#bastard: king of evil and destruction

[almdragonrend]

Hey, so I found a new Hamefura x pokemon fanfiction and had a short talk in the comments and I wanted to show how it got as you see my stands on OG Katarina and how I feel about her and it always feels freeing when I get to talk about it. So here's it

That was when it hit me ‘Wait… How am I gonna get food for everyone, let alone myself. I don’t think there’s many employers that’ll be willing to hire a teenager or former noble as a mercenary or bodyguard so I won’t always be able to get jobs, If only I could get a Pokémon that makes food for me’

That is really hate OG Keith and Geordo and Maria, OG Katarina was just fighting for her 7 year long relationship and all the promises made to her, and they send her Fu*ing die for it, they CHOOSE to be Monsters!!!

Page_Plague on Chapter 5Wed 24 Apr 2024 02:23AM CEST

Yah, I mean OG Katarina is a b*tch, especially to Keith, but she definitely didn’t deserve to starve to death and OG Geordo most certainly could’ve attempted to try and fix some of the behaviour but he probably didn’t because of apathy.

AlmDragonrend on Chapter 5Wed 24 Apr 2024 08:11AM CEST

OG Katarina isn't really that bad, we see how she interacted with Sianna and Anne and even some of her group to an extent in VoD and she was certainly a lot Kinder than 99'9,8% of the Noble's of Sociar, and the only people we have seen her openly be mean to are Maria and Keith both of which she has pretty strong and justified reasons to Hate, in case of Keith his me presence has torn her parents relationship apart, I know it wasn't his fault but she was a little Girl than he showed up and her family got torn apart how can anyone expect from her to take that well ? + he had it we better with the Claes than with his Original family the Colemans who.. ah yes WANTED TO KILL HIM!!!!! The funny thing is Keith has that "I'm don't want to be a Monster *crying noise*" thing going on the thing is when he partook in the Conspiracy against Katarina he very much CHOSE to be a Monster!!! What he did made their made him a Monster no qustiones ask, Luigi saved him from being killed of by his own family sacrificed the state of the Claes family in the process and how does this little parasite thank him ? By helping send the Daughter of his Savior to her demise! I think alone for that he should have left him with the Colemans!

And when it comes to Maria, Original Maria is literally a Bitch, she is the main character of FL and chose the route she wants to go which means she actively pursued 5 different Mann of high political status and while I'm not against polyarmoy if everyone involved is okay with it, in this case two of them already had a fiancée and both of those fiancée but a lot of afort in this relationship they had for half their lives and now they are expected to give up all they worked so hard for their entire life and take the L just because Miss Campbell comes out of nowhere with no idea of how a princess has to act and non of the training both Katarina and Mary had to endure for years on end !!! just because miss Campbell thinks she deserves to be Princess, and when one of them justified fights back she steals everything this girl has her home, her family, her parents, her birthright, and send her over seas to die! And Don't make me start on how she used Sophia to get close to Nicole, Original Maria is a greedy, malicious, underhanded, selfish and heartless Monster !!!!

Page_Plague on Chapter 5Wed 24 Apr 2024 09:16AM CEST

Oh ok, I didn’t read Verge of Doom cuz I didn’t think it was all that different to the main series Manga and Anime that I did finish (I’ll read it later)

Also good argument

AlmDragonrend on Chapter 5Wed 24 Apr 2024 03:06PM CEST

Thank you, I'm just glad more people start to realize those facts, that is a pretty good sign I think

[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● Carpet munching, graphic language, general smut, FxF, age gap, targcest, dubious consent, drugging?, not proof read

Word count ● 3k+

Author's Note • This was meant to be a one shot. Now it's a two parter. This actually has a plot. I dont write smut without a plot and the x reader is so overdone atm. So ive written up an OC. This part is some serious lesbo action. Happy pride to all my homo milf lovers. This one is for you.

Masterlist

Part I

The halls of Harrenhal were no place for a Targaryen. Somber and damp... shadows cast by no flame engulfed the walls. It was an odd place, a cursed place. 

As the great Targaryen civil war raged on, Prince Aemond Targaryen had seized Harrenhal for himself after his uncle, Daemon Targaryen fled it. There, Prince Aemond enacted his plan of destruction upon the Riverlands. Burning all, innocent or otherwise, loyal or traitorous. Indeed, Prince Aemond did not discriminate for who would meet the fires of Vhagar. 

However, none met his wrath quite like the House Strong. For Aemond slaughtered all Strong Bastards and Strong nobles he might come across. Leading to the House facing extinction. No man, woman or child seemed to escape the Targaryen Prince's wrath... but one... a bastard woman by the name of Alys Rivers. 

A witch, whom he took as his war prize. A bedmate to distract him during the cold and clawing nights in Harrenhal. The Prince swore he heard the screams and cries of those he had slain. Though he dare not admit it, it unnerved him. Alys' talents in apothecary came most useful to him, for she oft brewed him tonics to ease such tension he claimed was from war. 

Though he had found other measures in which to use the woman for, when it came to matters of easing tension. Alys was a woman of many talents indeed.  The Prince could seldom admit to himself the bastard had grown on him, something he kept hidden within his heart.

Just as his younger sister was, tucked away in Harrenhal's stoney depths. The Princess Daera was a delicate thing, much like her sister Helaena; unaware of the evils that dwelled around her. Unaware of the depths of depravity and violence her own brother held buried within him. Or so Aemond thought. 

After Rhaneyra had taken back King's Landing, the Princess Daera had managed to escape her half-sister’s capture. Being aided by a Kingsguard to flee the capital and join her brother Aemond as he campaigned through the Riverlands. 

They had settled in Harrenhal for several weeks now, and Daera had spent most of her time dwelling it's cursed halls. At times sitting in the Godswood with the raven haired bastard Alys Rivers. 

Daera found it strange how the woman had taken to her. Sometimes insisting on helping her bathe and dress. The bastard claimed it was her nature as a wetnurse, and was in servitude to Prince Aemond and the Princess. That it pleased her to tend to Daera. 

Though it was apparent how Alys unnerved Daera at times, finding her staring intently. Her green eyes locked upon the Princess's soft form. 

Similarly to Aemond, Princess Daera oft took the tonics Alys left for her, since her arrival at Harrenhal also came with paralyzing nightmares. Tormenting the princess with strange and devastating visions. Visions of her family's death... of Aemond's death. 

Some of which leaked into her waking moments. Daera had oft found herself coming to Aemond in the dead of night, frozen with terror as she had heard disembodied voices calling for her... yearning for her. 

●

Princess Daera sat in her chamber, it was a far cry from her former one in the Red Keep. The walls stoney, grey and the bedding always cold and lumpy. Only the fire provided the much needed light which seemed to get lost amidst the shadowy landscape of Harrenhal. 

She rose, making her way to her bed. The hour was rather early considering, but there was little else to do once it darkened outside. And it was a great comfort for Daera to hear the bustling of people still awake. Far better that the void of silence the castle was known for. 

The soft howling of the wind echoed through the halls outside, and Daera tried her best to ignore the frightful noise. This place... chilled her bones like no other. 

Daera turned her head, looking out the thin windows etched into the stone. Gazing upon the moonlit landscape of the Riverlands; all burnt to a cinder now. No doubt her brother’s doing. 

As she came to her bed, she sat and saw the tonic Alys had left, neatly placed upon the side table. Daera brought it to her lips, drinking it squarely and she prepared herself for the familiar wince that would follow as the bitter herbs hit her tongue. But it did not come. 

It tasted different... sweet? 

A warmth filled her bones, an ease. Mayhap Alys had found a new recipe, one which was more effective? As the princess laid down, her hair pooled like a river behind her. She shut her eyes, drawing the covers over her frame. The feeling spread from her chest to her toes. Easing her, mellowing her temper. She stretched, indulging in the bliss of it, like a cat in the sun she could feel herself go mindless to its heady comfort. The world around her felt softer, kinder. Even the lumpy bedding. With that, Daera drifted off and the Princess's dreams were as strange as they always were. Though less terrifying admittedly. 

She dreamt of her chambers and its strange silence. Of herself, sleeping. In the dream the Princess opened her eyes, awakening to the dark, stoney chambers. The fire dimmed and the world around her cast in a strange fog. 

Outside, the wind wailed softly and she came to the window, gazing upon the scorched earth lit by the pale light of the moon. It was an odd sight. Such beauty, forever scarred by flame. What irony that the Riverlands were now dry. 

Suddenly, she felt a familiar chill run through her bones. The same chill she oft has in his nightmares. Her eyes widened, and Daera remained still until her attention was drawn by a voice which beckoned from the halls. 

Daera turned, tilting her head as she walked slowly towards the doors. Her pale nightgown and robe trailing. Her heart thumped slowly, though the voices grew, she did not fear them for some reason... 

As her hand came to the cool doorknob, Daera turned them slowly, carefully pulling the heavy wood. What she faced was nil but an empty hall. Shadowy, lit only by the strands of moonlight which casted a fractured glow upon the stone. Daera stood back, a trickle of fear running through her as the halls themselves felt like a looming force not to be disturbed. 

But the voices grew again, beckoning her. The Princess couldn't quite make out what they were saying, some in fact seemed to not be speaking in the common tongue at all. But they were soft, luring. 

Daera followed them, slowly moving through the halls in a daze. Her body coursing now with that familiar warmth from earlier. If she wasn't sure she was already dreaming, she could've sworn she might fall asleep.

She made her way through the dark, half unknowingly. It seemed the world around her melted into the shadows. The only confirmation Daera had she was moving forward were the peaks of light from the thin windows. The dark had engulfed her completely. It seemed the halls were but a maze she had no sense of navigation for, but as she came across two large doors, a strange feeling bloomed within her. That this was where the voices were leading her too. 

Daera opened the door, her eyes heavy as they set upon the familiar sight. Though it was dark, only lit by a few small candles and a dying fire. The chamber was streaked by the moonlight illuminating a sight she had seen many times. Aemond's bed. Somehow, it seemed she ended up in his quarters here in Harrenhal. 

Despite having walked what she thought was the opposed way. 

She entered, closing the door behind her and when she turned again, she was met with pale skin, raven hair splayed out upon Aemond's bed. Alys. 

Daera stopped, her eyes opening as she came to see how the woman lay bare. Her sharp face peering up at the princess, and giving her a warm smile. 

Alys moved, sitting up slowly and Daera turned her head; a coil of embarrassment within her that she would walk in upon Alys in such a state. 

But the bastard only gazed, her green eyes leering over Daera's curves. The two women said nothing, before Daera felt the sudden urge to turn to face Alys. 

At first she wished to cringe, but as her eyes scanned the bare and pale flesh of the woman before her, that warmth grew. 

Daera found herself taking in Alys' breasts, her hips and thighs. The silvery ripples of stretched skin upon her belly, contrasted with her raven hair - thick like a belt of the night sky. 

The Princess moved closer and closer until she stood before the witch. Alys sat neatly upon the edge of the bed gazing upwards. Daera's eyes grew wide, both with desire and shame. 

It was a forbidden temptation to indulge in, an act which would tarnish Daera forever; even if it was just a dream, even if it was the conjurings of her mind... to know such desires lay within her was enough. 

Daera stepped back, uncertain - just as she did the pale and harsh grip of Alys snatched her wrist. The witch tugged her closer until her legs were pinned between the sitting Alys.

"Where are you going... surely you wish to stay." Her voice had curled, a thick sultry husk as she glanced up at the Princess. 

Daera felt herself shake slightly, her mind reeling at the thought of it all. But she nodded, sparking a smile from Alys. 

"Good..." Alys murmured. "Sit yourself here...." She gently patted the edge of the bed, a gesture which seemed less of a request and more a demand.

Daera sat quietly, the warmth spreading through her as she took a peak at the pale and soft bare flesh of Alys beside her. The Princess squeezed her thighs together to stifle whatever feeling dwelled between them. 

The witch snickered, moved closer before she let her hand slide upon Daera's clothed thigh. Alys leaned in, her lips grazing her ear, "I can smell such shame... and such desire..." Her voice but a whisper. 

Daera froze, her eyes watching as Alys hand slid between her clothed thighs. 

"All this cloth you wear, it is such a hindrance. Surely it does no good for you to adorn something so... restrictive." The witch whispered once more, feeling the layers or fabric which hid Daera's skin. 

"Modesty is a virtue for women..." Daera spoke softly, shakily. Though the conviction in her voice weak. 

Alys tutted and scoffed, "Mm... is that what the Dowager Queen taught you? That you are but a vessel to be adorned by the virtues men bestowed upon us? You are a dragon... my girl." The witch let her pale hands come to Daera's robe, peeling it off her. 

Alys discarded the robe to the floor and Daera let her. The Princess caught in a daze of uncertainty and desire. The warmth spread through her core at the mere suggestion of what the bastard woman claimed. 

The princess felt cool lips at her neck, kissing and siphoning at her skin, as hands worked to rid her of her nightgown. Daera let out a shuddered breath. 

"Indeed, I've much to show you Princess. Just as I have the Prince..." Alys spoke lowly, raising her brow as she revealed Daera's form before her. Her small clothes still sitting over her pelvis. 

The princess turned her head, catching the green eyes of Alys. A chill ran down her spine at the mention of her brother. They were in his bed... doing such sinful things. Exactly where the witch had surely gotten her brother to do the same. 

Daera tilted her head, her eyes pleading as Alys had grabbed her chin, pulling it so their faces met. The witch's fingers then grazed over Daera's plush lips as she whispered.

"Such pretty lips... gone unkissed.." Alys inched forward, cupping Daera's jaw. Suddenly their lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Daera found herself slightly shocked by the sensation. It was... wetter than she had expected. 

The princess leaned in, as that warmth spread through her. She kissed Alys back, winning a small moan from the woman. Alys grinned, feeling a sense of victory dawn over her as she reached between the Princess's legs, grazing the warmth of her clothed core. 

Instantly the sensation sent Daera reeling, she found herself turning, kneeling upon the bed as Alys did the same. The Princess let her hands come to Alys' hair, trailing down until she reached the soft peaks of her breasts. 

It was swiftly that Alys' herself moved her lips to Daera's neck, trailing down until she reached the Princess' plush breast. Her lips wrapped around the pink bud which adorned one, sucking softly. 

Daera tilted her head back, her eyes wide and she found her hips moving equally upon Alys' hand as it rubbed against her clothed core. It was so wrong, so utterly unthinkable that she dare let her brother's bedmate touch her. 

Yet Alys muttered against Daera's breast, her hands now finding the band of the small clothes which covered the Princess' core. "Such a desirous girl..." 

Suddenly, Alys forced Daera to lay flat upon the bed. The witch hovered above her, pulling the small clothes from the Princess' form. 

Daera looked upon Alys in a complete daze, the warmth which flooded through her blood had rendered her useless to any protest. And she watched as Alys slid down, pulling Daera forward until her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. 

The bastard pulled herself to kneel directly in front of Daera. Her head was now level with the princess' thighs, and as she looked up at her knowingly, a maligned smirk played on her face. As the small clothes fell to the floor Alys' hands began to crawl up the princess' thighs, trailing upwards, like spiders upon white silk. 

The witch sat up, her own thighs pressing into the bedding as she gazed up at Daera. Her fingers found purchase on the princess' upper thighs gripping and then parting them. Daera gasped, squirming as she watched the witch claw towards her, her head settled between Daera's open thighs. 

"There we are..." Alys purred, as she pressed her face against the Princess's flesh, kissing her lightly, taking in her scent. The witch muttered once more, "Sweet... like moonbloom." 

