#he knows the power of symbols and of belonging and of community

[mistyorchid]

Unrequited

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

summary: Your deep-seated fear of rejection is the only barrier preventing you from kissing the smug grin off of Logan's face. Thankfully, Logan can smell how much you want him. *reader's power is optimism, which Logan loves distrusts. warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, masturbation (fem!), scent kink, oral (fem! receiving), voyeurism, size difference, pussy worship, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, bub, doll, good girl), mention of unprotected p in v, using Logan's hair as handlebars. wc: 3.2k

Your world used to revolve around men. Now, your life revolves around the duty of saving it. If yearning for boys who never liked you back was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely win gold.

Everyone was in a good mood, having just returned from a government-sanctioned mission. The world needs the X-Men. You belonged to a community that respected your unique abilities. Powers aside, you were still a young woman yearning for romance. You forgot how it felt to be embarrassingly invested in a one-sided crush until you met Logan.

Your first mission seemed simple enough: act like Logan's arm candy for the night to investigate New York's elusive anti-mutant club. Memorize the names of club members, hide a mic in the manager's coat. In and out.

Unfortunately, Logan was more focused on how high the cut of your dress was. The unforgiving pink latex material suffocated your soft body and exaggerated the protruding curves of your breasts. As Charles described it, you needed to look like a liberated woman. The manager had a soft spot for confidence, and Charles explained that power attracts power.

Logan wished his hard cock was liberated from the uncomfortable friction caused by his slacks. That night, he learned that beauty truly is pain.

He watched as you glided around the room, earning lustful stares from the human members. Logan was ordered to blend into the crowd and allow you to complete the mission. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced with a charged, jealous glare.

"You're compromising the mission, Logan. I thought I taught you better," Charles tutted. His bald mentor checked in on their progress using cerebro's telepathic power.

Logan swatted his forehead, momentarily disoriented at the intrusion of Charles.

"Not my fault you put miss goody two-shoes in that god-awful dress," he snarled. "She's out of her element, and you know it."

"Her powers are extremely useful in this situation," Charles sighed. "You may not trust her, but her bubbly personality is the key to securing the club's trust. Just let her work . . . alone."

When the pressure in his head subsided, Logan knew that Charles no longer supervised the unholy thoughts bouncing against the adamantium confines of his brain.

He drifted to the bar and sat down, positioning the stool so he could maintain visual of your progress. Your kind eyes crinkled as you laughed and playfully swatted the manager's bicep. He painfully recalled the moment you revealed your powers to the group.

A month earlier, the X-Men gathered in the danger room to discuss how to approach the mission.

"The manager is emotionally vulnerable at this time. Surrounded by humans whose lives revolve around hate and mutant discrimination." Charles rubbed his temple to alleviate his anger.

"What is the opposite of hate?" Charles asked, turning his colleagues into students once again.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Please tell me it's not love, for Christ sakes."

"Optimism. The enemy of hate is hopefulness. Now, everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest recruit." Charles gestured to a woman who was the physical embodiment of those girly 90s rom-coms Logan secretly enjoyed.

Her smile reached her eyes, symbolizing genuine happiness. She sported a vintage Talking Heads tee with an image of a lopsided smiley face. Logan's eyes drifted to the tiniest shorts he's ever seen, stopping just under the swell of your ass. Its whimsical star pattern complimented your sparkling teeth.

"Hey, guys. I'm so grateful to be here!" You cheered. Logan could tell you caught him staring by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you timidly explained, "Sorry about the get-up. My uniform's not ready yet."

Logan watched as you surveyed the room, eyes silently acknowledging Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Beast.

You confidently returned Logan's gaze with a dismissive scoff.

Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to your cheeriness. Usually, he distrusted kindness. It was a quality that was manipulated to deceive him countless times throughout the arduous decades of life he had unwillingly lived through.

Your benevolence seemed organic, almost innate.

You continued, "My power is optimism. In addition to what Charles explained, I can extract positive values from anyone and replace their malicious thoughts and intentions. Basically, I'll help the manager override his hatred of mutants. Hate is taught . . . I'll teach him a different lesson. One of hope, equality, and human-mutant coexistence."

Logan felt a blush brewing behind his rugged cheeks. Your eloquent explanation exuded more wisdom than he expected from a "sunshine and rainbows" type of girl. You matched his trademark cynicism with a grounded perspective of reality, but still saw the good in others.

Before Logan chose to introduce himself, Scott raised an eyebrow, silently teasing him for blushing at your words. Logan wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right about his budding interest in the new recruit.

He mockingly countered, "That's great, a 'glass half-full' mutant has never gotten us killed before. What's your code name, Cheshire Cat? Twinkle Toes?"

Scott caught Logan's eyes and mouthed, "Nice," with a sly smirk.

You wouldn't let him bask in the reflection of tears falling down your cheeks.

Logan cursed himself as you turned to face everyone but him. "I don't have a code name. I've got nothing to hide," you coolly responded.

Your face contorted with pain as you recalled your first interaction with Logan. After you'd successfully earned the trust of the anti-mutant club manager, however, he followed you around like a lost puppy.

Everyone was confused. This behavior was extremely irregular for a man who struggled with trusting long-term friends, let alone a woman he'd only known for a month.

He was addicted to the sweet aura of unbridled positivity that radiated from you. A tale old as time, darkness intertwining with light.

The jealousy he felt during your first mission played a significant factor in his romantic interest. It took all of his restraint (and Charles' disapproving words) not to slash the throats of every man who lusted over your latex-clad form.

You remembered Logan sitting at the bar, clearly uninterested in the mission at hand. Uninterested in you.

Clearly, communication was a skill you both needed to hone.

"Nice work, sunshine." Logan clapped a hand against your shoulder, congratulating you on another successful mission.

He was genuinely proud of you. You were awarded a medal of honor by the president for using positive forces to bridge the gap between mutants and humans.

Picking up your pace, you whipped your head around to acknowledge Logan. "Thanks. You know how much I hate that nickname, right?"

As the rest of the crew filed inside the mansion, excitedly discussing how to wind down after a job well done, Logan used his leverage on your shoulder to spin you around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Love to see how red your face gets." A smug grin was plastered over his stupid, annoying, handsome face.

You paused at the mansion's entrance. "Whatever, Logan. I'm not in the mood for your belittlement."

Slipping past the kinetic hallways of mutant students, you swung open the door to your room and started to undress, hoping to destress after a long day. You shrugged off your new uniform and slipped on your favorite Talking Heads tee, not bothering to wear shorts.

"God, so annoying." You sighed, crashing face-down into the bed. You replayed the interaction with Logan, hurt etching its way into your heart.

I won't let him get to me. He makes me feel like a fuckin' teenager!

"Nice work, sunshine," you mocked in a gruff voice.

Logan doubted your abilities, ignored you on your first mission, and patronized you with nicknames. It wasn't fun being the butt of a joke at the hands of someone you secretly admired. You wondered if his recent interest in you was malicious or sincere.

Despite the telltale signs, you seriously doubted that Logan was romantically interested in you.

Never chosen, always on the prowl for scraps of affection. Never again. Your kindness had been taken advantage of before. You quickly learned that the only person who truly loved you was yourself.

Sunshine. The crinkle of his eyes, those stupid tufts of hair that make him look like a cat.

Your hands slowly slipped under the hem of your shirt, inching towards your breasts.

He was staring at my ass when I met him. Wasn't he?

Your right hand softly tweaked your sensitive nipples. Sighing, you allowed yourself to toy with the thin band of your underwear before circling your clit.

Soft moans quickly grew into labored huffs of desperation. Lost in the gratifying haze of your pleasure, you forgot an important detail about your new living arrangement.

Logan couldn't believe the sounds he was hearing.

It's as if God himself probed his mind and decided to fulfill his deepest desires.

A beautiful arrangement of moans and sighs traveled through the hollow wood wall that separated your rooms. To confirm that he wasn't hallucinating, Logan tentatively pressed his ear against the wall.

"Oh, fuck," he heard you whine in a hushed voice.

He could hear the spontaneous hitch of your breath. "Ah! Logan . . . fuuuuck."

His body reacted to the utterance of his name, unconsciously unsheathing his claws.

It took him five seconds to bridge the distance between his front door and yours.

An abrupt knock on your door forced you to pause the act of self-love you were so invested in.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Logan smirked before answering, "It's me. You okay in there? Sounds like you're having a hard time breathin, bub."

That cocky motherfucker. You slapped a hand against your mouth to muffle your surprise. He probably heard everything, you thought, moving to open the door.

"Logan! I- I'm so sorry." You started playing with the loose strands of hair framing your face. He was leaning on the door frame, his large body teasingly blocking the entrance.

His eyes flitted to your hand, noting the nervous tick. As the scent of your hair wafted into his perceptive nostrils, his pupils dilated. He noticed the unmistakable smell of your arousal.

"No need to apologize, sunshine. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Logan tried to ignore the enticing scent emanating from your body. His eyes searched the room for a point to fixate on. Anything but your pouty lips.

He registered bare legs. The adorable way you were standing, your right leg shifted over the left to distribute your weight. Any decorum he had vanished when his eyes landed on the girly panties you were wearing.

You inched closer to his broad frame, looking up into his downcast eyes. They were still trained on your lower half.

Sunshine. The heavy weight of his gaze. Familiar hallmarks of past interactions. Except this time, he was gawking at your panties instead of those cosmic booty shorts.

"I can smell you. Can't be that unbearable to be around, hm?" Logan teased, finally making eye contact.

"No, you're still an asshole. I'm done playing hot and cold with you." Your clothed tits grazed his taut stomach.

"You want this? Because if not, I'll take it like a man and leave." Logan asked, searching your face for any signs of hesitation.

You averted your eyes. "Do you want me?"

He understood why your response was laced with insecurity. His previous actions had placed a seed of doubt in your mind. Logan gently raised your chin, tilting your eyes into his. "Of course I do, doll. I might be a stubborn asshole, but I'm not too stubborn to admit that I want you. Always have, since I first met ya."

Shock flooded your features. A charged silence lingered in the air.

You caught Logan staring at your lips.

"Just kiss me, you big oaf." You brazenly commanded.

The arm that leaned against the door frame descended to the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest.

Logan closed the gap, not wanting to give you any reason to doubt his feelings for you.

It started sweet and timid, an innocent collage of bumping noses and delicate gasps. When you pulled apart for air, a thin string of spit connected your bottom lips.

You decided you needed his lips on yours in a drastically different way.

"Since you're here, think you can help a girl out?" You pushed yourself away from Logan, palms extended to his chest. You sat on the edge of your bed, slowly spreading your legs.

Logan choked on his words. "I, uh . . . I'd love to." Once in front of you, he kneeled down on his knees.

The playful contrast between your vintage Talking Heads tee and the lacey pink panties that covered your most intimate area made him dizzy.

The frilly nature of it was enough to make him crazy, but they just had to have a cute little bow at the top.

Logan ground himself into his jeans, its denim fabric the only layer separating his cock from the air.

"You sure about this, doll?" he asked, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from your cunt to analyze yours.

You tentatively weaved your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to the tufts. When he leaned into your touch, you knew that the admission of his affection was genuine.

Your hands ghosted over his, pulling them to land on the wide expanse of your thighs.

"I need you, Logan. I want this. Want you."

That was all Logan needed to hear before he hooked four fingers around the elastic of your panties, slowly moving them off of your legs.

You shivered when the room's cool air met your bare cunt.

Logan hooked his strong arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease. "Much better, doll. Wanna be close to her," he drawled, resting your legs over his shoulders.

His mouth hovered over you, fanning warm breaths that made you throb with anticipation.

Logan's lips ghosted over where the bow on your panties was and descended where you needed him most.

He gently kissed your clit, earning a soft gasp.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" You whined a high-pitched "Mhm . . ."

Logan suddenly licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your wetness on the tip of his tongue.

"Need your words, bub. Wanna hear you."

He pulled away momentarily, massaging the sensitive flesh of your thighs. "Oh my god. Yes, I love it . . . please don't stop," you whined.

"That's a good-" Logan paused to pool the release still on his tongue and let gravity drip it onto your folds. "-girl. Fuck."

You sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. He stared at your cunt fluttering open and closed in response to the contact, aching to be filled.

He would tend to that later. Right now, he wanted to make you feel loved, cared for.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, doll." Logan cooed, tracing the sensitive outline of your hole before sinking two of his thick fingers into your warmth.

Your hands found purchase in his hair, gasping at the sight of him stretching your walls. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, steadily building the tension in your body.

"Yeah, hold onto me . . . guide me where you need me." The soft squelch of your wetness made him groan into your pussy.

"Fuck . . . you sound so beautiful, baby." Logan praised, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your clit once again.

He alternated between languidly enveloping your folds with his mouth and licking urgently at your sensitive bud.

"Ah! I- I'm close, Logan." You mewled, hips suddenly rising off the bed. The spontaneous action made your clit catch on the ridge of his strong nose.

You locked his head in between your legs, thighs abruptly closing due to the contact.

"You like that, hm?" he teased. You nodded rapidly, capturing your bottom lip in an attempt to subdue the embarrassing whines Logan was drawing out from you.

Once your thighs rested back on the bed, Logan pulled your legs even closer. You couldn't believe your eyes.

He started making out with your pussy.

Logan's mouth opened and closed again and again, latching onto your swollen lips. His pursed lips glistened with your release.

He actually sighed into your body when a particularly noisy kiss made you clench around his fingers.

"That's my good girl. So responsive . . . can you come for me, baby? Wanna taste you."

He curled his fingers, coaxing the spongy pad of your cervix on every thrust. His palm met your pussy with a steady plap, burying his fingers into your crying cunt.

Your legs started shaking. Unable to stave off your release, your thighs fluttered around Logan's head.

"Oh, fuck, Logan . . ." you moaned, sharply tugging his hair while falling backward onto the bed. You couldn't bring yourself to watch his sly grin as you came undone around him.

"Yes . . . ohmygodohmygod, ah!" You incoherently babbled.

Logan playfully slapped your puffy folds, stimulating you through your orgasm.

"Aw, would 'ya look at that . . . your pussy's blushing just for me, doll." He pressed another kiss to your pulsing clit, smirking into your skin.

He slowly removed your legs from his shoulders and caged your body under his, arms outstretched so as not to crush you.

Logan traced the plush outline of your bottom lip, teasing, "Speechless, huh? Guess I'm not that big of an asshole."

Your pupils dilated as you caressed the rugged expanse of his cheek. You hummed a soft, "Mhm . . ." in response, too fucked out to mumble something more comprehensible.

"Figured you deserved to feel good after what I put you through." Logan averted his eyes. He felt guilty, opening his mouth to apologize, but you silenced him with a sloppy kiss.

You tapped his right arm, silently asking him to lay down on the bed next to you. He moved to cuddle you, but you turned around and straddled his pelvis.

Grinding over his clothed bulge, you teased, "No need to apologize, Logan." Your release was creating a noticeable wet spot on the faded denim.

His hips bucked up to meet your tantalizing movements. His back arched at the thought of his bare cock finally feeling the plush embrace of your cunt.

"Let me make it up to you . . . you deserve to feel good, too."

Logan's hands rested on your torso, stilling your hips.

"If you keep moving like that, I won't get to come inside of you. You want me to fill you up? Hm?"

You mischievously dragged your cunt over the fly of his jeans, clit catching on the button.

"Who said you couldn't come in me more than once?"

Logan wrapped his arms behind the small of your back, pulling you to crash against his broad chest. His lips found your ear.

He whispered, "You fuckin' tease. Be careful what you wish for, bub. I have regenerative powers, remember? Could fuck you for hours, if you let me."

You suddenly nipped at his earlobe. "Oh, yeah? prove it. I'm not so sure, old man."

Logan propped up your chin, caressing the supple skin of your cheeks. Eyes darting between your doe eyes and pouty lips, he responded, "If I didn't heal so fast, you'd be the death of me."

You sealed his promise with a sweet kiss. The only lack of communication in your blossoming relationship would occur during intimate moments like these, lips slotted into the other's, ethereal sighs mingling with his intoxicating groans.

an: Whew! I spent a lot of time refining this one. I'm slowly working on improving the pacing and atmosphere of my work.

[rosewine-5]

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝟏)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastors daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

AN: readers last name is Bennett.

Word count: 1.3k

Here’s the link to part 2 & part 3

Divider by saradika

It was the same schedule: Wake up, pray, work, eat, give thank, sleep, repeat. It had been the routine for 20 years. Well, maybe just for you. The family consisted of her mother, father, 2 brothers, Michael and John, and then yourself. Father raised the 3 of you to have unwavering faith and trust in a higher power no one would see while you were still alive. In a way, if offered stability to your family, and yourself.

