

She watches as Telemachus and (Y/N) embrace each other, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. It's clear that they were destined for each other, and that their bond is stronger than any divine power.

She steps forward, clearing her throat to draw the couple's attention back to her. She waits until Telemachus and (Y/N) breaks apart, their arms still around each other, before speaking.

"Telemachus," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "You have been given a second chance at life, thanks to (Y/N)'s sacrifice."

"What? What did you sacrifice?" Telemachus asked, checking her, counting her fingers and toes

"Telemachus, I gave up my divinity" Telemachus's mind struggles to process the gravity of her sacrifice, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions.

"You... gave up your divinity... for me?" he repeats, unable to believe it. He gazes at her, his eyes wide and teary, trying to understand the enormity of what she had done. "Why?"

"Because," (Y/N) raised a hand, caressing his cheek, "I would rather die, than grow old without you." She professes, pressing her forehead against his

"Because eternity without you...is torture."

Telemachus's heart melts as (Y/N) speaks, her words cutting deep. He can feel the sincerity and the depth of her love radiating from her every word.

He gently cups her face with his hand, his touch tender and full of longing.

"You're a fool, you know that?" he chuckles softly, his voice full of affection. "Risking everything for me..."

She chuckles, tearing up. "I guess, that makes us fools in love." (Y/N) smiled at him, tears streaming from her eyes.

Telemachus can't help but smile at her words. "Fools in love," he repeats, savoring the sound of it.

He gently wipes away the tears streaming from her eyes, his touch gentle and filled with tenderness.

"Well, if we're fools in love, then I'll be a fool with you," Telemachus murmurs, his voice soft and affectionate. "Until the end of time."

(Y/N) pulls him into a kiss through her tears, holding him tightly.

Telemachus melts into the kiss, his heart overflowing with emotion. He wraps his arms around (Y/N), pulling her close, as if trying to erase all the time they had lost.

Their kiss is filled with longing and desperation, a physical manifestation of the love they share. The world around them fades away, leaving only the two of them in a tight embrace, their mouths locked together as if they can't bear to part.

"Alright, break it up, you two, she's not the only one who was crying over you." Odysseus calls out as (Y/N) pulls away with a smile, letting Odysseus hug his son.

Telemachus breaks apart from (Y/N) with a gentle yet reluctant smile, turning to see his Father, Odysseus, standing nearby.

As Odysseus calls out to him, Telemachus feels a surge of emotions. He can see the relief and love in his Father's eyes, and he knows that his return has not gone unnoticed.

Telemachus rises to his feet, meeting Odysseus's embrace with equal force. They hug, tears streaming down both of their faces.

"Father... I'm... I'm sorry for worrying you," Telemachus whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

Odysseus holds Telemachus tightly, a mix of relief and joy on his face. He can feel the weight of his son's body in his arms, his heartbeat reassuring and real.

"You damned fool," Odysseus mutters affectionately, his voice thick with emotion. "You gave me quite a scare, you know that?"

He pulls away from Telemachus, still keeping a firm grip on his shoulders, and looks into his son's eyes.

Telemachus smiles sheepishly, a hint of guilt on his face. "Yeah, I guess I may have overdone it a bit."

Odysseus shakes his head, chuckling softly. "A bit? You were dead, Telemachus. Dead. Do you have any idea what that did to this old man's heart?"

Telemachus's smile falters a bit, realizing the true gravity of his actions. He looks down, shame coloring his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Father," Telemachus says quietly. "I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I was just... desperate, I suppose."

Odysseus regards Telemachus with a mix of empathy and understanding. He knows all too well what it's like to be driven by desperation and love.

"I understand," Odysseus replies, his grip on Telemachus's shoulders softening. "You were willing to do anything for (Y/N), even if it meant risking your life... I get it."

He paused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes.

"In fact, to be honest, I'd probably do the same for your Mother." Odysseus admits

Telemachus's expression softens, realizing that he and his Father are not so different after all. Despite their differences and their clashes, they share the same capacity to love selflessly, to risk it all for the people they hold dear.

"Maybe we're both fools in love then," Telemachus says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Odysseus sighs, a mixture of resignation and affection. "Maybe we are. But love has a strange way of making fools of us all."

He pats Telemachus on the back. "Just try not to do anything that stupid again, will you?"

(Y/N) watched with a smile as the father and son converse, and turns her head back to Hera with a large smile.

"Thank you, Auntie"

Hera looks at (Y/N) with fondness, her gaze lingering on the young woman who was like a daughter to her.

"You're welcome, dear one," Hera replies with a gentle smile.

She reaches out and places a hand on (Y/N) shoulder, their connection evident in the warmth of her touch.

"You know, I never expected to see you sacrifice your divinity for anyone," Hera chuckles light-heartedly

"I have no other use for it other than to see you." (Y/N) smiles at her, before frowning, looking at the Goddess sadly.

"Will I...see you again?" She asked with a hopeful smile.

Hera's expression softens as (Y/N)'s question hangs in the air. She gazes at her with a mixture of fondness and melancholy.

"I wish I could promise you that we'll meet again," Hera says, her voice heavy with a sense of finality. "But the truth is, I cannot. You no longer have divinity running through you, and that puts us on different planes. It means that our paths will diverge, and the chances of us ever meeting again are slim, if not impossible."

(Y/N)'s heart sinks at Hera's words, a sense of loss and sadness washing over her. She had hoped for more time, more moments with the Goddess who had once been like a mother to her.

"I see..." She mutters with a frown, looking down on the ground, before looking up at her again with a sad smile.

"I guess...in another lifetime will do, Auntie?" She asked sadly, tilting her head.

Hera's expression softens, her heart heavy with the weight of (Y/N)'s words. She reaches out and places a gentle hand on her cheek, her touch tender and comforting.

"Yes, my dear. In another lifetime, perhaps. In another lifetime we'll meet again and may your path be a kind one this time."

She smiles bittersweetly, her gaze holding a hint of sadness and hope. "Until then, cherish every moment you have with Telemachus."

She leans onto her hand, smiling "Thank you, for everything, once more." (Y/N) mutters gratefully, before hugging her tightly.

Hera smiles warmly at her, her heart full of affection for the young woman who had grown into a force to be reckoned with as she hugs her back, running her hand through the young woman's hair.

"You're most welcome," Hera says softly. "And remember, even though we may be on different paths now, I will always be proud of you. You've become the kind of woman I always knew you would be."

(Y/N) smiled at Hera, before catching Poseidon's eye, bringing a frown on her lips, who is still slumped onto the ground.

Poseidon looks at (Y/N) with a mixture of anger and hurt in his eyes. He can't believe that she had chosen a mortal over him, a god.

"You chose him," he mutters with a sneer, his voice laced with venom. "A mortal."

"Better than you, a selfish god." (Y/N) answered, frowning at him.

"One who I can never call my Father."

Poseidon's face contorts with anger, his eyes darkening at (Y/N)'s words.

"How dare you," he fumes, his voice booming across the room. "I am a god, the God of the Seas, and you dare to compare me to a mere mortal? You ungrateful child!"

"Ungrateful?" She retorted, her voice filled with anger.

"You're the one who never gave me never gave me anything, I was all alone, even as a child, you never saw me or cared for me, heck you didn't even know my name, The one who found me nearly dying of starvation at the ripe age of 3 was Auntie Hera, but you, still didn't care, and now that I've found my happiness, you intended to destroy it?." (Y/N) sighs, shaking her head.

"Fine, if that makes me ungrateful, then so be it." (Y/N) pulls out her arm bracelet, throwing it to Poseidon.

"This is yours, I don't want anything of yours in my new life."

He catches the bracelet that she throws at him, gripping it tightly in his fist.

Poseidon glares at (Y/N), his expression a mask of anger and bitterness. He feels stung by her words, but also guilty, knowing deep down that she's right.

"You were nothing but a burden to me," Poseidon seethes, his voice filled with venom.

"Then let me be your burden, and forget about me." (Y/N) didn't even bother turning around to face him, as she walked back to Telemachus and Odysseus, Hera gave him a warning glare, before following her.

Poseidon's eyes blaze with fury, a mix of anger and hurt that he can't quite admit. He feels her defiance in his bones, and he can sense the love that she has for Telemachus.

But despite his anger, he knows that he has lost her. He had never treated her as a daughter, and now she had chosen Telemachus over him.

But he can't bring himself to admit his past faults, and instead, he grits his teeth, glaring defiantly at her back as she walks away.

All he could is clench the bracelet tightly in his hand, a memory of another woman flashing through his mind.

As (Y/N) approached Telemachus and Odysseus, she grew nervous looking at the older man. "Sir, I'm so sorry about-"

before she could even say anything, Odysseus pulled her into a hug.

Odysseus wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He holds her for a moment, his eyes soft and weary.

"Don't apologize," he replies, his voice gruff but gentle. "You've done nothing wrong."

He pulls back and looks at her, a small smile on his face.

"I can see how much you care for my son," he says quietly, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and concern.

(Y/N) hugged him back, "But...I got him killed"

Odysseus sighs, his grip on her tightening slightly.

"Yes, you did," he replies bluntly, his voice firm but softened by a hint of understanding. "But you also saved him. You gave up everything for him."

He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful.

"I have to admit," he admits, looking at her with a small frown. "I had my doubts about you at first."

"I thought you might just be toying with my son's feelings, or using him for your own gain," he continues, his voice tinged with a hint of protective fatherly concern.

"But seeing the lengths you've gone to for him... I can see that you truly love him."

He gently cups her chin, looking into her eyes with a mixture of approval and wariness.

"Just promise me one thing," he implores, his voice serious.

"Treat him right. Don't break his heart."

"I won't, I promise, Sir." (Y/N) tells him seriously.

Odysseus gazes into her eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But he sees nothing but sincerity and love. His expression softens, and he relaxes his grip on her.

"Good," he says gruffly, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction and acceptance. "You better keep that promise, young lady."

Odysseus looks at (Y/N), a warm smile on his face. He can see the love and affection in her eyes as she gazes up at him.

"You know, you don't have to keep calling me 'sir,'" he says gently. "You can call me Father if you'd like."

(Y/N) looks at him in shock, tearing up, before blinking away the tears with a large smile.

"Alright, Father."

Odysseus smiles fondly at (Y/N), his heart swelling with affection for her.

"There's no need for tears, my dear," he says gently, reaching out to pat her on the head. "You're part of the family now."

"Ehem." Hera coughs to let her presence be known

Odysseus and Telemachus quickly kneel before Hera, paying their respects to the Queen of the Gods.

"My Lady Hera," Odysseus greets her with reverence, his head bowed.

"Your Highness," Telemachus echoes, his voice filled with awe in the presence of the divine.

Hera chuckles at their display of respect, amused by their formality.

"Rise, rise," she tells them, her voice warm and amused. "You make me sound like a tyrant, no need for kneeling."

Hera glances at Telemachus, her expression gentle. "Take care of her, Telemachus. She has given up a significant part of herself for you."

Telemachus looks at Hera, a determined expression on his face.

"I will, Your Highness," he replies, his voice filled with conviction. "I will take care of her, and cherish her for the rest of our lives."

Hera nods, satisfied by Telemachus's answer. She can see the determination in his eyes, and she can feel the sincerity in his words. She knows that he truly cares for (Y/N), and that he will do everything in his power to keep her safe and make her happy.

She glances at the two of them again, her smile turning a bit sly. “And don’t keep me waiting too long for grandchildren.”

"Auntie!" (Y/N) exclaims, blushes deeply.

Telemachus's face goes beet red as he glances at his Father, who bursts out laughing.

"It seems the Queen has spoken," Odysseus says, still chuckling. "You had better get busy, Telemachus."

"I forgot, you've been busy." Odysseus corrects, as the two blushes harder

Hera chuckles, finding great amusement in the young couple's shyness.

"Oh, come now," she teases, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "You've been through much together, and yet you still get flustered at the mere mention of grandchildren. It's adorable, really."

Hera chuckles at (Y/N)'s embarrassment, enjoying the young woman's reaction.

"Oh, don't be shy, my dear," she teases. "You two make such a lovely couple, I can't help but look forward to seeing what kind of little ones you'll produce someday."

"Auntie, please," (Y/N) protests weakly, her face still burning red.

Telemachus manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks are still tinted pink. "We'll...keep that in mind, Your Highness," he says, his voice a bit shaky.

Odysseus pats his son on the back, grinning widely. "Don't worry, Telemachus, it's perfectly natural to be a bit flustered when it comes to these things."

He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "You'll get used to it in time."

Hera laughs at them, before looking fondly at Telemachus.

"Take good care of her for me, Young Prince."

Telemachus nods, his expression solemn and determined.

"I will, Your Highness," he says firmly. "I promise you that I will take care of her and make her happy, for as long as we both shall live."

Hera's lips curve into a small smile as she watches the scene unfold. Seeing Telemachus and (Y/N) finally together, with Odysseus by their side, warms her heart.

"Hermes," she says, her voice firm and clear. "Take them home, won't you?"

Hermes, the fleet-footed god of messengers and boundaries, nods at Hera's command.

"Of course, milady," he replies, his voice as swift as his wings.

He turns to Telemachus, (Y/N), and Odysseus, a sly grin on his face. "You three ready for a little ride?"

"Cousin!?" (Y/N) exclaims in shock, he was watching them the whole time.

Hermes chuckles at Egeria's surprise. He grins at her and shrugs.

"You didn't think I'd miss all that drama, did you?" he teases her. "Of course I was watching."

"That's right, little cousin," he says with a wink. "I couldn't help but keep an eye on you and your man here."

He looks at Telemachus, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "And you, Telemachus, you're a lucky fellow to have snagged this one."

Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle at the God's words.

He puts his arm around (Y/N)'s waist, pulling her closer to him. "I'm very lucky," he says, looking lovingly at her. "And I have no intention of ever letting her go."

(Y/N)'s blushes heavily, a sheepish smile on her lips.

Hermes grins at (Y/N)'s blushing expression, finding her reaction amusing and endearing. He chuckles to himself before speaking again.

"Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically. "It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?"

He looks at Telemachus and (Y/N) with a cheeky grin. "You two are too sweet. I might just get a toothache from the amount of sugar you're giving off."

"Isn't that right, Old Friend?" Hermes turned to Odysseus

Odysseus chuckled at Hermes' question. He knew the messenger god too well to be offended by his playful tease.

"You're one to talk, Hermes," he retorted with a grin. "Last I heard, you had more than a few admirers of your own."

"But not as sweet as this one, It's making me a bit jealous" Hermes sighs

"But what do you know? You have your Penelope anyway"

Odysseus smiles fondly at the mention of his wife. "Yes, I do have Penelope," he says, his voice filled with love and affection. "She is the light of my life."

He glances at Telemachus and (Y/N), his eyes filled with a mixture of happiness and fatherly pride. "But our Telemachus deserves his own love and happiness as well. I couldn't be happier for him."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the lovey dovey, time to finally get you all home, especially you, Old Friend" Hermes taps Odysseus's nose

Odysseus chuckles at Hermes' affectionate pat, amused by his friend's playful banter.

"Yes, I am more than ready to go home. I've been away far enough and for too long."

Hermes grins widely, his wings flapping in anticipation.

"Then let's not waste any more time," he says, his voice eager and excited. "Hang on tight, everyone. This is going to be a quick ride!"

He wraps his arms around Telemachus, (Y/N), and Odysseus, holding them close. Then, with a swift and sudden movement, he takes off into the air, soaring towards Odysseus's kingdom.