Alys took her time, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her legs.  The witch's hands gripping and stroking Daera's flesh. 

"Have you ever had someone before, princess?" she asked, her breath warm like a summer evening.

Daera looked down, her brows furrowed in surrender. Her core aching and wet, she had never felt she desire before, never felt such need demand it be tended to. The Princess whispered, "No..." 

"Mm, as I thought, a flower left to wilt." The witch let her lips move upwards, trailing towards Daera's core, she spoke once more, "How lucky I am to be... to taste not just a dragon, but a maiden too. Lovely..." 

Alys placed a kiss upon the princess' core, though feather light, was but enough to make Daera's body shudder. 

The witch chuckled, her breath hot against Daera's slick folds, "Sensitive..." she murmured, a smirk upon her lips.

And just like that, Alys used  her hands to spread the princess' legs further, swiftly clasping her mouth upon Daera's cunt. 

The witch's tongue began to move, swirling as a serpent against the sensitive skin. She lapped up Daera's wetness and the princess was all but awe struck by the feeling. She parted her legs further, her hands coming to Alys' black locks, tugging at them. 

Her head falling backwards in bliss, mouth hung as a soft whimper left her. The feeling of Alys' tongue upon her felt like fire shredding through her skin, Daera moved her hips slightly chasing the intensity. 

As the princess' head dropped back Alys let her gaze wander upwards, enjoying the sight of the girl unleashed. Such a demure temperament Daera seemed to embody, seemed all but lost as the Princess groaned. Alys felt satisfaction coil in her, to have the silver haired girl brought to a whorish state only fueled the witch's ministrations.

She pulled back for a moment and muttered, placing teasing kisses upon the wet cunt before her, "Does it feel good, sweet dragon? To feel my mouth where no man has laid claim to you before?" Alys' voice like a siren song. 

The teasing kisses and soft tone of the witch made Daera whimper once more, she nodded. Her voice trembling, "Yes... my Lady.." 

Alys chuckled, enjoying hearing the princess call her 'lady'. The sight was one which was most wanton, the two women in such a vulnerable embrace, indulging in desires that would surely see them hung. Though a strange flicker of affection coiled within Alys. Unlike her brother, Daera was easier, sweeter. She was not used to such control, for usually she was the one to lay below a dragon. Aemond was rarely tender in his touch, at times it had seemed he merely wished to relinquish himself of something than indulge as Daera seemed to. 

Indeed, Daera seemed desperate for it, longing to be touched so tenderly. It was only a few times Alys had managed to encounter such need from Aemond. To have him laying in her arms, wrapped in an embrace. Though he oft acted above such affections after they took place. 

Alys tilted her head and spoke cooingly, "Such a pretty thing you are...such pretty sounds you make." With that, her tongue curled, finding the sweet, pulsing core of the princess once more.

Her hands gripped and pulled Daera closer, until she was all but pressed flush against the witch's face. Alys moaned at the sensation of her own cunt flooding with desire. 

Quickly, Daera felt the intensity building. She moaned, her head tilting further back as her back arched into the feeling. What a dream this was, what heavenly visions her mind had created. The pleasure so intense Daera hadn't noticed the sly sound of an open door. The slow, heavy footsteps of boots upon the creeking floor. 

A lonesome eye narrowing upon the scene. Raven hair buried between pale thighs. Silver hair catching in the thread of moonlight upon his bed. His paramour's lips upon his sister's cunt. 

It was no dream at all. 

○Part II○

[ro-is-struggling]

The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice || Geralt of Rivia x nymph!reader

REQUESTED

Summary: Life was good when Geralt was by her side. They were in love and happy... Until they weren't and she was left alone once again. After spending so much time under his protection, she had forgotten how dangerous the world was for creatures like her. Sad and heartbroken, she was unable to defend herself when the men came for her. Now locked up far away from her forest, she only hoped that her loved protector would come to her rescue.

Warnings: angst (with happy ending), major character death, reader gets imprisoned by a evil dude (I don't know how to tag this lol but I think it’s important to mention that she’s forced to serve him), fluff (it’s not all sad, I promise), forest nymph!reader, fem!reader, let me know if I missed anything!

English is not my first language

Word count: 12.700 (it's a long one)

Notes: A few things to have in mind while reading: It follows the timeline very loosely, and Geralt and Yen's relationship never got to that solid point in s3 cause it's not real love, just the product of Geralt binding their fates together with that wish

She never imagined that her story would end like this, locked in a cold and humid dungeon far away from her forest. Nymphs were not immortal beings —something she had come close to verifying several times in her long years on the continent—, so the idea of her inevitable end was something that she had thought about from time to time. It was not something that haunted her obsessively, but every once in a while her mind would wander to the imagining of the end of her days. 

She lived a quiet life, making sure to be cautious around any unwanted people who passed through her forest. She had no enemies, at least not ones powerful enough to present a real danger to her. So she always imagined that she would die a peaceful death, slowly fading away as her birth tree withered away after having completed its cycle on this earth. If not, she imagined she would die a heroic death as she fought the greedy humans to prevent the destruction of her forest. Both scenarios brought her a sense of comfort in a way, because they showed that she had fulfilled her life's mission, the purpose for which she had been placed on the continent.

She never imagined that the end of her days would actually be so dark and torturous, forced to live in captivity away from her home and everything she loved. She never thought she would miss the feel of the wind on her face, or the warmth of the early morning sun, or the sweet scent of flowers in the spring. She had never imagined herself living anywhere but her forest, but that was an option that had been taken away from her the moment King Elian's men set foot in her home. 

She had heard rumors of his infamous reputation from the mouths of other frightened nymphs. His name inspired terror among magical creatures, who chose to call him The Hunter as if the mere mention of his name was a sign of bad omens. He was known for his obsession with magical creatures and what he did with them after capturing them. Despite what his nickname implied, he did not always chase a magical creature to kill it and display some part of its body as a hunting trophy. No. There was a fate far more horrible and obscure than that, and that was to end up as a piece of his collection, just another exhibit, forced to smile in his presence and perform for his entertainment whenever he wanted it. It was the terrible fate that had unfortunately fallen upon her. 

In the past she had not seen King Elian as a threat. His kingdom was on the other side of the continent and while he used to go on hunting trips when he heard rumors of a creature in his vicinity, he had never ventured this far before. Besides, she was under the protection of one of the continent's fiercest witchers, so she knew no one would dare mess with her. No one who knew Geralt of Rivia would dare to challenge him, and the poor bastards who, out of ignorance or arrogance did, usually didn't live to tell the tale. The bond they had was strong, a love unlike any she had ever experienced in her many years of life, so she never thought there would be a day when she would wake up without him by her side.

"The king requires your presence." A guard announced from her cell door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet reluctantly, stepping up to the bars so he could put the handcuffs on her before unlocking her cell. The dimeritium on her wrists was engraved with the same symbols as the bars of the box in which she spent her days. It was a powerful incantation that weakened her magic so that she could not use her powers to escape. It was painful since the metal burned her skin, but she had learned the hard way not to complain.

The guard led her to the throne room, where the king was shouting directions to the group of servants working on decorating the place, changing the curtains and adding chairs and tables to the sides of the room. She had been there long enough to know that the castle was being prepared for a feast, though she did not know what the celebratory occasion was.

She forced herself to bow when the king's eyes fell upon her figure, though her expression showed how little respect she truly had for him. "Your majesty." She murmured as a learned response as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I hope you used your time in the dungeon to reflect on your attitude." His voice was firm, almost as if he was still angry with her for refusing to comply with his demands almost a week ago when he had wanted to use her to entertain the king of the neighboring kingdom who had come to visit. "You have to understand that you belong to me. You are here to serve me and the only reason you are not dead already is that I find you useful. But that can change and it depends entirely on how you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue to avoid causing a scene that would undoubtedly send her straight to the dungeon again. "Yes, my king." She wasn't able to look him in the eye as she spoke as she didn't want to see the satisfaction in his expression. 

"As a demonstration of my great generosity and compassion, I have decided to give you a second chance to prove your loyalty. But do not mistake my mercy for stupidity for this will be your last chance to prove your worth to me. If you say or do anything out of place you will know the sharp blade of my sword."

After she submissively assured him that she understood the seriousness of his words, he explained that he needed her to take care of some of the preparations for the feast in honor of his daughter. During the week the entire kingdom had participated in the celebrations for the girl's fifteenth birthday, an event that would culminate with a grand banquet in the evening. She would be in charge of preparing the floral arrangements that would decorate the entire palace as well as being responsible for the main entertainment since there was nothing to match the singing of a nymph. But in addition, the king put her on a special task. He wanted to give his daughter a beautiful garden with different types of flowers —one for each year of her life—, and she was the perfect person for the job. She accepted without question, not so much because she valued her life or feared reprisals if she refused, but rather because after being locked up for so long she missed being in contact with nature. 

"If it's alright with you, my lord, I would like to start with the garden." She said in the most respectful way possible, explaining that with her powers weakened it was the task that would take the most work.

She was escorted by a group of half a dozen guards, who grabbed her roughly by the arms and dragged her through the castle corridors to the garden. Normally she would have complained about their mistreatment, but it all stopped mattering to her when she felt the gentle breeze hit the skin of her face. It was a wonderful feeling smelling the wet dirt in the air and hearing the birds singing after having spent so much time locked up in the deepest part of the castle. It almost felt like freedom.

Working in the garden awakened a bittersweet feeling in her. On the one hand, it was the most comfortable she had been since she arrived at the castle. Walking barefoot on the grass, feeling the earth between her toes and the flowers growing under her hands was as close to home as she had ever been. It was liberating in a way, putting her powers to good use and connecting with the nature she missed so much. But, on the other hand, it was also a reminder of all that she had lost, the life she would never get back. As much as she loved being outside after so many days locked up, she couldn't help but notice that nothing felt like home. The flowers didn't smell the same, the grass under her feet wasn't as soft, and even the birds didn't sing the same. That wasn't her home. This was not her forest. 

As she buried her hands in the ground, she couldn't help but question what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it. Sure, avoiding further punishment for disobeying the king's orders was a valid motivation, but was it really worth it? Why was she trying to preserve her life when the only future she had was to live locked up there forever? Was dying such a terrible fate when the alternative was imprisonment and slavery? A life away from her home, forced to indulge the whims of a power-hungry monster was no life at all, so why was she there obeying the orders of that disgusting man? 

Then she realized that she still held out hope of escaping. Her spirit wasn't completely crushed and her love for Geralt wasn't entirely gone, so even if it was foolish, she still hoped he would show up to rescue her. They hadn't seen each other for over a year, since that sad day when their story had met an abrupt end after he confessed to her that there was another woman in his life, but she still held out hope of seeing him again. She dreamed of seeing his long white hair move in the air as he skillfully knocked down the guards that separated them and freed her from her confinement. How could she not when he had been her savior on more than one occasion? In fact, that was how they had met.

She was frightened and hurt the first time she saw him, trapped in a cage with symbols carved into the bars. It was a powerful spell that weakened her powers just like the shackles of dimeritium around her wrists. The cage was too small for her, a confined space where she could barely stretch her legs or sit up straight if she wanted to. A group of well-trained men had managed to capture her, taking advantage of her distraction and temporary weakness to lock her up and take her back to their master. She was so terrified that when she heard Geralt's sword clash with that of one of her attackers, she curled up in a corner, her body folding in on itself in an attempt to make herself small and invisible to the group of fighting men. 

She recognized immediately that he was a witcher and that brought her no relief. While his kind generally didn't tend to see nymphs as dangerous monsters —as long as they behaved and didn't do anything to end up on their list, of course— she didn't feel completely safe in the presence of a witcher. She tended to hide on the occasions when one passed through her forest, believing it was best to stay away from people like that just in case. After all, they were monster hunters, a concept that, in her experience, meant something different to each individual and there was no way of knowing for sure if she fell into that category or not. So, even though he had overpowered her captors, she still felt fear when he approached.

Geralt felt that fear as soon as he took a step towards her, it was almost as strong as the power and magic that flowed from her being. Her beauty alone was enough to let him know that she was a nymph of the forest. Behind the earth and blood, hidden in a grimace of terror, were the delicate features that the witcher had only seen in the creatures of her kind that he had encountered in the past. The nymphs had a certain look, a special glow that distinguished them from the rest of the magical beings on the continent. They were also one of the gentlest and most peaceful creatures on the continent, focused only on protecting their homes and turning to violence only as a last defense mechanism. That was why Geralt did not sense a drop of evil in her. And that was also why he set out to free her from her confinement.

Even though her captors lay dead on the ground, she still looked terrified, her eyes glassy with tears and her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a sob. When he approached her, the nymph snuggled further into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective manner. He raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show her that he was not going to hurt her, walking slowly toward the cage so he could release her. It was then that he noticed the symbols on the bars and the dimeritium shackles, which helped him understand how she had ended up there and why she was so scared. She was in a position of extreme vulnerability without her magic and, despite having saved her, he was a complete stranger who could very well cause her more trouble. So the witcher made an effort to appear friendly and non-threatening.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He told her to try to calm her down, though it wasn't much help. She curled further into the corner of the cage, hugging her legs to her chest and looking up at him with watchful eyes from between her knees.

"I know what you are." She answered him, the fear clear in her voice. "You are a witcher, you kill-"

"Monsters, yes." Geralt spoke for her. "But you are not one of them. You're safe with me." 

At that moment she had no way of knowing what kind of impact those words would have on her life and how genuine they were. She accepted his help because she had no other choice, but time would show her how fortunate she had been to cross paths with Geralt. At first he played hard to get, barely speaking as she nursed his wounds once her powers stabilized. She'd had to resort to using her charms a little to soften that hard exterior of his, but once Geralt began to open up to her, she discovered the man he truly was. 

Geralt tended to lean into rumors about himself and his kind, pretending to be emotionless and not caring about anything or anyone but himself. But that was all an act, a protective shield. In reality he cared. He was capable of feeling emotions as deeply as any other being on the continent. He hated and held grudges, but he also loved and cared for those close to him just as intensely. And once she discovered that, she found it very easy to love him back. 

She was truly safe with him, and in the long years that their love blossomed he did nothing but prove that to her. Geralt was her favorite person in the world. He was her home, her lover, her protector... A love like that was not easily forgotten and no one could blame her for holding out even the slightest hope that he would come for her, that he would somehow sense that she was in danger and rush to her rescue. It had happened in the past, their connection was that strong, so it wasn't an entirely far-fetched idea. It was just... naive of her.

Geralt had been traveling for days. He usually preferred to use alternative paths hidden behind forests or swamps, they were quieter and better for his business. Not many people used them so he didn't run into anyone that would bother him, and it was easy to run into the occasional monster roaming around, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. What he hated, however, was that most of the time it took him twice as long to get to some town where he could rest with minimal comforts and eat a hot meal. 

Had he taken the main road he would probably already be at his destination, drinking in the dark corner of some dingy bar or locked in the room of some cheap inn, and not wandering the forest in search of an animal big enough to satisfy his appetite. He didn't mind being outdoors or having to hunt for his food on the spot —-in fact he was so used to that he almost preferred it—, but this time he was tired and couldn't wait to be anywhere but there. Perhaps that was why when he came across a king and his hunting party he accepted his offer to return to his camp to eat with him without putting up much of a fight. 