But it also came with rules, which in your case, sucked, especially being the only girl in the house. You weren’t allowed to go out late, while your brothers could come home as late as early morning. Your father wanted his “little girl” to be, as he said “the gem of the Bennett name” , and for the most part, you didn’t know what else to be, other than a farmer.

The town you resided in had enough fertile soil for people to grow their food, there was even a lake not too far from town with a few trees close by. You used to swim there, before some men decided to ransack the town. That night everyone met in the church since the raiders burnt the town hall to the ground. That very night the leaders of the community, including your father, all agreed to hire mercenaries to keep the town safe.

If this wasn’t desperation, you didn’t know what else it could be.

When everyone got back to the farm, you and your brothers questioned your father. His only excuse was “There are some times in which we can’t wait for God to save us”, and there was no further argument. “This is something we can’t pray our way out of, child! Maybe one day you’ll understand.” He shouted, making you shrink.

The next day you woke up early on the property and walked over the kitchen, where Michael was packing up a bag along with your other John. “What’s the occasion?” You asked. “Pa told us we’re going with him to meet the mercenaries the next town over.” Your brother, Michael said in a rushed tone, sitting down to stuff his belonging in a bag. “You never told me that.” You said, walking towards him. “Well you’re not my mother.” He said, not looking up at you. “But I am your sister, and older than you.” You added.

“By 5 minutes.” He said, smiling up at you. Your mother had given birth to you first on a winter day, and then Michael a few minutes later. You didn’t know if it was the fact you two were born on the same day or being twins, but you were closer to Mike then you were John.

“Are you two bickering again?” Your mother said, walking in. “We were just saying our goodbyes, Dove and I.” Mike said, putting on a smile and slinging his arm around your neck.

You had adopted the nickname Dove after your 10th birthday by your father. To him, the name symbolized what he wanted you to be: pure, innocent, peaceful. For the most part, you were pure, you didn’t have a choice to be anything but, being the pastors daughter and all. A part of you didn’t mind being stamped as “Holy” but that also meant you didn’t have the same freedoms or privileges you would’ve loved to have.

You were snapped oh of your train of thought when your father came from outside and called for your brothers. Three horses were already set up, belonging to them. None for you. “We’ll be back by the end of the week.” He said, kissing your mother goodbye, and then waking to you. “Best behavior, my dove, as always.” He said, kissing your forehead before riding away, your brothers behind him.

The next few days were full of chores, errands, and work. And boredom. Then came the day they were expected back, your mother stood next to you. “Penny for your thoughts, honey?” Your mom asked, making you nod. “He means the best for you.” She said, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to stick her point. “He just doesn’t want to see you-.” “Act out of line? Have fun? Have a real life?” You interrupted, looking at her. “You know that’s not what I meant, love.” She said, putting some of the vegetables that were grown in a basket.

“Here, take this, throw them out, and get some air.” She said, basically leading you out of the room. “And honey?” Your mom called, making you look back, “We only treat you with different rules to keep you safe.” After throwing the vegetables out, you looked towards the town, and sighed. “Safe my god given ass.” You mumbled to yourself, walking towards the lake for the first time in a while.

There was a cool breeze coming from the lake, one that you took in with a content look on your face. You laid down in the grass and took a deep breath in, before closing your eyes. After a few minutes, all you could hear was the breeze blowing and the rustle of the leaves. It almost drowned out the noise from the town, as well as the noise in your head. It even almost drowned out the sound of the twig that snapped behind you. Almost.

Your head snapped behind you to see a tall slender boy leaning on a tree staring at you, a small smirk on his face. From his face alone, you could tell he wasn’t a local, you couldn’t even recognize him. You looked him over, his rough appearance a clear sign he wasn’t one to walk over. But his eyes were the most enchanting part of him. Those blue eyes drew you in like a siren to a sailor. And as much as you wanted to drown in them, you knew shook out of the trance; who is this man?

“You new around here?” You asked, breaking the silence. He looked you up and down, before meeting your eyes with a wolfish grin, chuckling to himself. “You could say that.” He said, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m Billy.” You nodded your head toward him, “Nice to meet you, Billy.” “So what’s your name, honey?” He asked, the smile never leaving his face. “I’m Bennett.” You said, holding out your hand. Billy then took your hand and then kissed it, “You must be the pastors daughter, you and your brothers have the same eyes.”

Here we go again

He then smirked to himself, “If I may, humor me Ms. Bennett.” You immediately turned back around and looked at the water, “I doubt I could make you shut up anyway, so go on ahead.” You said, making him huff out a short laugh.

“What’s a lady like you doing by herself?” Billy asked, looking over you with a curious look in his eyes. “Like myself, huh? What’s that supposed to mean, cowboy?” You asked, not looking away from the water of the lake. You then heard his footsteps get closer, and then he was right behind you.

“I thought the pastor’s girl would know it would be safer to stay close to the house of the lord, than out here with her back turned, vulnerable.” Billy said, and you could see his shadow cover your frame, making you turn around, holding your shawl closer to your body, covering your shoulders.

In the moment you turned around, his eyes didn’t hesitate to look over your face, and then your body. Billy’s eyes went down to your neck and chest, making no effort to avert his gaze. “What a beautiful ring,” He said, getting your attention,” You engaged?” “No, it’s my purity band.” You said, holding it out so he could get a better view, and hoping he would leave you alone.

Instead, you saw a new look in his eyes.

One that let you know he wouldn’t leave you alone.

Interest.

Let me know what you think, feedback is welcome!

[squash1]

THREES THREES THREES:

Oh hello. I want to talk about the stylistic/textual role of Threes in The Raven Cycle.

Threes – as a general concept and as a number – are a major symbol and motif in the series. Maggie tells us that threes are important from the very first book: from Maura’s favorite saying being “good things come in threes” to Persephone telling Adam that “things are always growing to three or shrinking to three,” threes are discussed at length in the text of the narrative. Maggie also shows us that threes are important as a motif/symbol for important aspects of the story: three Raven Boys, three Fox Way women, three Lynch brothers, three main ley lines, three sleepers, etc. Threes are, textually, incredibly significant in The Raven Cycle, and we know this because we are shown AND told it throughout the entirety of the books. 

We all know the significance that is given to threes in the story itself, but what I want to talk about is the usage of a thrice-repeated word or short phrase (going forward I’m referring to this as “Threes” or “a Three”) as one of Maggie’s writing signatures (across the series, there are 65 Threes). This creates a meta level to threes being an important aspect of The Raven Cycle universe. A classic example of a Three (one of my favorites, in fact) is from The Dream Thieves: 

“As they walked, a sudden rush of wind hurled low across the grass, bringing with it the scent of moving water and rocks hidden in the shadows, and Blue thrilled again and again with the knowledge that magic was real, magic was real, magic was real.” (TDT, 12)

In a way, the Threes join the intradiegetic (what is happening within the narrative itself) with the extradiegetic (what the narration is communicating solely to the reader). The reader and characters are told explicitly that the number three is significant, important, notable, and powerful. In using Threes as a writing signature after giving the reader that information, the Threes are designed to signal to the reader that this line, this moment, is important.    

So the question is: What Are The Threes Trying to Tell the Reader??? 

Amazing question. 

In my recent TRC reread, I was already keeping track of Threes, because I was curious to see how many times they appeared. And then my sister, who was also rereading, said something interesting (after reading this Three from The Raven Boys):  

“He was full of so many wants, too many to prioritize, and so they all felt desperate. To not have to work so many hours, to get into a good college, to look right in a tie, to not still be hungry after eating the thin sandwich he’d brought to work, to drive the shiny Audi that Gansey had stopped to look at with him once after school, to go home, to have hit his father himself, to own an apartment with granite countertops and a television bigger than Gansey’s desk, to belong somewhere, to go home, to go home, to go home.” (TRB, 370)

My sister said: “Adam’s like Dorothy.” And then she said: “Wait. Do you think the Threes are like a spell? Or… a wish?”

Which was……. Interesting. 

What I have determined, after completing my reread and spending way too much time analyzing this, is that a Three is either a wish, a hope, a longing, a prayer – or, alternately, a warning, a curse, a negative promise. 

In either sense, Threes are a foreshadowing of what is to come – whether it be good or bad. Threes exist to signal to the reader that they should be paying close attention to whatever is being said or observed.

Threes in….. Everything Else: 

Before we get too far into TRC Threes, let’s talk about the precedent for three being an important number in art, math, storytelling, etc. I found some interesting information about how three is a satisfying number for the brain: 

Grouping things in threes leverages the power of repetition to aid memory; denote emotional intensity or importance; and ease persuasion (research by Shu & Carlson (2014) found that three positive claims is the most effective for persuasion).

Three is the smallest number that the brain can still recognize as a pattern, and the brain loves pattern and repetition. This is true in visual art – having three main compositional figures to create a pleasing image – and also in storytelling and narrative. Using threes for repetition in storytelling is a very common occurrence. 

Some classic examples of repetitive threes are Shakespeare’s “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” or Lincoln's “a government of the people, by the people, for the people.” In each of these examples, a repetition of three is used to create pleasing auditory rhythm. There is something inherently memorable about literary Threes. 

Perhaps the most interesting information I found while digging into the precedent for threes is about the rule of threes in folktales. This information happens to come from Wikipedia (side note: Wikipedia is a modern tool of collective consciousness and we should utilize it more). This page describes how in its most basic form, the rule of threes in storytelling is just beginning, middle, and end. Because this is such a common convention, writers tend to “create triplets or structures in three parts.” It then talks more directly about the use of threes in folktales: 

“Vladimir Propp in his Morphology of the Folk Tale, concluded that any of the elements in a folktale could be negated twice so that it would repeat thrice.”

This is especially interesting to me. The idea that an element of a folktale “could be negated twice so that it would repeat thrice” shows up prominently in the plot of The Raven Cycle – a book that is heavily influenced by folktale motifs – but also in so many of the folktales/fairytales we all know. A classic example of this would be Goldilocks and the Three Bears – Goldilocks must try porridge that is too hot, too cold, and then, finally, just right. The journey of these three actions is satisfying to the brain because it is a complete pattern: the third and final result of “just right” porridge is only satisfying because of the two “not right” porridges that preceded it. 

Getting back to Stiefvater Threes:

For anyone who’s seen The West Wing (and even those who haven’t), here’s a good way to explain what I think the Threes are doing. You know that thing they do during a The West Wing “walk and talk” where two characters will be throwing information and little quips back and forth at each other rapid-fire, and then suddenly, they will both stop walking, and the camera will stop moving, and they’ll say a line that contains really important information that you need to know to understand the storyline of that episode? That’s what Maggie’s Threes are doing for the reader. That’s what 6:21 is doing for the characters. It’s intentional: the writers/directors/actors/camera operators on The West Wing know that they’re throwing a lot of information at you, and know that they need to get you to pay attention to the most important parts somehow, so they do it by forcing the viewer to lean in and listen. It changes the focus and energy of the scene from something with momentum to something that pauses, and therefore makes you pause. 

The Threes compel the reader to pause and consider the information being delivered as more important than they might consider it if it was not written as a Three. “Maura’s expression was dark” does not read the same as “Maura’s expression was dark, dark, dark.” And in a text where characters directly state the magical importance of threes, compounded by three as an overarching motif, there is clear intention and meaning behind these written Threes.

In the context of TRC, Threes act as a fourth-wall break.

They are essentially a way to poke the reader and say: “Are you paying attention? Because you should be.” 

These Threes use a symbolic motif – the rule of three – that is already heavily discussed in the text – to get the reader to pick up on the internal motivations of the character who is “wishing” their Three or the narration which is using a Three to foreshadow some important aspect of the plot. 

The Threes are like the literary equivalent of a record scratch. It stops you in your tracks, breaking the established rhythm and making you take notice of what is being said in a new way. 

Let’s Look at Some More Threes (but just a few don’t worry)!

1. We get a classic Three, and a very Gansey Three, right after the group comes out of Cabeswater: 

“‘What about that thing in the tree?’ Blue asked. ‘Was that a hallucination? A dream?’ 

Glendower. It was Glendower. Glendower. Glendower” (TRB, 231).

Finding Glendower is one of Gansey’s core wishes, one of his core longings. Although this line is a literal answer to Blue’s question – he saw Glendower in the tree – in making it a Three, Maggie has given it added weight and meaning. It is prayer-like in its intention. It is almost an incantation: by saying it in Three, Gansey wishes it into being.

2. In The Raven Boys, after Gansey has bribed Pinter to keep Ronan at Aglionby and has learned that Noah has been dead the whole time they’ve known him, we are given this Three: 

“The Pig exploded off the line. Damn Ronan. Gansey punched his way through the gears, fast, fast, fast” (TRB, 311). 

This moment foreshadows what directly follows: a distinct lack of fast as the Camaro breaks down and Gansey is held at gunpoint by Whelk. This Three is not a prayer, but a warning, and an indicator to the reader that something important is about to happen. Had Gansey not been trying to go so “fast fast fast,” the car might not have broken down; because the Three incanted it, disaster follows. 

3. To return to a Three I have already mentioned, but follows the typical Three structure: 

“...to go home, to go home, to go home” (TRB, 370). 

In this scene, Adam’s wish is less about actually wanting to return to his literal home, because his house was never really a home for him. Adam’s wish/longing is for a home that he could return to, that he would want to return to. He is longing for a place/feeling/experience that does not exist for him. The Three in this sentence comes after a string of active wishes/longings, and by ending with this Three, it casts a spell of sorts, honing in on the truest underlying wish that Adam has. In using the phrase “to go home” three times, the narrative is making sure you, the reader, know that this want, this need, this wish, is the most Important to Adam, and will drive his actions for the rest of his story. 

Most of the Threes feel like this. They are often tacked on at the end of a sentence or embedded in a sentence. They’re an addendum to the action of the story. They’re like casting a spell – once to manifest, twice to charge, three to cast. 

…..And Some Other Types of Threes:

Then there are the Threes that don't follow the typical pattern of the same word repeated three times one right after the other, but are still a Three in a different way.

There are short phrases/sentences that are repeated three times throughout a page or chapter. In the prologue of The Raven King, we get this: 

“He was a king…

He was a king…

He was a king.

This was the year he was going to die.” (TRK, 1-3)

In this case, the Three acts as a promise of Gansey’s kinghood, but in ending the sequence with “this was the year he was going to die,” the promise of the three is given a condition: it is not going to be a joyful kinghood, but instead a kinghood intertwined with the death we’ve known is fated for Gansey.

One of Adam’s Threes from Blue Lily, Lily Blue, uniquely breaks the mold of Threes in a format that does not appear anywhere else in the four books: 

“It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father” (BLLB, 242).

❋ (We’ll talk about this one more in-depth later.)

There are also a few “unfinished” Threes: 

In The Raven King when Ronan is having a nightmare (infected by the demon) about Matthew and the mask, he has this Three: 

“Ronan’s throat was raw. I’ll do anything! I’ll do anything! I’ll do anythi 

It was unmaking everything Ronan loved. 

Please” (TRK, 96). 

With the uncompleted Three, there is an uncast wish. Ronan’s wish is about Matthew, yes of course, but also about being willing to do anything to keep those he loves (ie. Adam, Gansey, Blue, his brothers) out of the reach of the “unmaking.” This unfinished Three serves to foreshadow the harm that does ultimately befall first Adam and then Gansey as a result of the unmaking of Cabeswater by the demon: without the Three spell completed, his wish is not fulfilled.

*This is Not all the uncommon/mold-breaking Threes, just a few that are interesting!

Do All Threes Come to Fruition???

The short answer is: No. Or at least not in that way. 

Once again looking at the text of The Raven Cycle, we are given an answer of sorts. In discussing Gansey’s predicted death, Maura says:

“First of all, the corpse road is a promise, not a guarantee” (TRB, 155).

This seems to apply to Threes as well. Threes are not a guarantee. They are a promise. Not all Threes come to fruition the way one might expect – or at all, for that matter. The important part of Threes is not that they will definitely come true, it’s that they could come true, because the Three gives them the potential to come true. 

Structure, Structure, Structure:

The main Threes structures are:

Three of the same word separated by commas: 

“magic, magic, magic” (TRK, 59).

A short phrase/sentence separated by periods:

“My father. My father. My father” (TDT, 369).

A short sentence that is repeated three times throughout a page/paragraph:

“Gansey did not breathe…

Gansey did not breathe…

Gansey did not breathe” (TRK, 209).

A word that is repeated three times and is connected by “and”:

“Round and round and round!” (BLLB, 224)

Italics vs. Non Italics:

Italics in The Raven Cycle are often used for character’s inner thoughts/anxieties. This continues to be true in the context of Threes. A Three that is not written in italics indicates a promise, or some foreshadowing of a plot point being foretold through the Three – it is typically more “real” – whereas a Three that is written in Italics seems to indicate a wish/hope/longing that is unattainable in some way. Italics almost always indicate a Three that may never come to fruition, or at least not in the way the character hopes it will. 