Hera watches them take off with a fond smile, happy that her dear student had found her happiness.

"Why did you help them?" Until a gruff voice ruins the moment

Hera turns to Poseidon, her expression hardening at the sight of him.

"Why does anyone do anything, Poseidon?" she replies coolly. "Compassion, kindness, a desire to see two people who care deeply for one another reunited. Is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

Poseidon glowers at her, his anger barely contained.

"Compassion? Kindness? Don't make me laugh, Hera," he spits out. "You know very well the trouble that girl caused me. And now you're just letting her and Telemachus prance away happily ever after? It's enough to make a god sick."

Hera turns towards him, frowning at him.

"Did you not notice anything when she was losing control on you earlier?" Hera asked, looking blankly at him

Poseidon's expression flickers with a hint of confusion, but he quickly hides it.

"What are you implying, Hera?" he grumbles, his suspicion clear in his voice.

"She had control over everything you had dominion over, while you didn't." Hera points out

Poseidon's face twists into a scowl at Hera's words. He knows she's right, but he's too stubborn to admit it outright.

"What's your point, Hera?" he growls, his irritation growing. "Are you trying to say she's more powerful than me or something?"

"No, she's not more powerful than you, you lost your dominion over the seas, storms, and earthquakes at her moment of grief." Hera reveals, shocking Poseidon.

"Oh, I'm so proud, she's my student after all." Hera praises herself

Poseidon is stunned into silence for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of what Hera has just told him.

"I...lost control?" he finally manages to sputter out, disbelief and anger mingling in his voice. "How is that even possible? I am Poseidon, the god of the seas and all the power they hold! How could a mortal have taken that away from me, even temporarily?"

"Because, she's your daughter." Hera reminded him, as she walked past him.

"And I know that girl like the back of my hand, with that intense of a grief, it would have been trouble for all of us." Hera sighs, shaking her head.

Poseidon's expression darkens even further at Hera's words. He already knew that Egeria was his daughter, but hearing it said aloud by Hera still stung.

"So you protected her from me because she's your student, huh?" he snarls, his resentment and anger bubbling to the surface. "And because she has the potential to be a threat to everyone, including me?"

"No, not really, I only expected her to be a demi god, with her kind and peaceful nature, only wanting to live for herself, but you just have to push her to the brink of destruction, that's why I had to step in, to remove her divinity and bring back your dominion to you." Hera explains, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You should be thanking me, really."

Poseidon scoffs at Hera's words. He's still angry, but a part of him knows that she's right.

"Thanking you?" he huffs. "Why should I thank you when you only intervened because you were afraid of what my daughter might become?"

"She had the power to destroy the world, Poseidon, that's why." Hera points out with a serious frown

Poseidon's expression darkens even further as he processes Hera's words. The thought of (Y/N)'s power being strong enough to destroy the world is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. I'll admit that you had a good reason to intervene. But that doesn't make me feel any better about the situation."

"Then I'll just see myself out while you lick your wounds, and do clean up after yourself, we wouldn't want another case the same of my student once more." Hera orders before leaving with a purple mist.

Poseidon watches her leave, a mix of anger and guilt swirling within him. He knows that he played a part in (Y/N)'s grief, but it's a tough pill for him to swallow.

He lets out a deep sigh, his mind filled with conflicting emotions. He can't shake the feeling that he's lost something important, something valuable, and it's not just his broken trident.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #telemachus #telemachus x reader #epic poseidon #poseidon #medusa retelling #smut

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alena-draws · 2 years ago

Photo

Beware of major Trigun spoilers!

(they are not necessarily chronological to the events in the au, I’ll just be drawing what scenes come to mind)

First part of my Vashwood Reincarnation AU that I’m gonna call “Cutting the Strings of Fate”, which planted itself in my mind some days ago! The concept takes part in the future after the Trigun Maximum events.

While I was drawing I was wondering if Vash is a bit too ooc here maybe? Tristamp Vash is a pretty diffcícult character to grasp for me, but I think considering that he hasn’t really lived through all that that he did in the anime, and just starts to remember the events in the manga, it’s ok if he’s a bit more carefree at first, and not so completely the depressed and sad puppy from the anime...Anyway, mixing the Tristamp characters with the Trimax universe was a fun idea to me! I love both iterations of the characters and their respective universes a lot, sooo why not mash them together?

Look under the cut for the whole story idea:

Many decades after the events of Trigun Maximum, Vash is reborn on the same planet. Even though still needed to sustain themselves, humans are less dependant of plants now, and the great project to cultivate the planet has been very successfull, with the first forests and occassional green that will grow out of the dry soil. Vash is a young but skillful plant engineer, who will also from time to time help out in different towns to have a look at their local plants. One day he starts having dreams about his past life, with them getting clearer and clearer and revealing more of his past. He meets Zazie, who is still the old Beast who knew Vash the Stampede. Because of that, Zazie notices that the very individual electric impulse of Vash, that every being gives off and can be detected by the worms, is indeed very close to the same signal of Vash the Stampede. Thus confirming that Vash is indeed some kind of reincarnation.

Vash's brother Nai works as a bioengineer, looking after the preservation of important vegetation in another city, where their mother Rem lives, too. Vash meets Wolfwood, who starts to help out in the plant facility as a odd-job man, and they grow closer together. One day though, an accident happens, convincing Vash and Zazie that Vash's history is trying to repeat itself. They fear that just like in the past, Nai who is obviously another reincarnation could run berserk, and that Rem and Wolfwood are, just as well, in danger to become fate's victim once again.

With the help of Zazie that can feel how, after each past event repeating itself in some way, Vash's and the others' electric signals grow closer to their past selves', they try to defy fate and bring about a happy end for everyone. (Yay!)

#trigun #trigun stampede #comic #trigun au #vashwood #vash #wolfwood #trigun spoilers #trigun maximum spoilers #zazie #zazie the beast

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minoulapin · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter One: The Shape of Uncertainty - Between Giving & Taking - Y. JW

Pairing: Demon!Jungwon × Angel!Reader

Genre: Forbidden Love, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery

Wc: 2.7k

Synopsis: A love unspoken, a fate unwritten, An angel and demon, forever forbidden. Bound by the laws of heaven and hell, A story of longing they dare not tell. At the Academy of the Occult, angels and demons coexist under a fragile truce. But when a celestial heir is assassinated, war looms, secrets unravel, and forbidden desires ignite. In a world where their love is a crime, will they defy fate or be consumed by it?

A/N: Coucou! So here’s the first chapter!! I don’t have much to say, it’s mostly to set the stage and get a better feel of their world. Also, since this is my story and I get to decide everything, there was absolutely no way I wasn’t making angel Jake blond… like, imagine Dark Blood era Jake. Okay more specifically, "full" concept Dark Blood Jake. Tbh, I think I imagined all of them looking like their Dark Blood era selves. Hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! -Joe

Tag list: open!! 🏷️ @whateveridontcaresheesh @iifrui @stormy1408 @indigoez @riribelle (Comment to be added)

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST I NEXT CHAPTER

The Academy of the Occult was never truly neutral. It was a delicate lie, built on the pretense of cooperation, its foundations woven from uneasy alliances and fragile truces. For centuries, it had served as the only place where celestial and infernal forces could coexist without immediate bloodshed—a controlled experiment in diplomacy, designed not for peace, but for containment.

Angels trained to guard the heavens, demons honed their craft to command the underworld. Knowledge was exchanged, but never without a cost. Trust was nothing more than a well-rehearsed illusion, a performance of civility where both sides sharpened their blades beneath the table.

Yet, even an illusion had its limits. And now, it was fracturing.

The assassination of the Celestial Heir had been a spark in a room already drenched in oil. No one knew the assassin's name, no one could trace the hand that had done it—but it didn't matter. The fragile balance had shattered. Suspicion turned into paranoia, paranoia into whispered accusations, and now, every glance between celestial and infernal students carried the weight of an unspoken war.

There were no formal declarations. Not yet.

But war was no longer a question of if.

It was a question of when.

Twilight bled through the Academy's high-arched windows, staining the stone halls in fading gold before it succumbed to shadow. The torches that lined the corridors flickered between celestial and infernal energy, their glow unstable, never quite deciding which side they belonged to. The walls themselves seemed to breathe in the tension, holding onto the weight of centuries-old hatred like a creature waiting for the moment to bare its fangs.

Y/n stood at the edge of the upper corridor, arms lazily draped over the stone railing, watching the slow, inevitable collapse unfold below.

From this height, the courtyard looked like a battleground waiting to happen.

The celestial students stood in carefully constructed stillness, their postures poised but rigid, as if rehearsing restraint. Their faces were unreadable masks, but their hands twitched toward their weapons, a silent readiness simmering beneath their skin.

The demons? They didn't posture. They lounged instead, spines slouched, movements slow and deliberate, their grins all sharp edges. Their laughter wasn't loud, but it was pointed, intentional, a blade pressed lightly to the throat of the moment.

It was like watching two storms edge toward each other, the pressure in the air so thick it could snap.

Jake leaned beside her, arms crossed as he rested his weight against the stone railing. His golden hair caught the last light of the day, casting a faint glow around him, a perfect picture of celestial grace. Unlike Y/n, Jake embodied everything an angel was supposed to be—disciplined, dutiful, unwaveringly loyal to their kind. But he was more than just a soldier of the heavens. He was warm in a way most celestials weren't, easy to trust, steady in a way that made people instinctively look to him for guidance.

"You're staring," he said, voice low but knowing.

Y/n hummed in response, chin resting on her palm. "I'm observing."

Jake scoffed. "Observing, right. That's what you call it when you're getting ready to make my life difficult."

Y/n shot him a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at her lips. Jake was infuriatingly good at reading her. He always had been.

Jake had been a constant in Y/n's life for as long as she could remember. Y/n was a contradiction—a celestial who never quite fit the mold she was supposed to. Where angels were expected to be unwavering, disciplined, and dutiful, she was restless, questioning, always pushing the boundaries of what was allowed. She was sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and exasperatingly stubborn, the kind of person who would rather challenge authority than bow to it. He had always been the responsible one between them, the steady foundation she could fall back on, even when she didn't want to admit she needed it. And she needed it more often than she liked to admit. Her defiance made her an outlier, even among her own kind, but Jake never treated her like she was wrong for being different. He just sighed, rolled his eyes, and made sure she didn't get herself killed in the process of proving a point. Where Y/n was reckless, Jake was careful. Where she challenged everything, he carried the weight of tradition, not because he blindly followed it, but because he believed in something greater than himself. Where Y/n chased danger with relentless curiosity, Jake was the one to pull her back, not because he wanted to control her, but because he didn't know what he would do if something happened to her. They weren't bound by blood, but that had never mattered. Jake treated her like family—like a younger sister who never learned to stay out of trouble. And if protecting her meant dragging her out of her own messes, then so be it.

"You ever get tired of being so paranoid?" she asked lazily.

"You ever get tired of making me paranoid?"

She grinned. "No."

Jake sighed, shaking his head. "Then no, I don't get tired of keeping you from getting yourself killed."

His voice was light, but his eyes weren't. Jake didn't joke about things like that.

He had the kind of goodness that made people gravitate toward him—a warmth most angels lacked, a patience most wouldn't bother with. But when it came to her, that patience ran thin. He didn't just look out for her; he protected her. Sometimes that meant dragging her out of trouble, sometimes it meant standing beside her while she ran headfirst into it. Either way, he'd be there, whether she wanted him to or not.

She let the moment hang in the air for a beat before dropping her gaze back to the courtyard. "The Academy had always had rules. But lately, it feels like those rules don't matter anymore."

Jake followed her gaze, his expression darkening. "They don't."

She tilted her head. "Because of the Heir?"

His jaw tensed. "Because of what the Heir's death means."

The Celestial Heir. The one who had been meant to rule. The one who had been untouchable—until he wasn't.

His death had sent ripples through the Academy, but instead of seeking truth, both sides had responded in the only way they knew how.

With violence.

Y/n tapped her fingers against the railing, eyes narrowing. "I want to know who did it. Not because of celestial honor, or justice, or whatever nonsense the Council preaches—"

Jake cut in, his tone flat. "You just want to see how they pulled it off."

She turned her head slightly, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "Jake" she said suddenly, her voice edged with something unreadable. "Someone outmaneuvered the system. Someone broke a rule no one was supposed to break. And if I can figure out how, maybe I can figure out what else is being kept from us."

Jake exhaled slowly. "And if you don't like the answer?"

Y/n's lips quirked. "I'm not picky."

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Of course you would say that."

She smirked. "What, do you want me to sit here quietly and be a model celestial?"

Jake gave her a deadpan look. "I'd like you to at least pretend that your survival instincts work properly."

She shrugged. "No promises."

Jake groaned. "Why am I even surprised?"

Then—a sharp crack split through the air below them.

Magic—dark and searing—collided with a celestial shield, sending a shockwave rippling through the courtyard.

She barely registered Jake's curse before she was moving.

By the time they reached the courtyard, the tension had already shattered.

And at the center of it all was Sunoo.

It was no secret that Sunoo despised demons more than any other celestial. He never bothered with quiet resentment—he wore his distaste plainly, like a blade strapped to his hip. While angels preached restraint, Sunoo had always worn his hatred like a dare, an unspoken challenge to anyone willing to test it.

But the reason why? That was something no one truly understood.

Some whispered that he had lost someone—family, a mentor, a lover—to the infernals. Others believed it was something more innate, a hatred passed through bloodlines, a belief so deeply ingrained that it had become part of him.

But if there was one thing everyone agreed on, it was this—

Sunoo never picked fights without reason.

And yet, here he was, standing alone.

Y/n's gaze swept the courtyard, searching for the missing piece.

Sunoo wasn't just standing his ground. He was waiting. His golden light flickered—controlled but coiled, shifting between attack and restraint.

The demons circling him weren't reckless. They were patient.

They weren't looking for a fight. They were waiting for him to break.

And the air—the air felt wrong.

She felt it before she even made the decision to move. A pulse, deep inside her chest.

Not fear.

Not concern.

An unease she couldn't name.

Like the world was holding its breath.

Her fingers curled. This doesn't make sense.

Why hadn't Sunoo struck first? Why was this taking so long? And why was no one stepping in?

The world was built on rules—spoken and unspoken.

But in moments like this, she hated them.

She didn't just want to interfere. She needed to know.

She Felt It Before She Moved.

The anticipation. The way the air had thickened—not just with magic, but with tension so dense it felt suffocating.

The demons were playing with their food, dragging this out because they could.

It coiled inside her like an itch she couldn't scratch. Frustration. Restlessness. A hunger for answers.

And when Jake's hand closed around her wrist to stop her—

Her magic flared.

It wasn't intentional. It never was.

A flicker of golden light curled at her fingertips—too sharp, too unstable, too unnatural.

Jake's grip tightened—just slightly. His expression didn't change.

He didn't need it to.

Because this wasn't new.

Because he had known since they were kids.

Because when they were younger, he used to panic.

And now? Now he just waited for it to pass.

She sucked in a breath, forcing it back down. Not now. Not here.

Not like before.

Not like the day the temple floor blackened beneath her hands, the stone hissing as if rejecting her touch.

Not like the time she cast a spell without speaking, without meaning to, without knowing how—only for the air to tremble in response.

Not like the day she first realized she wasn't stronger than the others.

She was weaker.

That's how they saw it, anyway.

And then—before she could stop herself, she was already moving.

"Y/n."

Jake's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension, his fingers wrapping around her wrist before she could take another step.

"Don't."

She didn't look at him.