Geralt hated royalty and King Elian was no exception. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, just like the vast majority of kings, but there was something else about him that rubbed the witcher the wrong way. He tried to decline his offer at first, but he was unwilling to take no for an answer.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. My camp is not far from here and my tent is big and warm. I have more than enough food and I would love to hear some of your stories while we eat." The king insisted, pressing Geralt to accept his offer. "My men don't make for good company and I'm bored. I'm sure a witcher like you has been involved in a good share of adventures that make for fascinating stories."

In any other circumstances, Geralt would have found a way to escape from there. The last thing he wanted was to be used as the personal entertainment of an arrogant king. But this time he decided not to resist too much. He attributed it to his tiredness, he had been traveling for a long time and at least it wouldn't be a sacrifice in vain since he could at least get food in exchange for entertaining him for a while. But perhaps there was something more than that playing a role there. Fate itself had crossed their paths for a reason, even though he didn't know it yet.

"It's not as interesting or glorious as one might think." Geralt said with honesty. 

In his experience there were two types of opinions regarding his people and what they did for a living. There were the people who despised them for what they were and believed they were no different than the monsters they killed and there were those who found them fascinating and longed to go on adventures like the ones they often experienced. To him both opinions were bullshit. He wasn't a monster, he didn't kill for pleasure or for fun as many people believed, but neither was he some kind of hero whose life was worthy of being immortalized in songs and poems. He was just a man who did what he knew best to survive, just like all witchers and all beings on the continent. He and his kind did not deserve hatred, but neither did they deserve to be crowned with laurels. They deserved to be left in peace, nothing more, nothing less.

"I have to say I'm grateful for the work you and your kind does." The king continued speaking without acknowledging Geralt's words. It was as if he was not there, his words were of little value to the king when they did not say exactly what he wanted to hear from him. "These creatures are dangerous and can't be left alone to live amongst us. Although some are fascinating creatures if given proper care and purpose."

Geralt looked at the monarch with a frown, unsure of what he meant by that. He said nothing, however, just remained silent for most of their journey to the camp, while trying to get a better read on the man beyond the typical arrogance of all of his kind. There was something about him that he did not like, something that caused a feeling that other kings and nobles did not. It was something more than his simple unpleasant personality, but he could not figure out what it was.

"You should come to my kingdom sometime." King Elian offered as they finally reached what appeared to be the camp where he and his hunting party had set up their base. "I have a collection of creatures I'm sure you would love to see."

The witcher halted his walk, looking at the king with narrowed eyes. "A collection?"

"Oh yes! I have the biggest collection of magical creatures in the whole continent." He admitted as if it was something to be proud of. "I have some pretty rare ones I'm sure you and your people would love to study. You're more than welcome to come over anytime! After all, we are all on the same side."

Geralt did not like the way the king referred to magical creatures and hated that he equated himself with witchers and the work they did. They didn't lock up monsters to brag about their large collection to strangers. They didn't see them as objects that gave them some kind of prestige. They saw them as living creatures, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misunderstood. Witchers did not enslave or kill monsters for fun as he seemed to do and Geralt was disgusted that he would even try to imply such a thing.

However, before he could voice his opinion, the king shoved him into his luxurious tent and the servants set a plate of food in front of him. It was filled with meat and potatoes and vegetables so colorful that they must have been freshly picked. It might have been the hunger talking, but it was the most appetizing food he had tasted in a long time. It was indeed fit for a king and Geralt thought it was definitely worth chatting with his host for a while in exchange for a share, especially after tasting the wine.

"It's good, isn't it?" the king asked him, studying his reaction as he lifted the wine glass to his mouth. "I have someone special that takes care of all the plants in the castle so I only eat the best of the best. It's actually one of my creatures. You can meet her, if you want."

Geralt let go of the piece of meat between his fingers and looked at the king with a frown. There was a subtle change in the air that made him instinctively tense, wondering what his host was up to. The king gave him a small smile before gesturing to one of his men, who left the tent without saying a word. The monarch's menacing aura put the witcher on alert, carefully watching his every move while he ate as if trying to predict what he would do next. His attitude had changed in a matter of seconds. Geralt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something about the way he looked back at him that put him on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to happen —as if he knew something was going to happen—, the glow of anticipation clear in his eyes. 

He didn't understand his attitude, at least not until the guard returned to the tent. Only he wasn't alone, but was carrying a girl on his arm who was shuffling her bare feet across the ground hesitantly, as if she really didn't want to be there. Her eyes were downcast and her long hair was tangled over her face, so that Geralt could not see her features. Her dress, which seemed to have been a beautiful piece of art at one time, was now dirty and worn, with the fabric torn to shreds on some sides. Her hands were bound together at her wrists, trapped by shackles of dimeritium that marked her condition of slavery. It was a sad sight that became horrifying when Geralt smelled the scent of flowers in the air.

His heart stopped as his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet smell of cherry blossom that he knew and had come to love. The world around him stopped as he was struck with the horrible realization of what was happening. He did not need to see the face of the captured young woman to know it was her. It was enough to feel her energy in the tent as he breathed in her characteristic sweet scent. 

Geralt jumped to his feet, hand gripping his sword as he entered a state of desperation. He wasn't thinking, he couldn't, he had been reduced to his most primitive instincts by seeing her there in that condition. She was weak and injured in a way that Geralt had never seen, her glow and warm, positive energy almost completely extinguished after being tortured for who knows how long. However, when her eyes met his, he noticed a slight glimmer of joy and hope. That only further increased his desire to protect her, the murderous urge growing inside him and urging him to crush anyone who stood between them.

"Let her go!" Geralt demanded firmly, turning his eyes away from his former lover to look the king in the eyes. 

He was furious and desperate, it was evident in his voice and in the hard expression on his face. Anyone would have given in to his demands if he looked at them with those murderous eyes, but King Elian did not flinch. He didn't seem to care that Geralt was pointing his sword at him or that he looked ready to take on an army on his own, he continued to eat as if nothing was happening while the tent filled with guards ready to defend him.

"Please, sit down. You barely touched your food." The monarch spoke in a calm, casual tone. But Geralt did not move, he stood his ground, sword held high and hate-filled eyes fixed on him. "Fate is its a curious thing, don't you agree? This invisible force pushing us to the right path so we might fulfill our destiny, making every little interaction, every little decision, integral... Take this as an example. This morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was going to cross paths with you and yet here we are."

"Let. Her. Go." Geralt interrupted the king's unimportant ramblings, pausing slightly at each word to emphasize his anger. He didn't care what the man had to say, he would slice him through with his sword right there if it weren't for the fact that his sweet nymph was bound and surrounded by guards who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her before he could get to her. "I won't ask again. Next time it will be my sword doing the talking."

"I don't want to fight you, Geralt. If anything, I want to thank you for helping me fulfill my destiny, my purpose of becoming the biggest collector of magical creatures in the continent... You see, if it weren't for you, I could never have captured a forest nymph as powerful as her. I admit that you ruined my plans the first time when you attacked my men, but in the end it was thanks to you that I was able to get my hands on her."

"What are you talking about?" the witcher asked, confused. It could be the adrenaline coursing through his veins and drowning out his thoughts —or the fact that his heart was beating so fast that it was pounding in his ears muffling all other sounds—, but the king wasn't making much sense to him. They had never crossed paths before, and if they had, he would never have helped him in something so horrible.

"I could never have caught her while she was under your protection. But when you left... well, let's just say she was withering away little by little, weakening day by day until she got to the point where she couldn't defend herself when my men came for her."

Geralt froze in place as the king's words echoed in his head. It was a lot of information to process and he was in no condition to do so. If he wasn't so devastated he might have reacted to the implication that the king had been watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike after he had saved her from his men the day they had met. But at that moment he could only concentrate on the feelings of guilt and regret that came over him. 

When he left, he never thought about the consequences his decision might have. He never thought about how his departure would affect her or if she would be okay. He knew she would be sad and hurt, just as it hurt him to have to leave her, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. So he focused on moving on, hoping she would too, without stopping to consider the consequences. He thought about her a lot in the time they spent apart —when he lay awake at night, admiring the stars and the nocturnal sounds of the woods; or as he dressed quietly after spending a night with Yennefer—, but in his mind he always pictured her happy. She was strong and had lived many years alone on the continent before their paths crossed, so he was sure that their breakup would not destroy her. He was sure that she would find a way to get back on her feet and that it would be better for the both of them to stay apart. 

Now he realized that was just an excuse. He was being selfish, protecting himself and running away from reality so as not to face it because it hurted him. It hurted to know that he was hurting her. It hurted that he fell in love with another woman behind her back. It hurted to have to leave her after all they had been through together, the love they shared, the moments of vulnerability and intimacy that had brought them together. It hurted because he had failed her, because he couldn't keep his promise to be with her forever. So he completely disappeared from her life, making excuses to justify his behavior and convince himself that he was doing the right thing even though he knew deep down that he wasn't. He ran away like a coward and she ended up paying the price for it.

The witcher's eyes searched the nymph's, hoping to find in them the answers to the questions he had not asked, some indication that the king was not lying. She escaped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and extremely vulnerable. But eventually their gazes met and Geralt knew the mistake he had made. He should have been there for her. He should have helped her when they came for her. He should have searched for her all over the continent once he noticed her disappearance. He should have protected her, just as he always had. He had failed her twice, but he would not let there be a third.

Geralt carried out his threat without hesitation, lashing out at the nearest soldiers in an effort to reach her. The clinking sound of clashing swords and the groans of his opponents were all that echoed in his mind, focusing on his enemy to keep his head cool and ensure victory. They were no threat to him. They were well trained and knew how to move around very well, but he was a witcher with decades of experience and unmatched reflexes and skills. He had defeated them once in the past and he would do it again now without breaking a sweat.

At least that's what he thought before he heard the voice of the young nymph in the distance calling out for him.

“Geralt!” She exclaimed his name for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her sweet voice traveled through the air, piercing through the sound of metal and the grunts of pain until it reached his ears. She managed to get his attention immediately as he recognized the hint of fear in it. As he buried his sword in his opponent, his eyes snapped up to her, searching for her in the crowd following the sound of her voice. 

When he finally found her, Geralt's heart sank as he discovered the reason for the fear in her voice. The king had his hands around her, holding her tightly against his body. His left hand was wrapped around her torso, restricting her movement, while his right hand wielded a silver dagger against her neck. The metal gleamed in the dim light, revealing the sharp edge that burned the girl's skin. Desperate, Geralt tried to lunge at the monarch, but he stopped him with a click of his tongue.

"One more step and she dies." He assured, firmly. Geralt noticed the honesty in his voice, so he stayed in place and slowly lowered his sword —though he did not drop it—, a desperate attempt to buy time to think of a plan to get out of there with her by his side.

"You don't have to do this." Geralt tried to reason with him even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't see her as more than an object, just another piece in his long collection of creatures, so it was safe to assume he didn't value her life very much. But still, Geralt didn't have much choice so he tried anyway.

"She has been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived at the castle, isn't that right, darling?" The king grumbled, lowering his head just slightly so he could mutter the last question against the young nymph's ear. "Crying all day, disobeying my orders, upsetting the other creatures... and now your friend over here kills half my men after I feed him and show him my generosity."

"If we present so much trouble to you, why don't you let us go? I'll take her with me and I promise you won't hear from us ever again."

"You are ungrateful brats." The king continued speaking, completely ignoring Geralt's words. "You think you are special, important, and therefore above it all... but you are not. Your actions have consequences and I am the one who decides what they are... You do not deserve my generosity or my mercy."

Geralt didn't have time to think about the hypocrisy in the monarch's words because before he could process them his eyes watched in horror as he slid the blade of the dagger across his beloved's neck. Blood began to gush violently from the wound, the thick, sticky liquid sliding down the young woman's delicate skin, turning everything red. He screamed her name, his sword slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a muffled sound. He ran towards her, completely forgetting the guards he was fighting moments before. He only cared about her.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion, as if his feet were twice as heavy and dragging them along the ground was more difficult than usual. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, the men around him, the gentle breeze of the wind... everything but her. He watched her collapse to the ground, blood covering her chest as she struggled to keep breathing. But he couldn't reach her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms one more time, but it was as if an abyss was keeping them apart. It felt as if fate was mocking him, punishing him for his mistakes by allowing him to be there with her, but not letting him do anything to save her. 

He tried to stop the bleeding as he knelt beside her —placing his hands on her neck and feeling the blood gushing from the wound—, but it was too late. She was pale and weak, all the magic in the world could not have saved her at that moment. There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful green orbs that were fading with each passing second. She was scared, Geralt could see it in her expression. She didn't want to go, but she knew there was nothing else to do now.

"I'm here, I'm here." Geralt whispered in the calmest, most comforting tone he was capable of uttering at that moment. He swallowed his anger and pain, holding back tears so he could give her some peace. He cradled her face in his hands, fingers caressing the skin of her cheeks delicately as if he were afraid of breaking it. "It's going to be okay... you're going to be okay. I will fix this."

She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead of sound only blood came out. Geralt caressed her gently, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her hand around his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. She was begging him to understand her, to read in her eyes her thoughts as he had done so many times in the past. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand her, although in hindsight it should have been obvious to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to assure him that none of it was his fault and that no matter what had happened between them, he would own her heart forever. 

"I love you. I always will."

Geralt saw the reassurance in her face as the warmth of love enveloped her in her last moments. She gave him the faintest of smiles, an almost invisible sign of the peace his words had brought her. And then her grip on his arm weakened, her hand dropping to the floor as life left her body. Suddenly, that subtle smile, now permanently carved into her expression, was all he had left of her, of her life and the love they shared. 

Geralt did not fight when the soldiers dragged him and tied him to a tree to leave him there to die while they escaped, he did not have the strength to do so. He was numb to the world around him, consumed by grief. The sound of the king and his men preparing to leave sounded muffled and distant, as if they were far away from him. And in a way they were, for his mind was not one with his body, but far away. He was focused on the slowly withering body of his beloved, on the fear as she called his name and the terror in her eyes as the edge of the dagger sealed her fate. He could only think of her and all the time they had lost and could never get back, feeling the guilt slowly consuming him as her body transformed into a pile of pink petals.

Geralt admired her face in the dim glow of the candlelight, thinking about how beautiful she looked tangled in the sheets beside him. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo around her head and her smooth skin was covered with a light layer of sweat that gave her an almost ethereal glow. It felt like an illusion, a trick of his mind. He found it hard to believe he had someone like her lying next to him, looking at him with love in her eyes. 

It wasn't just her beauty. No. It was the peace her mere presence awakened in him and the void he felt in his chest when they were apart. It was the way he dreamed of her and her caresses every night he went to bed alone and how his longing disappeared when he felt her warmth against him as their bodies melted into one. It was the way her kisses made him feel like he was home, safe and away from the complications of the world outside the little paradise that was her forest. It was much more than physical attraction, more than the effects of her nymph charm, as he had initially thought. It was love. Pure, honest love, like he had never felt before. He was in love with her, and while he hadn't put it into words yet, he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Her fingers aroused a warm tingle as they caressed his cheek. Geralt leaned into it, closing his eyes for a second to appreciate the magic of the moment. It was amazing how such a subtle act, such a light touch, was able bring out so many emotions in him. It was something only she could do, a clear demonstration of how deep his feelings for her were.

However, when Geralt opened his eyes again, he didn't find the special glow he usually saw in them at intimate moments like this. She was looking straight at him, but it was as if she was looking right through him, as if her mind was lost in her thoughts. Something was bothering her, that much was clear in the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth would open slightly, almost in an imperceptible movement, only to close seconds later, as if there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn't quite bring herself to say. So he decided to ask her about it. 