An example of this distinction can be found in chapter three (hah) (I don’t believe in coincidences and neither does Gansey) of The Raven King: 

First we are met with Ronan wishing/hoping to return home:

“That morning, Ronan Lynch had woken early, without any alarm, thinking home, home, home” (TRK, 24). 

This home, home, home, is in reference to the idea of home rather than the reality. Ronan is wishing to return to a home that does exist physically, but is not the same as in his memory – he wants to be at the Barns as it was in his childhood. 

Then, in the very same chapter, Ronan actually returns home and we are given this Three: 

“Slowly his memories of before — everything this place had been to him when it had held the entire Lynch family — were being overlapped with memories and hopes of after — every minute that the Barns had been his, all of the time he’d spent here alone or with Adam, dreaming and scheming. 

Home, home, home” (TRK, 27).

This second home, home, home, is about the actual reality of being in his childhood home – the good and bad that has existed in the years since the childhood he longs for. 

The Addition of AND:

The most notable use of “and” is in Noah’s very last chapter:

“Sometimes he got caught in this moment instead. Gansey’s death. Watching Gansey die, again and again and again” (TRK, 416).

When “and” is added into a Three, it becomes circular, cyclical. The “and” gives the Three a sense of infinity, or creates a loop of sorts. 

This Three operates in the same way “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” does in Macbeth – it is meant to convey the endlessness of time, a relentless cycle of tomorrows.

❋ While there are not many of these Threes with “ands” in The Raven Cycle, there are other examples of Threes or Three-like occurrences that fulfill the same purpose as the “and.” For example, remember this Three:

“It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father.” (BLLB, 242).

In this case, instead of the word “and,” the Three (It was his father) is connected by “he opened the door.” This Three is accomplishing the same feeling as “again and again and again” – the feeling of being caught in an endless loop. 

Another example of an (implied) “and” in The Raven Cycle is: Gansey’s life. Gansey starts out alive and then dies as a child only to be reborn, and then killed again through his sacrifice, and then reborn for a final time. Gansey is Alive, Dead, Alive, Dead, Alive. And so Gansey’s life is a cycle of Three.

As with the Threes that contain “and,” Gansey starts where he ends: alive. 

Other Ways Threes Show up in The Raven Cycle:   

I will state the obvious once again: there are three Raven Boys, three Lynch brothers, three Fox Way women, three sleepers, three main ley lines (the lines that “seem to matter” to Glendower’s story), Gansey the Third (Gansey Three, Dick Three). 

There are also the more obscure: the “three kinds of secrets” in The Dream Thieves prologue and epilogue; each Lynch brother inheriting three million dollars from Niall Lynch; the three figures with Blue’s face on the tapestry and later as a vision in Cabeswater; Adam and Gansey going to DC for three days; the shield pulled from the lake having three ravens embossed onto it; Ronan having dreamt Matthew at the age of three; the door to the Demon’s room needing “three to open” it; Aurora Lynch staying awake for three days after Niall died. 

And of course, we have the ley line symbol/chapter header:

And then there are the 300 (three hundred!) Fox Way “villain” readings. (This was something that was particularly interesting to me.)

The first antagonist we meet is Whelk. When he comes for a reading at 300 Fox Way, he first pulls the Three of Swords. 

When the women all draw cards together, they pull identical cards for Whelk: three of the Knight of Pentacles, then three of the Page of Cups. After drawing, essentially, three threes (the Three of Swords, then two sets of three matching cards) in this reading, the first Three of the entire series appears: 

“Maura’s expression was dark, dark, dark” (TRB, 124). 

The second “antagonist” we meet is the Gray Man, who comes to 300 Fox Way in The Dream Thieves to “observe.” Maura, Calla, and Persephone are predicting which card is on the top and bottom of the stack and the first card, predicted by Calla, is the Three of Cups off the top of the deck that Mr. Gray is holding (a remarkably happy card in stark contrast to Whelk’s Three of Swords). 

When the third antagonist, Greenmantle, comes for his 300 Fox Way Reading he also draws the Three of Swords. The fact that each of the three antagonists come for a reading is in itself a sort of Three, but to further the importance of these moments, each of them draws some sort of three-related card. 

All of the examples I have touched on have been more symbolic references to Three as a motif of the books as a whole. However, Threes also show up in the literal number of times important quotes are said/written. 

I was tracking some of the most well-loved TRC lines to compile them, and noticed that the lines “don’t throw it away” and “safe as life” happen to appear exactly three times throughout the series. This was honestly pretty surprising based on the importance of those quotes – I would have assumed they showed up far more. Actually, they both appear twice in The Raven Boys and once in The Raven King. Threes, and the importance of Threes, is embedded so strongly into the narrative of The Raven Cycle that even the quotes we all think of as the most beloved of the series follow this rule of Threes. 

Now, could you chalk some of these up to coincidence? I guess. But Gansey doesn’t believe in coincidences so I don’t either. So what’s the point of all these Threes?

Conclusion???

In a literal, literary way, Threes are a fourth wall break to make the importance of a moment obvious, but I’m not sure what the larger “point” of Threes is. My best analysis comes from the idea of The Raven Cycle being all about time and Threes playing into the importance of time as a sort of record scratch or loop. The Threes, as a stylistic, written motif, seem to connect the time-based cycle the characters experience to the time-based cycles the reader experiences by reading the books. 

But my conclusion feels incomplete and so I would like to rely on the collective for this one – just about the most Raven Cycle thing you can do. So I’m asking you, the collective you, what conclusion would you draw? What do you think? 

What I do know for sure is that Threes are magic, magic, magic.

For Your Convenience: Here is the textual significance given to threes within the books (chronologically): 

And here are the Threes, Threes, Threes (compiled):

(If you made it to the end of all this, I love you. Have a gold star and a hug <3)

[luneemeritus]

So a lot of antis who claim that Stolas is a coercive rapist point to his appearance in S1 EP1: Murder Family because according to them Blitz accepted the arrangement while he’s being shot at, by comparison Stolas is chilling in his bathtub making him not properly consent to the deal. Do you have any rebuttals to these claims? Also let’s also mention the fact that Stolas was spying on him with a bubble. I just want good answers that point to Stolas not being a bad person because I want to root for him and Blitz being together.

The thing is, Blitz was already using Stolas's grimoire way before the deal was proposed. Stolas never demanded anything, he proposed the deal and asked for Blitz's consent. The way they are in different scenarios don't symbolize rape or coercion, the 'power imbalance' in their relationship is not there to make Stolas a coercive monster because he isn't. The Full Moon is literally sex work, not coercion, not rape, not prison, it's a sex deal where *both* benefit. Stolas needs the book, the book belongs to HIM, Blitz was the one who started their relationship with sex in order to get the book (this is shown in the pilot! Not only in S2-EP1!), Stolas only continued it.

The grimoire is *not* only Blitz's only way to access Earth. It's, supposedly, the easiest. Supposedly because we clearly see other low-class beings having access to Earth without stealing from some Goetia. Blitz is smart and capable enough to find a new way to go to Earth.

The fact that antis can only use this scene as a "prove" that Stolas is a rapist just prove how they didn't understand anything from the show (or they are ignoring it on purpose). Literally the next episode from the same season, Blitz denies having sex with Stolas. S1-EP2, "find some else's face to plant that feathered ass". Blitz has agency, Blitz consents, and he denies fucking Stolas. In "Harvest Moon Festival", Blitz says that the deal was not something he fussed about. He talks about his deal with Stolas with his friends as a transactional fucking (cause this is what it is), he denies sex with Stolas in "Ozzie's", and we can also see Stolas' messages in "Western Energy' saying that nothing was ever forced between them. Stolas never took the grimoire away from Blitz even after months being rejected. What lacked in their relationship was communication, not consent.

And I'm not even counting everything about "The Full Moon" episode. Blitz literally sings about how much he enjoys sex with Stolas, spends the whole day buying things to use on Stolas, begged for Stolas to *keep* the deal, said multiple times about how much the deal is something he enjoyed and wanted to keep, and told Loona and M&M about how Stolas never forced anything on him which lead to months without intimacy between them. Where is the coercion??? Simply, it's not there.

Once Stolas starts realizing that the world isn't a fantasy and the power imbalance between him and Blitz means that his class is deeply unpriviledged, he immediately finds an alternative way for Blitz to access Earth. He was feeling guilty for any possible 'abuse' he could've done (which didn't happen). The point is: antis can't see either Blitz's agency nor Stolas's intentions. They just care about their own paralel version of the show that never existed.

I'm sorry that antis affected the way you interact with the show. No one should feel guilty or ashamed for having fun and consuming media they enjoy, specially when the "critiques" are all based in lack of attention, lies and bad faith. But don't worry, Stolas is not a rapist, he is well meaning despite his flaws and you can cheer for Stolitz. We all know it's endgame.

Edit: also, Stolas spying on Blitz has nothing to do with antis's allegation. Yes he was spying on Blitz, he is a lonely fucked up man with nothing better to do lol Blitz also spies on M&M in a way worse level. Is that rape? Of course not.

[whateverloomis]

I told you they were witches man ✒︎ Scream (1996) x The Craft (1996)

Note: This is a cross-over fic and I highly recommend watching both Scream (1996) and The Craft (1996) movies to understand the story better.

Before reading: The reader is gender neutral, AFAB and referred with the pronouns They/Them. The "T" will always be capitalized and in italics so there's no confusion as to who's being talked about.

Warnings: Character death, cheating, supernatural powers, witches, SMUT, hint of blood play, choking, making out, unprotected sex, lot's of screaming, angst, unedited.

Pairings: Reader x Billy Loomis and Reader x Chris Hooker

Word count: 4.2k

-

It's wasn't a secret that witches exist... but in Woodsboro? The town was all about the ghost face killings that happened, but recently there had been rumors about witches roaming the area... as if that were needed in such a troubled place.

YN had been going to the towns community college for about a year now. They didn't have many close friends, not only because They're very selective with people, it's also because people can't be trusted in general.

The rumors started because of those who still remained in that popular kid headspace as if this were some kind of high school drama. Some people needed to learn to grow up...

One of the many that were spreading the rumor was Chris Hooker. An attractive football player that doesn't pay attention in class and flirts with whoever crosses his path. YN didn't appreciate his attitude most of the time, but They couldn't deny that he was great in bed. It was all fun and games, really. Temporary entertainment between the two.

Then there was Billy Loomis. The mysterious bad boy type. He had a tight friend group, and within it his girlfriend was included, Sidney Prescott. They'd been dating for over two years and their relationship had been declining ever since Sidney's mom was murdered. YN was also part of the friend group but wasn't loyal to it since They  belonged to the witch coven along with Nancy Downs, Bonnie and Rochelle.

Billy didn't like the little clique much and he didn't exactly approve of YN being part of it. The group weren't aware of Them being a witch, but Billy knew better. He'd been in YN's room before. He'd seen the candles, the tapestries with weird symbols on them, the intricate journal covers and other items that screamed witch.

"I don't know why you keep hanging out with that Billy guy, he's bad news YN." Nancy said in her usual sassy tone. YN rolled Their  eyes at her and scoffed. This wasn't the first time the topic came up, and it was starting to become too repetitive and annoying. YN was aware that Billy wasn't innocent. He was way too obvious about being involved in the Woodsboro murders along with his best friend Stu Macher, but They  were too involved with him at this point to just say goodbye and move on.

"Nancy quit it, you know it's complicated between us..." They said, and Bonnie smirked at Them, knowing it was a cheap excuse.

"Is it that way with Chris too? Because you guys have been pretty close lately too." Rochelle said and the other girls started to giggle.

YN rolled Their eyes and smirked in response. "Stop it guys, I have it all under control."

Suddenly the witches went quiet and looked behind YN.  They  turned around and saw Chris standing against a tree nearby, clearly waiting for Them.

Nancy stood up along with the rest of the girls and flipped Chris off before leaving their usual picnic area.

YN walked over to the man and stood right in front of him, arms crossed over Their chest. He looked at Them from head to toe and smirked, placed his hand on Their hip and took a few steps forward.

"I saw you talking to Billy this morning. You trying to replace me now? Hm?" Chris said and YN rolled Their eyes. "Stop. I told you what's up and you're the one that said it's fine, now you're getting jealous?" They answered firmly.

Chris bit his lip softly and pulled Them closer to him, placing a soft kiss on YN's lips. "I know baby, I just miss you that's all..." He said and kissed Them again, prolonging it until it got heated.

He moved YN's hands around his neck and placed his on Their  hips, pulled Them against him and ran his hands down to Their ass, squeezing the soft flesh before moving them up to YN's waist, squeezing there too.

His kisses and touches were intoxicating and YN hated it, yet couldn't get enough. Chris knew the power he had over Them and took advantage of it as much as he could. He was aware that their little game wouldn't last long. Billy and YN had a more involved relationship and eventually it was going to end for both Chris and Them. It didn't matter though, at least that's what he told himself. His feelings for YN weren't strong, but they were definitely there.

The kiss continued to escalate. Chris had his thigh in-between YN's legs and They were slowly grinding against him to get some kind of stimulation and release tension. He knew how to get YN worked up and loved doing so.

Suddenly, Chris stopped his movements and turned YN around, pressing Them against his chest while wrapping his arms around Their waist. YN saw Billy standing a few feet away looking at the both of them. They tried to pull away from Chris, but he held Them in place and started to place kisses on Their neck, a weak spot. An involuntary moan escaped Their mouth at the feeling but They were quick to push Chris away.

"Don't be a fucking asshole" YN said and turned around to look at Billy with an apologetic look. Chris laughed while giving Billy a glare.

"Sure, my bad. Catch you later babe, we're not done yet." Chris said loud enough for Billy to hear and jogged away.

YN flipped him off and walked over to Billy who had annoyance written all over his face.

"Is he really that good of a kisser? Because I'm sure I can do way better." He asked and YN smacked his arm playfully. Billy rolled his eyes and held YN's hand and squeezed it a bit harder than usual before walking towards his car.

-

The ride to Their house was quiet until Billy and YN arrived at Their  house. Lucky for both of them the house was empty so they went up to YN's room to finally have some alone time.

Billy was on edge because of what he had seen earlier between Chris and YN. He had agreed to whatever triangle was happening between them, but he had enough of it. YN was all he wanted and he was going to make sure he got it soon. That, and execute his plan to kill Sidney for revenge because of his mother abandoning him. Getting rid of the girl in general. That was going to allow him to have YN all to himself, but he needed to get through with the plan carefully in order to succeed and not get caught.

As much as he didn't like YN's witch friends, he found himself with no choice but to team up with them somehow, which is why he ended up getting Nancy involved in his plan to get rid of Sidney Prescott and Chris Hooker. Billy didn't need that asshole running around after YN like a desperate puppy any longer.

It was a simple plan. Stu was going to host a big party to get everyone together in the same house. Nancy would serve as a distraction and asset by hooking up with Chris in Stu's room and creating a scene by pushing him off the second floor to scare everyone away. While chaos went down, Billy and Stu would have the opportunity to kill Sidney and run away with YN.

It was the perfect plan. The perfect ending. Everyone would win.

-

Billy couldn't contain his emotions any longer. He had anger, jealousy and hurt written all over his face. YN walked towards him and placed a hand on his cheek, looking straight into his chocolate brown eyes that held the power to hypnotize whoever he pleased.

"I'm sorry about... Listen, Chris is an asshole and was messing around, it's not that serio-" -- "Then break it off. Stop whatever the hell is going on between you two. Am I not enough for you, YN?" Billy cut Them off.

YN closed Their eyes and took a deep breath. "Billy, I love you and only you, but you hurt me everyday. We're going behind Sidney's back and you seem to find every excuse to stay with her even if you say your relationship with her is long gone." -- "It is. I need you to trust me on this YN, I can't just break up with her abruptly, I need some time to-" -- "To find the right moment? That's what you always say Billy, and it never happens. I have a right to be with whoever I want to be until that happens because whatever this is, it's not real until it's over between you two!" YN said, all patience lost.

Chris was a distraction for Them. A fun game that kept Them from thinking about the things that hurt the most which was not being able to have a normal relationship with Billy. It was a mutual, silent understanding they both had, but Billy needed Them all to himself already but before that happened he needed to go through with his plan. It was complicated and he didn't know how to keep lying to YN any longer, but he had to make it work, he had no choice.

YN's breathing slowly picked up and Billy took note of it. "Look, I promise this will be over soon... Me and Sidney. We're nothing." -- "Then prove it to me, Loomis. Break up with her already. Make your "promise" come true once and for all!" They practically screamed and the air started to shift. Billy looked around the room and his heart rate picked up. That wasn't normal wind.