"He's outnumbered."

Jake exhaled sharply, his grip tightening for a split second before letting go. "That's his problem."

His voice was steady, but his eyes weren't.

He wasn't heartless. But he was pragmatic. He knew when to pick battles and when to let things play out.

But Y/n had never been like that.

And he knew it.

"Not this again," he muttered, voice low, rough. "You don't even know what's happening."

She didn't care.

"That's why I have to."

She was already moving.

Jungwon Wasn't Interested in the Fight.

He never was.

Demons found sport in provoking celestials—testing their restraint, pushing them past their supposed divinity—but to Jungwon, it was predictable. Monotonous.

A celestial with a bruised ego was still just a celestial. They all bled the same.

So when Sunoo became the target, Jungwon didn't even lift his head.

Not his problem.

The fight had been escalating, but it was the same tired game they played every day. A push, a shove, a drawn blade. Sunoo was making it worse, his presence a challenge in itself. It was no secret that he hated demons. He made sure everyone knew it.

But then—

Something changed.

A voice—sharp, teasing, unafraid.

Jungwon barely turned his head, gaze flicking toward the scene, boredom shifting into intrigue.

He had been watching her for exactly seven seconds.

That was how long it had taken him to go from dismissing her to wondering why he'd never looked at her before.

She wasn't supposed to be interesting.

Celestials weren't supposed to be interesting.

And yet, here she was—acting like the rules didn't apply to her.

She wasn't Just Interfering—She Was Playing Them.

"This is getting embarrassing," Y/n drawled, tilting her head. "I thought demons were supposed to be good at fighting. Or is ganging up on someone the best you can do?"

Several demons turned to her, some amused, others irritated.

One scoffed. "Brave words for someone standing alone."

She shrugged. "Alone? Hardly. I'm just not dumb enough to throw a punch when my words will do the work for me. Unlike you."

She was testing them.

Jungwon's lips twitched. Foolish, but amusing.

She was pushing their nerves—taunting the demons, and they were letting her.

For a moment.

And then, the shift.

Jungwon felt it before it happened.

The amusement in the air curdled.

The anger shifted from controlled to dangerous.

Jungwon's gaze locked onto the demon just before he moved.

Y/n didn't notice.

Jungwon did.

And just as the demon lunged—

Jungwon struck first.

The Atmosphere Collapsed.

The impact was immediate. A single, precise movement—effortless, almost casual—sent the demon flying backward, crashing into the stone wall.

A sickening thud.

Then—silence.

Every demon in the courtyard froze.

Every celestial stared.

Because Jungwon hadn't just stopped an attack.

He had stopped one of his own.

She felt the shift like a storm breaking open.

Magic still crackled in the air, but the fight had already ended.

Because Jungwon had ended it.

Her breath was steady, but she could feel the pulse of her own heartbeat against her ribs.

Jungwon had moved before she could.

And that fact bothered her.

Y/n Met His Gaze, Unwavering.

"You..." Her voice didn't waver, but her mind raced. "Why?"

Jungwon rolled his shoulders, unbothered.

"He was in my way."

She frowned. "Your way to what?"

Jungwon tilted his head slightly. "Leaving."

Like this wasn't worth his time.

He turned on his heel, already walking away.

And something in her bristled.

"You don't seem like the type to get involved."

Jungwon paused.

A slow glance over his shoulder. Unimpressed. Unbothered.

"I don't."

She crossed her arms. "Then why did you?"

His lips twitched. "What, do you want a thank you?"

Y/n scoffed. "No, I want a real answer."

Jungwon turned back fully now, facing her. This time, he looked at her differently.

"Alright." His lips curved. "You were entertaining. That's all."

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "So you just felt like intervening?"

Jungwon took a step closer, tilting his head slightly.

"Yes."

And the way he said it—calm, effortless, honest—sent something cold down her spine.

Not because she feared him.

But because she didn't understand him.

The Fight Was Over. But Y/n Wasn't Done.

A sharp voice rang across the courtyard.

"Enough!"

Professors.

Jungwon didn't linger. His interest was already fading.

But Y/n?

She watched as he walked away, irritation simmering in her chest.

Something about this felt... unfinished.

She had a feeling this wasn't the last time they'd cross paths.

And she wasn't sure whether that thought unsettled her or thrilled her.

Jake Had Been Waiting.

Before she could process what happened, Jake appeared beside her, grabbing her arm.

"Alright, that's enough. Let's go."

She wrenched her arm free, eyes still locked on Jungwon's retreating form. "Did you see that?" she hissed. "He's so—so—"

Jake sighed. "Arrogant? Yeah. Dangerous? Also yes. And yet, you keep making this harder for yourself."

She crossed her arms. "I'm just saying—"Nope. Not listening."

Jake grabbed her wrist and dragged her away from the fight.

Jungwon, now halfway across the courtyard, smirked as he watched them leave.

Fascinating.

An angel who doesn't know when to stand down.

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST I NEXT CHAPTER

🏷️ @whateveridontcaresheesh @stormy1408 @indigoez @riribelle @iifrui (comment if you’d like to join)

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whimsylueur · 8 months ago

Text

This is how I imagine Valkyrie’s Aura-vision, just Skug surrounded by his beautiful crimson red magic/soul.

I drew it also because I was inspired by Seasons of War, Chapter 22.

Literally read this whole chapter guys, it highlights everything I love about Skulduggery and Valkyrie’s dynamic. Just effortlessly authentic, yet deep and critical. Sneak a few jabs and banter and, well, that’s just true love I reckon.

“I don’t know if there is such a thing as destiny. The rational side of me is keen to dismiss the notion - but we work with magic. We work with concepts that routinely defy explanation until a new explanation is found. And then we encounter another concept that defies explanation all over again. So I don’t know if fate is secretly driving us behind an illusion of free will, but I would like to think that I’m responsible for myself, and I find no comfort in the idea that I’m being guided by an unseen hand.”

They slowed to a stop at the bedroom she’d chosen.

“What about you?” Skulduggery asked. “Do you believe in fate, or do you believe in yourself?”

Valkyrie frowned. “I’m not sure I believe in either.”

“Then you’re experiencing an existential crisis.”

“Will it be better by the morning?”

“Most likely.”

“Good,” she said, and kissed his cheekbone. “Goodnight, Skulduggery.”

“Goodnight, Valkyrie.”

She went into her room, and listened to his footsteps, slowly getting fainter.

Just a dead warrior and his Valkyrie.

Source for the first image:

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #stephanie edgley #darquesse #seasons of war #derek landy #skulduggery pleasant fanart #skull art #valduggery #digital art #sketch #artists on tumblr

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bonefall · 1 year ago

Note

Is Sandgorse still abusive in BB? If so does he still save Sparrow? Idk I think it'd be a neat thing for Talltail to brood on and move past once realizing the truth. Like just because your abuser did a "Good Thing tm" doesn't mean you have to forgive them or that all of a sudden it excuses their past a tion towards you.

Or did you remove this plot beat entirely? If so I don't blame you :P

Weird that Tumblr search isn't giving me all the stuff I tagged :/ hopefully after finals are done I can compile a 1st draft/The Story So Far for the rework of Tallstar’s Revenge

It's now called TALLSTAR’S COLLAPSE. It is actually a story I am rewriting with tragedy in mind. It's about Talltail fleeing WindClan with his starcrossed lover, Sparrow, only to eventually be drawn back to it where he becomes a perpetuator of all the things that made him leave.

To answer your question; Yes, and. Sandgorse is abusive and there's a LOT of nuance to this situation. I'm not sure if he still saves "Sparrow" though because I have waaaay more of a point in mind with Tallstar’s tumultuous relationship to him.

Summary of changes,

Tallstar's Collapse

Sparrow is the Clanmew name Jake takes when his group interacts with WindClan. His first language is actually a dialect of Townmew!

(Also Firestar has no known father in BB)

His group is nomadic. They go from place to place trading goods. I need a name for both them and their cultural "cluster" but in my head, Jake's family is the Algernauts because Algernon is the current leader

It's important the Algernauts are extremely endearing because leaving them is VERY painful

(and something i want to frame as the wrong choice for tallstar, emotionally)

WindClan is in a very sensitive period of its history. Before Tallstar was born, Heatherstar began the Mothermouth Moorland War, to take a very large parcel of land from ShadowClan. A good 1/5th of it.

Naturally this is a huge project and incredibly ambitious. Sacrifices Must Be Made

The sacrifice she has chosen to make is the death of tunneling. Because she's smothering it.

Tunneling is PEACEFUL, defensive at best. You can't dig them in a floodplain, they would be useless for holding the Mothermouth Moorland territory

Tallkit is born into a terrible position. Son of the head tunneler, mother in a terrible depression, and Heatherstar trying to pry a wedge between the "future" and the "past"

Im also planning to change his name. He was born Slowworm-Kit, which has a connotation of cleverness in Clanmew. To bully him, Shrewpaw calls him Wormtail, because Slowworms drop their tails if pulled. It means "you will get trapped in a cave-in, and when they pull your tail, it'll fall off"

But it doesn't translate well into English... so I'm not sure what his Heatherstar-given warrior name would be. Wormwing or Wormleap maybe, like he "defied fate" to become a wonderful moor-runner...

Or maybe the prefix is Drop? Droptail as the mean bully name and Dropflight as the warrior name...

Anyway, when he returns, Heatherstar welcomes back the extra claws and honors the lesson he learned with "Talltale." In Clanmew this is "Story-travelled," his leader name meaning "Tale-star."

Anyway. Back to the cat drama

Talltail (name pending) is in a tight spot. I kind of want to show everyone being a victim except Heatherstar herself, who has all the power in this situation.

Not that it excuses anyone

Sandgorse is watching something he loves dying, an ancient tradition passed down for generations. He is trying to force his son into a position he shouldn't HAVE to occupy, but his child is the one thing he might have any control over

(Until Tall breaks it ofc)

Tallpaw was just a kid. He needed to take out his bullying and the stress on something, and that was usually his mother and the concept of tunneling

Palebird has been completely neglected by her mate as he focuses on the person he WANTS his kid to be. She NAMED a Fading Kit, a serious social taboo, and even the support of the nursery and Woolytail can't pull her out before Tall's kithood is over

Heatherstar is using Tallpaw as a political pawn and Tallpaw is too young and hurt to realize it. He was given to her sister, Dawnstripe, and endlessly praised for his skill and talent in a time where he NEEDED positive feedback

Which is making his relationships with his parents worse

All the while, there's VIOLENCE. Regular raids and counterstrikes. Cats die and get injured, and it only escalates as Tall gets older and Cedarstar is reaching the end of his lives, hoping to end the conflict before then

And in all this chaos and uncertainty, there comes Sparrow.

Just a trader and an honored guest, there's been lots of these nomadic visitors since the time of Windstar herself, but they've become quite rare.

When Sandgorse dies suddenly in that collapse (TITLE DROP) Talltail has the push he finally needs. It's too much. He can't process this

Sparrow begs him to leave with them, they don't even need to confront anyone, just come!

IF IT SUCKS HIT DA BRICKS

I have tons of really nice little things planned for this part of the story. It's several chapters of Talltail being free.

He engages in the funeral rites of Wee Hen, asking if he may sit vigil for her. His new family is honored to allow it, Reena even tries to do it too and falls asleep

(Little sister energy)

They meet all sorts of people and go to many places. Talltail learns that the world is vast, and there's an endless amount of knowledge out here.

It all starts crashing down when him and Jake find a litter of abandoned kittens, and become parents.

They're a few moons old.. around the same age as his halfsibs back home.

It starts bringing back memories. He wonders how they're doing. If they made a nice grave for Sandgorse...

The sudden longing for his own mother strikes him like lightning.

For the first time in eons, he feels GUILT over leaving. He thought it was over-- he's living his own life now!

But what if they're hurt? What if there was a battle and he couldn't help? What if his mentor died and he didn't even know?

What kind of a horrible son doesn't even say goodbye?

The problems that made him leave seem so small now, and the homesickness is like acid leaking from his stomach, dissolving his guts and leaving him hollow

He's raising kits who will never know what it means to earn a title, or have a permanent home, or--

(Any of the other things he should have learned don't have meaning outside of clan culture. Things they wouldn't miss.)

He cherishes the memories he makes here, raising children with his mate, but something turns inside of Talltail. Like the groaning ache of a hundred stones on top of a decaying mineshaft

The REAL collapse is this. An existential crisis Talltail can't escape from.

And eventually, it comes tumbling down with one last, horrible nightmare.

In his dream, he came home only to find the sandy camp abandoned, the dens decrepit, full of musty scent and cobwebs.

Sandgorse was there. And they talked.

His dad was gruff as always, disappointed. But he didn't say anything the real Sandgorse would say.

The nightmare said, "You really did turn out like me. We both left your mother when she needed us. Turned our backs on our leader. And now we're both dead to WindClan."

Tall wakes up crying. Jake is there to comfort him, but the conversation they have is sad.

Jake tries to tell him that's all not true, and even if it WAS his dad, his dad sucked and would only say that to hurt him!

But... Tall can't believe it. Jake's right but also wrong. He IS all those horrible things.

And...... how can jake ever Understand? He does not know the Bonds of a Clan cat

(thought terminating cliche. Outsiders Cant Understand Our Bonds.)

He stays a few more days, but that nightmare was the end. And everyone sees the change.

The kits are apprentice-aged. He stayed until they would be old enough to keep up with the Algernauts.

And he says goodbye. He won't ever leave without saying goodbye ever again.

Jake says it doesn't have to be goodbye, he'll always love him, and they can visit! They can see each other again!

And Tall says yes. That this isn't the end. It's... see you later, my love.

(...but they both know how violent it's getting between Wind and Shadow. It isn't safe to visit.)

It is the end. But neither can admit it.

But after Tall is a fair distance away, one of his kits tackles him.

POSSIBLY Post-Tallstar's Collapse

Not sure if I'd put these in a novella or still make it part of it, but these are all directly related to the fallout of Tallstar's Collapse

Most likely is that there would be overlap between this and Brokenstar's Cataclysm, so the same events would be seen in different perspectives.

The kit's name is Fly. Tall has to wait for him to catch his breath and stop crying before they can talk.

Fly already lost parents before. He says he knows he can't make his dads stay together, "But PLEASE, papa, let me choose where I go this time!"

How could he say no? How could he send his son away after a plea like that?

He told him it would be hard. That he would be trained. That there would be dangerous fights.

Fly didn't care, he said he could be strong. He could do anything he needed to.

So... Tall took him to WindClan, where he became Flypaw. He became the warrior he promised he would be.

And Tall didn't notice how much the kid was changing until it was too late. Flytail took to it as if he was Clanborn-- but had to work twice as hard, fight thrice as viciously.

Though Talltail was graced with an Honor Title and open arms, he'd adopted his greatest rival.

Fly and Tall started competing for deputyship as soon as they finished training apprentices; Heatherstar had a fondness for the two of them.

In the end, Talltail won the spot by springing into action and saving Heatherstar's young nephew, a little golden tabby, from an adder.

Flytail continued as one of the more aggressive warriors in the Clan, surviving increasingly violent and bitter battles, until it came to a head in Heatherstar's Last Stand.

Her final battle as an old leader was a gruesome, definitive curbstomp in the last strategic point ShadowClan held above Carrionplace.

One of the losses was Lizardstripe-- neck snapped in Flytail's jaws.

Runningnose, and by extension, the oak-tree to his long-shadow, Brokentail, remembered this. Especially when Runningnose's father Mudfoot collapsed later that year.

