#he reminds me of the main character from the crow

[anccaku]

I saw some ask, "Why are there no big tiddie goth boyfriends?"

And my brain just immediately like Chrollo. He is the big tiddie goth boyfriend.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Why Fenris could Never Cameo in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

In the run up to Dragon age: The Veilguard, I was almost certain that Fenris would be our main legacy character from previous games. Not only has he been central in the comics released between DAI and DATV, he is an escaped Tevinter slave who's plot revolved around magisters, magic and the structural prejudices surrounding elves in Thedas. Not only that, but he's canonically in Tevinter killing slavers currently so he's geographically in the right place for us to meet him.

About halfway through the game though, it was clear to me: Fenris could never cameo in The Veilguard. Because he'd break it.

How the Veilguard treats Thedas is...odd to me, to say the least. I will be writing another post about how much I adored the expanded big lore in this game (the titans, ancient elves were spirits, where the blight came from etc.) and yet while these large lore expansions worked for me, the actual culture of modern Thedas is entirely softened, its sharp edges filed down until it's a sanitised fantasy world devoid of what made the franchise so vibrant and compelling in the first place.

So let's start with Fenris and slavery. In all three games, the reality of slavery is pushing at the corners of the world. In DAO Loghain allows Tevinter Magisters to enslave elves in order to raise money for his war effort. In DA2 Fenris is fighting to be free from slavers who will not leave him be, let alone the reminders that the city was built by slaves which are everywhere. In DAI one of the two possible mini-bosses is Calpurnia who was a slave, and characters such as Gatt and Dorian both show us how much slavery is tied into Tevinters culture and success.

But DATV the first game actually set in Tevinter where we get to see the famed Minrathous...it's like the game purposefully wants to avoid the issue. I can feel it tilting the camera away to not allow me to see. Slavery is mentioned, but never talked about in depth or as a specifically ELVEN problem in Tevinter. This might have been done to be less problematic, it feels ignored.

We are in DOCK TOWN. We are at the DOCKS. You would think that slaves from all over Thedas who are being smuggled and bought by various groups would be everywhere. You would think that the injustice in dock town would be partly built on the back of ships we've seen in the comics crammed with elves in chains. This is the world Dragon age set up for us. And yet...nothing. zilch. A tiny easily skippable side quest where we free a couple of venatori slaves, but only one of whom is an elf.

None of our Tevinter characters seem to have been influenced by their culture even a little bit when it comes to how they view elves; there is no moment when Neve fucks up and says something prejudiced, no moment when Bellara or Davrin are distrustful of her for being a Tevinter mage.

The same goes for Zevran; a character who epitomised the issues with the crows. The crows have consistently been characterised as very morally dubious assassins who kill for the highest bidder and who buy children on the slave market and torture them as they grow in order to assure that they reach maturity able to withstand torture without giving away a client's name. Zevran is very explicit about the fact that if you fail a contract your life is forefit.

Nobody responds particularly to you if you're an elf. Nobody trusts rook less for it in Tevinter. Nobody treats Rook any differently. Even DAI had better mechanics for this; with nobles in Orlais less likely to trust you as an elf.

Considering one of the main plot points of this game and what makes Solas sympathetic is the fact that he was fighting against the slavery of ancient elves...you'd think the game might want to mirror that in modern Thedas. It might want to show us how characters fighting to end slavery in Tevinter are similar to Solas and how the society Solas fought against was similar to the one that characters we love such as Fenris have fought against in modern Thedas. Maybe we'd want to explore how in a world of slavery like this, how could the answer NOT be to tear it all down? Maybe we should have that option at the end of the game so it really can chose whether we agree with Solas and his plans or not.

Adding Fenris to this game would entirely break the game because Fenris refuses to allow you to look away from this horror. He is a sympathetic character who had to learn to trust mages again because of course he didn't trust them. Of course he didn't. Fenris wouldn't allow the camera to shift focus because he's literally covered in the lyrium scars that show how slaves are used as experiments in Tevinter. Fenris WOULD question Neve on how she feels about elves and slaves. Fenris WOULD have things to say about Lucanis and the crows (let alone the fact Lucanis is an abomonation). So he could never be in this game; he'd drop a bomb on it's carefully constructed blinders to the very society its supposed to be set in.