"YN, please calm down. We're gonna work this ou-" -- "Don't tell me to calm down! I can't!" They screamed, and the wind blowed aggressively, making all the papers spin around the room as well as the candles on the night stand and shelves light up by themselves. A force that YN couldn't control anymore. That They were tired of hiding from Their secret lover.

As scared and shocked as he was, Billy placed his hands on YN's shoulders, attempting to ground Them, and to his surprise it was working. The environment around the room started to calm down slowly, until everything went silent and still. They both looked at each other for a few seconds but it felt like minutes. They were both scared for different reasons, but no words were spoken. There was only a silent understanding and acknowledgement between the two. He knew that was a supernatural reaction but despite it all, Their secret was safe with him.

Billy looked at YN and slowly scanned his eyes over Their face until his gaze landed on Their lips. Despite everything, he loved Them. Needed Them. Billy couldn't stand close to Them without wanting to have his hands on Them. It was a force that he felt, an attraction that he couldn't describe, and YN felt it too. They took a step towards him, feeling the mix of emotions. The love and hunger. It was electric.

Without warning, Billy crashed his lips against Theirs. The kiss was aggressive, full of love and anger. He grabbed Their hips and pulled Them towards him, deepening the kiss. Both of their tongues were brushing against each other softly and the pair bit their bottom lips occasionally. It was soft, it was rough, it was a delicious contradiction of movements and they couldn't get enough of it.

YN took the lead and lead Billy to Their bed, pushing him on it and sitting on his lap, continuing their kiss. The pair started to grind against each other and moan into their mouths.

They ran Their hands through Billy's hair and tugged at the strands. His actions got more aggressive by digging his fingers into Their waist and removing Their shirt slowly, revealing Their tits and he brushed his hands along the side of the mounds. YN released a moan at the soft touch and moved Billy's hands to squeeze Their tits firmly. Their small hands over his. They both played with YN's chest and moaned at the sight until they couldn't get enough of the teasing.

YN removed Billy's shirt desperately, followed by Their pants and thong. They both didn't have enough patience at this point, so Billy unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down just enough to release his cock. He was rock hard and They moaned at the sight. Billy moved Them towards his throbbing dick and They started to grind against his length, stimulating Their clit with each rub.

The pair started to make out furiously again while They continued to rub against his shaft and spread wetness all over Billy's cock, creating the perfect slide. YN occasionally pressed Their hole over the head of Billy's dick until he was barely inside Them, and then pulled up. YN repeated the action until both of them couldn't take anymore teasing and Billy buried his cock inside Their throbbing pussy, bottoming inside.They moaned and dug Their nails on the man's chest, hard enough to leave droplets of blood along the trail. They scratched down on his skin multiple times and Billy bit his lip at the sensation, trying to avoid making any noise, but he let out a grunt either way.

YN started to jump on his cock and roll Their eyes at the feeling of Billy's girth filling Them up. The man thrusted up meeting YN's movements, which made Them stick Their tongue out in response and pant like a wild animal. A primal desire taking over Them. Billy took the opportunity to run his finger over his chest to collect some of the blood droplets and place it on YN's tongue. On instinct They closed Their mouth, sucking and savoring the red substance. Billy's pupils dilated at the sight and something took over him. He used his other hand to choke YN softly, slowly adding more pressure to the sides of Their neck to restrict air flow in the most pleasurable way imaginable. The feeling of decreasing air made Them whimper pathetically and throb around Billy's cock uncontrollably, building up both of their orgasms.

"Fuck... Just like that baby, yes..." Billy cursed while his cock grew impossibly bigger inside of Them.

"Inside... Please... Cum inside me..." YN whimpered, feeling slightly lightheaded because of the restricted airflow which accelerated Their orgasm until the point of explosion. They came around Billy's cock and moaned uncontrollably. Their vision turning slightly blurry. Not long after Billy came inside Their overstimulated cunt, which caused Them to squirt all over the bed.

Billy chuckled at the "incident" and slowly pulled out of YN, biting his lower lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of Their throbbing pussy.

YN fell on the bed next to Billy, finally catching Their breath and gained back the loss of vision.

"I missed you." He said, and YN placed a soft kiss on his lips as a response.

-

"You guys coming to my party tonight?!" Stu literally screamed in Their ear and Tatum smacked his arm. "Keep it down doofus you're gonna explode my ear drums!" -- "Aww c'mon babe, I'm excited! So?! You guys coming or what?!" Stu asked Sidney and YN directly this time. Sydney showed a bit of discomfort and YN rolled Their eyes. "I don't know if it's a good idea to have a party with a killer running around..." Sid replied and Stu scoffed. "Nah, we'll all be together in a big group and safe, plus the witches will keep an eye on us too, right YN?" He replied and They glared at him. "I'm not a witch, Stu. Quit it." YN replied and he shrugged. "Hey witches, are you coming to my party?!" Stu asked YN's friends while running towards them. "Go away Stu!" Nancy answered and YN, Tatum and Sid giggled at his chaotic behavior.

-

The night arrived and the music was loud. Half of the college students were in the house. YN decided to arrive at the party with Nancy and the girls making a slight scene while walking in. The coven didn't exactly blend in with the normies with their dark hair, bold makeup and punk clothes, but fitting in wasn't exactly exactly their goal so, who cared?

The witches went into the kitchen and caught Stu passing around alcohol to everyone, which is exactly what they were looking for. YN spotted Chris and started to walk towards him, but Billy was quick to pull Them towards him and spin Them around to face him. "Hey baby..." He said, loud enough for YN to hear. His attempt to distract YN wasn't exactly the best because They saw his eyes following Nancy who was taking Chris upstairs. YN took note of his odd behavior but continued to casually interact with him and the girls, who were tense at his presence like usual.

-

Upstairs, Nancy took advantage of one of her new found power to transform her appearance, and made herself look just like YN in order to turn Chris on and get in his pants. She didn't mind it one bit since she's always had a thing for Chris and if she was being honest, she was kind of envious of YN for being able to get his attention so easily. 

Downstairs, things were completely different. Tatum was nowhere to be seen and Sidney was worried sick, looking for her everywhere. YN had lost Billy in the crowd a while after Nancy disappeared with Chris and decided to spend Their  time with Bonnie and Rochelle, trying to ignore the weird feeling that something bad was going to happen, and it was not going to be pretty.

"Where did Nancy run off to?" Bonnie asked and Rochelle shrugged. YN pretended to be clueless and went to look for her, knowing damn well that she was with Chris. Climbing the stairs carefully, YN walked past a few rooms and figured that Chris and Nancy were in Stu's room. They didn't want to think that Chris was an asshole to the point of hooking up with Nancy randomly before breaking off whatever was going on between him and Them, but anything was possible with "the popular guy" that could get into anyones pants at any moment.

YN hesitated to open the door, however when They finally did, the sight was unbelievable. It was some kind of clone of Them, with Chris on top grinding his hips against Them while kissing the clone aggressively, moaning and grunting. The neediest They'd ever seen him.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" YN asked and Chris climbed off the clone. "Who... I thought? I..." He was speechless, and when he looked at the bed he saw that YN's clone transformed into Nancy. His eyes widened and he yelled "You're a witch! A-And you too?!" He ended his sentence by pointing at YN.

Nancy started to laugh manically and They were furious at her response. Why would Their  friend and witch coven sister do this to Them? 

"Nancy what the fuck?!" YN screamed and pushed her off the bed with an invisible force. "Ah! Fuck, YN! Listen, I had no choice okay?!" Nancy answered and stood up, glaring at Them. YN pushed Nancy against the wall with another wave of force and the girl did the same, pushing Them against the closed door. YN couldn't move yet They kept trying to run towards Chris. Without warning, Nancy walked up to him and said "Sorry boo, duty calls" before pushing him away with a powerful gust of wind and out the window. "No! Chris! Wh- What did you do?!" YN screamed while finally pushing Themselves away from the door, launching at Nancy. Before anything else happened, screams were heard from downstairs and YN ran out of the room, leaving Nancy laughing wildly on the floor.

-

The living room was empty, and the few people that were left at the party were running out of the house to circle around Chris's body. He was dead, and YN didn't know how to process anything at that point. Tears were prickling at the corners of Their eyes as They ran away inside the house, closing the front door and locking it. Their heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was going to burst any second. The rational option was to call the police, so They ran towards the phone and dialed 911, but before They could say anything They heard screaming coming from the kitchen.

YN ran into the kitchen and saw Billy pointing a knife at Sidney and Stu with a gun. They weren't surprised, They had been suspecting the boys were definitely psychopaths but to see the intention of killing Sidney was not something They expected. Why Sidney?

"Billy?..." They called softly, and everyone in the kitchen looked at Them. "What's going on here? Why are you holding a... AND WHY ARE YOU SMILING?!" They screamed at Stu, noticing his idiotic expression and manic smile. "This just keeps getting better and better! Go ahead Billy! Tell your lover  what's going on!" Stu said and Sidney's eyes widened. "Lover?..." She asked YN, and the only way They could answer was with a shocked and apologetic expression. Confusion. Acceptance of the situation in a fucked up way too. 

"You see..." Billy started talking, pacing around the kitchen while pointing the knife at Sidney. "Sid's SLUT MOTHER was fucking my father, so I took it upon myself to slash the fuck out of her last year!" He explained, slowly raising his voice until he was screaming his lungs out. "It was you... This whole time..." YN answered in acknowledgment and hurt. "And me! Don't forget me!" Stu screamed and They glared at him. "So, you see... This is the reason why I didn't break up with her. THIS is the perfect moment I was talking about, YN." Billy said and suddenly slashed Sidney's throat, her body collapsing before him. "No! Fuck... Billy! This is insane! I can't... I-"-- "Baby c'mon, now we can be together! Isn't this what you wanted?!" He answered. "Yes... Billy, yes but... No! I didn't know it involved killing her! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO CLEAR THIS UP?!" YN responded just as aggressive as him and the air started to shift again. Stu explained the rest of their idiotic plan, being oblivious to the wind that was now circling around the house. 

The power went out unexpectedly and thunder started to erupt from outside. The boys looked around, confused because of the sudden change and then the girls appeared floating in the air, looking wickedly menacing. YN was overwhelmed with confusion and anger. Everyone was in on it.

"YOU WERE ALL IN ON THIS AND I HAD NO CLUE. HOW COULD YOU ALL BETRAY ME LIKE THIS?!" YN answered, tears falling from their eyes and smudging Their eyeliner all over Their face. "Oh c'mon! It's not like you were being any good either." Nancy said and chuckled along with the girls. "Why did you do this... Why?!" YN asked the witches and the girls continued laughing. "Oh c'mon, it's fun! Plus I got to fuck your boy toy one last time, so win win, right?!" Nancy answered and anger flooded YN's body. 

Billy walked towards Them and held Their hand, staring into Their eyes. "YN, baby, if I hadn't done this I wouldn't have been able to get REVENGE!" he screamed the last word while pointing at Sidney's body with the knife. "...or be with you." He added, sweetness laced between his words now. 

YN looked at him softly but the anger towards the witches overpowered Them, so They turned around and glared at the girls. "Get out of my sight AND NEVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN!" They said and the witches laughed in response, slowly disappearing into thin air. "Good luck solving this mess, bitch!" Nancy said before they all vanished into thin air. The power came back right after and YN turned around taking a deep breath, it doing nothing to calm Them down. They looked at Billy and allowed Themselves finally cry. 

From the floor behind the counter, Stu was sitting on the floor, knees pressed against his chest. "I told you they were witches man..." he said and Billy pointed the knife at him. "Go check if the cops are here. NOW!" The man screamed and Stu quickly did as he was told, nearly tripping on the way to the front door.

Billy looked at YN and attempted to comfort Them byholding both of Their hands now. "Listen, we're gonna get out of here and start a new life. Leave this dump of a town." -- "Billy... As much as I want that, I don't know how to process what just happened. I'm scared. I'm confused. I feel everything and nothing at the same time." They said. 

"Billy man, it's the cops!" Stu said while running into the kitchen. Before anyone could move, two police officers entered the kitchen, pointing their guns at the boys and YN. "Sheriff, I didn't do anything!" Billy said, a very stupid comeback but it's all he had. "Like hell you didn't. Hand's behind your back. You're under arrest for the murder of Sidney Prescott." The cop said while pushing Billy over the counter, cuffing the man while he struggled against the restraints. "YN, please-" -- "Shut up and walk!" The cop shouted and pushed Billy towards the door. The second cop did the same with Stu while he whined about being innocent and cried because his parents would be mad at him for the mess they created, out of everything else he should be concerned about.

YN was taken out to one of the ambulances, left with Their thoughts and expressionless face. What now?

[spiegelgestalt]

I want you to want me (Part 1/3) - Privileged boy learns to consider other people's feelings

So here's the thing. I don't believe Jinshis communication issue is keeping his desires to himself. That boy if he wants something will make his desire known if you want it or not. He will chase you with his gaze, he will try to feed you honey, he will shower you with gifts, he will declare that he will marry you in front of everyone via symbolism anyone who isn't pretending to not get the hint would get the hint.

Jinshis real issue is recognizing boundaries, excepting them and not treat people like things. He actively has to fight the mindset that he just can do everything what he wants. And in the beginning no one his helping with this (sorry not even Gaoshun and Surei). This is an issue people with power/privilege often run into because the more power you have the less people will tell you no directly to your face. You have to intuit it.

Let me show you some of the development Jinshi goes through in LN 1 (consider this your spoiler warning also my hand slipped, this will be long and disorganized and will have a part two)

The hairpin scene

"This hurts Sir!" This time she didn't hide her displeasure. [...] "Does it? I give this to you"

The scene begins with Jinshis getting closer and closer to Mao Mao who for once isn't wearing her freckles. Gaoshun notes that he looks like a boy who's playing with his toys. Banter starts then Mao Mao tells Jinshi that she disguises her face because she doesn't want unwanted attention from men. She doesn't want to be raped, she doesn't want to be kidnapped, she wants to be left alone. Jinshi learns that Mao Mao isn't in the rear palace because her family sold her into it but because she was kidnapped and sold. But it wouldn't make a difference to her either way. This does something to him because he has to consider for the first time that Mao Mao isn't in the Rear Place because of her own choice. She's unfree and that makes him feel bad. So how does he react to that revelation? He doesn't ask what she needs or wants he just stabs (HA! I'm so funny) her with his own desire to protect her and leaves it at that. And thing is, giving Mao Mao the hairpin is a nice thing to do - the hairpin is basically Mao Maos ticket out of the rear palace if she wants to use it. It's protection, it's safety, it's freedom in a certain way. BUT it also means that she belongs to him and Jinshi doesn't consider even for a second that this is something Mao Mao wouldn't want. Even though all she's giving him are dirty looks. He wants her, so she belongs to him. She is his toy. He's absolutely blindsided by Mao Mao not relying on him. That's why he thinks he has a right to question Mao Mao who Lihaku is once she used Lihakus hair pin instead of Jinshis. And to give credit were credit is due he accepts that Mao Mao doesn't want to use his hairpin. He accepts the boundary once he realizes it's there. But this is something he really struggles with.

Please execute me with poison

This is another important scene for Jinshi and it shakes him to his core: after a Courtesan kills herself Mao Mao tells him point blank that she can't refuse him because he has the power to have her executed. And this manufactures non consent even if Jinshi would never ever give the order. This is something Jinshi didn't realize and didn't want to know. Powerful people rarely want to know why people consent to their actions.

But once he knows he wants real enthusiastic consent from Mao Mao. He just has no idea how to get this consent. And he doesn't know yet that Mao Mao feels safer when she's just a tool but he will learn that too, because he values Mao Maos feelings even though he will make a lot and I mean a LOT of mistakes on the way. Some of those mistakes might be dealbreakers for some people. Not me though because i see this through line and I find it important! It's his character arc. One of the reasons Jinshi and Mao Mao get to have the semi equal relationship they have in LN 10 is because Jinshi actively wanted her to be his equal. Mao Mao would have been fine to just follow orders. Gaoshun notes that she is a useful and willing tool. Jinshi makes everything more difficult for himself. But only because he does, there is a chance for a real relationship to bloom.

(SN: This makes him different from Lakan who I really like but let's face it: Lakan doesn't respect Mao Maos wishes at all. Lakan desires Mao Mao as a daughter and wants to take her away. He never even stops to consider that Mao Mao already has a father. He also never considers that she might like the brothel she grew up in. He just wants to be close to her. In one of the later Novels Mao Mao mentions that she can't give him even an inch because he would never let go afterwards. It's this desire she dislikes)

.