"What's wrong?" Geralt voice was low and raspy with sleep, looking at her with a slight frown in confusion. There was a moment of silence before she answered. Her eyes never left his, but her hand slowly slid from his cheek to rest on his bare chest.

"I'm afraid of losing you." She eventually said, her voice almost a whisper. "You travel across the continent, meet all kinds of people... I'm afraid one day you will get bored of me... find someone better and leave me forever."

Geralt could not believe his ears. It was ridiculous to him that she could have such a fear of abandonment when he felt the way he did. If only she knew how happy being with her made him... If only he could somehow transfer his emotions to her so that she could feel his heart race when they kissed, or experience the peace that filled him inside every night when he lay down next to her... If only she knew, she wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. So, he took her hand in his and pressed it against the left side of his chest, right over where his heart was beating with love for her. She needed to know that she was the only one who had a permanent place there. She was the only one he loved and he doubted that would ever change.

"Believe me when I tell you that there is no force on this continent that can keep me away from you." He spoke in a soft voice and watched as her eyes lit up full of illusion. "I love you, forever and always."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, showing her with his lips how serious he was about it. He loved her and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to be with her for the rest of his life, sharing intimate moments like this one and protecting her from any evil that might come her way. He felt complete with her and could not imagine how miserable his life would be without her by his side.

Geralt allowed himself to get lost in the passion of the moment, fingers tracing trails over his beloved's bare skin as he melted into the kiss. It was different this time, more intimate and charged with all the emotions that were left unsaid —it was their special way of communicating, one kiss and they knew what was going through each other's minds. The comforting warmth of love filled his heart, leaving him in a state of total bliss as she whispered sweet nothings against his lips. He was happy in a way he could not remember ever being before, in a way he knew he could only be with her. 

But suddenly that comforting warmth that flooded his insides was replaced by a paralyzing cold, an emptiness that pressed against his chest and took his breath away. Geralt could no longer feel his beloved's lips against his. He could no longer smell the flowery scent her soft skin radiated or feel the warmth of her body. He was trapped in a black void, in emptiness itself, all alone. And in the distance he could hear his name being called.

Geralt

Geralt

Geralt

It was a cry for help, the voice of terror of someone who had been confronted with their own mortality. The voice trembled with fear, certain of the fatal fate that awaited them. Geralt could not escape its shrieks, no matter how hard he tried. It was his own personal hell, a void where he was forced to confront his pain, his guilt, and to listen again and again to his beloved's voice filled with terror as she spoke his name for the last time.

Geralt woke up tangled in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and breathing fast due to his nightmare. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as he tried to pull himself together. His beloved's voice was still ringing in his ears, only that with every waking second it became more and more distant until it became an almost unintelligible whisper. Anguish and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he was used to that by now. The emptiness inside him had accompanied him every moment of his life since that unfortunate day. He could not escape the pain and regret he felt, it haunted him even when he closed his eyes at night. He could not even enjoy the peaceful ignorance in the mornings, when one's mind is too sleepy to process life's tragedies, because his nightmares would remind him of every painful detail of that day so that he could not rest.

At a time like this, when life had become so overwhelming that he was unable to sleep, he usually reached out to her. With her gentle touch and sweet voice she was always able to calm his tormented self, wash away the anger and frustration and replace it with love and calmness. But now she was gone and he didn't know how to go on. He missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss anyone. He missed the melodious sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she was happy. He missed waking up next to her in the mornings, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping him as she whispered good morning to him, her voice hoarse from sleep. He wished he could once again feel the soft caress of her lips on his and hear her say she loved him one more time. 

There was nothing Geralt wasn't willing to do to have her back with him, to be able to tell her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving her. He had been an idiot to have given in to his desires for Yennefer. He should never have gotten involved with her, he should have let her own greed and obsession destroy her that day. He should have saved Jaskier and moved on with his life, after all Yennefer's problems were of no concern to him. But he could not resist his need to intervene, acting like a knight in shining armor instead of what he really was: a witcher. He made an impulsive decision, binding their destinies with magic and unknowingly triggering the death of his beloved. For if only he had been with her, if only he had stayed by her side to protect her as he had promised, he was sure things would be very different. She would still be alive and he would not be so miserable.

But Geralt was determined to make things right. He refused to let her die because of his mistakes. And looking at the cherry blossom tree growing outside his window, he knew the time was getting closer.

"I will fix this." He spoke to the tree, stroking the trunk with his hand as he sucked in a long breath of air. It smelled like her, a sweet scent mixed with the aroma of wood and wet earth. It ached and comforted him in equal amounts. "I will bring you back to me and I will keep my promise to you this time."

Geralt knew she was gone, but her essence was still alive in that tree. Born from the pink petals in which her body had withered when she died, it grew stronger with each day, keeping a fragment of her alive. Of course it was not her, but for now he was happy to make promises to the wind that its branches generated, clinging to the sweet scent of its flowers as the only sign that his words were well received by her. It was all he had, all he had left of her, and for now that was enough. He still wasn't sure how he would fulfill his promises or even where to begin. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that his love for her was stronger than fate itself and there was no force on the continent that could stop him from keeping his promise this time.

The solution to his dilemma presented itself almost by accident. And it came from the place Geralt least expected. He had spent the last few months visiting every library he had access to, reading every book and consulting with every expert he knew in his desperate search to find a way to bring his beloved back to life. But in the end, it was Jaskier who presented him with a solution in the form of a song. 

They were traveling on a back road after a successful job. The bard had offered to accompany him under the excuse that he needed new inspirations, but Geralt knew he was doing it because he didn't want to leave him alone. Jaskier knew the pain he felt and being the good friend he was he wanted to accompany him in mourning. Geralt appreciated him even if he didn't have the strength to say it in words. His light-hearted comments and meaningless ramblings were exactly what he needed to distract his tormented mind. Even his spontaneous singing at the worst possible moment cheered him up instead of irritating him as usual. Anything to help him concentrate on something else was welcomed.

They had been walking for hours, hoping to reach the next town before dark and sleep in a comfortable bed in a warm room and not in the middle of the forest again. They were quiet, only the chirping of birds and the sound of leaves crunching under their feet echoed in the air. They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago and Jaskier was starting to get bored. So he did what he always did when he found himself in that situation, sing. Only this time Geralt didn't recognize the verses as one of his own original songs. It was one he had not heard him sing before, so he paid attention.

It told the story of a young man that had managed to win the heart of a forest nymph with his beautiful singing. The connection they shared was so strong that they married shortly after meeting, in the same place where they first saw each other. Happiness and love filled their days for a few long and joyful months. That was until fate, jealous and bitter, stood in the way of their happiness. So, one morning, after being bitten by a snake, the young nymph died. Her beloved fell into a state of despair when he heard the tragic news. Unable to accept that his wife had been taken from his life without warning, he descended into the depths of the underworld to plead for her soul. The song narrated the difficulties of his journey and the perseverance with which he had faced each difficulty until he reached the lord of the underworld himself, to whom he tearfully begged for the return of his wife. The emotion in his words was such that he managed to move Hades, who gave in to his prayers. Although he imposed a condition: that he would not turn around to see his wife's soul following his steps until he left the underworld.

The story did not end well since the young man had been too eager and had turned to see his beloved before she was completely above ground. But Geralt didn't care about that somber detail. His attention was focused on the young man and his journey to the underworld, not only because he felt somehow connected to the emotions of sadness and despair he felt, but also because he was fairly certain he could recreate his heroic efforts.

"Are you crazy?" was Jaskier's reaction to hearing Geralt's idea, his voice raised in a tone of surprise and concern. "Haven't you heard the end of the song? Things go wrong! He doesn't get his wife back!"

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“Geralt, the story it’s just a myth… a tragic love story that one could say is a cautionary tale! You’re not supposed to follow in his footsteps, you’re supposed to learn to live with the grief, process your emotions and eventually move on… Look, I know this is hard for you. I miss her too… What happened to her wasn’t fair, but it wasn't your fault either. Blindly following the words of a myth is not going to change anything.”

“But it’s not a myth, not all of it at least.” Geralt recognized that the love story of the young man and the forest nymph might be an invention, but he knew of the existence of a door to the underworld. It was hidden and required great power and extensive knowledge of magic to be opened, but it was real. And fortunately for him, he knew one of the most powerful and skilled mages on the continent. Though convincing her to help him would not be an easy task given how things had ended between them.

"Why should I help you?" Yennefer said with annoyance in her voice when he showed up unannounced to ask for her help. It was clear that she did not enjoy the witcher's surprise visit and was not shy about showing it. "And more importantly, why are you asking for my help with something like this? I thought you of all people would know how dangerous opening the doors of the underworld is."

"Why do you care?" Geralt answered her with another question. To be honest, he didn't think the difficulties in getting her help would come from a moral issue. Yennefer was not the type of mage who cared too much about such things. "Are you in this or not?"

"That depends... what's in it for me? I hope you know I'm not going to waste my energy in helping you out of the goodness of my heart, not after all the shit you did." Geralt smiled at her remark, surprised that it had taken her so long to once again blurt out her complaints about him saving her life. She was still angry at him for linking their destinies with the wish to the Djinn and at this point he doubted she would ever get over it. 

"You get the once in a lifetime chance to traverse the underworld and possibly get knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension." He simply stated.

Yennefer was silent for a moment, watching Geralt intently, violet eyes piercing his yellow orbs. It alerted him to strengthen his mental shield to keep her from entering his thoughts. 

"When you live as long as I have, once in a lifetime opportunities start losing power and meaning."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to explore the unexplored and that's your answer? This could have all the answers you've spent years looking for and you're not interested?"

"Oh I'm interested, I just can't understand why Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher who prides in his indifference and ability to not intervene, would be interested in opening the gates to the underworld?"

"I have my reasons and they are not of your concern. Are you going to help me or not?"

Yennfer was silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, she smiled at him, and he knew he could count on her help.

Preparing for such an adventure was difficult. It was the first time in his life that Geralt did not know what to expect. He had no idea what he was going to encounter once they crossed the gates to the world of the dead. He didn't know what kind of obstacles he would encounter on the journey or if he would even accomplish his task. But he had to try. Even if it was the last thing he did, he owed it to her. 

It was difficult to prepare for the uncertain, so he tried to imagine all possible scenarios and prepare accordingly. He tried to be as meticulous as possible, but he knew it was impossible to stay on top of everything. What he never imagined, however, was that trouble would come from Yennefer's end. He always saw her as such a powerful and determined individual that he did not take into consideration that her energy could wear out and her magic could be consumed. Geralt had no way of really knowing how demanding the spell to open the gates of the underworld would be. He knew it was not something that just anyone could do, but he thought Yennefer could handle it without much trouble. He had never seen magic like hers. And what she lacked in skill, she made up for in stubbornness, so he thought that with her by his side things would not be so difficult.

However, the moment they took a step into the world of the dead, Yennefer fell weakly into the witcher's arms. She muttered something about having spent her energy and how the nature of the place did not allow her to pull herself together. Geralt suggested that she stay outside, after all, this wasn't her fight and she didn't have to risk so much for him. And at that instant, as if the walls were listening to them, the doors closed, leaving only one possible path.

The place was cold and dark, like a cave hidden deep in a mountain. There was not so much as a ray of sunlight, the little light that illuminated their way came from torches distributed along the stone walls. The air was heavy, stale, and it was hard to breathe. It was clear that this was no place for the living, but Geralt continued on his way despite the difficulties. He took Yennefer by the waist, letting her wrap one arm around his shoulders so she could walk, and followed the straight path that the torches seemed to indicate. At the end of the tunnel he came to a large river, and on the shore rested a boat. Inside it stood a hooded figure, long black robes covered its entire body in a way that Geralt could not see its face when it turned to look at them, only a void lost inside the hood.

"He's been waiting for you." The figure spoke, stepping aside so they could board the boat. Geralt hesitated, thinking back to all the catastrophic scenarios he had imagined in preparation for this moment. Surely that had to be a trap, things couldn't be that simple, could they?

"He wants to speak to you, Geralt of Rivia." The figure spoke again as it noticed the hesitation in the witcher's attitude. "He sent me to find you and ensure your safe passage through these waters." He did not trust it, but Yennefer pushed him into the boat with what little strength she had, so he had no other choice.

The dark figure did not utter another word. It went about its task in complete silence, paddling in the waters of oblivion until it brought them close to shore. It did not help them down once they reached their destination, nor did it open its mouth to give them directions. Just pointed a long, skeletal finger toward the horizon and set off the same way it had come. 

A dark, dead forest loomed before them. Long, thin tree trunks, nearly leafless branches and shabby bushes decorated the path. Everything seemed to be in shades of black and gray, though that was probably due to the lack of sun. In the distance a structure could be seen, a castle whose colors matched the rest of the landscape. Although the neat and polished appearance of its exterior contrasted with the disheveled and dead environment around it. It was clear that that was where they should go, so Geralt took Yennefer in his arms once more and set off on his way. 

There was not much distance separating them from the castle, but the witcher felt as if he had spent an eternity walking. And yet, at the same time, when he reached the large wooden gates, he was amazed to have reached his destination so quickly.  His perception of time was totally altered, affected by the atmosphere of the place.  Time did not flow there in the same way as it did on the surface. It was as if it was both stopped and accelerated all at once, as if each step took hours and at the same time a couple of seconds. It was more than the absence of sunlight confusing his perception. It was the way things worked in that place, a world separate from the one lying on the surface that he was not supposed to access.

The man who appeared in front of them when the doors opened on their own was imposing, but far less frightening than Geralt expected. It was enough to look into his eyes to know that he was the person in charge of the place. Power shone in his eyes in the same way the witcher had seen it in the kings in the world of the living. And yet, there was something unique about them, something that made it clear that he was no mere mortal. Geralt knew better than to challenge him, though he wasn't sure his emotions would allow him to be cautious if things didn't go as he hoped.

"I've been waiting for you, witcher." the god said in a loud, clear voice. "I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

Geralt was not pleased to learn that he had been waiting for him. He had imagined it might be a possibility, but he thought the god would use that knowledge to stop him. The fact that he welcomed him without trials or difficulties, sending his people to look for him and opening the doors of his home to him without hesitation, made him suspicious.  For all he knew, it could all be a trap.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, witcher! I have far more important things to do than to set you up." The god spoke as if reading his thoughts. 

"You knew I was coming?" Geralt managed to say and the god nodded.

"And most importantly, I know why you are here. I knew you were going to find your way here the second she came in."

The mere mention of his beloved in the conversation had Geralt's heart racing, a gesture of both love and anxiety. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him, watching him with furrowed brows as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew of his former lover, the forest nymph he had abandoned after their destinies were linked, and he had no doubt that she would understand what was happening in just a second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to have her back.

"So, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I do, yes. And I will not be opposing to your wishes, Geralt of Rivia. I knew from the first moment that this was not her time and I am willing to give her another chance to live out her destiny without surprise interruptions from magic... However, I do have one condition."

"And you say it was not a trap..."

"It is not! It is just a simple... exchange."

"An exchange of what?"

The god paused, taking his moment to answer.

"Souls are complex things, Geralt. Very powerful, very strong... I can't just let one walk out of here."

"Why not? You have plenty here."

"It's a matter of balance, I don't expect you to understand that. But, if you want your dear nymph back, you'll have to give me a soul in return."

Geralt was silent for a moment, carefully analyzing his situation. After all the work it had taken him to get there, he didn't plan to leave empty-handed. But he also didn't want to condemn an innocent soul who had nothing to do with his mistakes. So he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Fine," the witcher agreed. "Take me then. My soul for hers, it's only fair."