As Talltail took leadership from the dying Heatherstar, a familiar regretful guilt wormed into his belly.

His son Flytail stood with a bloody mouth, eyes wet with sorrow, looking down at the leader Talltail once loved almost as much. Appreciating her sacrifice.

(secretly he didnt choose Deadfoot as his deputy just for his honor title or the battle move he invented... he chose him because there was a shocked, sorrowful look in his eyes at the fallen shadowclan cat. Sympathy seems more honorable in this moment.)

Tallstar is a wise leader... but his fatal flaw is naivety. How could he think he'd bring his son into WindClan, and not see the boy grow into a ferocious Warrior?

And naivety is what he displayed when he offered Raggedstar a peace deal. WindClan would keep the land, but they would pay a small tax of rabbits over the winter.

It was unprecedented. It was merciful. It was stupid.

When the winter was over, what would stop them from pushing further south?

Would they trade back the frogs and the flax, come summer?

On the blood and bones of so many warriors? As if giving up was ever an option?

Brokentail killed his father to prevent him from taking the deal, and reawakened Ripplestar's War Tactics.

BURN the peat. KILL the prey. OFFENSE is defense. A dead warrior is 10 less claws. A dead apprentice is 1 less warrior.

Stolen kittens are 1 more warrior on your own side.

Tallstar paid the ultimate price for letting Flytail follow him home that day. On the night of the massacre, Flytail went down fighting alongside a mate and a daughter. Dogpiled by Tangleburr and her squadron in revenge for Lizardstripe and Mudfoot.

Tallstar's granddaughter Stoneclaw, made a warrior and sitting for her vigil on that night, was the sole survivor of the little family.

The event stopped her from speaking again, like she's still sitting vigil.

Tallstar is a character who almost broke free of the control of the Clans. For a brief moment of his life, he was free.

He thought maybe he could change things a little, protect his Clanmates from the battles by being part of them, have the Mothermouth Moorland and protect the peace at the same time. But you CAN'T.

You can't fix broken systems without fundamentally changing them. He thought he could be a nice warlord and that would work on the Clan whose territory he had inherited. Power acts through people just as much as they act through power.

And that's Tallstar. He who travels the world, yet is never able to go far enough. Always falling just a little short of the point, believing that love and mercy is enough while blissfully ignorant of the pressures of pride and power.

Into this role, as a successor to this leader, Onestar is unwillingly thrust.

#BB!Tallstar #Better bones au #BB!Flytail #Tallstar's Collapse

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justarandomsixfan · 12 days ago

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Epic the Ithaca saga and My beef with Amphinomus's portrayal

(Aka, A nonsensical rant x)

Right x

Epic is an absolutely amazing album, and I've fallen into the Odyssey rabbit hole since one of my friends in College introduced me through 600 strikes x

For the most part, I prefer the Characterizations in Epic over most other portrayals. For example, Odysseus fully embracing becoming a monster and acknowledging his old personality is lost forever over it being completely forgotten after the contest.

(Also this is the best Antonius portrayal I've seen. He's absolute scum with zero redeeming qualities and i was screaming for that arrow to hurry tf up during hold them down)

There's only one real exception to this. One of the suitors, Amphinomus.

In the Ithaca saga, he only has a few throwaway lines in "Odysseus" and is the suitor killed by Telemachus.

After looking into the odysseymore, I was a little confused as to why they chose this character out of all of the suitors to have this role, and a few of the lines attributed to them were out of character to me.

In the Odyssey and most other adaptations, Amphinomus is portrayed as the only half decent suitor in the whole group. He's sympathetic to both Odysseus and Telemachus, standing up for the latter on multiple occasions and deflecting the other 106 suitors from killing Telemachus. Despite being a suitor, he's genuinely well-meaning, if misguided in his actions, even unknowingly helping Odysseus prior to his big reveal. he's even offered mercy from the bloodbath and given the chance to flee by the disguised king, but his ego forces him to stay, sealing his fate.

To me, this represents the slightly hopeful idea that even in situations as desperate as this, there's a small sliver of humanity wedged in. Also, I just find it a little unrealistic that all 107 suitors have the exact same personality minus Antonious icl 💀

I get why Epic chose to make him a background character. It's a concept album, not the final product. Not everything is going to be final, and they were probably more focused on fleshing out more plot-heavy characters. If they did make it a fully fledged state production, or a movie etc though, i would love to see Sympathetic Amphinomus portrayed

And because My Hyperfixation sprees tend to come in the middle of the night, here's 2 ways I think he could be inculpated.

A: The reddemed suitor route:

Introduce him earlier, probably during the Wisdom Saga, as an innocent bystander. He tries to Intervene prior to "Little wolf" and dissuade Antonious from fighting Telemachus, but he's ignored. After, I'd maybe have him linger after the Number, maybe have a few seconds with Telemachus before following the other suitors.

By the time we're at the Ithaca saga, time has passed, and Amphinomus is more confident and openly sympathetic. he's fairly nonchalant about the contest and for a majority of "Hold them down" before the mood starts to shift. I'd add a small break between the last verse and final chorus where he finally stands up for himself, openly opposing the Suitors' horrific ideas, but he's still only one man against over 100. There's another short break after the number and before "Odysseus," where Amphinomus defies the suitors and goes to leave the room, when an arrow whizzes past, right into a certain Suitors neck...

Unfortunately, this route does still end in his death, but I'd give his lines in "Odysuess" to another suitor, maybe disperse the lines and demise amongst the other unnamed suitors in the room.

(Idea: Replace Eurymachus's lines with a cut character from the original odyssey, Leodes. A priest who works with the suitors & begs Odysseus for ungiven mercy. Eurymachus could then have all of Amphinomus's lines. )

B: The sliver of Humanity amongst the darkness route (the better one)

This route portrays Amphinomus as kind(er) and more sympathetic from the get-go. My vision also includes him being slightly older, think mid-30's, and more aware of his surroundings than most.

Characterization/ background:

Here, I'd still portray Amphinomus as a suitor vying for Penelope's hand, but unlike the others, his intentions are more honourable. He's actively chasing her against her wishes, but only because he wants to offer her a marriage of convenience and mutual respect. His reasoning? If Penelope is married, the other suitors would be forced to leave the palace and give up, leaving Penelope and Telemachus free from their harassment and torture.

He's also much more involved with Telemachus, acting as a surrogate father to the young prince, and outwardly protecting him against the suitors as much as he can.

Role in epic

Most of this original material takes place in the Ithaca saga.

Whilst Telemachus is away and the suitors grow are acting like idiots trying to string the bow, Amphinomus sees little point in staying amongst them and goes outdoors to get some air, only to be met by an old "Beggar". After a quick conversation that briefly mentions a certain contest, Amphinomus hands the "Beggar" his Chlamy (the Greek answer for a cloak, basically). Like in the source material, the disguised Odysseus gives him the chance to leave, but unlike the source, Amphinomus remains out of loyalty to Penelope. Not his ego or pride. They're completely absent for "Hold them down."

During "Odysseus", I'm adding a teeenneyy break between the 3rd & 4th verse (Is Eurymachus's bit a verse?) where we get a quick catchup with Amphinomus involving him running into Telemachus on his way back from the armory, the duo rushing back after Telemachus realizes he left it open, the suitors already having beaten them there.

Now, there's 2 ideas I have for him.

1: Death. He either dies fighting alongside Telemachus OR sacrifices himself right before Melanthius beats Telemachus down. In both cases, his loyalty is commended, and I like to imagine him being the only suitor given a proper burial.

2: Survival (Yay!). Just get the poor man offstage somehow. There's a lot of ways to do this. Have him go fetch servants to clean the mess, go with Telemachus to tell Penelope, etc. Either way, our softie lives!

If anyone actually read this full rant, Why? It's my hyperfixation going into overdrive at 3:am.....

Again, I'm not discrediting epic at all, it's one of the best adaptions of the odyssey and i have fallen in love in under 2 weeks, I'm merely rambling off about a character i found interesting.

Feel free to share opinions In comments or re-blogs, god be with anyone who actually read the full thing 💀

(Also creds to @ffcrazy15 for launching my mind haywire and for a little inspiration with Amphinomus & Odysseus actually interacting)

#epic the ithaca saga #epic the musical #amphinomus #oddyseus #the odyssey #musical theatre

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svn-bangtan · 2 years ago

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Soulmates

»pairing: Yoongi x reader

»genre: BTS | 13+ | Fluff

»wc/date: 4.5k | June 2023

» warnings: Just some fluff

»Summary: Everyone had a soulmate and many find theirs much faster than others. Throughout her years being alive, Y/n is slowly beginning to lose hope in finding her soulmate. After becoming a successful artist and meeting a new client and a stranger at a cafe, things change very quickly.

» notes: THIS ONE-SHOT WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED ON MY OLD ACCOUNT @loomdiamonds

» m.list | Taglist | Thoughts? Comments? Concerns

Soulmates. The notion of being destined to be with someone, a connection meant to last a lifetime. It's a captivating concept that defies comprehension.

In this extraordinary world, every person bears a unique tattoo on their wrist. It consists of their soulmate's first and middle initials, followed by their last name. For instance, if Y/n's soulmate's name is Tong Sochun, her tattoo would read Tong S.

Discovering one's true soulmate occurs through physical contact, such as a high five. When this happens, the wrist tattoo vanishes, replaced by a new one encircling the ring finger, bearing the partner's full name. From that moment forward, they both embark on a blissful journey together.

Simple, right? Well, not quite.

Y/n's tattoo reads Min Y., a constant reminder since her earliest memories of yearning to meet him or her. However, as the years pass, hope gradually slips away.

Recently, she relocated to Seoul, seeking better prospects in this vibrant metropolis. Unfortunately, after spending considerable time here, it feels like an exercise in futility.

Today, she finds solace in a cozy cafe, engrossed in a new book, relishing her well-deserved day off. These are the moments she eagerly anticipates—a chance to escape reality, stepping out of her apartment and immersing herself in simple pleasures that help momentarily forget about soulmates and the complexities of daily life.

A deep sigh escapes Y/n as she briefly diverts her attention from the book, gazing outside at the enchanting view of Seoul. She offers a faint smile, hugging her coffee mug a little closer. For an instant, she glances down at her wrist, tracing the delicate script that has adorned it since infancy.

Despite her waning hope of finding her soulmate, Y/n yearns to experience the same happiness her parents share—a love so profound, nurtured from childhood, and fortified by a single hug in first grade.

It's every girl's dream—to witness her mom and dad, who never had to embark on wild adventures to find their destined partner.

Setting her cup down, Y/n sweeps her hair away from her face, observing as the first snowflakes begin their gentle descent from the sky. Her gaze drifts downward, lost in contemplation.

Out there, somewhere, Y/n's soulmate patiently awaits. Perhaps they ponder the same questions that haunt her. Uncertainty and countless inquiries swirl within them, chief among them being the fear of rejection.

Rejection is a cruel blow, one that cuts deeply. It ranks among the worst acts one can inflict on another, second only to criminal behavior. When you experience outright rejection, your tattoos vanish, and you become destined to never find love again. Even if you were to try, happiness would forever elude you. It's challenging to articulate fully but rest assured, it's a devastating fate to endure.

What if Y/n's soulmate has passed away, unbeknownst to her? The same fate awaits.

Love becomes an elusive concept, eternal happiness forever out of reach. If she never gets the chance to be with her soulmate, life becomes an unrelenting misery. It's an unfortunate reality, one that plagues the minds of all who ponder the enigma of soulmates.

This notion has even crossed Y/n's mind. At twenty-eight, while all her friends have found their soulmates, she has begun to wonder if her day will ever come. Perhaps her destined partner is no longer among the living. Yet, her wrist bears the undeniable mark—a reminder that they still exist, waiting to be discovered.

"What is a lovely lady like yourself doing all alone up here?" a male voice suddenly interrupts, causing Y/n to jump slightly.

She turns her head and finds a tall man with shaggy brown hair, his warm smile directed at her. Returning the smile, she shrugs her shoulders and raises her book. "Just reading, cherishing the simple things."

Nodding, he gestures toward the empty seat in front of her, silently seeking permission to join her. Y/n agrees, and as he settles across from her, her eyes are drawn to his hand. She notices a name etched around his ring finger, and a quiet sigh escapes her. 'Of course, someone as good-looking as him has already found his soulmate,' she muses inwardly.

"You'll find them one day," he remarks suddenly, causing Y/n's eyes to widen in surprise. 'Did I say it out loud?'

Chuckling, he holds up his hand, his gaze fixed on her bewildered expression. "You were staring, so I assumed you were questioning yourself." Y/n offers a faint smile as she turns her gaze back to the window, where the falling snow gradually blankets the ground.

"It's astonishing to think that somewhere out there, my soulmate awaits me," she muses, looking down at her tattoo with a tender smile. "I admit, meeting them is a truly magical experience." She takes a deep breath and glances at the man, finding him already gazing at her with a smile.

"Hopefully, that day comes soon," she confesses, her fingers gently tracing the tattoo. "This waiting game has become unbearable."

The man chuckles in response to her words, understanding etched on his face as he takes a sip of his coffee. Once again, they sit in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence until Y/n breaks the quietude.

"I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Chun Y/n," she introduces herself.

"Chun?" he says, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. Y/n nods, offering a sweet smile. "Yes, I'm not originally from Seoul. I moved here from Namyang-dong."

He nods, his grin widening. "Well, my name is Hoseok, and I might just know your soulmate," he declares, standing up and leaving Y/n perplexed.

"Wait, what?"

"Chun is a rare last name, right? I don't think I've ever come across anyone with that surname," he explains, prompting Y/n to slowly nod. "Yes, it's more common in Japan, if I'm not mistaken."

Gently taking hold of her hand, Hoseok gazes down at her tattoo, humming in contemplation. "Well, a good friend of mine, who recently returned to back to Seoul, bears your last name and initial on his wrist. He hasn't met his soulmate yet. It's possible that the two of you are destined for each other."

"But I'm confused," Y/n interjects, withdrawing her hand. "Is that why you approached me? Do you do this with many women?"

Hoseok bursts into hearty laughter, a sound that oddly resembles a windshield wiper, shaking his head. "No, I mistook you for my fiancée by accident. You two have a striking resemblance, and when I noticed your mark, I thought I'd explore the possibility."

"Oh, I see..." Y/n says, leaning back in her seat. "So, what now? If I choose to entertain this possibility, how will I meet your friend?"

Hoseok smirks, reclining in his chair and taking another sip of his coffee. "Leave that to me Chun Y/n."

Sometimes, Y/n finds herself plagued by a persistent thought that whispers she may never cross paths with her soulmate. It's as if the universe has singled her out, marking her as one of the unlucky ones destined to live without that profound connection. This notion lingers, casting a shadow of doubt and loneliness over her heart.

Yet, despite occasional glimmers of hope ignited by her encounter at the café, Y/n has learned to temper her expectations. She has grown accustomed to guarding her heart, shielding herself from the potential pain of disappointment.

In this particular moment, Y/n is immersed in her art studio at work, fully absorbed in a new piece taking shape on her canvas.

Suddenly, a gentle knock at the door interrupts her concentration, drawing her attention towards the entrance. Her face lights up with a smile as she sees her boss, Kim Namjoon, stepping into the room, accompanied by an incredibly striking man.

Rising gracefully from her seat, Y/n warmly greets them both, and Namjoon turns towards his companion, ready to make the introductions.