[dmitriene]

— divine temptations.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«things on your chest» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«you need to confess» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i will deliver» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «you know i'm a forgiver»

summary: Leon Kennedy is a beautiful personification of the holy father — and you are a beautiful personification of his main weakness for sin. content: priest re6 leon kennedy x fem reader tags: fluff, comfort, maybe a bit of possesivness, nsfw, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, marking, little communication, mentions of sin and sensitive topics for theists. author's note: well, hello there! i've seen couple of work's about priest leon but didn't actually think that someday i'll come with an writing about this topic too, but here i am, thanks to the one of the many best writing's that belong to @lipglossanon and that inspired me, hope you'll like this work! enjoy your reading) ⛪ (18+ warning)

Leon Kennedy was the epitome of an exemplary priest, with an aura of unwavering devotion and honesty.

Tall and majestic, he had a striking appearance that immediately aroused the respect of others, his dark hair was always neatly combed, framing a face that carried both the burden of responsibility and the kindness of a benevolent soul.

There was a depth in his cerulean eyes that seemed to reflect the vastness of heaven itself, as he spoke, whether from the pulpit or in private council, his words carried the weight of wisdom gained from years of unwavering dedication, his voice, rich and sonorous — had a reassuring effect, like the gentle reassurance that comes from knowing someone who has found their purpose and lived it to the fullest.

He wore his priestly robes with grace that spoke of his devotion to his calling, the white collar of his cassock was a symbol of his sacred duty, connection with the divine, which he wore with humility and pride, the dark fabric of his clothes absorbed the cares of those who sought his guidance, as if he willingly carried their burden on his shoulders.

Leon's actions were evidence of his unwavering commitment to his convictions, he tirelessly cared for the needs of his flock, providing both spiritual comfort and practical help to those in need, his days were often filled with visiting the sick, comforting the mourners and listening to those who sought advice, his hands, accustomed to to the weight of the Bible and the touch of the rosary, carried a gentle power that left an indelible mark on the lives he touched.

In the sacred walls of the church, his presence radiated a sense of holiness, as he led the faithful in prayer and delivered sermons that spoke of the human condition, his sincerity shone, he was a beacon of hope, a guiding star for those who overcome the difficulties of life's problems.

Respected and recognized by the community, Leon's reputation was built on a foundation of unwavering ethics, he never shied away from difficult conversations, addressing the complexities of faith and morality with a balanced approach that encouraged thoughtful introspection, his openness to discussion and willingness to meet people where they were. contributed to a sense of trust and inclusion within the congregation in their spiritual journey.

In a world that often seemed uncertain, Leon remained an unshakable pillar of faith, his life was a living embodiment of his convictions, an example of how to overcome the difficulties of the modern world while remaining true to eternal principles, he was more than a priest — he was a mentor, a confidant and source of inspiration for those who have searched for meaning in their lives.

The church has always exuded an air of eternal reverence and holiness, a quiet silence reigned in the air, as if the walls themselves held the echoes of centuries of whispered prayers and solemn vows, sunlight filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of colored light on polished marble floors, the air was saturated with a delicate aroma aged wood, candle wax and a lingering scent of incense, creating a sensual symphony that transports visitors to the realm of devotion.

High vaulted ceilings rose overhead like evidence of the divine, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting biblical scenes in vivid detail, soft choral music played softly in the background, its soothing melodies floating in the air like a gentle embrace, rows of benches lined the nave, each was decorated with intricate designs, their austere beauty offering both comfort and a sense of the sacred.

Candles flickered on ornate candelabra, casting dancing shadows on the walls and creating a serene atmosphere contemplating, rows of prayer candles stood guard, their gentle flames representing the hopes, fears and aspirations of those who came in search of solace.

The altar, bathed in warm golden light, was the center of the church, its elaborate decorations and ornate crucifix a reminder of the sacrifice and grace at the heart of faith, and the scent of incense hung in the air, a fragrant offering that rose to the heavens with every slight rise and fall of the censer.

As you walked through the church you could almost feel the weight of history in the very stones under your feet, the atmosphere was filled with reverence and quiet introspection, a space where the burdens of the world could be cast aside and the connection with the divine felt palpably, it was a refuge where souls could find respite from the restless outside. a world where prayers whispered in the shadows met with a sense of understanding and acceptance.

In this sacred space of the church, the stories of generations were preserved, imprinted on every pew, stained glass windows and carved reliefs, it was a place where people sought guidance, redemption and the comfort that comes from knowing that they are not alone on their spiritual path, the atmosphere embraced all who entered , inviting them to find their connection to the divine and explore the depths of their faith in a haven of calm and serenity.

And just at the moment you entered Leon's field of vision, there seemed to be a change in the atmosphere, the very air was filled with an energy that was both inspiring and unsettling, but as you stood there, dressed in the sacred robe of a nun, a soft, unearthly fabric seemed to shimmer with its own light, casting an otherworldly glow around you.

Your presence was a mesmerizing contrast to the solemnity of the church, like an enchanting angel descending to Earth, your appearance evoked a sense of wonder that seemed to go beyond the ordinary, the pure white color of your clothes was a canvas on which innocence and faith were painted, a visual representation of devotion that you kept deep in your heart.

But it was your eyes that really caught his attention, wide and bright, they shone with a hint of childlike innocence, in their depths he could see the source of unshakable faith, faith in something more that radiated out like a beacon, those eyes carried wisdom that contradicted your youthful appearance, as if you were in touch with the divine, which was unique to you.

A soft smile played on your lips as you approached, and his thoughts seemed to scatter like leaves caught in a gust of wind, as if your presence had the power to silence the cacophony of his mind, leaving only a quiet, gentle resonance that echoed with your closeness, the weight of his duties and convictions suddenly seemed distant to him, replaced by a strange longing which he never allowed himself to acknowledge.

He devoted his whole life to his faith, unwaveringly adhering to his convictions, the idea of ​​crossing certain boundaries never visited him, he never allowed his thoughts to be distracted by the desires of the flesh, kisses, hugs or the warmth of soft touches.

But you, with your innocence and intimacy, broke down those carefully built walls.

Your soft smiles and innocent questions about how his day went shook his composure, your chirping voice is like a sweet melody, shattered the facade of restraint that he so diligently maintained, as if your very presence was an irresistible temptation testing the limits of his composure.

And then, in the moments when his patience wore thin, he found himself struggling to maintain his priestly detachment, your closeness became a magnet that drew him, his fingers yearning to touch, to hold, to feel the warmth of your presence — your skin next to his.

A struggle raged within him between vows he had taken and desires he had never allowed himself to acknowledge.

A dichotomy unfolded in your mere existence — the embodiment of purity and faith that you represented, and the turbulent whirlwind of emotion that your presence aroused within him.

The atmosphere has changed with you — the subtle dance of innocence and desire has left both his beliefs and his heart in a state of conflict he never expected.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ━━━━✙━━━━

There was a palpable tension in the quiet solitude of the empty church, a palpable tension in the air, the blazing candlelight casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floors — creating an intimate atmosphere of breathless anticipation as you stood at the pulpit, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of cloth as Leon approached and gazed at you.

— «Forgive me» he began, his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of his inner struggle — «I must confess that my thoughts were occupied with the most undesirable distraction»

Your eyes met his, the innocence in your gaze contrasting sharply with the turmoil that simmered beneath his calm exterior — «Father Leon» you whispered, and here was both understanding and a bold hint of something more in your voice — «Do you believe that God has created desires in us?»

Vulnerability flickered in his azure eyes, a crack in his armor revealing the inner conflict he was fighting — «I believe that our desires can sometimes lead us astray from the path of righteousness» he replied, his tone laced with a mixture of restraint and anguish.

Your smile was both knowing and gentle, soothing enough to make his heart tremble — «But isn't it possible that God also created these desires so that we could experience the fullness of our humanity?»

He hesitated, caught between the teachings he held dear and the feelings you awakened in him — «My child» he muttered in a fragile thread of voice — «This is the fine line we walk between the sacred and the profane»

In the midst of this delicate conversation, his resolve crumbled right before your eyes, the distance between you evaporated and you were at the podium, your breath mixing in a tense atmosphere.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and touched your cheek gently, his touch as fragile as a whispered prayer.

— «Maybe..» he admitted in a heavy from surrender voice — «There are times when the divine and the earthly intersect»

The air seemed to vibrate with tension pulsing between you, his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the struggle within him was evident in every wrinkle of his brows, and then, as if driven by forces beyond his control, his lips met yours in a kiss that contained in himself a deep anguish, which he had denied himself for so long.

For a moment, time seemed to stop, as the boundaries separating him from the desires of the flesh blurred and became insignificant, his arms hugged you, pulling you closer, his touch was a paradox of tenderness and perseverance.

The sacred space of the church witnessed this intimate communion, the union of souls that transcends the physical world.

In that stolen moment when his lips met yours, Leon's attachment to God and his devotion to his vows faded into the background, the dichotomy between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the carnal dissolved in the face of a common passion that flared up like a flame, long contained, in a silent sanctuary in an empty church, he indulged in the depths of desire he had denied for so long and found a connection that seemed both forbidden and divine.

You feel a wave of desire coursing through your body, fueled by the forbidden nature of your connection, despite your shared devotion to your faith, you find yourself unable to resist the charm of each other's touch, and you return his kiss with the same fervor, your lips meeting his with a hunger that matches your own.

As his hands slide over your body, you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine, even though you're still dressed in a modest nun's robe, his touch lights a fire in you, your body reacts instinctively, pressing closer to him, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

Your hands gliding over his broad shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscular body, the tension between you intensifies as you explore each other's bodies through the fabric of your clothes, the anticipation of what lies ahead intensifies with each passing moment.

Leon's hands, driven by his insatiable desire, penetrate the folds of your monastic robe, the touch of his fingertips on your skin is electrifying, his explorations are careful, but at the same time filled with the desire to explore every inch of your body.

As his hands move, he breaks the connection between your lips, his lips greedily rest on the soft skin of your neck, his breath passionately touches your skin and he leaves a trail of kisses and nibbles, marking you as his own in a fit of desire.

The combination of his hands caressing your body and his lips teasing your sensitive skin causes waves of pleasure to run through you, your breath hitching and a low moan escapes your lips as you succumb to the intoxicating sensation.

Leon continued to pay attention to your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of teasing sensations, he enjoys the quiet moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, his desire is fueled by the sounds of your pleasure.

As his fingers find their way to your clothed cunt he feels warmth and wetness betraying your arousal, a mixture of anticipation and lust coursing through his veins as he gently presses at the cloth, teasingly exploring your most intimate area.

Your reaction is immediate — a sharp sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, looking for comfort and a place to drown out your moans, the combination of his skillful manipulation on your neck and the teasing touch of his fingers on your clothed cunt threatens to undermine your self control.

Leon finds in himself the pleasure of the power he has over you, the control he has, pushing the boundaries of your desires, in this moment you are lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and sin, unable to resist the intoxicating charm of his touch.

— «P-please, father… m-more» your voice is a desperate plea among the quiet walls of the temple where only your sighs are heard.

He grins into your neck, his lips touch your skin and he listens to your plea for more, he enjoys the sound, enjoying his power over your desires, Leon lifts his head slightly and kisses your cheek gently, his breath passionately against your skin.

He takes your request as a signal to move on, to sink deeper into the sinful passion that consumes you both, with a deliberate and calculated movement, he bends down and pushes your panties aside, exposing your smooth folds.

His fingers, slippery with your arousal, slide over your wetness, teasingly probing your tender entrance, and with a slight pressure he slowly but firmly inserts one finger and bends it to find the point that makes you sigh of pleasure.

The feel of his finger inside you, combined with the constant attention he pays to your neck, sends waves of pleasure through your body, you find yourself indulging in sinful pleasure, your moans grow louder and desire reaches its climax.

Leon feels your body tremble at his touch, your grip on his shoulders tighter as you struggle to gain a foothold in the consuming pleasure, the feel of your nails scratching his shoulders through the fabric of his robe only heightens the tension of the moment.

As he inserts another finger, your walls instinctively tighten around his fingers, seeking to pull him even deeper into the depths of your cunt, the combination of his skillful movements and your heightened arousal brings you to the abyss of ecstasy.

A scream of pleasure escaped your lips as your orgasm engulfed you, your body trembling in his embrace, the intensity of your release engulfing you, leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sinful pleasure that none other than Leon awakened in you.

He enjoys the sight and sound of your pleasure, enjoying the control and dominance he holds over your desires in this moment, and in this moment of vulnerability and ecstasy you are both consumed by the depth of your sinful connection.

Leon's fingers on another hand is slide gently through your hair, a touch of tenderness amidst the tension surrounding both of you, his actions dramatically displaying a fleeting moment of complete softness.

But the respite is short lived as he leads you closer to the pulpit, forcing you to hold on to it for support, he moves behind you, his strong presence radiating as he takes control of the situation.

His hands slide along the edge of your monk's robe, slowly lifting it up, exposing the seductive curves of your body and grabbing your panties with his fingers, the fabric falling off, piling up around your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

With a deliberate and measured movement, he leans down and unbuckles the belt on his trousers, anticipation soars in the air, the sound of unbuckling the belt echoes through the quiet church, reminding you of the forbidden nature of your meeting.

As the belt falls to the ground, Leon's desire takes over again, his eyes filled with lustful hunger, the intensity of his gaze leaving no doubt about his intentions as he steps closer, ready to fully accept the sinful pleasure that awaits both of you.

His desires are at their peak as he steps behind you, his throbbing cock pressing against wet lips of your cunt, anticipation palpable in the air as he teases your clit, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

With a slow, deliberate push, he begins to penetrate, his powerful form filling you completely, the feeling of his cock's firmness stretching you, causing a mixture of pleasure and painful desire to flow through your body.

The sinful act when he entered you in the sacred walls of the church only increases the tension of the moment, the air is heavy from the weight of your desires, the echo of your whines is mixed with the quiet silence of the holy place.

Leon, driven by his primal urges, sets a relentless pace, his movements are firm and commanding, each push brings you closer to the edge of pleasure, your body reacts to his every touch, to every blow of his hardened cock.

In this moment of undisguised, forbidden passion, you surrender completely to the sinful pleasure that Leon delivers, getting lost in the overwhelming sensations that consume you.

As Leon continues to sink into you, your body arches towards him in search of deeper connection and pleasure, endless moans escaping your lips filling the air with your symphony of ecstasy, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tight as you lose yourself in sensation.

Your nails scratch at the pulpit, a desperate attempt to gain a foothold amid the all consuming pleasure, and sensing your need for restraint, Leon gently intertwines the fingers of his hand with yours, providing a tether to prevent any unintentional harm.

He gently slows down, his movements become more controlled and gentle, he treasures the vulnerability that you have entrusted to him, making sure that every touch and stroke is filled with care and attention.

The intensity of your connection remains, but Leon adjusts his rhythm according to your desires, he seeks to prolong the pleasure, to enjoy the moments of intimacy shared between you, in this moment you both find comfort and release, embracing passion.

Leon feels a tremble in your body as your knees buckle slightly, all consuming pleasure threatening to consume you completely, light sobs escape your lips — a mixture of pleasure and the impending release that awaits you.

He leans in and kisses your cheek gently, his lips giving a brief respite from the intensity of the moment, his touch soft and soothing, a reminder that even in this sinful act there is a moment of comfort.

He understands the power of your impending orgasm, the power that will soon overwhelm you, he enjoys the knowledge that he has led you to this abyss, that he has kindled a fire of pleasure within you.

As your walls clench around him, the stranglehold of your orgasm grows, Leon remains steadfast, his movements become more measured and precise, he wants to witness your orgasm, to feel your body convulsing as you surrender to an consuming ecstasy.

At that moment, you are both teetering on the edge, your desires intertwined in an intricate dance, and Leon is here, ready to take you through the waves of pleasure, to catch you as you fall into the abyss of your orgasmic release.

And then your body reaches its peak, the tension inside you subsides and you emit a final whine of pleasure, your legs trembling, threatening to give way as the waves of orgasm hit you, leaving you feeling sluggish and empty for a moment.

Feeling your orgasm, Leon continues his powerful thrusts, rapidly approaching his climax, the combination of your walls squeezing him tightly and the abrupt intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge.

With a guttural moan, he finds his way out inside you, his hot cum spilling deep into your cunt, the intimate connection as he fills you only enhances the sinful pleasure that runs through your bodies.

Both of you remain trapped in this moment of shared bliss, bodies trembling and hearts pounding, your joint orgasms echoing through the empty church, the air scented with the passion and consequences of your union.

At this moment, you gain a temporary respite from the chaos and darkness that often surrounds you, holding your breath, tangled in each other's arms, you both understand that this forbidden meeting has left an indelible mark on your souls.

As Leon's feelings return to him, his attention shifts to the aftermath of your passionate encounter, he zips up his pants with his usual neatness, regaining his composure and with a gentle touch he straightens your disheveled clothes to make you look as collected as possible.