Yennefer tugged on his arm, ready to argue with him —thinking he was acting like an idiot by offering his life as if it was nothing—, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth by the laughter of the god in front of them.

"It's a nice gesture, but your soul isn't nearly powerful enough. It's better than an ordinary human’s soul, I'll give you that, but she's a nymph. Do you have any idea how much energy her soul contains?"

"Then name your price." Geralt said. He wasn't necessarily going to give in to his demands, but he figured it didn't hurt to learn what the god's wishes were.

"To be honest, I don't think you can get a soul of such power... however, you do have access to one that is quite close." Geralt didn't like the suggestive tone in the god's voice. And he liked it even less when his eyes fell on Yennefer as he finished the sentence.

"No!" The witcher declared as he understood the intentions behind those words. He had brought Yennefer with him to help him open the portal and nothing else. He refused to sacrifice one more life. No one else had to suffer because of his stupid decisions.

"She wouldn't suffer." The god spoke after glancing at Geralt's thoughts. "She doesn't even have to be dead, she just has to stay here with me."

"I don’t care. We're not doing this."

"Why don't you let her decide?" The god said, resting his eyes on Yennefer's violet ones. "It is a good deal. You get your lover back and she gets-"

"She gets imprisoned here forever." Geralt interrupted and the god looked at him wearily.

"She gets to be the most powerful madge in history, sitting by my side ruling the underworld... isn't that what you always wanted, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to have power beyond imaginable? What's more powerful than deciding between life and death?"

Geralt snorted at such words, finding the god's tricks very ineffective. But when he looked back at Yennefer, she had a look in her eyes that made him doubt. "You're not seriously considering his proposal, aren't you?" he approached her, speaking in a lower tone of voice so as not to be heard by the god.

"If we leave now then we traveled this far for nothing. Don't you want to get her back?"

"No if it means hurting innocent people. You have nothing to do with this."

"Except I do since the moment you made that srupid wish."

"I didn't save your life then just to leave you here now."

"You're not leaving me, I'm choosing to stay."

"You don't have to do this, Yennefer." Geralt's voice became softer. She seemed quite sure of her decision and he knew it would not be easy to persuade her otherwise, but he had to try. He didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, of sacrificing her in favor of his own happiness. 

"Oh, please! I'm not doing this just for you. I usually don't like to waste my time and energy just to end up empty handed. I came here because, as you said, it was an opportunity to find the answers I've been looking for. So why don't you worry about you and let me worry about myself?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. And while she wasn't lying and really had interests of her own in that place, Geralt really was a big part of the reason she wanted to accept the god's offer. There was something in his eyes, the sparkle of true love, that shone every time he thought of his departed lover. It was something she had never noticed in his eyes when he looked at her. It was clear that what they had was real, it softened her hardened and withering heart, and gave her hope that love was real. Though of course, she would never admit that to Geralt. 

The witcher growled under his breath, clenching his jaw. Even though part of him didn't like the idea of leaving Yennefer behind, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to hear those words. If she wanted to stay there for her own selfish reasons, then accepting the god's proposal was much easier on his conscience. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her once more, giving her one last chance to back out. 

Yennefer shrugged. "I lived a long time among the living, had my good share of adventures... maybe it's time to try my luck in the underworld. "

That answer was good enough for Geralt. He accepted the god's proposal, exchanging Yennefer's soul for that of his beloved nymph. She would stay in the underworld with him and in return Geralt would get a second chance with his lover. The god instructed him to return home and assured him that when he arrived, her soul would already be back in her birth tree.

As he made his way back, the thought that the god was tricking him crossed his mind. He realized that he really had nothing to assure him that he would keep his word. For all he knew, this could have been a strange move by the god to get to Yennefer and her powers for some reason he did not know. Perhaps he was being used as a pawn in a larger chess game that he did not know he was part of. Perhaps he had unleashed a terrible evil upon the continent without realizing it.

But then he felt it. 

The sweet scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils the moment he set foot in the forest. It was strong, much stronger than it had been in a long time. He noticed then that everything looked greener and more alive, every flower, bush and plant glowing in the warm sunlight in a way that they didn't when he left. Even the birds seemed to sing louder and more cheerfully. 

Geralt ran to the cherry blossom tree he had been tending for what had felt like an eternity. His heart was racing with every step he took, not from the physical effort, but from the anticipation. The hope of seeing her again was what had kept him sane since that horrible day he had lost her. All this time he had thought it was impossible, an illusion that only served to keep him on his feet until the pain subsided. But now it was a reality, and he had so many emotions swirling inside him that he didn't know exactly what to feel.

Suddenly, his eyes came upon a figure on the horizon. It was partially blocked by the rays of sunlight that kept him from seeing clearly, so he picked up his pace to get closer. Little by little the figure revealed itself in front of him, until it became clear to him that the one who was walking around the forest, picking flowers and petting the animals, was her. 

She looked as beautiful as he remembered her, with her long hair blowing in the wind and a sweet smile on her face. It was as if time had never passed, as if that horrible day and the pain that her death had unleashed had been just a bad dream. It was as if he had never lost her.

Geralt stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on hers, paralyzed by the emotions coursing through him. All this time he had dreamed of this moment and now that he had her only a few feet away he didn't know how to react. His eyes blurred with tears, but he caught a glimpse of his beloved's figure running to him before he felt the warmth of her body in his arms. He held her tighter than he ever had, pulling her against his chest as a way of both making sure she was real and that she couldn't pull away from him.

"You came for me." She muttered, melting into the embrace. Her memory was somewhat fuzzy, but she remembered clearly the moment when the blade of the dagger had caressed her neck. She remembered how it had felt and the horror in Geralt's eyes as she fell into his arms, taking her last breaths. She remembered his words of comfort and his promise to make things right, as if he actually could. She still didn't understand how she was back there, but she knew it was Geralt she had to thank for her second chance at life. Somehow, he had found a way to bring her back, she was sure of that.

"I'll always come back for you." 

The kiss they shared was unlike any other. It was passionate and desperate, yet soft and tender. It was charged with all the emotions that had been left unsaid between them, sadness, regret, longing, but, above all, love. They felt that spark the moment their lips brushed, just like in the old days. Geralt hadn't realized how much he had missed feeling her soft lips on his until that moment. He allowed himself to get lost in the joy he felt, letting the warmth of her body against his slowly remove the traces of sadness and pain that had haunted him all this time.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, enjoying the moment they had both been longing for so long. It was just him, her and the chirping of birds in the trees. Breathing in the floral scent of her hair, Geralt knew that the gray days were behind him. Gone were the guilt and the pain, the sleepless nights and the cold mornings without his beloved. She was back by his side, just as she always should have been. And he was more than happy for the new beginning he had with her. A new chance to make things right, to honor his word and keep his promise, just as he should have done from the beginning. He was ashamed that he had had to lose her to realize how big his mistake had been, but now that he had her back he wasn't going to let her go. His love had proven to be stronger than everything, even death itself.

[m3-kk]

TCF NOVEL SPOILERS- My TCF notes

Hmmm it’s been a minute since I posted any of my TCF notes about the chapters.. so here ya go! THIS US PART 2 SHAWTYS!!

Ch. 1- YESSS CHAPTER 1!! Not the Kings Palace going kaboom 😶 Cale needs to rest!!! Slacker chan!!!

Ch. 5- AHHHHHHHHHH LEE SOO HYUKKKKKKKK LETSS GOOOOO! BLACK HAWKK OOO

Ch. 6- His name is now Sui Khan 😮

Ch. 7- 🍪 Cookiess! So we have to travel different dimensions now? Cale needs a break 😭😭

Ch. 8- World with the white mages = Xiaolen Planet

Ch.9- YAY DIVINE ITEM MIRROR LAPTOP THINGY! We are definitely going to like the other worlds people evil smirk 😏

Ch. 10- HAH CALE HUNG UP ON DUKE FREDO LOL! Sooo Cale is a god. 😀

Ch. 12- Dead mana is purer AND Cale’s power is more efficient here? Interesting..

Ch. 13- Hey we have a spare world tree!

Ch. 15- Mary is registering as a candidate to be a necromancer empress GO MARY!

Ch. 16- AW HER FAKE NAME IS “Heni Wishrop” HENI STANDS FOR HENITUSE!

Everyone thinks our Mary is powerful hehe!

Ch. 21- Working with Zero & the 4th Prince for the Harmony test :D

Ch. 22- OOooo Black Rain 🌧️

Ch. 24- Now we actually need to kill those hunters. How dare they lay a finger on our family. Let’s flip them over immediately.

Ch. 25- Yay! Hong & On <3 Let’s go to the infected area! 2nd Princess?

Ch. 26- the 2nd imperial princess has been converted to Caleism hah m! Tree-bush monster ye fire, destruction, protection!

Ch. 27- Are you human? HAHAH CALEE

Ch. 28- That Marquis guy is smart. Cale really is acting like a purifier so funny!

Ch. 31- Blood Message! How scary!

Ch. 34- Attacking the bad guys >:]

Ch. 36- BURNNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ch. 37- 50% power to get 2,500% as a result! SO EFFICIENTTTT WEEEEEE

Ch. 38- THE HUNTER WHO HUNTS HUNTERS! GO CALE SO POWERFUL HA!

Ch. 39- Cale.. not everyone is a super powerful ultimate other worldly being like you! I feel bad for Goldie Gramps 😭

Ch. 40- In Prison with the fam 😜

Ch. 41- We are going to loot!! Goldie Gramps is angry and that dragon is timid but crazy. I love our family! CHAOS LOVE

Ch. 42- DESTROY THE ESTATE MWAHAH

Ch. 43- So sad that we couldn’t loot 😭🥲

Ch. 44- Ooo Opening the safe 💰

Ch. 54- ooo revealing us to the empire?

Ch. 58- Choking? Reminds me of Adin

Ch. 63- HAH I KNEW IT THE FAKE WT IS STAYING YOOO

Ch. 64- INFOOO! Not the Patriarch blowing up that’s crazy! We could’ve gotten so much more info! But oh well! Five Colors ooo!

Ch. 65- HAHAH THE GOD OF DEATH IN THE GROUP CHAT HAHAH I LOVE HIMM HEHHEHE (I love this chapter)

Ch. 66- AWWW Chatting with fire of Purification in puppy form!

Ch. 67- This is so cute I’m glad we get a lil’ rest just chatting with the nice puppy ❤️ I love!!!

Ch. 69- Almost the end of this arc!

Ch. 71- HOME WITH THE MONEYYYYY

Ch. 73- Ron, Beacrox! I missed uuuu!

Ch. 75- Aw the Henituse Fam! Billos!

Ch. 76- You get a mine, you get a mine. EVERYONE GETSA MINE!!

Ch. 78- YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED YOU ARE NOW ONE OF MY ELITE EMPLOYEES!

Ch. 79- @CP we have a mommy on our side? Mummy’s boy emperor as well???

Ch. 81- CENTRAL PLAINS?! The sworn brother goodbye was cute.

Ch. 83- We meet CP’s clone?? Cutie??

Ch. 85- The disrespect! They can’t pronounce our Cale Henituse’s name!

Ch. 86- NEW NAMES LETSGOOO

Ch. 90- YOO we got a golden plaque!

Ch. 91- Cale ignores Toonka but not Roan!

Ch. 93- We found the living jiangshi!

Ch. 94- enlightenment is crazy****

Ch. 97- Talking with the Sword Sainttt

Ch. 100- Purification! Chapter 100!

Ch. 101- One word, blood. SHITTTTT NOO

Ch. 102- AWKWARD! Yay Choi Jung SOO

Ch. 106- LET HIM EATTTT

Ch. 108- So many ally’s yay !!!!

Ch. 112- We. Are. Going. To. EATT! (a elixir)

Ch. 113- 70% shield 53% water

Ch. 116- The Alliance leader is being bitchy SHOW EM’ WHOSE BOSS! (Roan misses Alberu)

Ch. 118- Don’t hurt our Cale! Please!

Ch. 119- Aw I love when Choi Han & Beacrox talk together about family

Ch. 121- Ah the god ole trash bastard days

Ch. 123- Green Forest Bastards try and mess with us?! Angry Cale! >:(

Ch. 124- OO Cale is the BOSS MAN

Ch. 127- 68% then 72% of fire!!

Ch. 128- Pfft Caleism has a poem now lol.

Ch. 129- HUHH Big complicated lore??

Ch. 131- WOAHH The Heavenly Demon is a smart cookie fr fr wow intelligent!

Ch. 135- The Left Guard is so cute awe

Ch. 136- Oh no the Heavenly Demon ain’t doing so good :[

Ch. 137- Helping out the HD again. Spy?

Ch. 139- Aw Choi Family spars. I love it

Ch. 141- HD is being healed yay

Ch. 142- I was so concerned about Cale the whole time! Bloody Battle

Ch. 146- (I hope everyone at home is ok)

Ch. 151- TALKING WITH ALBERU YAYAYAY

Ch. 152- Pinnacle Demon is poison crazy

Ch. 153- We going to destroy things now?

Ch. 154- YAY DESTRUCTION DESTROY

Ch. 155- FINALLY FLIP THINGS OVER KYA

Ch. 157- OO WATER AP FOUND SOMETHIN

Ch. 158- OMG DRAGON LORE?? YAHOO

Ch. 159- “Raon’s lackey” I got the chills!

Ch. 160- OOOooo I’m hooked! Dragons<3

Ch. 162- Oh DAMN! We got a mf jackpot! Water is 300 percent stronger than the OG. No blood shed! Dragons are great!

Ch. 163- HAHA LOOTING ANCIENT STUFF

Ch. 165- Scale+Crown+Crown=Red Crown

Ch. 169- Shit is going down! TSUNAMI!

Ch. 171- How dare she think to threaten us, she shall die by Choi Hans sword.

Ch. 176- Old man Baek describes Cale’s world and “reads” him

Ch. 183- I love that we can run wild!! 😜

Ch. 185- THE PRIESTESS the youngest daughter of Orsena!

Ch. 186- The Dominantung Aura

Ch. 187- Our little Han got stronger (I’m so fucking proud of him 🥲)

Ch. 188- We killed her.. Last words?

Ch. 189- The Formation Collapsed!

Ch. 190- Raon’s MC moment. (Cute bond)

Ch. 191- Using water AP to Max! Or not?

Ch. 192- the Punto Banhui and Tears💧

Ch. 195- You got games on your phone?

Ch. 196- Everyone wants Cale to be a god

Ch. 199- WE LEFT!!! NOW WE ARE HOMEE

Ch. 200- Awww so cute at Alberu’s casa

Ch. 201- That actually so funny 🤣

Ch. 202- Zoom Call with Ahn Roh Man talking about gamess. Similarities?

Ch. 206- Aw it been a bit since we chilled

Ch. 209- Speech ruined! (So every time Cale has to do a speech it’s interrupted)

[inspector-montoya-fox]

During our Sly 3 coverage on the podcast i had said that the main theme of A Cold Alliance is morality and, although i still stand by that, it wasn't until this summer's ice cream discourse that i noticed how this is presented: antithesis. Similarly to how the theme of gender is explored through appearance vs reality in Flight of Fancy, i think morality's portrayal is build upon the various antitheses and contrasts in this one. Let's discuss.