"Y/n, this is Yoongi, my best friend and a producer," Namjoon announces, his voice tinged with pride. "Yoongi, meet Y/n, one of my incredibly talented artists. She's the one who painted that remarkable piece you showed interest in a few months ago."

A delicate blush colors Y/n's cheeks as she gazes at the man introduced as Yoongi. His presence commands attention, and the timbre of his deep voice momentarily catches her off guard. "Thank you," she responds graciously, her voice gentle and composed. "I truly appreciate your kind words, sir."

Yoongi, his eyes seemingly locked on Y/n, offers her a warm smile. "Please, call me Yoongi. I'm intrigued by the story behind that captivating painting," he says, his curiosity evident as he takes a leisurely stroll around her studio, Namjoon following closely behind. Together, they admire the artwork adorning the walls, until their attention is drawn to a copy of the painting that had caught their eye.

With a steadying breath, Y/n prepares to share the tale behind her creation. As she points to the two figures portrayed in the painting, she feels Yoongi's unwavering gaze upon her. She strives to maintain her professional composure, even as her heart flutters with anticipation. Her words flow with passion and depth, painting a vivid picture with her storytelling.

"Beautiful," Yoongi remarks, causing Y/n to momentarily lose herself in his gaze. A deeper shade of pink graces her cheeks, and Namjoon interjects, unwittingly shattering the enchantment.

"Speaking of soulmates, Yoongi here wanted to commission a piece for his own," Namjoon shares, unknowingly pricking at Y/n's delicate hopes. Swiftly, she masks any trace of disappointment and offers a genuine smile. "It would be my pleasure to create a piece for you, Yoongi."

"Hey, Y/n," Namjoon says with a warm smile. "I need to take a quick call. I'll be right back." Without waiting for a response, he exits the room, leaving Y/n alone in the studio.

Just as their connection seems to deepen, a stack of papers held precariously in Yoongi's hands begins to waver, threatening to tumble to the floor. In an instant, a gust of wind rushes through the studio from Namjoon leaving briefly, scattering the papers in all directions.

Reacting with swift reflexes, both Y/n and Yoongi instinctively reach out to catch the fleeing sheets, their hand's mere inches away from touching. Their eyes meet briefly, a fleeting spark of electric anticipation passing between them, hinting at the profound connection that almost transpired.

Yet, their near-touch is abruptly interrupted as Namjoon bursts into the studio, his voice filled with urgency. "Yoongi, we have to go. It's already 3, and we'll be late for our meeting with Jin." Namjoon swiftly exits the studio, with Yoongi following in his wake. However, before he leaves, Yoongi turns back to offer Y/n one final smile. "I look forward to working with you, Y/n."

Returning the smile, Y/n bows respectfully. "Likewise," she replies softly as Yoongi walks away, leaving her once again in the solitude of her studio. A sigh escapes her lips as she settles back into her seat, her gaze fixed upon the canvas before her. "Every time, Y/n," she whispers to herself, a tinge of frustration evident in her voice.

Shaking off her thoughts, Y/n firmly grasps her paintbrush, determined to pour her emotions onto the canvas once more. Stroke by stroke, she channels her hopes and dreams, infusing her art with passion, knowing that one day, amidst the uncertainty that lingers, her soulmate might just find her.

"I'm curious, what prompted your call today?" Y/n asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She heard Hoseok chuckle on the other end of the line as she finished tidying up her workstation and made her way toward the bedroom in her studio.

"Your soulmate, of course," Hoseok replied, causing Y/n to roll her eyes. It had been about three days since they had met at the café, and ever since, Hoseok had been eager to introduce his friend to Y/n to determine if they were potential soulmates.

Unfortunately, due to their busy schedules and Y/n's dedication to her artwork, they hadn't been able to meet yet. Despite Hoseok having a soulmate, Y/n couldn't shake Mr. Yoongi from her thoughts. She knew it was wrong since they could never be together, but she couldn't help but think about him.

"I don't know, Hoseok," Y/n said as she sat on the bed in the bedroom. Mr. Kim, the building owner, had kindly agreed to remodel her studio into an apartment-like space, complete with a sleeping area. Y/n was grateful for this arrangement since she practically lived in her studio more than her actual home.

"Why not, Y/n? He's available tonight, and so are you. It's perfect," Hoseok persisted, causing Y/n to roll her eyes and glance out the window at the weather. "I'm still at work, and even if I go, I probably won't have time to go home and freshen up. Besides, have you seen the weather outside?"

"You're impossible, Chun Y/n, you know that?" Hoseok teased, eliciting a laugh from Y/n. After some time on the phone and a bit of convincing, she eventually agreed to finally meet Hoseok's friend that night. Once she hung up, she lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the upcoming meeting.

'Try not to get your hopes up, Y/n. There's a strong possibility it's just a coincidence,' she thought to herself. As she lay there, a knock on her studio door interrupted her thoughts. She got up and opened the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the man in front of her.

"Mr. Yoongi?"

"Hello, I just came to talk to you briefly about the painting. May I come in?" he asked politely. Y/n nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter. She took note of his well-fitted suit and noticed that his hair was now styled in waves instead of being pushed back.

Closing the door behind him, Mr. Yoongi stood in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. "So, have you thought of any ideas for your painting for them?"

He paused for a moment, turning to look at Y/n. "Well, I'd love to hear your ideas. I've made a list of possibilities, but I'm not entirely sure."

"I'd love to help you in any way I can. Let's start by discussing how you would describe your soulmate," Y/n said, walking over to her desk to grab her notepad. She heard him sigh as he took a seat on a random chair, capturing Y/n's attention.

"I haven't met them just yet," he said quietly, his words drawing Y/n's full attention. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's alright, really," Mr. Yoongi replied, looking up at Y/n with a slight smile before leaning back in the chair. "After I saw your artwork—forgive me if this sounds creepy—but I couldn't help but look more and more at all of your pieces. Since starting my career as a producer, I feel like I've lost touch with people, and I stopped actively searching."

Y/n nodded, immediately understanding his sentiment as it resonated with her own feelings. As much as she wanted to meet her soulmate, with each passing day, her hope dwindled, fearing that perhaps they didn't want to be found.

"When I saw your artwork, it instantly made me feel alive again. It made me see the brighter side of things and gave me the courage to give the search another try after all these years," he continued, locking eyes with Y/n.

Unbeknownst to her, her heart began to beat faster. "Thanks to you, I found hope again. With this painting, I want to convey that even during my period of giving up, not a day went by that I didn't think about them. And who better to paint it than the person who restored my hope?"

Y/n smiled warmly, feeling honored by his words. She jotted down some notes in her notebook. "Well, just know that I am truly honored to undertake this for you. Your soulmate is already so fortunate to have you."

They engaged in a conversation, discussing various ideas for the painting until Mr. Yoongi's phone suddenly rang. He apologized and checked the caller ID. "I'm sorry, but I have to meet up with a friend right now."

"That's alright. Let's call it a night," Y/n said, setting her notebook aside as they both stood up. She walked him to the door, and as he was about to leave, his eyes caught sight of a flyer hanging nearby. "You're having a showcase?"

"Yes, it's the day after tomorrow. You're welcome to come if you'd like," Y/n replied, offering a polite smile. Nodding, Mr. Yoongi returned the smile before opening the door. "I'll definitely stop by. See you later. And thank you again for your assistance."

"Anytime, Mr. Yoongi," Y/n said, bidding him farewell.

"Wow, I had no idea you were such a talented artist!" Hoseok exclaimed, his eyes scanning the art gallery where Y/n's showcase was taking place. Y/n chuckled softly and nodded in response.

"Well, to be fair, we haven't known each other for that long," she replied graciously, expressing her gratitude to the attendees. Hoseok seized the opportunity to inquire about her recent date. Turning towards Y/n, he asked, "So, how did the date go? Are you guys soulmates?"

Y/n let out a deep sigh, shaking her head in disappointment. "They never showed up," she stated, her gaze focused on a piece of artwork in front of them.

Strangely, she wasn't as disheartened as one might expect. In fact, she had almost decided not to attend the date herself after her encounter with Mr. Yoongi. "I should probably strangle him," Hoseok muttered under his breath, expressing his frustration with his unreliable friend.

As Hoseok continued venting about his friend's unreliability, Y/n turned her head to the side and caught sight of someone entering the gallery. A light smile formed on her lips for a brief moment before she quickly shook her head and redirected her attention back to Hoseok.

It's not him, Y/n. Remember, don't get your hopes up. His soulmate is out there, and it's unlikely to be you, she reminded herself silently, glancing down at her wrist.

Although Y/n had met Mr. Yoongi twice, she had never caught a glimpse of his wrist to determine their compatibility. In truth, she preferred not to know. She had been making an effort to stop thinking about him, but for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't shake him from her thoughts.

"He's right there. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," Hoseok grumbled, his frown directed at someone behind Y/n. Shaking her head at his impulsive behavior, Y/n decided to stroll around her exhibit, relishing in the pride she felt for how far she had come in her career.

Painting had always been her refuge, her way of escaping reality, and each canvas held its own unique journey and story. While she never shared those stories with the public, she delighted in hearing people's theories and interpretations of her artwork.

Lost in her own thoughts, Y/n found herself standing in front of her piece titled "Loveless Love." Several people had gathered around it, captivated by its beauty and engaged in discussions. This sight brought a wider smile to her face.

"It's a truly beautiful piece, as I've told you before," a familiar voice spoke, causing Y/n to jump slightly in surprise. She turned her head and saw Yoongi standing there, his gummy smile radiating warmth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," Y/n replied, her gaze returning to the painting. She could feel Yoongi's eyes on her, causing a gentle blush to color her cheeks as she focused on the artwork before them. Despite the crowd surrounding them, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

"So beautiful," Yoongi whispered, capturing Y/n's attention once again. She met his gaze, and in his eyes, she saw a certain look.

Slowly, he reached up his hand, his fingers tenderly grazing her cheek before delicately tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/n's heart fluttered as she gazed up at Yoongi, the man she had come to love deeply. They sat together under the shade of a grand tree, sharing an intimate picnic. Her eyes met his, captivated by the gentle glimmer in his deep brown orbs, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

"Yoongi," she said, her voice filled with affection. "I can't help but wonder... how much do you love me?" As she spoke, Y/n noticed the beautiful ring adorning her left ring finger, engraved with Yoongi's full name.

Yoongi's eyes locked onto hers, and he tenderly clasped her hands. "Trying to extract my wedding vows, huh?" he playfully remarked. "Well, I'm afraid that's top-secret information. But I can promise you, my love for you is immeasurable." His words were accompanied by a light chuckle as he lightly tapped her shoulder.

Unable to contain her joy, Y/n giggled and lightly tapped his good shoulder in return. Leaning down, Yoongi planted a soft kiss on her head, his gaze never leaving her eyes. "Seriously, I want to know," Y/n insisted, a glimmer of curiosity shining in her gaze.

Her expression turned tender as she spoke, her voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. "My love for you knows no bounds. It will endure through rain and sunshine, treating you like a precious diamond and never letting you wander far from my side. Even when distance separates us, you'll always remain in my heart, every second of every day. My love for you will bloom until my very last breath, for with you, I have found purpose and a love I want to show you." Y/n's eyes sparkled as she held Yoongi's gaze, her love pouring forth.

Yoongi's gaze softened, brimming with warmth and adoration. "I remember the first time I saw you," he reminisced.

"From that moment, I knew you were my soulmate. Your presence in your studio captured my attention completely. Your eyes, your smile... they stole my heart the instant you spoke. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. And to this day, I can't believe how perfectly we were meant to be. You are everything I've ever dreamed of in a soulmate, and now, you are mine. Please never doubt how much I appreciate everything you do for us. You mean the world to me, and I love you with all my heart."

Y/n's cheeks flushed with warmth and delight. "Stop," she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of affection and amusement. "That was so cute, it might make me start crying." She covered her face with her hands, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of Yoongi's love.

Yoongi chuckled softly and gently removed her hands, his lips pressing against the back of them. "And if you do cry," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, "I'll always be here to wipe away your tears."

Feeling her heart swell with love, Y/n sat up fully, being careful not to bump her head on a tree branch. Their eyes met once again, and the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own little universe.

"I can't wait to marry you," Yoongi confessed, his hand tenderly caressing Y/n's cheek. Her smile grew wider, and she felt an overwhelming sense of joy and anticipation.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Y/n leaned forward and kissed Yoongi with all the passion and love she held within her. The kiss started softly but soon deepened, as every inch of their bodies and souls melted into one another. Yoongi's hands cradled Y/n's face, ensuring the perfect connection, while she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

Finally, they pulled apart, their lips still tingling, but their smiles radiant and content. Y/n rested her head on Yoongi's chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/n gasped, returning to reality. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Yoongi, astonishment etched on both their faces. Slowly, a slight pain emanated from her wrist and left ring finger, drawing their attention downward.

Unbeknownst to them, the entire room had turned their gaze towards the couple, their curiosity piqued. Y/n's wrist tattoo faded away, replaced by a name on her ring finger—Min Yoongi.

"Oh my god," Y/n whispered in awe, her eyes flickering up to meet Yoongi's matching expression.

He is my soulmate. He's who I've been waiting for, she thought, her heart overflowing with joy.

Countless questions swirled in her mind, but before she could voice them, Yoongi took action. In a moment of pure instinct, he pressed his lips against hers, leaving Y/n breathless and captivated once again. She gasped in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, their connection growing stronger with every passing second.

The room erupted into applause and cheers, but Y/n blushed profusely, hiding her face in Yoongi's chest. His laughter reverberated through his chest as he relished in her adorable reaction. "See, Y/n? I told you I knew your soulmate," Hoseok declared triumphantly, catching the attention of both Y/n and Yoongi.

"He's the one I was supposed to meet?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with astonishment. Hoseok nodded, and Y/n turned to Yoongi, finding the same disbelief mirrored in his eyes.

"Yes, Yoongi, she's the one you stood up last night," Hoseok explained, prompting Y/n to laugh wholeheartedly.

"In my defense, I didn't go because I got caught up in work after visiting you," Yoongi confessed, causing Y/n to smile and playfully shake her head. "It's alright. At least now we know who this painting is for."

Yoongi's eyes softened as he whispered, "Yes, my beautiful soulmate, Chun Y/n." Y/n's heart raced, and her smile widened further. Embracing the moment, Yoongi leaned in for a quick peck on her lips. "Guys, please get a room," Hoseok groaned, earning giggles from everyone witnessing the affectionate exchange.

"Can't I cherish my beautiful soulmate?" Yoongi playfully retorted, his eyes shining with adoration.

"Stop it," Y/n protested, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. She looked down shyly, only to be gently guided by Yoongi to meet his gaze once more. "Don't be shy now, Y/n. This is how it will be forever. I promise you," he declared, his voice brimming with sincerity.

"Forever," Y/n whispered, her eyes sparkling with love and excitement. "I absolutely love the sound of that." Their love had found its place, and from that moment on, they embarked on an enchanting journey, hand in hand, destined for a future filled with eternal love and happiness.

#min yoongi #Suga #Yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #Suga oneshot #bts fanfic #bts fic #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #bts #bts yoongi #BTS suga

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shoechoe · 1 month ago

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Giorno and Diavolo

(This is part of a series of posts about Diavolo’s character, though they can be read in any order. The links to the rest are here.)

In this post, I will talk about how Vento Aureo struggles with making Diavolo and Giorno’s dynamic effective.

Word Count: ~2600

Giorno and Diavolo

It’s a common criticism that Giorno and Diavolo’s dynamic is practically nonexistent. Vento Aureo spans over the course of about a week, they don’t interact at all until the final fight, and Diavolo barely refers to Giorno’s existence until then.