Gently he lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his office with purposeful but soft steps, walking, he steps over drops of cum on the floor, acknowledging the evidence of your mutual intimacy, and showing attention, he picks up your discarded panties from the floor and discreetly puts them in his pocket not to be left behind.

A thought crosses his mind, reminding him that he must mop the floor to erase all traces of your meeting, he makes a mental note to do this task later, making sure no trace of your forbidden connection remains.

Before entering his office Leon pauses, and his eyes reflect a mixture of desire and affection as he leans down and kisses the top of your head gently, a quiet gesture of comfort and connection, at which point he acknowledges the complexity of your relationship and the importance of the choices you both made.

With confident yet gentle determination, he carries you into his office, ready to face the consequences and walk the uncertain path that may lie ahead, while he enjoys the weight of your warm body in his arms.

Now he has his own angel.

[ taglist: @roseglazedlens, @sporeghost, @daydreamrot, @scar-crossedlvrs ] dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

© dmitriene - my masterlist or ao3 please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[ilys00ga]

𝐓𝐈𝐙𝐈𝐑𝐈 (2/2)

Tiziri (n): often used as a feminine name within some North African communities, tiziri is an Amazigh word that means 'moon' or 'moonlight'. It reflects and symbolizes the tranquility, serenity, and beauty associated with the moon. (proud amazigh moment)

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc

: ̗̀➛ tags: supernatural/superpowers, sorcerer!yoongi, belly dancer!reader/oc, private entertainment worker!reader/oc, arabian/middle eastern older eras settings, use of weapons (rifles and daggers), time traveling, no smut.

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: In a world of simplicity and ordinary, Yoongi was only a teenage boy stuck in a turmoil of his indentity and purpose in life when he embarked on a long, tough journey of endless obstacles and ignorance. For years, he traveled the world and crossed paths with all kinds of humans and characters, all kinds of situations and dangers. He worked on honing his powers and bringing honor to his kind, despite, and despite, and despite. However, nothing could ever compare to a certain set of eyes. Not that he would ever believe that himself, anyway.

OR: when a powerful sorcerer falls to his knees in front of a belly dancer’s eyes.

: ̗̀➛ A/N: it's here!!!!!! finally. as I said before, there will be a "sequel" to this, so don't worry, it's not the end 😆 anyway, I hope u like it! stay tuned for more lolol. also, PLEASE interact with the post, I have no idea why the first part got such low reaches, and I don't really mind tbh, but I really like this fic and I worked hard on it 😕 so rb, and all that. and ofc, ur feedback is always welcomed and appreciated! have fun <33

: ̗̀➛ warning: this piece of fiction does not represent any community or ethnicity or group of people. I was inspired by the arab/middle eastern culture (as a semi arab myself), but it's all a product of my imagination. I hope this point is clear.

- unrevised, ignore the mistakes tyvm 🙏

★ MASTERLIST.

★ CHAPTER INDEX.

Deeper into the night, the moon was hanging high in the dark night sky. A full round disc shining down on the noiseless alley of the big, old village. The only faint sound that could be heard was that of crickets singing their nocturnal songs somewhere in the distance.

For a good, long moment, Yoongi stared at the dagger that woman was holding in her hand. Long blade and sharp point dangerously close to his waist.

The air between them carried a new tension. He lifted his gaze and met her cold one. Her teeth gritted in what could only be pain as she continued putting pressure onto her injured shoulder. Her figure was slightly slumped, soft pants still leaving her mouth, but her brown eye held a seriousness he found intriguing. He wondered where she’d been hiding the object all this time—or more accurately, where she'd get all of that stamina from after running in that state.

“One wrong move and I'll bury it in your chest.” She started, confidence unwavering in her tone.

Yoongi chose silence, debating whether he should make the pointed object slip out of her hold or make the effort of taking it out himself.

“Answer my question, I know them objects did not move on their own.” She added. “Talk.”

After a long moment of careful observation, Yoongi finally spoke, his voice calm yet strict and rigid. “Put that down.”

She parted her lips, ready to spill something in return to his command, when he quickly pinched the air with his thumb and index finger, sealing her lips shut together. He ignored her startled expression and listened attentively to the rushing footsteps approaching their corner, not forgetting to throw a warning glare at her.

The area they were in was still and quiet. The clear sound was growing closer and closer. He carefully stepped back, pushing her further into the small spaced nook they were hiding in.

A few more intense seconds passed, and three figures sprinted right past them, completely unaware of their presence. Yoongi could tell from their attire that they belonged to the same group that was chasing after them minutes ago.

They stayed like that for a little while, until an eerie silence took over the alley again. He slapped the dagger out of her hand with ease and spoke, “There's no time for this. We need to move.”

He stepped out of the alcove, eyes scanning the area warily, when he noticed her odd silence. “Oh right.”

Her hand flew to her mouth once he snapped his fingers and unsealed it again. “Goodness! I knew it!!”

Yoongi ignored her exclaim and turned to glare at her again, his voice low and empty of debate. “Start walking or stay here, I don’t care. I’ve already done enough.”

Not waiting for a response, he took one of the many bends and turns in the street, blindly making his way through the streets.

“Stop!” She shouted. Yoongi lifted his hand up, inching his thumb and pointer finger slightly closer to one another and making her lips twitch as a result. A quiet, wordless warning from him.

He didn't stop, walking towards another turn in the many options of alleyways the village presented before him.

“Foreigner, you're heading towards the local market again.” She tried again, her voice a little harsh this time, annoyed.

Yoongi stopped at that, slowly turning around to face her with a blank face. She eyed him for a brief moment, her shawl hanging around her shoulders, one side was soaked with blood. Then, she sighed again. “That man who was chasing after me was a high ranking one, somewhere close to the Sultan himself. He saw you with me, there’s no way you can get away now.”

A deep frown appeared on Yoongi’s face as he listened carefully. She continued talking: “I know a place nearby, come.”

“It’s still dangerous out there. This…inn is all we have in this area.” She said, before making her way into it. Yoongi kept a watchful eye on his surroundings as he followed her inside.

They stood in front of a desk. The man sitting there was smoking. He looked like he wanted to be smoking a hookah at a local coffee shop while reading a daily magazine instead of sitting there.

His brows rose up as he observed Yoongi first, then at the woman beside him and her injured shoulder. Back and forth, until his gaze settled on the sorcerer.

Yoongi cleared his throat. "Two rooms.”

A brow lift was what he got in return. “Two? We only give one room service.”

“Just give us the keys.” The woman intervened.

The worker looked like he wanted to say something as he eyed her up with a faint smirk, but he remained silent and tossed a key on the desk in front of them.

She picked it up and began walking towards the room they were granted.

Yoongi wasn’t sure what he was expecting for an inn to look like in that village, but something told him it wasn’t something that looked like the one they were in—or at least not usually.

There were only two floors in the building. It was easy to conclude the small space of each room from the number of doors in each level, just like the one they’d ended up in. It didn’t have much in it, simply a king size bed and a small bedside table. a small round rug beside the bed, and a small window that affords a view of the street outside. After further inspection, Yoongi found a small bathroom too.

She sat down on the bed with a hiss. Her face was a little paler than it was moments ago, and the hand of her injured shoulder was trembling slightly, but her face held onto a serious expression nonetheless as she studied him carefully.

He could feel the question sipping out of her mouth before she even moved it to speak. But then, a series of muffled noises came from one of the other rooms, or maybe more than one, it was hard to tell. He could tell they were a mix of groans and whimpers, even some creaking noises could be heard here and there.

It wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together to figure out what type of place he ended up in that night, and a strong urge to palm his face and sigh almost overwhelmed him, but he fought against it and kept his face emotionless.

She was the one to break their tense staring battle. A faint blush—so faint he could’ve easily missed it under the dim light of the candles scattered in the room—appeared on the apple of her cheeks for a brief moment.

He watched as she sighed, loaded with heaviness and tiredness, before she spoke, “this is the only place we can afford to stay in this area of the village.”

A pause took place between them after that. Their silence was louder than the muffled noises that lingered longer than Yoongi was comfortable with, though he didn’t show any sign of that, as per usual.

He cleared his throat, seeking to brush the weird surge of emotions that settled in his core all of a sudden, then said: “Let me see your injury.”

Her head snapped up to meet his stubbornly blank stare. “What? No, it’s alright.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you to do so.”

When she didn’t provide an answer, he continued to speak: “I can cure it. Let me see.”

She breathed in, let it stay in her lungs for a second, then let it out with a scoff. “Fine then. Just be quick.”

Without further ado, Yoongi stepped closer to the bed. He stood at the edge, putting a small distance between them as she removed her shawl, uncovering her wound. Though he did not show any signs of it, he did feel relieved when he saw that it was nothing but a semi thin slice across her shoulder. He could tell the sharp object digged decently enough for it to leave a painful sting behind, and he wondered how she still managed to bear it all that time.

After eyeing the injury up, he asked, “How did this happen?”

“The bastard stabbed me.” Noticing his questioning look, she added, “that man you saw holding a gun earlier, he was going to stab me in the chest, but I moved just in time and this happened.”

He wordlessly reached for a pouch he had hung at his waist, taking out a small piece of cloth that had enigmatic words and symbols all over it, then a tiny jar filled with an unusual purple liquid.

After putting the pouch back on his hip, Yoongi grabbed the fabric of the sleeve around the injury and tore it open. Her eyes blew open at that, a frown appearing between her brows.

“Relax. It needs treatment.” He said, voice surprisingly soft.

The persistent noises coming from the other rooms did a wonderful job at making the situation less at ease than it should’ve been, but she pressed her lips in a thin line and let him clean the blood around the cut with a wet towel he'd grabbed from the bathroom.

After cleaning the area as best as he could, Yoongi took the cloth and put it atop the injury, covering it entirely. A soft, barely audible gasp escaped her lips when it latched onto her skin almost immediately, as if it had a life of its own.

“It feels weird.” She said.

Yoongii allowed his finger to brush the skin around the cloth when he noticed her confusion. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but his touch was so soft, it left goosebumps in its wake. “Drink this.” He gave her the tiny jar with his free hand, then moved to lean against the wall, eyes fixed on her figure.

The way she was eyeing it up in her hand, a mix of fascination and cynicism all over her face, did not go unnoticed by him. “It’s a medicine. A potion if you will. It will help recover your energy in a few seconds.”

After hearing his words, she glanced up at him. Her face was inscrutable, her brown eye roamed his own face, searching for something in its curves and sharp edges. “Are you a witch? A magician, perhaps?”

One of Yoongi’s brows arched up at her guesses. It’s in his blood, a sorcerer's biggest displeasure is being referred to as such lower ranking species. He pushed a light breath out of his lungs, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. His little confession came out with some irritation in his tone. “I am a sorcerer, not a witch. And definitely not a magician.”

“Same thing..” She gave a small roll of her eyes, then drinked—in his words—the potion in one go. Her face scrunching up as soon as the bitter taste of it hit her buds.

“Why didn’t you just say so when I asked?” She asked.

“Humans are not to be trusted,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Her brows jumped up at his words. “So you trust me now?”

‘No.’ His response came almost immediately.

A silent beat followed that small conversation. The noises no longer lingered in the air, Yoongi was thankful for that. He proceeded to speak again. “Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid?” She scoffed. “Please– I meet all kinds of males on a daily basis.”

He arched a brow. The more he talked to her, the more intrigued and taken aback her twists and turns made him feel. A combination he wasn't a stranger to, but it all seemed different right there and then, for some reason.

“I knew you were an interesting one the moment I saw you back there.” She continued to say.

Yoongi studied her more. There was a smile that looked way too sly for his own liking stretching on her lips the more she talked. “Oh, right. You don't recognize me. Let me show you something.”

He watched as she began removing her eye patch with her uninjured arm. The same eye patch he'd been finding himself curious about the more he'd glanced at it.

For the very first time since she'd bumped into him in that alleyway, both of her eyes traveled up to meet his own. As soon as he caught the sight of that ice blue orb again, his breath hitched, and he was pulled back to that lounge room. In front of that group of dancers, in front of her.

Min Yoongi—as the powerful sorcerer with years and years of training and experience—found himself stuck in his spot in front of that pair eyes again.

How couldn't he notice before? Why can't he figure out how to breathe properly? Why was his body moving on his own?

For these questions, he could not think of an answer. And all of a sudden, he found himself crouching right at her legs, staring deeply into her eyes. His body continued moving forward, all on its own.

Maybe it was just his eyes playing games with him, or maybe he'd lost all sense of logic the moment their eyes met, but he could see that ice blue orb of hers glowing in his face. He could feal the dust of its light, little tiny drops of glitter floating and falling on his cheek.

The distance between them got thicker by the ticking seconds. He could feel her warm breath caressing the skin of his face, could feel the warmth radiating off of her entire body from up close.

Her lips were close to his. So, so close. They lingered in the distance, barely a breath apart from his, but he didn't move. He froze up in his place and didn’t chase that warmth, finding himself putting a lot of effort into rejecting the weird grasp that refused to let him go. So much more effort than he should.

Sensing his resistance, she leaned forward, seeking that electric, fierce closure between them. To feel the softness of his skin touching hers. She was met with his finger pressed against her mouth with a gentle push, his eyes bore into hers with a new coldness in them.

For a brief moment, she looked taken aback, before switching to a confident smirk.

“A man with a strong control of self is a fine man.” She whispered, voice hushed and sultry.

One of his fingers traveled up to caress the skin under that special orb of hers, his touch soft and tender, unlike his intense gaze. Something about it kept playing with the strings of his restraint really hard. The more he looked, the harder it pulled. He did not like that.

Noise broke out down the corridor, pulling him out of the mayhem of his own desires and thoughts. He quickly flinched away from her, sucking a deep, silent breath in and bringing himself back on earth.

He felt confused, like he’d just woken up from a long, hot summer afternoon nap. His heart was beating fast in his chest. He did not like that, did not like whatever was happening to him, whatever was behind his state.

“What’s that noise?” She asked, her smirk lingered a little longer as she watched his mystified appearance, before turning into an alerted sharpness as she looked towards the door.

Once he got a stricter grip on his surroundings, Yoongi stood up and pressed his palm flat against the door, sensing the area outside.

Silence stretched inside the four walls they were in. The only noise palpable in the air was that of the chaos creeping closer and closer towards their room. The sound of shouting and struggling coming from different people at once.

Yoongi didn't move an inch, devoting his senses into analyzing the situation behind that door. That was until he suddenly jumped back from his spot, and the door flew wide open.

Two masked men burst inside, pointing long rifles in their faces. One of them, the taller one who fixed them with a piercing stare, moved with an impressive speed and targeted Yoongi with his weapon, delivering hit after another using its butt.

Yoongi muttered a curse under his breath as soon as his back hit the floor. A curse for both his beater and the universe for feeding too much superpower into his being, neglecting a very important element in the process: his physical abilities.

Sure he was a good fighter, he could punch and kick hard to save his life, but his body of an excellent sorcerer had its own limits.

On her end, the belly dancer rushed to put her dagger to good use, a new found energy bursting through her limbs now that her shoulder was healed.

She rushed to the other masked man, dodging a bullet and stabbing him right in the stomach. A pained shout left him bent down, clutching onto his wounded abdomen.

As he saw his companion getting attacked, the one who put a firm, almost deadly pressure onto Yoongi's neck as he stepped on it raised his rifle towards her, ready to fire. But Yoongi growled, unclasping one of his hands that were wrapped around the leg abusing him to raise it in the air.

Within a second, the rifle flew right out of the man's arms, making him gasp. Yoongi was quick to take his chance and pull his leg hard, pushing his body up and letting him fall in the space behind him. He then quickly reached out to grab the woman's arm and drag her out of the room, towards the stairs that lead to the floors underneath them.

Just when they made it to the first few steps, a loud, booming sound echoed in the entire building.

Yoongi felt her arm slip from his grasp, falling to the ground. And when he looked back, his heart sank. She laid there, limpless on the head of the staircase.

The sound of their chaser's feet hitting the ground of the corridors grew louder. Yoongi ducked away just in time, avoiding another bullet targeting him.

His heart thumped in his chest. His legs moved on their own as he carried himself up and continued making his way down the stairs.

Bringing his wrist up to his lips, he started muttering incoherent, barely audible words into the chain that wrapped around it at a full speed. Its pendant flickered with a bright light, glowing as he chanted more words onto it.

Light burst in the entire floor, swallowing him and his surroundings whole, like a deadly, angry ocean wave.

Yoongi closed his eyes shut, then everything around him fell silent. The sound of his own pulse and ragged breathing dissolving into the light.