Immediately, the obvious centre piece for the theme is Sly & the Panda King. At surface level, you've got good vs evil, blue vs red, hero vs villain, pretty basic stuff. The odd pairing's juxtaposition is so striking that it forms the initial premise for the episode until we're introduced to Tsao, whose addition to the mix as a deeply rotten individual creates an entire moral spectrum on top of the standard "good vs evil" and positions Panda King right in the middle of it: Sly might not follow the law but he represents the "good"; Tsao's just a piece of shit like downright evil; Panda King is a villain but not necessarily "villainous". I love how SP included Panda King's mirror dilemma because it further paints this character as the true, ambiguous neutral between the two sides, especially with him mentioning the yin and the yang. In the antithesis between Sly and Tsao, the two are easily distinguishable because they're so far apart - hence Sly telling Tsao to his face that he's the worst guy he's ever faced - leaving Panda King to choose who to gravitate towards (i'm just realising that we could have easily been treated to Panda King reverting back to being a bastard and betraying the gang following the whole "hero and villain team up to take down more evil villain" storyline akin to Slade helping the Titans defeat Trigon). Here it's also worth mentioning that Carmelita's presence in this episode serves to match the moral extremism of Tsao, with her being the ultimate agent of "good" as opposed to his evil, but i'll get to her later.

Then, we have fire & ice. I mean yeah duh it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. What i'm referring to here more specifically is how the weather and temperature are matched to the subplots at hand. This is something very briefly mentioned in Fire in the Sky, with Sly saying that the very sight of Carmelita warms his heart, and A Cold Alliance kinda builds on that. In the analogy of fire & ice, the Panda King finding his zen in his Master Pai Mei get-up is the serene and silent snow, tranquil and white, pure; whereas Tsao is the fire that seeks to destroy that, his hatred and cruelty being destructive, blazing. He's associated with the colour red & explosions: his rooster's "mohawk", the fire-breathing dragon he summons, the exploding vampires (Panda King is also associated with explosions because of his fireworks, but i'd argue it's slightly different because of the blue streaks they leave behind and are more like his form of expression as seen in his Sly 1 introductory cutscene). There's also Murray's heartbreak over the van being manifested as the literal block of ice it's stuck in. It's hard, unyielding and stubborn.

In a similar vein, we've got old & new. I'm going to keep this one brief but part of the reason why Tsao manages to outsmart the gang is because his whole appearance hinges on tradition, making him easy to underestimate. He resides within a palace in the Chinese countryside, he's a "warlock", he has conservative values. At the same time though, he's got his own personalised computer avi and keeps his treasure tucked under high-tech security. We've seen something similar with Jean Bison, who used Clockwerk parts to operate his trains and hid wifi in his boats, but that was kinda different because Bison was actually a clueless hick who wanted to sell his share of the parts to Arpeggio. Tsao on the other hand understands and utilises technology in mesh with his reverence for tradition.

Lastly, we've got the voyeuristic antithesis via Carmelita & Sly. I've recently covered how Sucker Punch's treatment of female characters, although not something to raise pitchforks over, is yeah pretty much designed solely through the lens of the male gaze. Carmelita's entire character is tethered to Sly's perception of her, and more generally how the main trio views her (i'd even go so far as to say this is on display during the operation's grapple-cam segment, where Bentley assumes this kind of like Big Brother role over her, which is later done with Penelope too btw... mama, the layers). In Battery of Peril however, the perspective is swapped with the Carmelita gameplay. And yeah, we've played as Carmelita before by this point, but here's the thing: this time it's all about stepping into Carmelita's shoes the way we've come to know her as for the past two games. Quintessential Carmelita is chasing Sly and now we're placed into that very role. Although the antithesis between law & crime is present throughout the series, here it's explored deeper to match the rest of the episode's interpretations of the theme.

[facelessoldgargoyle]

Amy Dallon as the Minotaur

The Metatextual Monster: how reading Amy Dallon on multiple levels is necessary to understanding her.

I'm gonna be real, this started out as a daydream about drawing Taylor as Icarus, but I care way more about the Minotaur, and Taylor isn't the Minotaur. Possibly some art about this to follow, but I type faster than I draw. ~700 words.

How many of you have read House of Leaves? Wikipedia. The most important thing to know is that House of Leaves is three stories, which occur nested within each other. The story at the heart is a documentary about a house in which a closet door suddenly appears, which eventually grows into a hallway and then a labyrinth. The next layer is a blind professor's commentary on this documentary, which was discovered scattered around his apartment after his death. The top layer is the chronicle of a tattoo artist trying to reconstruct the commentary. All this to say: it is a book about meta-commentary, which makes describing its themes difficult.

In House of Leaves, the professor has tried to remove all references to the Minotaur by burning the pages of his notes about him. The tattoo artist writes down everything that failed to burn, and indicates that it was burned using red, struck through text. The Minotaur is a character which does not exist, but he haunts the book.

On the top level, he represents the constant editing, rewriting, and destruction of the book itself. Down a level, he is a monster who is stalking the characters in their minds. A claw mark is found next to the professors dead body. Down a level, he's the guilt and shame growing within each author which they project into the house. The labyrinth in the house is a black hole, it signifies nothing, but the human mind impresses its own ideas and image into it.

I'm now realizing that I've written three paragraphs without mentioning Amy once. Shit. Ok. The good stuff.

On the level closest to the text, Amy the character is the malformed, rejected child. When her malformation makes itself known, she is permanently rejected and confined in an inescapable prison. Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, her ghost haunts the people who fear her and obsess over her. They can't stop thinking about her (Victoria) despite how that obsession only hurts them. When Amy's status as monster can be instrumentalized, it is, like how the Minotaur of myth was used as a method of execution for the youth of Athens. She's set free and used once again.

On another level, Amy Dallon haunts Worm. Her arc is fully fleshed out, and it is tragedy. Like the Minotaur, on one level she must been seen as symbolic. She represents the self-destruction of the nuclear family. In one version of the myth, the Minotaur is the bastard son of Minos. The king did not sacrifice a bull sent to him by Poseidon, and so the queen was cursed to fall in love with the bull. Here, the Minotaur represents the ultimate perversion of the natural order. The king did not honor the god, and so the wife did not honor her husband, and so the child did not honor his mother. Amy represent the same overturning of the natural order. Carol hated the daughter, and so the daughter destroyed her sister. These stories suggest that the so-called natural order actually has something deeply wrong with it!

On the top level, Amy is a scapegoat for the audience. Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, the reader projects their own hatred on her; they treat her with the same lesbophobia as the text does, if you read her a layer below the symbolic critique of the family, if you read her as a character. People consistently write about her as having an incest kink, or other deviant, highly stigmatized fetish. People post about her being dirty, or ill-intentioned. This reading accepts her as ontologically evil, rather than a product of an oppressive structure. The exact form of the Minotaur (deviant, dirty, ill-intentioned) varies from person to person. He acts as a Rorschach, illuminating what the observer finds offensive.

Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, Amy must be read on multiple levels. She is a character, she is a metaphor, she is a mirror. Isolate any of these levels from the other, and they fail to make sense. Separating the symbolic from the personal is often what leads people to falling into the trap of projecting lesbophobic narratives onto her!

The Minotaur is out to get you, and Amy is too.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Hey, hi, hello, ever thought about the symbolism of Gortash's dragon deco?

While in other cultures Dragons can have very nice, very positive connotations, in Europe, where Baldurs Gate is set, Dragons are evil, vile, powerful, wicked, arrogant dangerous xxl lizards who simply amass and hoard treasures and spread destruction for twisted enjoyment. They may even symbolise sin or the straight up devil.

There's also that great serpent-like being called Basilisk, technically a dragon, also known as Serpent King.

That man went above and beyond to a) spite Raphael by proclaiming himself to be essentially Asmodeus, not even Mephistopheles, b) impress his lizard boyfriend, and c) warn you that he's a cunt.

Also chromatic dragons in DnD are downright vile, just in different flavours. They literally only come in lawful or chaotic evil.

Tldr; he's a bastard and proudly displays it. Love that for him, also there's a shit ton of Christian subtext just gotta look for it (Durge being created from Bhaals own flesh, Gortash being their ruin by means of knowledge, Eve and the Serpent, yada yada).

[crookednachogalaxy]

i come bearing more Thoughts like a Doomed Prophet

1. luigi gets kidnapped and brainwashed by king boo. he's now this arrogant and snobby lil bastard (still loving towards bowser tho), and everyone is confused by the personality shift. as they try to adjust, bowser starts feeling lonely bc while the dominance luigi is displaying is attractive and new, he's no longer the man he fell in love with. the kids feel much the same way, as luigi is so detached from them now. in the shadows, luigi is working to gather information and mobilize the army to take over the mushroom kingdom on command of king boo.

2. luigi's always been a little off in the head. no sense of self-preservation, rather he was self-destructive. the mario bros get isekai'd into the mushroom kingdom, save peach from the kidnappings, and luigi eventually starts a relationship with bowser. one day, luigi starts going off-the-wall bonkers, causing chaos and hurt everywhere he goes. bowser, mario, and peach work together to contain him and figure out why this is happening and how to stop it (maybe something from his past is the cause or trigger?)

3. mr. L idea: bowser's been too quiet for peach's liking, so she sends luigi to the koopa kingdom to spy on him and reveal his plans to her. to do so, he dons his mr. L clothes and pretends to be evil, getting himself recruited into bowser's army. he's meant to spend a month there, reporting back to peach once a week, but as his relationship with the koopa king deepens, he reports less and less until he doesn't appear in the last week. bowser knows it's luigi (thanks to kamek telling him 2 weeks in), but luigi finds himself taken seriously, appreciated, and so genuinely liked in the koopa kingdom, he ends up turning his back on peach and joining bowser for real.

i have an alternative idea for the brainwash plot too but im liking that alternative so much i'll define it more first and then give it its own post

as always, feel free to use these ideas for any type of media, just let me know if you do bc i wanna support it!

[almdragonrend]

It makes me really mad when people try to defend what they did to her, it's just completely wrong and I really hope that we some day get actually Justice for Original Katarina, she really deserves far more than a simple apology after what she had to go trough and Original Keith,Maria and Geordo really need to face consequences.

I have somthing I really need to say, I don't get how FL could be popular, I mean if you think for a moment about it even OG Katarina is morally superior to the Heroine in Maria and all The Capture Targets in the story, I mean nothing against an Evil protagonist or a good antagonist, but than don't portray Katarina as a Villain and Maria as a hero ! That's wrong! Katarina leaves Maria completely alone in both the Nicole and Alan route, meaning she only opposed Maria when she's trying to seduce HER fiancée or mess with her family or do both in the Harem route!

Than the fact that she's accused of bullying those bellow her station is bulls* she only bullied Maria who I just said why she did it and Keith whose arrival at HER HOME turned HER PARENTS against eachother when she was a Child! That doesn't make it right but she couldn't know that this wasn't his fault, and his own original family wanted to kill him! Luigi saved his life and that's how he thanked him ?

than Geordo she gave almost half her life up to that point in complete support and devotion to that mother fu* and swore an Oath to marry her! I don't think many people get how bad a possible future king breaking an Oath is especially considering Geordo's Grandpa's actions,

further more Katarina actually don't mistreated dose below her status, first her Maid Anne who despite being related to Nobility is herself a Commoner just like Maria and Katarina even in FL verse treats her like a Sister more than a servant!

Next there's Sianna, she's the bottom of the barrel of Nobility and still Katarina cherished her more than anyone else! This makes the claim of her bullying people for their status down right nonsensicaly!

Especially when she's the only one who never partake in bullying everyone's favorite Target Sophia Ascart, since we see in VOD is never once mentioned that she did so when Sophia joined her book club, that would have had to be brought up than ! Meaning is the only Noble Girl who didn't bully Sophia! (Except Marry) and it's even implied she discouraged others from bullying Sophia!

When Bakarina in verge of doom just assumed OG Katarina bullied more people and wanted to apologize during VoD judgment event no one spoke up! And that Is most likely because she never bullied anyone other than the Girl who tried to steal her fiancée and/or shame her family!

Also, it's said that Katarina's bullying was only on the very of Criminal, meaning she never really committed a crime, the one attacking Maria with fire was Noelia, who acted on her own accord!

Keith and/or Geordo basically rigged the Trial to get Katarina stripped of her status and exiled which is a way to hard punishment anyway! When she comes back with dark magic she didn't even kill someone for it! She just had it !

And that idiots in the development team must have believe that this made her appear more evil since she's just born with the "bad magic" but instead it just means she didn't kill anybody for it ! Right OG Katarina a murderer and the idiots of the FL development believed Katarina being NOT a murderer makes her more evil, what does that say about their Character ?

I heard a lot about people saying something for a Original Katarina redemption arc and I really hope she gets an happy ending, she deserves it but what people need to understand is Original Katarina dosen't need an redemption arc because she has not done anything so bad that she deserved getting to that point anyway, instead she deserved a pretty apology from Geordo, Keith and Maria

Given her a redemption arc basically means recognizing Maria, Geordo and Keith, Cheating, betraying,Oath breaking and manipulate a Chords to commit prejudice as a good thing, Original Katarina shouldn't have to them! They should have to apologize to her! Even when something like that calls for ways more than an apology! And first of all her entire sentence should be revoked !!!! + there has to be compensation for everything she had to go trough!!!

[rynnthefangirl]

Thinking of 12 year old Daemon Waters. Raised in the Red Keep with the stain of bastardy, amongst the nobles but not truly one of them, never one of them. Being of the same age as the Princes, trained by the same Master at Arms, and Daemon is better, but that doesn’t matter because they are true born and he is just a bastard. Wondering for years who his father is, feeling that empty spot in his life, fantasizing about his dad one day coming to claim him as his own and return to his and his mothers lives.

Then he wins a squires tourney, and his fantasy comes true. His father is not just anyone— he is the King of Westeros. And Daemon is acknowledged by his father in front of all the lords of the realm. Personally knighted by the King himself— his dad— and given their family’s ancestral sword— an act that tells young Daemon “you belong here. You are my son and I’m proud of you.”

But the sword wasn’t given out of love, it was given out of hate. Just another in a long line of spiteful insults from an evil abusive monster to his own wife and son. Aegon gives that sword to his bastard son, and Daeron looks on bitterly, because he understands the message that is really being sent, not to Daemon but to him: “you are nothing. You are no son of mine, and I will make you hurt.” And this one moment will set up so much suffering, driving a wedge between two brothers and ultimately causing 80 years of violent rebellion, death and destruction.

But Daemon doesn’t know any of that. Because he’s just a 12 year old bastard boy whose dreams of having a father that loves him have finally come true.

[just-a-bored-writer]

Between The Pages, I Found Your Heart | Crowley X Human Reader, Part 6

Gift for @orangegaytorade

You had devoted your studies, and honestly to this extent, your life, to the study of Judeo-Christian lore. You were one of the best in your field, a dedication of hours of work, blood and tears. And if your thesis advisor hadn't noticed, others had. Beings far older, far more powerful, whose existence you had studied but never believed were real. Oh but they were very real, and the King of Hell, in his war against Heaven and the Winchesters, would have great use for your knowledge. Knowledge was power after all and among mortals, you were the most powerful.

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Crowley/Reader

Characters: Human Reader, Crowley, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Reader-insert, Crowley-centric, Beauty and the Beast Retelling, Meet-Cute, (kidding Crowley kidnap the reader. there is nothing cute about it. don't try this in real life), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Bickering as Flirting, Domestic Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Slow Burn, No Smut

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Mentions of Torture, Blood and Injuries, Blood Sharing

Set during Season 8 and 9.