You see something superficially similar with the dynamic of Josuke and Kira in part four, but that lack of interaction worked because the significance of Kira was his facade of being an ordinary man. Unlike Dio being set out as the Joestar’s major enemy from the beginning, Kira committed atrocities while slipping through undetected by the heroes for so long that it became terrifying.

The Boss, on the other hand, was positioned as Giorno’s major enemy from the beginning- but their total lack of a dynamic gives no feeling of weight behind their framing as fate-destined enemies. Diavolo has an “I always knew he’d be my greatest enemy” line that just comes across as laughable because he has no reason to have “always” thought that about a boy that showed up out of nowhere about a week ago.

The strongest background symbolism present with Diavolo and Giorno is an overarching Jesus and Antichrist-like narrative; Diavolo has gathered together and led the cast before Giorno could, so Giorno must turn them against Diavolo and defeat him to restore “justice” as their righteous leader. There’s also a created contrast with Gold Experience Requiem being the direct opposite to King Crimson, having the ability to remove “results” and leave “effects” as an argument against Diavolo’s philosophy that effects are meaningless without results.

However, these pieces of background symbolism are just not strong enough in the face of a dynamic that is, upfront, pretty much absent. I think there are a few overlapping reasons why establishing a compelling dynamic between the two was a struggle for the story, and the biggest one is the conflict of character motivation and plot execution.

---

Giorno’s Motivation

One major thing that makes Vento Aureo feel different from other Jojo parts is that up until its parallel with Jojolands, no other part deals with the subject of organized crime.

The introduced conceit of the story is that Giorno wants to become an “honorable” gangster and “fix” the dishonor that Passione is currently outputting by taking it over. As a result of being saved by a gangster in his youth, he idolizes the image of a gang that upholds justice and wants to become the embodiment of everything he thinks a gangster “should” be.

This view of the mafia is, of course, an extreme idolization. As regulation-defying organizations created with the goal of making money by any means possible, the iconic Italian mafias Passione is directly based off of are parasitic and instigate widespread violence and corruption by nature. Giorno’s idea of a “Gang-Star” is realistically naive at best and impossible to achieve at worst.

This is not inherently a story criticism. In fact, this flawed point of view is logically sensical for a character like Giorno. He was born into a bad life and grew up seeing the mob as the only way out. It is easy to interpret Giorno as a morally gray character taking an odd view of “justice” from what he was taught in his childhood; in fact, I find that character concept extremely compelling.

My viewpoint, then, is somewhat more complicated. Giorno is not a conceptually bad character, but if a story about restoring justice is what Vento Aureo was attempting, I do not think Giorno’s motivations and character framing works well in some aspects.

---

Vento Aureo and the Mafia

As you’d probably expect, Vento Aureo’s depiction of the Italian mafia is simplistic and vague. We are given a noticeably bare minimum amount of information on Passione for the sake of pure story function.

I would not normally expect intricacies like the systemic issue of the Italian mafia from a Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure story, but it becomes irritating when it results in aiding the main character’s flawed ideology being narratively unchallenged.

While Giorno is certainly depicted with moral grayness in his day-to-day actions, he faces little to no criticism for his idea of a “good” gangster. His gained spirit through idolization of the mafia is narrated as his “heart being straightened out”, though with the side note of gangsters being an odd place for that to come from. Koichi, one prominent non-gangster character, gestures towards gangs being “immoral” but then comments on Giorno’s apparent heart of gold that he recognizes in the other Joestars.

While he shows arrogance and a lack of care for causing harm if it furthers his goal, he is depicted as intelligent, caring towards his allies, and a strong leader. I think it’s pretty apparent that the story wants you to ultimately like and root for him as the hero of the story.

The only systemic mafia problem brought front-and-center to the story is the drug trade, something specifically facilitated by Diavolo and detested by Bruno and Giorno. Bruno’s specific shared hatred of the drug trade is framed as his initial redeeming quality that allows Giorno to pinpoint him as a “good person” despite being a gangster.

Vento Aureo’s choice to hyperfocus on the drug trade above anything else feels silly, especially when other systemic issues are brought up in the story but thrown to the side like they don’t matter. Bruno’s specific hatred of assassination and selling drugs to children, for example, seems hypocritical considering he’s introduced by torturing and attempting to murder Giorno, a fifteen-year-old boy, on the Boss’s orders.

Even if we disregard his introduction, as his character immediately shifts once defeated, Bruno has no criticism for and seemingly actively involves himself in mentioned institutions like illegal gambling and protection racketeering.

Bruno is depicted as a liked and respected member of the community feeling polarized by his implicit support of the drug trade, so his direct involvement in other extremely damaging systemic issues being a complete throwaway background detail is just odd.

Bruno’s backstory attempts to justify his specific hatred of the drug trade, but it’s still strange. It’s framed as though the Boss selling drugs is this moral betrayal that Bruno is deeply hurt by after entering the gang thinking of him as a good leader, but Bruno feeling “betrayed” is far more a result of his naive and nonsensical view of the mafia as a source of justice- personal drug-related trauma aside, how can it be logically perceived as a betrayal that the mafia does crimes to make money?

(The manga tries to make this feel more believable by mentioning a “code” that Passione supposedly broke by selling drugs, but as this is never shown nor mentioned ever again aside from this brief line, I think my point still applies.)

Bruno is the deuteragonist, so his narrative works alongside Giorno’s. Like Giorno, Bruno’s worldview is severely flawed, and issues that he blames on “The Boss” as an individual are more realistically just normal outcomes of the organization he idolizes. And for both of them, this goes relatively unacknowledged.

The story elaborating on the mafia beyond the simple depictions of infighting and the drug trade would likely require exploring Giorno’s moral boundaries of how a “good” gang would operate- how it would acquire profit and power and how it would deal with opposition. If the story dove into that, though, it would likely result in either Giorno coming across as extremely naive or as morally flawed to the point where we would have to doubt our support in his goal- something it does not seem to want to do, as above all, it still wants to frame Giorno as the hero.

This refusal to explore Giorno’s ideology on a deeper level limits how interesting he can be as a morally complicated protagonist. As a result, the way his character is framed becomes frustrating. It’s only understandable that many people express annoyance with Giorno giving put-down speeches about evil and righteousness when his own severely flawed ideology goes uncriticized throughout the entire story.

---

Is this really a huge problem?

Vento Aureo gives some aesthetic of being about systemic problems, but it is really about interpersonal conflict.

The drug trade is not brought up to explore how the Boss harms the country systemically, but rather to further Bruno’s personal feeling of betrayal. Likewise, Diavolo is not such a hated character because he causes mass systemic harm, he’s hated because of how he harms the major characters in a personal way. Giorno being morally complicated isn’t really for the sake of exploring his worldview, it’s more to give him a unique way of dealing with problems and forming allies compared to the previous main characters.

Therefore, while these moral contradictions and nonsensicalities are annoying and show a lack of thought put into the setting, they are not technically story-breaking. However, this now brings the problem that at some point, Giorno’s main motivation stops being fitting for the plot.

---

The Trish Storyline

To build up Diavolo as a personal evil, the plot pivots halfway through to the storyline with his attempted murder of Trish and how that allows the cast to see his evil up close, leading to their betrayal of him.

Alongside fitting with the theme of bad people finding something good to fight for and achieving salvation, this makes a compelling argument as to why Diavolo should be defeated. However, it does not make a compelling argument as to why we should support Giorno taking over the mafia himself; in fact, it seems to try and push it to the background instead.

This has the result of making Giorno somewhat of an ineffective protagonist. His stated goal of working his way up to the top of Passione is practically non-relevant by this point, and the plot could be easily executed without him present in it.

To be blunt, Trish is easily the more compelling idea for a protagonist here. The personal, fate-drawn connection with the main villain, the motivations being clear and convincing, the character development creating an interesting progression throughout the story, the main theme of creating hope in a hopeless situation- with this plot, it’s all there with Trish, but not with Giorno.

I notice the satisfaction of Vento Aureo’s ending to viewers is largely dependent on how much the individual watching personally disliked Diavolo, not on how Giorno taking over the mafia is particularly the focus at this point.

What Giorno actually does as leader of Passione (or how he even takes leadership, since nobody knew who Diavolo was) is never elaborated on, functioning as a footnote in the epilogue more than anything. A more satisfying ending by this point would be a Trish-centered one, but she doesn’t even get an acknowledgement.

---

Summary

Vento Aureo’s story twists itself into a sort of knot. It wants to depict a setting of moral complexity and systemic corruption, but it does not know how to break out of a simplistic mold of clear heroes and villains, resulting in frustrating worldbuilding and unintentionally hypocritical protagonists. It then tries to pivot to its strongpoint of personal animosity instead of tackling systemic problems, but this pushes Giorno out of relevancy as he has no personal relationship to the villain.

This is why Diavolo and Giorno are not effective as a protagonist and antagonist duo. Combined with their weak upfront dynamic, even the thematic parallels that are present only end up being sort of irritating beyond a purely interpersonal narrative. Giorno is no “Jesus” figure when his goal is unconvincing as a heroic one and Diavolo is no “Devil” when his logically worst crime is being in possession of a power system that’d cause harm even with the kindest person in charge of it.

Vento Aureo is intended to be a story about restoring hope in a seemingly hopeless situation, but it has trouble defining what it means by that. If it’s a story about restoring justice to the entire country, it feels very shallow and self-contradictory. If it’s a story about saving a girl from her evil father, there’s no point in having a main character whose central goal isn’t about her. It tries building a plot in multiple directions and comes out with none of them really working- and that shoots Diavolo in the foot.

---

How could you fix this?

In my opinion, the simplest solution to eliminate most of the story’s structural problems would be to just have Trish as the main character instead- but then it wouldn’t really be a Jojo part. If we eliminate that option, I think there are various ways you could alter the story to strengthen Diavolo and Giorno’s dynamic, ranging from tweaks to whole story overhauls.

I am personally fond of the idea of Giorno’s motivations being changed. Instead of idealizing and wishing to take over the mafia, Giorno could instead hate what the mafia has done to Italy and vow to weaken if not destroy its operations from the inside. You could keep the morally gray elements of Giorno’s character that Vento Aureo is good at displaying while still portraying him as the obvious hero and set a stronger contrast between him and Diavolo. With mafias being so large, complex, and systemic in nature, I imagine this would be difficult to write, though.

Alternatively, since Vento Aureo does best with personal narratives, Giorno’s motive could also be personal. Maybe the Boss and Giorno’s paths somehow crossed in the past, or Giorno knows the Boss did something personal to him or a loved one and he wants revenge. (Or, as something I’ve had suggested to me on this blog in the past, Diavolo could’ve turned out to be the positive influence on Giorno in his youth that made him idolize the mafia, forcing Giorno to question his entire worldview at some point in the story.)

And though this is just kind of a general thought, I often wonder what Vento Aureo would look like if Diavolo had any kind of extended interaction with Giorno that allowed him to learn of his worldview. It may be a possibility for Diavolo to be the character who could directly challenge and criticize Giorno’s naive worldview of the mafia being a force of justice. But then again, if that happened, we would probably have a very different story on our hands.

One of the common features of Vento Aureo’s writing problems is that fixing them often requires unraveling wide swaths of the story and there are a hundred branches of ideas for changes and overhauls and alternate directions you could walk down. The canon story is a peculiar balance of concepts and messy decisions that I have never really seen in any other piece of media- my attachment to Diavolo is partially because, in some way, he is the pure embodiment of those messy decisions.

---

It may seem odd to close off a series of Diavolo-focused analysis with protagonist commentary, but the narrative function of an antagonist is to reflect and challenge the protagonists. Because of that, overriding everything else, Diavolo’s failure to act as a compelling villain for Giorno is probably his biggest writing problem. It is arguably the critical underlying reason that the final arc is so unsatisfying and he ends up an ultimately forgettable character for so many viewers.

I suppose that accentuates Diavolo’s paradoxical nature. He’s boring in an extremely interesting way. There is depth in the ways he is flawed and shallow. He fits what I’m sure is dozens of basic writing flubs and clichés, yet he feels nothing like any other character I’ve ever seen. I guess it’s only fitting for a character with a theme of contradiction to be so confusing in even writing quality.

This all probably brings the question of how I'd "fix" Diavolo's character, but while it’s certainly possible to have a better villain with Diavolo’s general elements intact, I’m not sure I could “fix” him in a way that keeps him Diavolo, per se. The most I can do is just... Be fascinated, I guess.

#shoe talks a lot #vento aureo #long post #diavolo jjba #shoe jojo criticism

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starlit1daydream · 1 year ago

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Gordon Freeman's classpect: and why you're all wrong about it

well forgive me for the hostile-sounding title there, but as it stands i'm yet to see a single other person with this take.

the unanimous agreement for gordon's title seems to be heir of hope - which i will give credence to as making a lot of sense at face value. the heir is the class of the typical 'hero' and hope is the aspect of belief, faith, deficiation, angelic symbolism. on paper, it works perfectly for a man held in such high regard as a saviour and liberator.

but what of gordon's personality? what little of it we see, of course.

the heir of hope argument applies a classpect to gordon not as a person, but as a concept.

gordon freeman the concept is an heir of hope, for sure.

but gordon freeman, the man?

gordon freeman, the scientist who was late to his first day on the job? whose brief glimpses into his personality include blowing up a man's casserole for no clear reason and solving every problem with a crowbar?

the gordon freeman who has been jumping from trauma to trauma for twenty years under the machinations of a sinister interdimensional bureaucrat?

hear me out here.

gordon freeman is a bard of void.

now, i should probably explain my thoughts on the bard class and the void aspect before going any further, since this entire take hinges on my very specific take on both things.

in my eyes, the bard (the passive destroyer) is somebody who initially ghosts adherence to their opposing aspect, until a traumatic incident or dire crisis suddenly pushes them into an influx of their real aspect. they change their tune from passively destroying their aspect in themselves to passively destroying through their aspect. bards are capricious, unpredictable people who are often cowardly, avoidant or lazy in their ways.

the aspect of void, the antithesis of light, deals with the eldritch and the unknown. void is shadow, void is doubt and obsfucation, it is by its very nature unknowable and exists in the dark corners of one's mind. void is narrative irrelevance given (a lack of) form.

so, how does this fit into gordon freeman's narrative?

let's get into his head.

gordon freeman is a man who, prior to the black mesa incident, has lived his life adhering to knowledge and science. he's studied, got a degree, probably quite passionate about science. the statistics, the thirst for knowledge and understanding, all of this paints a picture of light.

light players are the ultimate students, as the extended zodiac says, they are the knowledge-seekers who wish to understand the world around them and comprehend the most fortuitous path better than any other.

the guy shows up late to his first day on the job. a man with more degrees than should be feasible and he can't even show up to work on time. this is the first hint of gordon being a bard, it's an incredibly lazy and capricious action that also hints at his passive destruction of light through his lack of fortune.

and it's that fateful test that changes everything - you all know the one i mean.

the one that suddenly inundates him with void. suddenly, gordon's world is unknowable, incomprehensible, he is a slave to the plot and forced to keep driving forward a narrative to which he ultimately has no say in. it's another example of the traits of a bard, who generally do seem to be reduced to narrative devices. (we see this a lot with gamzee.)

gordon is consumed among the alien and eldritch, and emerges from black mesa's ruins anew. a man whose existence is defined by contradiction, doubt, obfuscation, and everything that void stands for.

we see it again and again throughout the series. his very existence within the combine's rigidly defined, meticulous and mechanical empire defies principle. he is the anticitizen, his presence within their world is a contradiction just by his very being. he is undocumented, an anomaly that shouldn't be. and that scares the shit out of them.

and it should! because, as a bard of void should, gordon destroys their empire through void. his very existence is enough to spark the revolution (which in itself is tied to the aspects of hope and rage) and the destruction he brings about is through his nature as the anticitizen. the contradiction, the hole in their logic. he casts doubt upon the system that they've forced into place and he does so while continually being surrounded by the eldritch and the unknown.

he does so while in servitude to the eldritch, actually. i think that g-man himself is a player of space (to be more specific, i think he is a lord) but i think that there is also a lot of void symbolism within the g-man's character and his 'employers' more specifically.

and you know what really cinches my argument?

gordon freeman, player of void, embodiment of the unknown and the obsfucation, of the silence and emptiness, of the doubt and darkness?

he never utters a single word.

i will revise this entire thing once i wake up tomorrow because it's currently 10pm for me and this is going to look incredibly lazily worded/formatted when i get up in the morning

but for now i suppose you can all take this rambling mess of uncoordinated madness and tell me how wrong i am

#gordon freeman #half life #homestuck #bard of void #bard class #void aspect #homestuck analysis #classpect analysis

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atamascolily · 6 months ago

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One of the fun things about being a fan of multiple shows by the same author is that you get to watch them play with the same ideas over and over again. It's especially fascinating with Thunderbolt Fantasy (2016-present), where you can see Gen Urobuchi returning to and building on many of the themes and issues in Puella Magi Madoka Magica (2011).