[ariadnesweb]

Weird to call Akio the show's 'representation of the patriarchy', because while no one would deny that he is the show's main patriarchTM, the show is not subtle at all about it's symbolic patriarchy within the student council, where social and gendered power rests. Within it, the student council dispute for the ideal among the ideal, the ability to polish their swords into eternal bliss alongside the rose bride, the shape of the world transformed into their own personal affirmations and anxieties - they just have to win the rose bride long enough for a miracle.

The student council is formed of imperfect patriarchs: Saionji at one point literally owned the rose bride, but he lost, and his sensitive impulsivity quickly gains him the repudiation of the rest of the student council - Saionji himself remains too stubborn to recognize this; Miki likes the illusion of perfection, and has a strong pulse on the social requirements of princehood, but is completely disinterested in committing to any of its responsibilities, and hasn't resolved his prior commitments to his current family; Touga makes a case for his ownership of Anthy, and lacks the obvious flaws both Miki & Saionji have, but doesn't have courage (resilience?) to return to the Student Council after getting beat by Utena, and his duties as president are soon recovered by his sister, and his authority overshadowed by Akio.

While Juri and Utena could not reasonably be called patriarchs, their relationships with other girls are defined by a coldhearted individualism in which only they, and they alone, are real people. Shiori is Juri's pretty jealous former best friend, and Anthy is Utena's annoying and clingy charge to protect. Beyond that, neither of them really connects with other women, partially due to their interests, partially because they single-mindedly overshadow the girls they surround themselves with, ala Wakaba & Nanami. Their own relationship is terse and hard to communicate. While Juri and Utena are driven by a proud and admirable determination, their isolation makes it easy for their 'love interests' (Ruka & Akio) to overshadow and undermine their place in the student council.

Nanami is a double-edged case - she is both the loudest and punitive with the social and gendered power given to her as 'Touga's Dear Younger Sister', quickly asserting it against women and children, she is also the most vulnerable to having said power used against her, placed as she is to depend on Touga, and alienated from the other girls who would understand her. Not that the other girls are liable to help her - they too have their complexes and insecurities. Though if all the other duelists are direct mirrors to Akio's relationship with Anthy, Nanami is a mirror to Anthy herself, and the idea of stolen power. Nanami is the Rose Bride's shadow counterpart, the Witch Sister who sneaks her place alongside boys who don't quite belong to her.

Of course, to all of these people, Akio is 'the Prince' - he's an adult, he has a car, he knows more than them, he has more experience than them in the matters of sex, he owns the Rose Bride in a way none of them can as her only older blood relative, he's the vice president of Ohtori.

That's not the reason Akio is Miss Utena's prince to banish, though. If we were looking at Akio from a different perspective, we could see he's imperfect too: stuck operating in the shadows, marrying into a higher-class family, isolated alongside Anthy as one of the only (presumed) indian persons in the school, defined by his failures as Prince Dios, and stuck in an incomprehensibly tangled love affair (...the importance of fucking your sister, your fiancee, your fiancee's mom, and anyone your sister could call a friend all at the same time). The thing is, compared to the other members of the student council, who go on about princes-princesses and their shining things, Akio is seemingly approachable as a married man, and as Utena's best girlfriend's brother, who does not talk about those things, and seems to treat Utena with respect.

And isn't that the dream every girl prince has? To find a peer that treats you as an equal? And as a child trying to grow up - someone who can show you what adulthood is like? Someone who could kindly teach you beyond the world you already know? Is it the End of the World? That's surely what a girl trying to become a woman is searching for.

(Except, and this is what Utena struggles to identify, Akio does not treat Utena like a peer, Akio treats nobody like a peer. Only superiors to appease, or children to keep distracted.)

[manzis-world]

I stood beside my uncle's coffin, my eyes fixed on his heart, my own heart heavy with grief. The funeral procession wound its way through the mist-crowded streets, the somber atmosphere mirroring my own sorrow.

As we entered the mansion, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. My father's eyes seemed to bore into me, his gaze cold and calculating. I knew what was coming.

The reading of Uncle Alfred's will only fueled my father's anger. "To my beloved nephew, Sirius Black, I leave my entire estate, including the legendary Yellow-Onyx Necklace."

Father's face twisted in rage, but he didn't say a word. As we returned to our mansion, I was summoned to his office. Regulus followed me, but he wasn't allowed to enter.

"Sirius, will you hand over that necklace to me?" Father demanded, his eyes blazing.

I stood firm, despite the fear clawing at my chest. "Uncle Alfred's wishes were clear. The necklace is mine."

I knew why my father wanted that necklace. It symbolized the head of the Black family, and with it came immense magical power – but only for those born into the Black family.

My father asked again, but I repeatedly said no. I wouldn't give him the necklace.

In anger, Father's face purpled, and he took his wand. Pain seared through me as the curse hit, and I felt my consciousness slipping.

As I crumpled to the floor, I realized james was right – our parents would never love me. They only cared about power and control.

Regulus' frantic voice echoed outside the office, but I knew he couldn't save me. Not this time.

Later, as I lay in my bed, Regulus' tears fell on my face. "Sirius, please don't leave me. Please stay alive. Please don't die."

I lay there, watching the ceiling, and realized we couldn't live in this house anymore. It was time to leave.

"Can you hear me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Regulus' eyes met mine, filled with concern. "Sirius, what do you need?"

I took a deep breath, my body screaming in protest. "We have to get out of here."

I was surprised. I had expected him to resist, to want to stay with our parents despite their abuse. But instead, he agreed.

I didn't voice my surprise. We didn't have time for explanations.

"Reg, take the trunk from under my bed. Pack my wand, the letter from the lawyer, and the key. Add anything you think necessary, but don't take anything from the house."

Regulus nodded and left. I watched him go, remembering the discovery I made while working on the Marauders' Map with James, remus and Peter.

We had stumbled upon a dark magic spell, one that revealed tracing charms on our belongings. I realized our parents had placed these charms to control us.

I had secretly replaced some of my items with duplicates, hiding the originals from our parents' prying eyes.

As Regulus packed, I slowly retrieved a magical mirror from under my pillow. James had made it for us to communicate in secret.

I called James' name three times, and his sleepy face appeared in the mirror. "What happened?" he asked, seeing my battered face.

I didn't have time to explain. "We're leaving our house and coming to you."

James nodded, already alert. "I'll be ready."

Regulus returned, kreature following closely behind. I raised an eyebrow, curious.

"What's going on, Reg?" I asked, my voice weak.

Regulus' expression turned serious. "I couldn't leave kreature behind. Mother will take her anger out on him when she can't find us in the morning."

I understood his concern, but I didn't have the strength to care for kreature right now.

"But Creature can't leave the house without Mother's permission," Regulus continued. "He's bound to her as his master."

Regulus looked at me, determination in his eyes. "I know a plan that will help kreature get free."

I nodded, intrigued. "Go on."

Regulus' voice dropped to a whisper. "We can use one of your old handkerchiefs to trick Mother into giving kreature clothing. It's a symbol of freedom for house-elves."

I nodded, a glimmer of hope rising. "Tell me more."

Regulus' eyes sparkled. "We'll place the handkerchief on Mother's table. When she gives it back to kreature, it will seem like she's giving him permission to leave.". I smiled weakly, proud of Regulus' quick thinking. "Let's do it."

I asked Regulus to retrieve the broom from under my bed, a gift from Uncle Alfred during my first year at Hogwarts."Fly me to the border, Reg. I don't have the energy."

Regulus nodded, understanding.

As we reached the border, I threw the trunk over to the other side. Regulus looked concerned.

"We can't cross the border without Father's permission," he whispered. "The protection magic won't let us pass."

I smiled, a plan forming in my mind. Although humans can't pass, but animals can."

Regulus' eyes widened as I transformed into a black grim dog.

"Don't be surprised, Reg. I'll explain later," I said.

I instructed Regulus to turn into his smallest size, utilizing the rare ability only a few Black family members possessed.

Regulus shrunk, and I gently took him into my mouth.

With Regulus secure, I bounded across the border, the protection magic powerless against animals.

As we reached the other side, I spit him out and collapsed in exhaustion. "Help," I whispered, my vision blurring.

Regulus grew back to normal, his face etched with worry. "Sirius, hold on!"

He dragged me to the main street, pulling out his wand. The knight bus appeared, thanks to the ticket collector's help. Regulus was able to help me board the bus. "Where to?" the collector asked.

"potter mansion Godric's Hollow," I replied.

As we settled into the bus, fear returned, and adrenaline vanished. We were both afraid of our father finding us before we reached James' house.

But as the older brother, I had to pretend to be stronger for Regulus, despite my weakened state.

As the bus moved, I drifted in and out of consciousness, Regulus' reassuring words echoing in my mind: "We will be alright, we will be alright."

Finally, we arrived at potter mansion, and James' family was waiting outside their home. Regulus helped me off the bus, but I collapsed into James' father's arms.

James held onto Regulus, concern etched on his face, as his father and mother rushed me inside.

James' mother tended to my wounds, her skilled hands gentle but firm. Regulus recounted our ordeal to James and his father, his voice shaking with emotion.

As I lay there, I saw the worry in James' eyes, the fear of almost losing his best friend. But I also saw the determination, the promise to stand by me no matter what.

With James' family's care, I slowly regained my strength, the warmth of their home and love a balm to my battered body and soul.

But even as I healed, I knew our journey was far from over. Our father's wrath still loomed, and we had to be prepared to face it together..

[masha-nikita]

How strong is his Mars?- Bernard Montgomery-

Here I am, two episodes of “How strong is his Mars? all at once. I am going to test a theory in Astrology community- you’ve got to have a strong Mars to be competent in the military.

Whether that theory is true or not, you guys know I have to talk about Monty.

Monty has Mars in Virgo; you see, I am writing about his Mars back to back with Patton’s, because Patton also has a Virgo Mars- so far, that makes 3 outstanding generals with Virgo Mars-- even though it is my opinion that Manstein’s Moon, not Mars, is where his military magic happens. Here I can say, Monty and Patton’s Mars works against the odds, and performs better, above Erich’s score.

I commented on Manstein’s Virgo Mars as follows- if stands alone without any other aspects, this Mars is too detail-oriented for its own good, especially in a fast-paced battlefield. An earth sign Mars has poor ability to take actions by intuition and improvising, unless favorably aspected by Neptune or moon. Virgo Mars possesses delicate tendencies to handle smaller details but may easily lose sight of what needs to be done on a grand scale. This Mars makes its native a fussing workaholic.

Monty’s Mars trines Neptune; this indicates that he intuits enemy actions reasonably well. With Mercury and Sun in harmonious sextile aspects, he’s supposed to be very reasonable, and his decision making process grounded in reality. A 3rd house Mars endows active mind. Any malefic astro body in 3rd house becomes innovative and stimulating to the wits (yes, Mars is considered a malefic), which allows the native to be very smart during arguments. I do not think Monty appreciates small talks—small talks would be regarded as petty nonsense by him. His speeches do have very good leadership quality, very exhilarating to listen to.

This is actually a pretty good Mars, but poor Monty has other aspects that aren’t that good.

Monty’s Sun opposites Pluto and Neptune, just like Manstein’s. This brings the native great difficulty in assessing their ego (represented by Sun). This flaw would destine them on a long, hard journey to find who they truly are as an “independent self”. Manstein’s Sun is in 8th house opposite 2nd house Pluto-Neptune; he might have been secretly very concerned with how posterity would value him after his death. What is of personal value that belongs to Erich may be a source of great illusion and inner tension, if handled unwisely. This value struggle may render him a hard cynic whose only concern is money and self-preservation.

Whereas for Monty (4th house sun, 11th house Neptune-Pluto), it looks like worldly reputation for the Montgomery family name is the struggle here—or maybe it is just his own name to be his desperate concern. Family is where a person was born into, and where they eventually establish themselves, and then dies into. He may have an exaggerated sense of patriotism if he could not agree with the family he was born into, or could not find his own family to belong to. He might view anybody who’s outside of his immediate circle “the troublesome other”, a great source of power struggle. It is not easy for him to acquire a smooth friend circle. With a 11th house Pluto, some explosive shit constantly goes down between he and his supposed social groups—he’s a bit antisocial, in a neutral sense of the word.

Now moving on to his Saturn—any planet in conjunction with the ascendant should be given special attention. I admit it is not an amateur astrologer’s place to call a person’s chart “unfortunate”, but there’s something so deeply karmic with Monty’s Saturn.

This Saturn—which symbolizes rigid structure, hard disciplines, delays and pessimism, could act like an invisible iron prison for the native; the tighter the conjunction with the ascendant, the tighter the iron grip. Either he secretly denies himself any personal enjoyments possible, or life would strip him of happiness by taking away important loved ones from him. A positive side of this aspect is that, while it does not give good creativity to weasel oneself out of a danger, it is unphased by any kind of pain and suffering the danger brings.

A Leo Saturn is not fun to deal with, because Saturn is in detriment in Leo. Leo’s natural ruler is Sun; the key words of Sun are “accomplishments, authority, and self-worth”. Saturn not only hollows out Leo’s self-worth, but the native is also very suspicious of any authority over them. Monty may constantly question how come somebody deserves such authority, and how does himself deserve anything? We could hear from Churchill’s single quote on Monty showing how bad he is in getting along with authority- “In defeat, unbeatable; in victory, unbearable.”

It is very difficult for the native to learn about love, because love always involves a level of surrender. With such a karmic aspect, occasionally when Leo Saturn finds someone to love, he'd lose that person in a traumatic fashion. The native might end up going “fuck it, I give up.” Given this Saturn conjuncts ascendant, Monty sees no problem in denying himself worldly love and enjoyment. Leo Saturn is able to maintain some lightheartedness, a little bit of warped hero complex, thus the native is capable of dark humor.

Monty’s Saturn actually conjunct his ascendant from 12th house- a 12th house Saturn doubles down on certain problems. Saturn generally seeks to hold onto anything structured and concrete, yet 12th house is anything but. 12th house rules the afterlife, the disappearance, dissolution, the invisible worlds and creatures—dreams, unconscious, psychic realms, and illusions. Saturn in 12th native secretly believes in his own original sins, and is acutely conscious of and anxious about the existence beyond death. This Saturn has a tendency to draw the native into hermetic isolation and practices, because it is the world of the beyond that he looks at, the world where his loved ones have gone before he does.

However, sometimes this 12th house Saturn gives the exact opposite effect—what is beyond death and what is out there where everything dissolves into inmateriality, is such an acute issue that the native holds onto things and powers of this world to an excessive degree. For example, Vladimir Putin has a 12th house Saturn.

This series so far does draw a conclusion that perhaps it is not the Mars that brings forth a good general—I see no fire sign Mars. I haven’t even seen a Capricorn Mars (Mars is exalted in Capricorn). But I do see an unexpected common denominator- these commanders are all psychic on some level. I couldn’t help but wonder- what does “being psychic” really mean?

Perhaps it means the special ability either to reach into death, or to walk upon thousands of men’s life and death, the strength of coming to terms with the mortality of all the mortalities.

It might be a hot take for some people, but I really don’t see much psychic power from those famous 20th century occultist, especially Aleister Crowley. Neither his 8th nor 12th house is prominent; I don’t know what’s up with him. Maybe Crowley’s strength lies in his knowledge. I can statistically compare my own psychic ability against my friend, by measuring whose Tarot readings have longer projection into the future via client feedbacks, but what I see featured the most in many self-proclaimed magi isn’t psychic power, but the ego. Ego attracts egos, so there you go, a guru whose ego as big as the universe for the rainbow unicorn groupies to resonate with.

I digress. I love that there’s always smile in the corner of Monty’s eyes despite his Saturn, that’s the sign of an indefeatable man. This song is for him. May warmth and may love conquer all.

[fantasyquests]

Rewatching Season 1: Some thoughts on episode 5 1. What do you know of darkness? Light and darkness are explored in several storylines in this episode. There is an excellent exchange between Galadriel and Halbrand in which she repeats her brother's advice: "Sometimes to find the light we must first touch the darkness". Halbrand's reply, "What do you know of darkness?" is so good and hits different now that we know who he really is. Galadriel's brother, as she mentions, was also killed in a place of darkness. I love that Galadriel is quite aware of the dark aspects of her own psyche, her obsession with fighting to eradicate evil and defeat Sauron. She believes that completing this task is the only way she can ever find peace. This self-awareness also enables her to forgive quite easily those who have betrayed her: her company which has turned against her, Elrond and Gil Galad who have conspired to send her to Valinor. Not knowing Halbrand's real identity, she convinces him that he, too, will only find peace by returning to Middle Earth and fulfilling his destiny there. I believe Sauron really undergoes some inner struggle in this episode, because we see some evidence of this struggle even in the scenes where he is completely alone and is not acting for the sake of convincing any other character.