Chapter 1, Chapter 5

Chapter 6: The Eyes Are The Mirror Of The Soul

You hadn't seen so many people (demons, they were demons, not people and yet it was so easy to forget that) in the house since your arrival a few months ago. But at the moment you told Crowley your theory about Lucifer’s Caves, a veritable army had arisen. The hallways were teeming with demons moving weapons and artifacts that radiated an energy so evil it made you shiver. They were legendary objects you had studied in your books, ancient, powerful and destructive. 

Worthy only of a conqueror, of a King.

But that wasn't the biggest change. Many doors that were previously closed were now open, to make way for Crowley's armies preparing for War. All the secrets of Hell were within your grasp, just waiting for you to seize them. You could have everything. And yet what you wanted most, your freedom, was still unattainable. 

It wasn't for lack of trying, but the screams of raw pain and absolute terror that escaped from the lowest circles often left you frozen in place. You still remembered the beast that lurked beneath Crowley's oh-so-alluring surface. 

But these past few weeks, as he spent time in the library reading in comfortable silence with you, ate with you whenever he had the chance and challenged you intellectually in conversations you secretly wished would never end, you tended to let yourself be charmed by his presence. 

Like Eve in the Garden, you let yourself be seduced by the Serpent.

(Was it a little sad and pathetic that one of your only friends was the demon who had kidnapped and brutalized you? Probably, but you haven't cared about that in a long time.)

To say that you didn't know which way to turn would have been an understatement and the uncertainty was wearing you down to the bone. The sword of Damocles hanging over your head grew heavier with each day spent locked in your gilded prison. You haunted the hallways searching for a solution, as pale as a ghost after so long without seeing the life-giving light of the sun, exploring random rooms in hopes of... you didn't know what. 

And you hated the disappointment you felt every time your search didn't turn out to be fruitful. Hope was one of the last things you had but damn did it hurt every time. You pushed open every door with the intention of finding your ticket to the outside world and you always came out biting your lip in rage, tears in your eyes and a devastated room behind you.

Crowley could pay for the damages, he owed you at least that and more, the bastard. You hated him and you liked him just a little bit. But more importantly, you were fucking tired.

Of the situation you were forced into, of your conflicting feelings, of the harmful magic embedded even in the walls. Of Crowley. 

It had gotten to the point where you were contemplating taking a nap on the cold floor of the office you had broken into. This room, surprisingly, wasn't open like the others, but with the ease with which you had entered it, it wasn't closed either. The mechanisms of the hidden doors of the house no longer held any secrets for you. Crowley had given you mountains of knowledge, mountains of power, and it would have been foolish not to use it.

Sometimes you wondered if this wasn't what Crowley had wanted all along, if you weren't just another puppet dancing between his fingers. You realized you didn't care.

You straightened up from your uncomfortable position, stretching to chase away the sleepiness that was taking over you. Suppressing a yawn behind your hand, you gave yourself five more minutes of 'research' before giving up for the day. Your very comfortable bed awaited you and you knew Crowley would be back tomorrow morning with breakfast for you.

(How frustrating he was. Crowley would go all the way to Paris and buy you fresh croissants but he couldn't show any human decency and let you go after you gave him what he so truly wanted. But then again, Crowley wasn't exactly human and you had no idea what he coveted.

You know what he wants, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind.)

The desk was plain, no important documents in the drawers, a simple orchid placed on the black ebony wood. You ran your fingers along the spines of the books on the shelves, absently reading their titles. You thought at first that they must be important if they weren't in the library but rather hidden here from everyone – and from you. But once again, they were nothing more than ordinary works of poetry and theater. 

You pulled a book out at random with your fingertip, a copy of Shakespeare's Macbeth. The book was centuries old, the pages yellowed and aged with age. You could feel the power within thrumming beneath your fingers, keeping the book in good condition through the years. Inside were written three names, one below the other, as if this book had been passed down from hand to hand over several generations.

Rowena MacLeod

Fergus MacLeod

Gavin MacLeod

“If you want to read Shakespeare, I can introduce you to him. No need to bother with that dusty book,” Crowley whispered in your ear, making you jump away from him.

His ability to sneak up on you without your knowledge irritated you more than ever and you crossed your arms in front of your chest defensively. 

“So what, you're going to tell me that Shakespeare is in hell too?” you retorted.

“Unfortunately no, but you know I would do anything for you, darling,” Crowley replied with a charming smile, sitting behind the desk as if it were a throne.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, hiding a small smile, and sat down on the desk across from him, your bare legs dangling a few inches above the floor. Crowley grabbed your ankle and placed it on his own leg, tracing irregular patterns on your calf as you spoke, his cold hands making you shiver.

“What did this book do to offend you?” you asked, not letting yourself be distracted. Still, you didn't free yourself from his grip. 

“It's a reminder I don't need. If I could have burned it, I would have done so long ago,” Crowley answered tiredly, holding the top of his nose between two fingers. “Believe me, I tried.”

“Did you know the people mentioned inside, the… MacLeods?” you asked, checking the names in the book again.

Crowley was silent for a moment, his eyes distant where you couldn't reach him and his hand stopped on your leg. You had noticed over the months at his side that Crowley rarely lied to you, you would even go so far as to say that he never did. He didn't answer you if he didn't want to but every word he said to you was the truth. Twisted to his will sometimes but the truth nonetheless.

“My name when I was human was Fergus MacLeod. This book is the only thing my mother ever gave me, and it's also the only thing I gave my son,” Crowley explained, his hand brushing the cover of the book on the desk next to you.

“And you were close to them, to your family?” you prodded curiously. 

Crowley never spoke of his past as a human. One of the rare times you had questioned him, he had revealed to you with a lascivious smile why he had sold his soul. Such an act of vanity had not surprised you and you had pointed it out to him mockingly. Today seemed different, more sincere, more raw, more human.

“No,” Crowley quickly refuted, as if there had never been any hesitation about it. Crowley lifted his head towards you and opened his eyes, his gaze boring into yours intensely, commanding your attention. “You have to understand something, darling. I was a terrible human, I was pathetic, bitter and helpless.”

Seeing him now, the charisma and power that emanated from him, you would never have thought it could have been true. But Crowley never lied to you.

“I died alone in my vomit among empty whiskey bottles. My son didn't come to my funeral and no one ever thought of me again after a week. Becoming a demon after I die is the best thing that ever happened to me. Although, I could have done without the centuries of torture and agony, but you know what they say. No pain, no gain.” Crowley smirked as if it didn't affect him. Maybe it didn't, you still didn't know if demons could feel emotions other than a general sense of evil. 

Still, you wondered why Crowley had chosen to reveal to you what could be considered such a weakness. What did he see in you that only he could see to regard you the way he did? You certainly didn't know.

“So it was all worth it in the end, losing your humanity, your suffering?” you asked derisively, you couldn't imagine caring so little about your life, about who you were.

“My human life was nothing but a long torment from its miserable beginning to its even more miserable end. My mother hated me, as much as I hated my son. I had nothing and no one for me,” Crowley replied cruelly, the candles in the candlestick fluttering in his starting anger. “Look around us, I am King now. All the riches and souls of the world are mine.”

“Crowley,” you say softly, sadly. “You still have no one.”

You wondered at that moment, if you had imagined the glint of hurt in Crowley's eyes. 

“I don't need anyone. Not when I already have their fear and obedience. That's all that matters,” Crowley retorted arrogantly. 

“You could have had me,” you revealed whispering, as much for Crowley as for yourself. 

This time, the regret in Crowley's eyes was unmistakable.

Argh, they're killing me. It took me a while to get into writing this chapter because I consider it to be a really important moment for them and I didn't feel ready to write it. In the end, I'm pretty satisfied with it, it's the first time Crowley is so honest with Reader (because even if he doesn't lie to them, he's very careful with his truth) and with anyone in general.

And poor Reader, the situation is so confusing and it's reflected in this chapter. They enjoy spending time with Crowley who softens in their company but at the same time they don't forget everything Crowley did to them. Everything is very complicated. I'm quite proud of the line, "you could have had me" which perfectly captures their situation. In different circumstances, it would have been easy for Reader to fall for Crowley.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'll try to be semi-consistent in my updates, especially since we're reaching a pivotal point in the story :)

[titleknown]

RANDOM ARMY BUILDER FIGURE GENERATOR!

So, as a follow-up to the "build your character like a Ninja Turtle" thing I did based on @therobotmonster's idea, I figured I may as well come up with another one inspired by a fun, silly thing from toy-collecting: Army building mooks!

So...

What sort of Mook are they?

Humanoid

Android/Cyborg

Fleshy Undead

Plant/Fungus

Mineral

Humanoid Animal (Vertebrate)

Alien

Nonhumanoid Robot

Skeleton

Rideable Mount For Other Mooks

Monster-Person

Magic Construct/Doll

Bound Energy/Element/Force

Demon

Alien

Gynoid

Spirit/Ghost

Cosmic Horror

Animate Inanimate Objects

Rideable Vehicle For Other Mooks

What sort of antagonist or force do they work for?

A Dreadful Virus Or Corruption

Advanced Ancient Civilization That Wishes To Rule Again

50s/80s-Type Stylized Street Gang

The Good Guys (Sincere, Bad At It)

PIRATE KING!

The Legions of an Evil Wizard

Satan Or Some Stand-In Parents Won't Whine About

Conquest-Hungry Space Empire

Evil Corporate Capitalist Bastards

The Shiny Pretty "Good Guys" (Secretly Evil)

A Hunger Beyond Time And Memory

Guards/Mancatchers For A Super-Prison

Dishonorable Ninja Clan

AI Either Gone Insane Or Far Too Sane

We Will Assimilate You (AKA Fun With Biopolitics)

Some Variety of Mafia

To Stop The Evil I Must Become Evil (AKA Fallen Heroes)

There's Some Time Travel Shenanigans/Bullshit Going On Here

Big Monster(s) That Think They're The Top Of The Great Chain Of Beings

I Can't Believe It's Not A Mashup Of The Nazis And The Modern US Military

What sort of environment does this mook generally work in?

Jungles

Deserts

Urban Areas

Icy Biomes

Deep Space

Underwater/Ocean

Underground

Swamp

Mountains

Anywhere/Generalist

Cyberspace

Ancient Dungeons/Tombs

Toxic Wastelands

The Sky/Floating Islands

Haunted Places

Prehistoric Ecosystems

Jideigeki/Anime-Type Japan

Volcanoes

Inside A Monster And/Or Fleshy Meat-World

The Future!

What sort of toyetic gimmick does this particular mook type have?

Self-Destruct

Pullback Motor

Vac-Metalized Parts

Hidden Integrated Weapons

Slime Dripping

Grapples/Imprisones Other Figures

LED Lights

Removable Organs/Internal Circuitry/General Guts

Water Squirting

Translucent Plastic

Multiple Interchangable Integrated Weapons

Flapping Wings/Tendrils

Glow in the Dark

Excessive Projectile Launchers

Spinning Blade/Drill

Biting Jaws

Parasitizes Other Figures and/or Vehicles/Mounts

Full of Tinier Men

Excessively Large

Roll Twice

What sort of toyetic gimmick do they have toyline-wide? (Roll once if you're rolling multiple "figures" from the same "line" on this table)

Holograms

Attachable Armor

Spring-Loaded Melee Attack

Comes With A Little Buddy

Magnets

Spring-Loaded Projectiles

Unusual Packaging Integrated Into the Play Pattern

Interchangeable Parts

Collectible Action Figure Game (Yes, That's A Thing)

Transforming

Integrated Shiny Jewel

Some Variety of Slime

Combining

Rooted Hair

Marble Launching

Integrated Speaker/Sound Chip

Pocket-Sized (Think Battle Beasts or Food Fighters)

Die-Cast Parts

Cap Firing

Roll Twice

Have fun!

[coleyoly]

Rangshi fanfic ideas

That won't leave me the hell alone. Might as well write them down so I don't forget, in case I want to chew on them later (maybe).

The Rangshi and AU brainrot will kill me, I swear.

Modern-day AU, nonbending. Rangi works for the Sei'Naka Security company during the day, and runs two free self-defense courses for women during the week. Kyoshi signs up after her long-term (now ex) boyfriend and baby-daddy finally takes his abuse too far and their young daughter is caught in the crossfire. A story that would follow Kyoshi's and Rangi's relationship as Rangi falls for the hard-working, single-mom and Kyoshi struggles to allow herself to have A Good Thing.

Arranged marriage AU. Kyoshi - one of King Hark's many bastard children - is one of the few survivors of a lengthy, bloody, and cutthroat succession battle after his unexpected demise. With the aid of his trusted advisor, Jianzhu, Yun has secured the throne and taken the reins to ruling the Zeizhou Province. While content to allow his favorite half-sister live her life in peace, Jianzhu proposes arranging a political marriage to further fortify Yun's leadership. An ideal plan, were any of the Earth Kingdom nobles to accept the incredibly tall, battle-worn Kyoshi, whose reputation speaks of violence and an illicit coupling with a former maid. A rare opportunity presents itself as Hei-Ran, friend of Jianzhu and head of the noble Sei'Naka clan within the Fire Nation, is seeking a worthy woman to match with her young daughter. Finding a noble hotwoman for the ferocious, capable Rangi has proven difficult, but everything that is different about Kyoshi might be what makes her a perfect fit.

Superhero AU, enemies to lovers. Kyoshi dangles at the very end of a cursed bloodline, the final Mask Bearer. The artifact holds immense power for the wearer, but comes at a price: The mask cannot be donned or removed by the Bearer, and inflicts the will of whomever places it. When the legend (and the mask) falls into the hands of __, he is able to trace the most recent Bearer to Jesa, and the daughter she had before she died. Kyoshi is plucked from the simple life she made for herself as a server at Auntie Mui's restaurant and ensnared as an unwilling soldier in an world-changing plot for a new order. Rangi has a superhero lineage that dates back as far as written record. She and her mother have the trust and backing of the government in the battle waged between good and evil, and are damn good at what they do. A Sei'Naka never loses, after all. With the presence of a new, powerful entity, Rangi is called in to contest the rising destruction. Believing the Bearer(name keep?) to be an entity of villainy, Rangi is willing to go to any lengths to get the job done. That is, until she catches a glimpse of the girl behind the mask. Rangi seeks out the aid of The Flying Opera Company, the last known companions of the Bearer, and comes to understand the insidious nature of the curse and what's at risk for the person underneath. Together, they seek to remove Kyoshi from __ and the Mask she's forced to wear.

Modern day AU, nonbending. Sei'Naka Security and Future Industries heirs Rangi and Asami are sent to Yokoya to work on a collaborative project between companies. Their residence is a recently acquired, older mansion which is in sore need of renovations and repairs to bring it up to code. One wing is finished before they arrive, giving them a place to stay. Hiroshi, concerned about giving unfamiliar men full access to his daughter and his niece, hires the Avatar Construction Company - which offers a female-only team - to finish the second half. Korra thinks Kyoshi is an idiot, at least in the ways of relationships. Her friend has a heart of gold, but has consistently picked some of the worst people to date. Her current relationship with Koulin Saowon is no exception. Sure she's hot (and domineering in the way Korra knows Kyoshi likes) but Korra's sure the bruises, constant texts, and criticism are not worth it, especially as things are getting slowly worse. When she notices Rangi - feisty, but also virtuous and wouldn't freaking hit her friend! - watching Kyoshi in interest, she approaches Asami one day. "Hey, is your cousin, you know?"