AKA a long-winded analysis on the ethics of time travel, or what a tired wandering swordsman has in common with a 14-year-old magical girl (hint: heart is an awesome power). [CW: spoilers for both series.]

When the possibility of using the scrying mirrors to travel back in time is first introduced in TBF Season 3, Lang Wu Yao zeroes in on using them to save Mu Tian Ming from being blinded by Huo Shi Ming Huang--an injury he feels personally responsible for. He's upset by Shang's dismissal of this idea, but Lin Xue Ya interrupts before Shang can explain his position any further, even though I doubt there is any argument that Lang would accept at this point.

Lang Wu Yao sees the world in binary terms--good and evil, action and in-action--and he also believes that the ends justify the means, so his stance on using time travel to prevent a terrible fate is not particularly surprising. His offer to sacrifice his life for Tian Ming's well-being is genuinely sincere. But it's not that simple and Shang is acutely aware of the dangers that come from meddling in the past; furthermore, the show offers some tantalizing hints that this knowledge came from personal experience (more on this later).

Shang's stance that time travel is against the natural order of things is in sharp contrast to that of Homura Akemi in Madoka Magica, who, like Lang, wishes to defy the laws of space and time and travel back into the past in order to save the most important person in her life from a terrible fate. In Homura's case, she wants to save Madoka first from death, and then from becoming a magical girl in the first place, reliving the same few weeks over and over again in an effort to do so; conveniently, Kyubey, a cute cat-like figure and stand-in for Mephistopheles is right there, willing to grant that very wish in exchange for Homura's soul.

Unfortunately for Homura, every time she goes back in time she's actually traveling to an alternate dimension, and the karmic "weight" of all these timelines ends up making Madoka more and more of a target as both her power and potential grow on an exponential scale. This unexpected consequence ultimately results in Madoka making a wish to save all magical girls from their fate--but which condemns her to a liminal existence as a concept, once again denying Homura her true wish.

Wishes are a dangerous thing in Urobuchi's stories, as Lang will discover. A hooded figure calling himself the "Cross-Time Guardian" (actually the demon Azibelpher) takes Lang back in time to the battle against Huo Shi Ming Huang, and, in classic devil fashion, tempts him to take matters into his own hands and save Tian Ming. When Lang and Ling Ya question his motives--correctly sensing this is too good to be true--Azibelpher says, "I'm simply curious as to what kind of karma you are willing to shoulder."

Like "fate", "karma" is a loaded word in Thunderbolt Fantasy (there's a reason why Huo Shi Ming Huang's weapon is called "All Karmas Destroyed Together"). As in Madoka Magica, karma is a source of power; Lang's intervention would essentially make him responsible for everything that happens in this new timeline as a result. In this case, this statement also points to a more straightforward narrative purpose: this scene is a test of Lang's character.

Unlike Homura, Lang gets to see the potential consequences of his actions in advance, and it's not pretty: an eldritch demon god unleashed upon the world. Lang's choice is Tian Ming or the world.... and if he chooses Tian Ming, there won't be a world anymore. Any semblance of choice was an illusion from the beginning; the past cannot be changed without destroying any hope of a future. As Homura herself notes in Madoka Magica, "Kindness can lead to an even greater tragedy".

On a meta-narrative level, Tian Ming's mutilation and Shang's subsequent arrival in Dong Li are what makes the story of Thunderbolt Fantasy possible ; Lang can change the past.... at the cost of erasing the entire story. [Note: Do I hate that Urobuchi made a woman's suffering the unchanging crux on which all canon events subsequently hang? I sure do! Was it technically well done? Also yes, but I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate it.]

However, while it's taken to an extreme in this particular case, I would argue that this kind of narrative erasure is the logical goal of most time travel stories--the fantasy that you can somehow go back and fix everything, conveniently ignoring the fact that life generally doesn't work like that. The exceptions, of course, are those stories where it turns out that time cannot be changed for whatever reason--either because it's a stable time loop or because certain events will always happen no matter what changes are introduced--but their power comes in large part from how they are still addressing this same fantasy by subverting it. (There are also stories like Ray Bradbury's "A Sound of Thunder", which hinge on the difficulty of maintaining the status quo in a world where the timeline is all too easily altered, but again those are the exceptions rather than the rule.)

Being Lang Wu Yao is suffering and he's only just begun, because Azibelpher twists the knife in further by asking him, "Okay, so the world would be destroyed, so what? If fate is cruel and suffering is inevitable, why not give it the middle finger by wrecking everything on your way out?"

The meta irony of puppets discussing whether or not they are "puppets" of fate gets me every time.

This is the same question Homura asks Madoka as they lay dying in episode 10 of Madoka Magica--why not destroy the world that has betrayed and failed them and is full of so many terrible things? Here, it is the Devil himself making the argument; after much agonizing, Lang's response is ultimately, "Not today, Satan!" Once again, Shang Bu Huan was right about everything, and Lang finally understands that now.

Lang is able to make this choice because he is more fully aware of the consequences of interference--knowledge that Homura did not have. Given that there wouldn't be much of a story if she didn't go back in time, I doubt it would have made much difference, but you never know.

What's especially striking about the next part--as Lang witnesses Tian Ming's fate and taking full responsibility for his inaction--is that it's intercut with Shang Bu Huan's discussion with Bai Lian in the distant past. Instead of the previous epic battle music, the same scene is recast as melancholy and bittersweet, with the music and framing changing the entire tone. The events are the same, but we are experiencing them differently along with Lang this time, watching from the outside as spectators without changing anything--very much like a memory or a dream.

I've speculated elsewhere what exactly the point of Azibelpher sending Shang Bu Huan to this particular point in time to meet Bai Lian, but on further reflection, I wonder if this was (among other things) a similar test of character for Shang. If so, he passes with flying colors; when Bai Lian asks if Shang is here to correct the "mistake" of making the Shen Hui Mo Xie, Shang tells him he's doing just fine.

"No way in hell is it just a 'mistake'. The future that starts here isn't just disasters. There's joy and salvation, too. Saying what you did is wrong is like denying any of that happened."

This is Madoka's answer to Homura in Puella Magi Madoka Magica--the world is terrible and cruel, but it is also full of good things too, and therefore it should be preserved rather than destroyed. Urobuchi is often pigeonholed as a "dark" and "edgy" writer, but I see Shang and Madoka voicing his true opinions, which are ultimately hopeful and uplifting.

Furthermore, this emphasis on "mistakes" hearkens back to an earlier conversation between Madoka and her mother Junko, who serves as a dispenser of worldly advice, in which Junko explains that sometimes, the only way to help a friend is to let them make their own mistakes, or be willing to do it for them. Paradoxically, mistakes are sometimes necessary; for better or worse, our mistakes have made us who we are and attempting to erase or undo them is to also erase and undo ourselves and any good that may have come of them.

(The irony, of course, is that Shang can accept this about anyone and everything except for himself--but then we all have our blind spots and Shang, for all his wisdom and maturity, is still human.)

Even Azibelpher kind of gets into this when he tells Lang to "Accept the weight of what your actions will result in." Sure, he means it to hurt, but for better or worse, this is a fundamental part of adulthood, something that Lang must accept in order to mature. And even though I don't think Azibelpher intended it this way, this harrowing experience of re-living his past trauma forces Lang to let go of his fixation on "fixing" things and accept them for what they are--to finally move beyond obsession over the past so he can enjoy the present and the future.

It's an open question if demons in Thunderbolt Fantasy can truly experience anything like "love" or "affection" in the human sense, and if Azibelpher sees Lang as anything more than a toy and tool, but there's nonetheless the element of "tough love" in this scene, of a father schooling his son in the harsh realities of life (which later become textual, but that's another essay). Azibelpher is mature and polished, but unlike Shang, he has no compassion, no "heart", and I think that will ultimately prove to be his undoing.

Azibelpher's obsession with fate blinds him to the truth that human beings can grow and change and move beyond their old roles and into something new, as Shang is constantly attesting--and whatever else he might be, Lang is still human. Lang surprised Azibelpher in this scene with his restraint, and I think he will continue to surprise Azibelpher in the end--in large part from what he learned from his time with Shang.

To bring it back to time loops once more, I mentioned earlier that Shang was a part of one, and I have a sneaking suspicion we haven't seen the end of it yet. Will future installments show a younger Shang in the ruins of the Void Junction? And if so, who will he meet there and what will he learn as a result? Has the whole story been one big loop after all, circles within circles, wheels within wheels just like Madoka Magica?

tl;dr: Thunderbolt Fantasy and Madoka Magica are two different stories that can be experienced independently of each other, but there are a lot of fun parallels for the folks who have seen them both as Urobuchi continues to explore these same tropes and issues in different circumstances and contexts, and this is especially true for the time travel subplot in TBF S3.

#thunderbolt fantasy #wuxia fantasy puppet epic #puella magi madoka magica #this post is for the niche group that has seen both shows

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resonette · 5 months ago

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⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ would you know me in every life?

a meta regarding: all of major seren's canonical lives in order as to be explored on this blog as of september 27th, 2024. a study of: losing one's religion, the concept of the sacrificial lamb, loss of girlhood, objectification, and the weaponization of the self. WARNING. love & deepspace spoilers as well as love & deepspace canon divergence ahead. these verses serve as a general summary of personal canon and can/will be suspended if there are interactions with a canon or named character featured in any of the memories below.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ briar , the flower maiden.

born to an unknown mother and father, the flower maiden is a young woman born to the beautiful kingdom of philos. chosen by the god astra to be HIS sacrificial lamb, a messiah, a vessel of HIS will, she is destined to die in every life so that the citizens of philos may continue on. watched over by the witch corrine, the flower maiden's name is rarely spoken, the first aspect of her to be forgotten. corrine is at peace with the fact that her granddaughter must die in order for philos to survive, so corrine keeps her away from the world, hides her in fields of beautiful flowers so that she may never grow attached to the outside world, never make connections so that she has no reason to fear her own death. when the ice comes for her skin, and for her bones, briar is scared, but she does not take action so long as her grandmother is there. she is scared, but at least she is not alone. she prays to astra every night for a companion, someone her age, someone who can keep her company. HE does not provide. when corrine passes, her body one with the earth, her skin and bones fertilizer for the flowers, briar's fear returns, and she researches her grandmother's magic to find the worst: the truth about what was happening to her, about her life, about her destiny. a fate she couldn't run away from even if she wanted to. in panic, she reads the stories of the philean people, learns the legend of the foreseer, and fixates on the gem of his staff. the creatio protocore, an item of true divinity, something that will save her. ( all she wants is a chance, just a single chance; she does not know yet that astra is a cruel god. every morning she prays to HIM. ) when she climbs the foreseer's tower, she meets the enigmatic demigod and, fearing not even death, attempts to steal the protocore over, and over, and over again. he tells her that she must treat the jasmine, to make it bloom, and she laughs at him : is that all it takes? she has nurtured flowers back to life over and over again; she has tended to the toil, purified the water, treated their sick leaves, banished the infectious insects. there is no one who knows flowers better than she does, and yes, she is somewhere foreign and cold, with not even light surviving in the tower of thorns, but she is not afraid. she prays every morning to astra for the patience and the strength to make the jasmine bloom again. how little she knows , how little she knows that each statement she makes to HIM , every attempt at asking for HIS help, turns HIS eyes to the tower of thorns, where HE watches the first of HIS tools fall from HIS control . in searching for her father god's approval, the flower maiden dooms both herself and the foreseer. the jasmine is a message - love, beauty, purity, sensuality, modesty - and a reminder - CAN YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE? the flower maiden learns that she is not the first of her lives to seek out absolution. many of her lives die willingly, slain at the hands of the philean royalty; others die with a fight, pleading, mocking, begging, asking astra WHY ? and this time, rather than the god, the flower maiden's eyes look to HIS foreseer instead, whispering a quiet . . . why? why her? why does she have to be the one to die? has she wronged astra? and the foreseer tells her that tools of astra are not allowed to love. the flower maiden and the foreseer both defy astra's rule that night, but not without intervention. how could she have forgotten something like this, she thinks, she wonders, she craves? how could she have forgotten all of the lives before this one, and how will she forget all of the lives after this one? as the tower of thorns crashes down around her, her heart forever within reach of the creatio protocore, their bodies but dust and intertwined in the eternal mountain, she understands she never had a choice. she is a tragic maiden with no hope of happiness, and when she dies, held in the foreseer's arms at the bottom of the wreckage of the tower of thorns, philos survives another cycle. and the people celebrate.