Darkness is also mentioned by Tar-Palantir, who warns his daughter Miriel not to go to Middle Earth because she will only find darkness there. The prophecy refers to the fact that she will go blind, but may also be a prediction of the dark trials that await her when she returns to Numenor after a military fiasco. Harfoots are walking through a sinister forest and mention that walking won't get any easier in the dark. The Stranger repeats, "Easier in the dark", learning new words, but perhaps also suggesting to us that at this point his character is not yet clearly defined and we don't know if he symbolically belongs to light or darkness.

Another significant mention of darkness is in Bronwyn's conversation with Arondir. She says of the Southlanders, "We are destined for the darkness", at the moment when she contemplates pledging allegiance to Adar and his forces. It is clear that Bronwyn has no desire to side with evil, she simply believes that this is the only way she and her countrymen can survive. The same may be said about the Southlanders in general. There are very few of them who, like Waldreg, consciously and unreservedly want to serve the forces of darkness. Most of them just leave the fortress out of fear for their lives. There is also a deep resentment they harbour against the Elves, whom they experience as invaders and an occupying army. Those people have never seen the Orcs and are not fully aware of the evil they can do, but they have lived with the presence of the Elvish military forces for centuries, and the hostility they feel towards Elves makes it easier for them to decide to join the other side. For Theo, this dilemma is also personal -- the Elves have invaded the Southlands just like Arondir has invaded his own family, by starting an affair with his mother -- and it takes him a while before he trusts the elf enough to show him the hilt key.

2. Good vs. Evil. It is, of course, closely related to the previous motif. We see it in the storyline following Harfoots and the Stranger, as the community constantly redefines him and tries to decide whether he is good or evil. He kills the fireflies, but then he helps Nori's family push their cart. Malva is convinced that he is to blame for the devastation in the forest they are passing through, but then he saves her and the others from a pack of wolves. But just as Nori wants to administer a balm for his injuries, she gets hurt by touching his frozen arm. The only thing we can say for certain at this point is that the Stranger is immensely powerful, but does not know how to control his power, nor does he know the limitations of his physical body. In fact, the only act which is unequivocally evil in this storyline is when Malva urges Sadoc to take off the wheels from the Brandyfoot's cart and leave them behind. In psychological terms, this is a kind of projection -- Malva sees evil in the outsider, but is completely unaware of her own capacity for evil.

Good and evil are also, allegedly, the components of mithril. I must admit I have problems with accepting this origin story, and I think it's good that the scriptwriters have made room for doubt by mentioning that it is apocryphal, i. e., perhaps not true. I also find it faulty in terms of logic: if mithril consists of good and evil in equal parts, then how will it save the Elves from fading? If they are supposed to be bathed in the light of the Valar for the purpose of healing and protection, shouldn't that light be all good and pure? We also know that Tolkien has a very Christian understanding of evil, which he views as a deviation from good, and not as a force in its own right. As Galadriel tells us in the very first episode: Nothing is evil in the beginning.

Links to the previous reviews: Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4

[petalsthefish]

Chapter 24: The Sight (Merlin's POV)

Peek Inside:

Despite harboring a deep-seated animosity toward Arthur and everything he stood for, Salazar remained the most formidable ally Merlin could think of in their current predicament. Salazar's unparalleled expertise in the realm of wild magic, exemplified by his extraordinary ability to commune with the creatures of the natural world, elevated him to a position of unrivaled authority among the founders of Hogwarts. Even within the waves of shifting allegiances and uncertain loyalties that permeated the halls of Hogwats, Merlin could not deny the profound reservoir of wisdom that Salazar possessed, despite their political differences. 

"Think of the civilians, Salazar," Merlin implored, his voice tinged with urgency. "Pureblood civilians are suffering under the oppressive grip of that forest. Ruber himself wields the power of wild magic, and it seems as though the forest itself conspires in his favor. Could it be that their shared affinity for wild magic binds them together?"

"I have no interest in such matters," Salazar retorted dismissively. "Now, will you assist me with my enchantment or not?"

"People's lives are at stake!" Morgana snapped, her frustration boiling over. "They require aid!"

"Then retrieve your master's sword," Salazar replied with a chilling detachment, his voice a cold whisper. "Return it to the stone where it rightfully belongs, until a worthy pureblood comes forth to claim it."

Merlin’s jaw tightened. “Excalibur isn’t just a sword; it’s made of the same magic as Gryffindor’s sword. You know that, Salazar, it's basically a magical relic.”

Salazar’s gaze hardened. “Symbols like swords and petty gallantry are for the weak, Merlin. Power and bloodline are what truly matter. If Camelot is to be saved, it must be by the hands of those who are worthy. The forest recognizes this imbalance and acts to correct it.”

Morgana stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “And what of the innocents, Salazar? The children and families who have nothing to do with this so-called imbalance? Are they forced to suffer because of something they cannot control?”

Salazar’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Innocents always suffer in the great cosmic balance, Morgana. It is the way of the world.”

Read on A03

[reveriesofawriter]

book rambling don't mind me

the book kept saying anharion was his title... so was that also his name? did his name become a title when the Betrayal happened? does "anharion" translate to Betrayer or is that just what he's known as? was it a mistranslation from the old language? edit: I just reread the part where sarcean said he used to be called something else and now I feel like that's going to give away the whole ~is he the sun prince~ thing

I've seen some theories about the Collar and to what extent it actually controls james and like. as much as it would be less big and exciting to see it this way... what if the Collar is mostly symbolic? bc sarcean can talk people into doing what he wants anyway and james was obviously not immune to the charm (it's magnified for him even) well before will knew anything about himself or his powers so what if the collar was just a way to show other people that anharion belonged to him? but GOD if this moral stronghold of not wanting to manipulate james into kissing him and wanting him to do it of his own free will stops these boys from having a lil smooch for the majority of the third book I will Die

I've also seen people try to draw lines between will/sarcean and james/anharion as far as their past/present personalities and the consensus seems to be that will has a more clear line between himself and sarcean but I saw someone say it was more like intrusive thoughts and I think that's fascinating, also that will is seeing james and not anharion the betrayer when he looks at james but james in every sense is this cocky little asshole (affectionate) who flirts and uses his powers to take advantage of people while anharion in the past wasn't like that sooooo I think will isn't Seeing james as who he is I think he's seeing anharion for who he used to be before he turned against sarcean. which is so interesting when you think about will saying people shouldn't be judged by what they've done but what they can do

the tangled web of who hates who is so messy but I trust violet to, if not outright take will's side, then to convince the others to let him go like banish him or whatever instead of killing him right away (even if james's powers would physically protect him from that I just need violet to believe in him)

I'm still thinking about little 6 year old will setting a rich fucker's clothes on fire bc he laid his hands on a woman who was nice to him, how violet saved his life and he's spent every day after that trying to return the favor including using a newfound power he doesn't know how to control yet to set her free from a cage in another country

can't wait to see how the narratives shift when we get other perspectives on what the past was really like bc from what I can tell sarcean and the lady weren't really In Love they just had a fling one time

on that note I thought will was switched out for the girls somehow when they were kids but elizabeth was told her mother had a son before her and she believes that son is will, which would mean will is both blood of the lady and the dark king, which brings to question who his dad is bc they said it wasn't simon but I don't think his birth was a virgin mary situation, also I know sarcean got around but are will and simon's family related any closer than one ancestor thousands of years ago? is sinclair will's father?

I don't think tom and violet will fight to the death, tom may die in another way tho

what's the fourth kingdom and how does that pay into this? bc the first gate was in england the second was underwater somewhere and the third is in italy so the fourth...? on that note there must be more stewards alive who weren't in the hall when it was torn through, people who either left that life behind, or like cyprian at the beginning who didn't drink from the cup but still follow the lifestyle, or maybe like small covens of stewards who never went to the hall bc they found their own communities elsewhere idk it's just very eurocentric to think everyone from everywhere would meet up in this one place when the whole rest of the world exists

will needs some alone time after all this someone give him a safe place to rest and a hot drink

phillip and visander... and the unicorn....... love triangle of the ages... (I wonder if visander will find his way back into a man's body somehow or if he's stuck looking like katherine forever lol) (realistically. I don't think this man fucked his horse. but. metaphorically? metaphysically? whatever they had was probably as erotically charged as that magic scene right?)

[raincode-archives]

Chapter 4 Loading Screen Trivia

Note: Currently, I do not know which of these trivia may be general game trivia or Chapter 4 exclusives (if there is any). And there may be trivia I'm currently missing that I will add later on, if I find any more.

World Detective Organization (WDO) An extra-legal, extra-privileged organization devoted to eradicating the world's unsolved mysteries.

Detective Deed An identification card. These are granted by the World Detective Organization.

Master Detective Among the detectives belonging to the World Detective Organization, this is a detective with a specialized power called Forensic Forte that aids in their investigative activities.

Forensic Forte Those exhibiting innate talent for special powers like clairvoyance or mind-reading are trained by the WDO to develop a supernatural investigative ability called Forensic Forte or simply, Forte.

Amaterasu Corporation Many products are in development, some of which cannot be made public.

Amaterasu Peacekeepers A department of Amaterasu Corporation. They serve as a sort of police force within Kanai Ward.

Kamasaki District Crime generally isn't bad here, unless you venture deeper inside, that is.

Riverbank Due to polluted waters, fish are rarely caught.

Kanai Station The only train station in Kanai Ward. It's a magnificent building, but seldom has customers because of the city's isolation.

Kanai Ward Living Condition Perhaps because of the daily rainfall, some people in Kanai Ward don't mind getting wet.

TV Programs Nearly all the TV programs broadcasted in Kanai Ward are sponsored by Amaterasu Corporation.

Popular Sports Parkour is popular among the young men of Kamasaki District. New problems have arisen however, what will all the trespassing and running across the top of food stalls.

Means of Communication Most communications to people outside of Kanai Ward are tapped and monitored by Amaterasu. The phone at the Nocturnal Detective Agency uses a different type of line to prevent eavesdropping.

Pets Because of Kanai Ward's unending rain, indoor pets are popular. At the same time, there is increasing concern of many dogs and cats become feral after being abandoned by irresponsible owners.

Kanai Ward's Electrical Power Because of the perpetual rain, electrical power is derived predominantly from rainwater.

Flavor of Halara's Candy Depends on the mood. The worse the mood, the sweeter the taste; the better the mood, the lighter the taste.

Fubuki's Accessories Fubuki's necklace has a clock motif. The choker is decorated with video playback control symbols.

Vivia's Book Catalog Novels, columns, essays, all sorts of things. There's no particular preference for genre; he reads just to pass time.

Vivia's Garments There are just bandage-like wrappings beneath his coat, so it wouldn't be accurate to call it clothing.

Amaterasu Corporation The megacorporation controlling Kanai Ward. It deals in a wide variety of goods such as industrial products, electronic appliances, as well as pharmaceuticals.

Kanai Ward Currently, Kanai ward is isolated from the rest of the world. Few people enter and leave and very little information goes beyond its walls.

Kanai Tower Lease agreements are available, but the monthly rent costs as much as a luxury car.

Ama-Pal Different versions of Ama-Pal exist, but among the scarce limited edition releases, there is evidently a bear variant with differently colored left and right sides.

Ama-Pay An electronic payment system courtesy of Amaterasu Corporation. It can be used at almost any shop in Kanai Ward, but rumor has it the company collects personal data from each transaction.

Popular Appliances Indoor dryers are very popular in Kanai Ward. Amaterasu Corporation's new "Kagutsuchi" model is quite excellent, capable of drying any type of laundry in just two hours.

Amaterasu's Latest Products A drone car that will autonomously deliver you from departure...to tomorrow. "Amenotorifune." Coming soon from Amaterasu Corporation.

Amaterasu's Latest Products Fall asleep in an instant.... And slumber for eight hours without waking up...no matter what... "Snoozewell," coming soon from Amaterasu Corporation.

Amaterasu Lab Research facilities located in the underground section of the Amaterasu Corporation. Access to the lab is highly restricted, even among Amaterasu personnel.

Amaterasu Security Entry to the premises requires employee IDs, as well as biometric authentication via retinal scans, making it practically impossible for outsiders to infiltrate Amaterasu Corporation.

Blank Week Mystery A phrase considered taboo in Kanai Ward. The meaning of the phrase is unclear

Makoto's Masks The mask is different ever morning, depending on his mood. Sometimes it takes him more than 30 minutes to choose, to the chagrin of the people around him.

About Dr. Huesca He walks around barefoot in the lab. This isn't for anything health-related, he simply feel the time spent putting on shoes and socks is better used on research.

Robot Researcher Akira is his name. He's poured his whole being into Ama-Pal, his life dedicated to its development. His catchphrase: "When my time comes, I want it to be by Ama-Pal's hand."

Fink the Slaughter Artist A hitman predominantly active in Kanai Ward. It's rumored that he'll kill any target, regardless of difficulty, as long as the client can afford it.

Yomi's Cane Yomi's cane transforms into a whip and can be used to strangle people he isn't fond of.

Shinigami's Secret Depending on Shinigami's emotional state, not only can horns and a tail sprout out, but her entire body can take on a fiery form.

Amazing Physique Number One of the WDO may look wizened, but beneath his robe is a muscle-bound body, compared to that of a youth's. It's littered in scars following encounters with a variety of criminals.

Invention Detective A Master Detective whose Forte allows for on-the-spot assembly of inventions useful for an investigation. This detective was not summoned to Kanai Ward.

[sideshowkaz]

Hart shaped things.

I have this odd mild loathing of heart shaped things. It’s the twee side of it and how cute they can be. That single heart shaped pretty necklace thats supposed to signal love to everyone around feels like there’s horrible under tones to me.

I got to see little girls like me wear those lovely little pendants as the only decoration they were allowed because too much was too much and the church didn’t like over doing it. Little girls with their hearts overflowing with innocent love.

Children at eight years old being made to make a covenant when they still hadn’t grown out of that cute stage. Boys and girls both not knowing what they got into.

They grew to twelve years old and boys got the kind of power in the church where they had more power in their little finger than their grandmothers will ever have or have had.

Lessons with undertones of punishment though teens that men are men and women are women. Each needing to act accordingly and dress accordingly. Those heart shaped pendants for the ones that noticed became like weights around our necks dragging us down. We had to appear feminine enough and cute and unthreatening enough. God didn’t want women acting like men. I didn’t want ether. Into my teen years I was being told I had to wear makeup and stylish clothing. Women needed to look just nice enough to be interesting to men but not to interesting. You have to be feminine enough to attract a good man but also men are the huge monsters in ally ways and car parks. Men were the enemy you had to let into your life and run it because god said so. It wasn’t who I was. Hearts began to signify that forever innocence women were supposed to have. They were worn like shields against gods wrath just in case a woman were to show a bit of strength or stand up for themselves. But they were never worn much only just enough. Women had to be modest and cover enough of themselves that their bodies felt foreign to them and didn’t belong to them but show enough to show they were still ladies.

And then I got to see adult women after years of having men run their lives tired and sick. All being told they aren’t bringing enough children into the world wile they had so many they didn’t keep track of the ones they had. They worried they couldn’t do enough with ‘populating the earth’ which terrified me. All that modesty enforced with garments so now the church dictates and mandates under clothes.

Then much older women beaten down and unable to fight back every time a man spoke or communicate what they want because men run things to them. Some were obviously abused and some were willing submissive.

But wile all this was going on I was told I was a special spirit and I’d never find a man anyway unless he was the bottom of the pile. The meat market of young single adults never interested me. I wasn’t the best looking, I was disabled to the point I couldn’t just try to be better and somehow look normal to the right guy. Men and women were forced into roles that made them interchangeable in so many ways. Faith in god was supposedly all you needed for a good marriage. What was left as far as characteristics went for anyone to pick what they wanted from? Appearance. Ugly girls got treated with pity. Ugly girls like me. I was told I could fix it if I basically wasn’t me.

It all started with a heart symbol that even people out of the church wear but to me I can’t separate it off from outdated hairstyles, being made to keep my ���natural’ hair colour, no other subjects being ok but bitching about the unfaithful, skirts you can’t run in but you have to wear them anyway, not being allowed to wear certain colours because they are too bright or give the wrong message, white T-shirts under anything that showed of shoulders or collarbones, lace up to the neck to the point of being choking, not being able to stand up for myself when I need to, being told I couldn’t stand out in any way in my own community but to outsiders I had to look a certain type of strange, being told I had to keep pure but if a priesthood holder said something I better listen even if it wasn’t a good idea, not being allowed to be me but having to be some image of a woman that everyone else wanted me to be, seeing men as both saviours i needed to get into heaven and the demons we were meant to fear and if we showed off our knees men would go from one straight to the other.

The overly cuteness of the little heart symbol jewellery was a part of femininity I never resonated with and for a long time because of that I felt like I was nothing. Now I know there’s just nothing for me in a church that only allowed me one way to express myself and kept telling me what myself was when it wasn’t that at all.