Canon-compliant, continuation, spicy. Includes lore/prompts from the Avatar Legends TTRPG. Between the chaos in Ba Sing Se and regrouping daofei sects in the southern province, Kyoshi and Rangi have had to take a divided front to tackle both problems at once. While Kyoshi has managed to quell much of the violence to the south, Rangi has run into problems in the capital that require The Avatar's authority. The night of their arrival, they have a room to themselves with a door that locks. After months away, all Kyoshi wants is to feel her golden girl and show her how much she missed her. However, feeling and touching with her hands - which have dulled sensation from her injury - aren't enough to satisfy. It's a good thing her mouth and tongue are fine.

Scifi AU, sort of vague idea. Still cooking. - Avatars are rare and advanced humans with psychokinesis, telepathy, and ESP. It is through their existence that intergalactic travel is possible, working in conjunction with technology and crew. Each fleet may have up to several Avatars, with each one responsible for a single ship. As one might expect, the powerful nature of Avatars can be a double-edged blade. Emotional turmoil or violence can mean a quick end for an entire crew. Each Avatar is assigned a handler to sooth them and keep their best interests at heart. While traveling in one of the more quiet sectors, the Avatars of the fleet are alerted to the immense distress of one of their own on an outlaw planet known as Chameleon Bay. They extract Kyoshi from the Autumn Bloom, who were using her psionic abilities to power their drilling and weapons manufacturing plant. Kyoshi is Fried, meaning that the overuse of her abilities has rebounded and made them weak. It is a temporary condition, but fortuitous in a young, traumatized Avatar. Can Lieutenant Rangi, who is assigned as Kyoshi's handler, help the girl find her center? Or will the Fleet have to face a difficult decision: What to do with a volatile psionic who could kill them all?

Canon divergence, Korra era. Still cooking. After the dark Avatar rips away Korra's connection with her past lives, Raava expels them in a last-ditch effort to preserve them in some way. Pseudo-reincarnation story, where Kyoshi and Rangi's souls rejoin in Republic City.

[izunias-meme-hole]

One Villainous Scene - “I Coveted That Wind I Suppose”

“Oh boy. Izunia is making a second OVS about Ganondorf.” Yes, I am… however I am going to be looking at the man, the myth, the One Shot Wonder himself, Wind Waker Ganondorf. Now this guy is considered one of the top 5 incarnations of the King of Evil for a few reasons; the design, Takashi Nagasako returning to voice him, the boss fight, but the main reason was a little unexpected addition to his character.

To explain, Wind Waker is set in a world where Hyrule got flooded under the ocean because Ganondorf was TOO close to winning, and there was no hero to stop him, in other words divine intervention happened. So, throughout the course of the game, Ganondorf searches for the other 2 pieces of the Triforce once again, starting with a 100 year wait for Princess Zelda to reincarnate, and after 100 years have passed he kidnaps literally any blonde girl with pointy ears, checking to see if they have the Triforce of Wisdom. And one of these girls was Link's sister, Aryll, meaning that this man just put this incarnation of The Hero, one who originally wasn't mean't to be in this destined bullshit, hot on his trial.

Throughout the course of the game Link has only seen a snip of him at the beginning, the damage he caused to Greatfish Isle, Phantom Ganons, and finally he sees the man himself at the Foresaken Fortress and gets saved by Tetra, Valoo, and King Daphnes. Then Link discovers that Tetra is in fact Princess Zelda, and a good long hours later Ganondorf gets ahold of her, and now our hero has to face this monster, only for the player and Link to see another end of him.

Ganondorf explains a part of his background, talking about the cruel and harsh desert that he grew up in and how he envied the grasslands of Hyrule, but never intended on having it all be buried underwater. If anyone has played Ocarina of Time, they know that he's half-lying out of his ass because yes, he did come from a brutal and harsh desert, but he was also an infamous king there, one who had great ambitions and sat in a tower built in Central Hyrule while everyone else suffered. In other words, this man is lying out of his ass, but it isn't in an attempt to manipulate Link... it's an attempt to convince himself that all of the destruction he's caused, all of the evil he's wrought, wasn't for nothing. Even someone who's never played OoT can tell that this is a selfish old relic who's committed a lot of horrors in the past and has convinced himself that they're all just. And even then, you can tell that he never actually desired destruction for the hell of it and carries regrets.

He then knocks Link out and unifies the Triforce, chuckling out of glee at the fact that he FINALLY is going to succeed, that his efforts won't be in vain, but then it's literally robbed from him when Daphnes touches it and wishes for Hyrule to drown for the future of Link, Zelda, and everyone else. This causes Ganondorf to have a full on breakdown, cackling hysterically as he realizes that everything he has ever done has been for nothing. His efforts to acquire the Triforce, his battle against the previous hero, and his current efforts to bring back Hyrule were all for nothing. He's a destructive being who's doomed to fail and he realizes it now, but he isn't going to lie down and be forgotten by this world, so he tries to kill Link and Tetra, only to be stabbed in the skull. At this point, he can't escape the inevitable and he knows it, so there's no cursing Link and Tetra, no swearing that he'll come back. He just dies.

In short, Ganondorf here is still a bastard, but he is a walking tragedy in this game due to his pathos. He's a man who wants to convince himself that everything he's done was worth it, a man who doesn't want to be forgotten by the tides of time, a man who wants to bring back a dead land and stop being the lord of a dead empire. Yet in the end, he realizes that all of his efforts were indeed for nothing, and he ends up dying inside of a drowned Hyrule, destined to be forgotten. You can’t help but pity him this time.

[dubhdove156]

I'm currently in the process of writing a book about my experience on the "otherside", and my ensuing philosophy and outlook when I returned.

I'll attach here some select quotes from what is, for the moment, a disjointed brainstorming session.

"The most fascinating book to me then, and now as an adult with a better understanding of the context and history behind it, was Genesis. It’s a creation myth: a bastard child that mirrors its mother, the Babylonian Enuma Elish. It follows many of the tropes that various other creation myths of the Fertile Crescent brought forth.

In reading the first few verses, it is notable to me that God’s creation is an act of turning ultimate simplicity into ultimate complexity; of division. Every act of creation is an act of seperating one into two, from the skies and the oceans, to the lands and the seas, to the days and the nights, to sun and the stars, to the fish and birds, etc. Every act of creation is one of an inherent binary, to define or create one thing, first its opposite must be defined. It follows then that if creation is an act of division, then destruction is an act of unity.

Another point of note in Genesis is the story of the serpent tempting Eve. To eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is to become aware of the intrinsic binary; the division needed to create. What is most notable to me as an adult interpreting this book in a new light, is that it isn’t stated, not once, that the serpent lied to or deceived Eve. Instead, God confirmed the serpent’s testimony by not only cursing the serpent against Woman, but also by banishing mankind from the Garden in an effort to prevent them from eating of the Tree of Life as well; so that they could not gain everlasting life upon their newfound ability to create, and truly become like Him.

It is my theory, that if you were to read Genesis from the perspective of those who spoke it; nomadic Semites, it’s clear that civilization was the Original Sin. At the time, the division between peoples was largely between the nomadic and the settled. Invasions and battles were commonplace between this dichotomy in the Agricultural Revolution. From a nomad’s perspective, Genesis reads clearly as a warning against civilization. Once men begin to create the walls of their cities, and have to work in fields for the fruit that should’ve been given freely, suddenly man turns on man, Cain kills Abel.

Civilization is, in essence, mankind’s Magnum Opus. It is a reflection of our collective egos, our fear of suffering and need to escape the natural order of the world and the suffering that is inherent to division, and thus creation.

Once the Amoritic peoples settled in Babylon, and Babylon went from being a lowly Sumerian city-state to being its own proper kingdom, a particular man of note came into power: King Hammurabi. With King Hammurabi in power, an interesting text was publicized and largely popularized. I believe that the king himself commissioned its release, though that is up for debate in the anthropological community. It was titled the Enuma Elish, and I for one, believe it to be the most impactful piece of literature ever produced, and we see its stark effects to this very day. If you have not read it, I highly recommend that you do. In summary, it was the origin for the trope that consumed the world; child killing parent, and the deification of the child. In this story, a god named Marduk, or if given his proper title, Bel-Marduk, defeated the primordial gods Tiamat and Apsu. He was then granted kingship among the gods. This story is reflected well in Greek mythology, with Zeus defeating Cronos, and being hailed among the gods.

Many interesting things happened in Babylon’s culture with the release of this text, as well as in the wider Mesopotamian and Mediterranean regions. In Babylon, Bel-Marduk superceded the fertility goddess Ishtar as the patron god of the city. The city went from relying on the archetypal feminine intuition of priests and priestesses, who interpreted signs of the highly unstable gods, to being run by the archetypal logic of men and kings.

The release of the Enuma Elish, which demonized the unpredictable forces of nature as “chaos” and deified the secondary gods as harbingers of “order”, made a major shift in society, from matriarchy to patriarchy. In essence, we began vilifying the natural order of the world and deifying our own egos, our own ideas of how and why the world should operate; thus, civilization.

I think the original cities reflected our egos well, with large, ornate walls to defend and protect people from outside influence. The cultures within reflected that which people could collectively agree upon, and which objectively worthless material had arbitrary value – silk, gold, gems: useless outside of their walls, but suddenly priceless. Suddenly, we as a species went from worshipping primary constructs to deifying secondary and tertiary constructs. We went from praising the primordial fundamentals of nature to looking towards gods of constructs such as masonry, shepherding, etc. A notable god of this sort was Yahweh, a god of metallurgy. With the release of a single text, we lost sight of what holds true objective value, and the question of value became human-centric; what has value to us and us alone? Despite the divinity of life, we separated ourselves from the world, and placed value in our own creations.

As a separate thought, per this rough draft, Yahweh being synchratized with El in Canaan by Yahwehists, is of extreme note. I think there is substantial symbolism there. Yahweh, a god of metallurgy; of war and suffering. What is it that a metallurgist does? He places impure material into a crucible, then heats it into dividing purities from impurities, and by repeating this cycle, he turns a simple stone into strong and resiliant bronze. A god of metallurgy, is in essence, a god of alchemical transmutation, and a god of value in a Bronze Age society.

I think this deification of Yahweh by the Hebrews reflects the essence of existence well; and even reflects the Hindu constructs of Samsara and Moksha. Life itself is growth and change; matter in motion. Suffering is the aforementioned fire to the crucible; the catalyst. Put into metaphorical terms, Yahweh is the alchemist and we are his material, and throughout the aeons, throughout repeated cycles of suffering, repeated separation and unification, life and death, a purified, powerful, and resiliant product is produced; the philosopher’s stone. In this sense, think of the fundamental law of alchemy, which is etched into Baphomet’s forearms, “Solve et Coagula”, Solution and Coagulation."

"I had this thought some time ago, and this draft seems the perfect spot to preserve it.

If God is pure white light, Satan is the material; the prism through which the light divides into infinite variation. Satan is everything that makes you, you; and them, them. Satan is the timespace between you and every blade of grass.

In many cases, I would define our post-modern idea of Satan as simply timespace. In Western Mysticism, Satan is defined as the Self, the ego. Personally, I see that as just a symptom of Satan’s greater role.

In Greece, Cronos was demonized, and in Rome, it was Saturn who was vilified and first created the idea of a Satan or devil that is inherently separate to God. Prior to Roman Catholicism, the Jewish idea of Satan was not separate to God, but rather seen as any number of things that opposed God’s order. There was no singular, defined Devil.

Cronos and Saturn in their respective mythologies were gods of time. On this basis, I see our modern idea of Satan being a deciever, Bel’ial being the Demon of Lies, as timespace being illusory. Timespace is the essence of the cycle we find ourselves in, the underlying substance of suffering.

Satan is the essence of the infinite diversity and awe-inspiring variation we find ourselves in. He is what makes me separate from the very keys I type on; the space between every word, sentence, and paragraph.

Satan is the personification and demonization of complexity, while God is the personification and deification of simplicity. I for one, as a pantheist, consider these highly abstract concepts of “God” and “Satan” as essentially two sides of the same coin. They are two faces of the same head. I worship in my own reverence the All, or the equalization of division and unification, life and death, fear and love, matter and spirit. When I am asked what it means to be a pantheistic Satanist, my response is always the same: it means to see the Self in the All, and the All in the Self. In other words, I consider myself being separate from you, or the very technology that I filter my thoughts through, as being inherently illusory and worthless. The truth is that there is nothing that separates me from the stars over my head aside from my personal perception of spacetime.

You can consider it in this sense – the Universe, or whatever you wish to call it is, objectively, a massive soup of information. We as individuals can do our best to translate this soup with the tools we’ve been granted; our senses and perception that have been evolved specifically for the means of maintaining division and individuality. But what is in front of us; what we see, feel, hear, are all constructs of our mind – our best attempt at understanding this incomprehensible soup. But at the end of the day, at the end of the cycle, we are not separate from said soup, and we never were. It is a dream-state that we find ourselves in, a false belief that we perpetuate that I am not simply the same universal and mathematical information as a simple stone or dose of water.

This soup is also entirely undefined. It’s us who divides and defines everything, our own minds and egos acting as filters, that tell us a rock is separate from a stream, and that the inanimate and animate are not the same thing. We have a term for everything, and the further we get into definition, the more complex the language becomes."

"I have personally been heavily drawn to Western Mystical practices such as Hermeticism and Kabbalah, solely because these practices put my ideas into consumable terms. But Western and Eastern practices are the same essence, passed through the filter of culture. The fundamentals; the truisms, lessons, goals are the same. They are only different in form and practice. Judaism and Hinduism carry far more commonality than expected once one can see past literal dogmatism."

"In my current form of spirituality, I have divided Satan into two aspects, and consider his essence multifaceted. I have divided him between masculine and feminine archetypes, and work with each in accordance to my needs and introspection.

I have termed Satan as both the primary Daemon of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Bel’ial, and the modernized thelemic concept of the divine feminine, Babalon. I see these as the quintessential dichotomy of existence; the ebb and flow, push and pull, fear and love, give and take. I have conceptualized these two archetypes as the basis of holding on and letting go, be it of material, people, or life. True fear is to hold on in desperation, true love is letting go in faith. Put simply, when your only options left are fight or flight, choose acceptance.

The Beast and the Harlot, Binah and Chokmah, Adam and Eve, Saturn and Venus, Space and Time, it does not matter what names you give to the essence of division, it matters only how you manage to unify them."

"I believe, in my misanthropy, that human intelligence and an increase in cognition is not the blessing of the “wise man”, rather, it is the curse of a foolish species. Due in large part to our complex and nuanced neurology, we seek in a very simple natural state, complexity and nuance. We seek to stuff every minute detail of our world into tiny, well-defined boxes, and when we are out of boxes, we only need to create more. We have, over the course of our cognitive dominion, found an immense number of tiny boxes of nuance and definition, of which was once an ultimately simple existence, and with which we have created our civilizations; definitions may vary, and so too do cultures.

We have taken this awe-inspiring limitless and incomprehensible plane that we find ourselves on, and limited it; made it consumable for our own cognitive pleasure. We have invented fluid, ever-evolving languages, maths, sciences, etc to aid ourselves in mastering a world that only ever wished to provide.

In our grandeur we have culturally deified figureheads such as Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Carl Sagan as genius men with the capacity to reign in on what is beyond the layman, but they are in their own right, extremely limited. They have tried only to further the fruitless aims of mankind; of distinguishing the truth from the lie, of once more dividing what was always whole.

I care little for people in this current state of my life, let alone for secondary and tertiary constructs such as morality and money. Humanity has become largely enslaved by cultures; the boxes with which they are accustomed to agree with by means of influence and social pressures. There is no such division between Good and Evil, Rich and Poor – only an illusion, a prison of our own design."