⸻⸻⸻ maren, lemuria's beloved, princess of philos.

experiencing the wrath of astra after her initial betrayal of HIS goal, the flower maiden becomes the princess of philos, a bird in a cage held captive by astra's most devoted. she is, here, still unaware that she is to die for the betterment of her people, but she notices how those around her mourn her while she is still alive. a bright and sunny girl, they name her maren, after the star that represents the ocean, and as a result, she goes to the beachsides, the ocean horizon, and the sands of time often. the salt of the water waves her hair and brightens her smile, and her chest does not ache, for she is not ill. she runs and dances in the replications of the saltwater sea, tossing it up around her feet and ankles, running from overprotective nursemaids. ( they do not tell their princess that the oceans have all but dried up; that this visage of oasis exists because she wishes for it to. the king forbids such things. astra's word is absolute. )

the first time she meets the man on the beach, she is not a girl but a woman; her hair is long and her eyes are kind and he looks at her as if he's seen a ghost, and she is used to this, because her people gaze upon her as if she is a corpse that speaks, that walks, that breathes. she asks his name, and he does not give it to her, but she tells him that she is maren, and when she says that, the way he looks at her is as if she's answered his question incorrectly.

when she looks at him, her hands are stained red. she wonders why that is.

every time she escapes from her maids and ladies in waiting, she goes to the beach to see him. and every time she arrives, he is there, waiting. there is something pleasant about the consistency, as if she knows he will always be around to see her. when she goes, she greets him like an old friend, and every time she sees him, she stands closer to him. she shows him her magic, how she can create things with brightness and kindness and love, and he calls her a witch as a playful response. she tells him she'd sometimes rather be a witch than a princess, and he tells her she should be careful what she wishes for.

he shows her the ocean, the lack of it, and the truth of his people. when she sees that the ocean she has been playing in is an allusion, fabrication, and falsehood, she mourns it. her hands dig in the sands until they bleed, and she cries; she cries so intently that one might think she was trying to refill it with her tears. this is your fault, he wants to say, but when she cries, the space where his heart might be clenches around nothing, and rather than blame her, rather than grit his teeth and demand her penance, he sits with her while she cries, and when she is done, her head rests on his shoulder, her body exhausted and her mind feeble. she is soft here, as she was when they first met, and it is then that he decides that she must know what she has done.

whether or not she pays for her crimes is not up to him.

rather than bring her to the ocean, he brings her to the city, where he wears robes of black and purple, hidden by the shadow of the moonless night. they laugh and run through the streets together, and he takes her away from the city. surely, the guard will find themselves in a panic as their immortal princess disappears, but maren holds her breath as she leaps from her window, safe in the lemurian man's arms. when she touches him, she leaves behind a stain of red.

in the desert, she learns the plight of their people; she cries again when he tells her that the lemurians wish to return to their world, and she wails when she learns it is through her hands that the oceans she beloved so intensely have dried up. in her dreams now, the waves are red, and her eyes are crazed, and she rips the heart from the body of the dying god, laughing all the while -- those laughs become sobs when she realizes her god is missing, her god is gone -- why does she worship a god other than astra? the sea is red because she is bleeding, because she is holding his heart to her chest and they are bleeding, together.

in her dreams, his body becomes seafoam, and while she does not remember, he tells her the truth.

long before she knew the body of the flower maiden, and long before she knew the body of the prince's classmate, she was his beloved, his devoted. long before she knew the comforts of astra's hearth, she found safety in him, and he in her. the people of lemuria are without homes because of his love for her; he is bound to her, subservient to her, because she was bound him, subservient to him, once to him long ago. in this body, she does not remember his kiss or his touch or his love, but she sees it in his eyes, and knows that he is telling the truth.

when he tells her that astra's devoted have used her as a bait for him, luring him in like a siren's song, the anger that manifest only in her hands when she bit into his heart is evident in her eyes again. they have taken him because he loved her, and she knows, no, she knows, that astra challenges another god because he is afraid of the power the lemurians might have if they return to their ocean, if the moon returns to the sky and challenges his dominion of the night again. she is young, and she is angry, but she has a duty: if the man rafayel can come to her and confess this to her, and if the god rafayel can give up his people for her, so too can she.

when she tells him that the magic of the philean mages has turned her into a witch of the abyss, she is angry; how dare this magic be used for silence, agony, and evil? how dare he sacrifice his corporeal form, becoming seafoam, so that she might return to her waking world? she must have died alongside him in her grief, she believes, for she does not remember asking of his scales, and she does not remember living beneath the cascades of the ocean. surely, she thought, the abyss witch does not just live in my dreams.

he does not want her heart, he tells her, for he does not have the stomach to take it. but maren is a vengeful, angry girl now, her agony born of grief, of pain, of tyranny. how dare astra harm innocent people. how dare he tell her that she must suffer in silence, immortal so that she can bless his people with her gift, when he has no hesitation in eliminating an entire civilization simply for challenging his own pride?

rafayel turns and walks away, leaving with her the knife.

and she plunges it into her own chest.

when he turns over his shoulder to find their blood leaving his chest - for her heart is his, and his heart is hers - he exclaims something she does not remember. how her body falls backwards into the sand, her hair glowing against the dark night, how she laughs and laughs when she realizes that this prophecy that rafayel speaks of can be made manifest: if astra is going to take away an entire civilization because he is threatened by them, then so can she.

so. can. she.

⸻ her imperial majesty maeve, lonely star, queen of philos.

giving the immortal maiden power and control over others is what gives her power and control over herself, astra learns, and so HE tries again: this time, rather than nobility, HE keeps her where HE can find her, and HE inflicted upon her a sickness again. this time, it is the stars and not the ice that plague her, and HE keeps her away from those who would try to heal her. within the walls of the palace does she reside, a student at the academy, and though she will not survive to see her graduation day, she perserveres.

HE sends her someone to comfort her, so that when she dies, her purity in immortality will be passed on to HIS people, and that boy is an enigmatic star cast across a galaxy. he holds her hand when she is dying, and despite astra's wishes, he loves her - or at least, he tries to. he fights with a blade blessed by HIS will, and when the starry-eyed girl's pulse runs cold, her fingers limp in his grip, astra scowls. tools of astra are not supposed to fall in love, so says the story, but even these ones are rebellious. HE learns that the immortal girl that holds the aether core in her heart is a powerful girl, magnetic to those around her, as if her soul is worthy of freedom even when her body is not.

the god of fate grits HIS teeth and tries again.

this time, HE gives the boy that saved her responsibility: something to pursue rather than the girl. and this time, he gives the girl strength and duty: they must stay distracted. placing her into the line of war means that it increases the chances she has to die; so long as her body perishes in noble sacrifice, philos' journey will continue, and the loop of time will continue all the same. the girl's name is maeve, named after a noble sacrifice that a girl made forever ago, a girl whose duty lies in protecting her people and her prince. the prince's name is rarely spoken in lieu of his highness, but maeve has earned the honor of calling him by name, their swords crossing in a synchronous, resonant dance. over and over again do they train, pushing one-another to their limits, and she earns the title of gladis knight, the highest honor a swordswoman of her skill can obtain. to be the prince's noble protector, and more selfishly, to stay by his side.

tools of astra are not to fall in love. but that does not stop them, yet again. when the king tells the prince that he will be married to another girl, maeve is quiet, pleasant: she knows how to keep a secret, and so she promises to be his secret, if he allows. ( the prince refuses. he will not wed. not if it is not to his gladis knight. the first person he has loved since chasing a ghost. )

confronting the king, the prince discovered the plot of the devoted of astra: the king, his priests - for so long, all have been watching the immortal soul that continues to reincarnate: different bodies, different shapes, different women. the prince, appalled, staggers backwards away from his father, and while the memories of the girl he knew before begin to dissipate into mist, blending the maeve of then and the maeve of now, he is resigned: he will defeat his father in combat and personally find the way to save the philean maiden.

as prince, he scours the archives for hours, and he finds them in bits and pieces: the legend of the foreseer and the gardener's bodies encased in ice; the philean princess who took her own life to return to the ocean to philos, the weary classmate and now - his gladis knight. his leader of the lightseekers.

it must be him, he decides: he must go and be the one to save her. and in doing so, he gives her everything: his crown, his kingdom, his people. he promises that he will return, and when he does, he will save her from the curse of their false god. maeve kisses his knuckles and tells him that when he returns, she will await him with open arms.

while serving as their queen, maeve is known to be relentless. she is firm and sturdy, enigmatic and charismatic. she is brave and kind and gives her everything to her people. they tell her that she is not fit to sit upon the throne, that it does not fit her ( as if they are describing her position as an ill-fitting pair of pants ). she laughs at them and holds them to her standards - they are the standards her prince would have, as the king before her. unaware to that which is to befall her, maeve is beloved by her people: her common people. and when the power moves from the upper class to the commoners - when she becomes the people's queen, the devoted of astra act.

devotion is power, after all. those who are devoted to a concept or cause gain power, and those who are devoted to a person give that person power. whereas the king before her may have been beloved by the upperclass, they were few in number, and so the power he obtained came only from those who were sworn to him by their duty. ( but in the end, were they truly devoted to the crown, or the person who wore it? ) as the commoners grew to love their queen for the way she entered the villages and streets, bought food for those who forgot their wallet or were struggling to make ends meet, talked with those who needed her most - she grew in power. the crown glowed upon her head, her eyes golden and bright, her magic immeasurable. skilled with a sword and with the magic of the divine, the high queen was quickly becoming a threat. so astra calls for her death.

she is sitting on her throne when they kill her, and she knows they are coming. maeve may have briefly had the gift of foresight, but of this, she is unsure. the dreams come to her as nightmares; the blade pressed underneath tender flesh. but she smiles as they kill her, and she tosses her head back, shrieking out a wail: one that goes beyond the cosmos, the night sky, and to the tender deepspace tunnel. it reaches the halls of celestia, where she knows astra sits, and she wails: I WILL KILL YOU, it says, despite carrying no syllables. as the high queen is murdered atop her throne, she gives the god of fate her own prophecy: astra will die by the immortal maiden's hand.

and the lonely star of philos, the prince's guiding light, snuffs out.

⸻⸻⸻⸻ seren amphelos, deepspace hunter.

this time, the immortal soul is reincarnated outside of astra's reach. it is still unknown how this happened - perhaps the backtrackers and their breaking of the time loop caused such a thing; perhaps the deepspace tunnel had something to do with it. despite this, the immortal soul is not born to a family in philos, but instead to a family on earth. ( and perhaps, just perhaps, that is the beginning of the end. the end of astra's prophecies coming true, and the beginning of the immortal soul's. ) born to damian and lyra amphelos, two researchers at the ever corporation, as part of a long-term project regarding protocore syndrome, aether cores, and the connection between the deepspace tunnel and the emergence of the evol gene. immediately handed over to the research project in exchange for money and advancement in their field, seren was placed alongside other infants who were purposefully impacted with protocores - aether cores, as they were called - into different organs. while other children may have received them in the lungs, liver, stomach, eyes, or brain, seren received hers in her heart, which severely impacted development of necessary cardiovascular functions, but did not kill her. the trial - known as the UNICORN TRIAL - took place over the span of two years before it was shut down. thirty children entered the program on day one. only three survived. by the time josephine blew the whistle on the operation, only seren and caleb could be saved by her, the unnamed third child taken away by another researcher to be lost to time. she thinks of him, often, josephine does, but with two children to tend to, there was no time to accept the fate that not everyone could be saved. she only hoped that they did not continue the unicorn trials in her absence. how she wishes it was enough to shut evercorp down, but it wasn't. nothing ever is. while caleb grew up a physically affluent and brave young man, seren's childhood was not as prolific. struggling with the aether core in her heart, josephine falsified her medical records to say that she had a rare and dangerous tetralogy of fallot. the surgeries and treatments she had as a child, in the care of a doctor that josephine personally knew and trusted to help revert this brave little girl back into her best self, were under this impression and seren, innocent as she was, knew no better. by the end of the second surgery, they had moved the aether core into a place where it would allow seren's heart to begin working at slightly lesser than a normal level, and the therapies afterwards - respiratory therapy, physical therapy, psychiatric therapy - helped her, in her teen years, become someone whose health could be managed with medication and diet and exercise only. modern medicine was a marvel, wasn't it? it is here that she meets zayne ( and not the foreseer ) , and rafayel ( and not the sea god ) , and xavier ( and not the prince of her kingdom ) , and caleb ( and not subject 0205 ) , and sylus ( and not the missing relic of the unicorn trials ) . it is here that she learns the truth, finally, and has her eyes peeled open to the nature of what this otherworldy being has done to her. it is here that fate is defied, replaced with a prophecy that seems to fit her soul better, and it is here that a bleeding heart must find itself in the company of those who can heal it, lest she lose a fight to this god once more.

⸻⸻⸻ amaris , godslayer, divine throne of verdure.

when seren amphelos is slain, there is chaos; with no herald of goodness to protect them, philos crumbles. she was supposed to be the one. wasn't she?

the tears of mourners fall to the earth - of ice and flame and light and energy - and from the earth, another being awakens. born a young maiden, astra's failure to influence these reincarnations means one thing only: when amaris is born, she remembers the loneliness of briar and the grief of maren and the pride of maeve and the sacrifice of seren. when amaris is born, and she becomes a woman, it is her who storms the gates of the divine heavens, bearing with her the blood of a freshly-bled heart. how dare you, she says as she ascends the divine tower, the loneliness of the flower maiden guiding each footstep. i can do this journey on my own, she believes. how dare you, she says as she steps over the corpses of all of those versions of her who have become before, grieving as the princess did. i must do this for those i have wronged. HOW DARE YOU, she shrieks as she echoes her own voice of a past once lived: I WILL KILL YOU! AND HOW. DARE. YOU, she asks as she approaches him upon his throne, her weapons surrounding her on all sides, legacies of lives beautifully lived.

their fight is legendary: she is just mortal, but she dances like a god ( of course she does; she was made in his image ) and the blades, pistols, staves, knives, fists, and MORE, MORE, MORE - puncture divine flesh over and over again. he is three times her size, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall. ALL OF PHILOS , AND EARTH , AND THE DIVINE GALAXY SURROUNDING THEM trembles as they wait for the outcome, for one of two things will happen:

IF THEIR DIVINE LORD is victorious, the time loop will continue, and the maiden will be punished with her death OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN, dying so that they might have their immortality. A MARTYR, so that philos might know nothing of their own mortality. she is dying so they do not have to, and it's not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair.

IF THEIR MARTYR ASCENDANT is victorious, she will break the time loop and rise to the highest peaks of divinity. THERE WILL BE REPARATIONS: the foreseer will be able to grow jasmine on his windowsill, the god of lemuria will be able to dance among the waves without giving up his own heart, the king of philos will rule as the people's prince, the conqueror of fate will be able to lay his weary blade down and rest. THERE WILL BE HARMONY, for the souls of all mankind will sing in unison, no longer bound by a disharmonious opening note. THERE WILL BE FREEDOM, for all of mankind will know that they are not longer part of a divine machine, something grandiose and elegant, something righteous and unobtainable. mortalkind will know the face of their god.

her blade plunges into astra's chest.

SHE accepts the divinity that leaks out of him in the same way that he took HERS from HER. SHE rips his heart from his bones and feasts upon it, each bite consuming more and more of the divine until HER corporeal form changes: SHE is a mortal, made divine, and with it, SHE too rips out HER own heart, throwing it down into the cavernous abyss, so that no other may trample HER in the way SHE has trampled fate. crawling atop his HER throne, amaris brings HER knees to HER chest, a blanket of starlight wrapping around HER, and as SHE sleeps for the first time in eons, HER soul at peace, knowing that when SHE wakes, there will be no more pain or suffering or strife.

how tired the goddess is now, but SHE will not be forever. to hell with fate and destiny and fortune. there will be no more need for that in the world of the present, for mortalkind will decide all things: when to have children, when to die, when to live, when to rest, when to work. SHE grants them their free will in exchange for their immortality, and they know that if at any point they become too reliant on what they would consider their goddess, SHE will remove their gift, and they will die. they climb the highest mount for HER guidance, and in return, they bring HER flowers, but SHE cannot make decisions for them. no - SHE is a mother, sister, friend, mentor, goddess. SHE is not a master or creator. forever, SHE will protect philos and the surrounding worlds as they tried to protect HER, for it was never anyone's fault other than their oppressive god.

in HER eternity, they keep HER name: amaris. amaris the abundant, goddess of the cosmos and keeper of verdure. SHE is known for HER reclusive nature, thought it is said that SHE walks among the mortals on occasion, dressed as a woman with white hair, a gardener who keeps flowers.

and the goddess likes that SHE is known for having flowers.

#I DID IT!!!! I DID IT!!!!#IT'S DONE!!!! WAHOOO!!!!#if u read this all the way thru tell me which of her lives u like the most #hjdfhjdfghd i'll redo my verses tags soon but. WAHOO!!!!#━━ s005. study.

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