And yet, in DATV, the crows are presented as...a found family of misfits and orphans? The politician who opposes the crows having absolute power in Antiva is framed as a comically evil idiot who doesn't understand that the crows are ontologically good. Yet...they're NOT. Crows in this game act more like a secret rebel group than an assassin organisation. We see no crow taking contracts with the VERY RICH venatori magisters despite being hired killers. We see crows just refuse to kill people despite having a contract because 'its crueler to leave them alive'. The crows don't feel like the crows here, they feel like a softened version of a cool assassin group who are cool because they wear black and purple.

Our pirate group are also sanitised; the Lords of Fortune are good pirates who only steal treasure that's not culturally significant. Theyve clearly read the modern critiques of the British Museum and have decided to explicitly stop anyone levelling similar critiques at them. There is no faction of the Lords of Fortune who aren't like this, no internal arguments about it. Everyone just. Agrees. And is able to accurately tell what a cultural artifact is vs. what treasure that you can have yourself is. Rather than showing us why a pirate stealing cultural artifacts might be bad (like in da2 where such a situation literally causes a coup and a war) it just tells us it's bad. But also pirates are cool so we still want them in our world.

This issue seaps into Thedas and drains it of any of the interesting complexity and ability to SAY anything that this franchise had before this game. It becomes a game about telling and not showing rather than the other way around. The games have ALWAYS asked questions about oppressive structural systems and their interplay with society, religion and culture and how these things can affect even the most well meaning character. Dragon age at its best IS a game about society and how society functions both for and against it's characters and what happens to societies built on cruelty and indifference. The best bad guys dragon age has given us are those who are bad because they embody these systems or have been shaped by them. Our main characters have had to wrestle with questions surrounding how to exist in these systems, fight against them, learn and grow.

Yet every group you come across in DATV is sanitised and cleaned up to the point of being as non problematic as humanly possible. None of our cast of characters have to wrestle with where they came from or the world that shaped them. None of them have to confront their own biases. They start the game perfectly non-problematic and end it that way too.

And this just...isn't what Dragon Age has been in the past. It isn't why I love the franchise. The whole game just felt, in a way, hollow. And this was a CHOICE and it is why the legacy characters are few and far between. Too many dragon age characters are just too...angry and complex for this game. You can feel them pulling their punches on this one. I have to imagine they did this because they didn't want to be criticised or have too much controversy? But I think it honestly goes far too much in the other direction and just makes it bland.

I can't imagine what I say here will be unique, but it is the basis for a LOT of my other thoughts on this game so I wanted to get it out of the way first. The softened Thedas and characters make this game by far the weakest in the franchise.

[vxnuslogy]

— the angel who lived. ft sunday

— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors

— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p

death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.

sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.

“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his  position and walked with you.

“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.

but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?

one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.

“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”

and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”. 

the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.

“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.

“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”

“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”

the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.

“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?

“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.

you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”

you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.” 

sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.

“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”

sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.

elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.

“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’. 

sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.

“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.

“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.

after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”

“not now, that's for sure.” 

sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.

“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.” 

“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”

and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.

he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.

but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.

taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.

“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.” 

by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.

“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.

“i have something i need to do.” 

elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats. 

“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“mother, wait!”

sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.

“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.

golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.

“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”

sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.

—

“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”

your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.

“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”

“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices. 

“i’ll be down in a—”

you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.

“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”

from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.

“something the matter, angel?”

“enough with the mind games, death.” 

he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.

“what's going on?”

“nothing is going on.”

“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious. 

“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.

gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.

“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”

“i believe that's none of your business.”

“you—!”

sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.

“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”

“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.

“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”

—

“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”

by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.

you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals.  brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.

after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.

“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.

“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”

he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.

after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”

sunday was the first to answer. 

“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.

you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.

“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”

“death will find us all.”

in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.

“it's good to see you again, mother.”

sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.

“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.

the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.

“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”

“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”

the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.

“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story. 

“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”

“you've always done a good job, mother.”

sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.

your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin. 

“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”

“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”

and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.

sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.

“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”

—

you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity. 

the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”

but sunday thought otherwise.

how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?

they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes. 

you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were. 

he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.

“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”

“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”

“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”

he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.

“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”

sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.

“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.

he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.

against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his. 

“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.

your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.

“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.

with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.” 

sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.

“sit down.” you command and he followed.

the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.

“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.

your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.

“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”

“there's your answer then.”

sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.

“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”

“maybe.”

before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.

you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.

“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.

“including you?”

“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”

“how so?”

“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”

“will someone replace you once you're gone?” 

you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.

“ely would probably replace me.”

sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.

“they aren't really children, you know.”

the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”

“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”

“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”

“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”

“even i don't know the answer to that.”

“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”

you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.

“i don't know.”

“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down. 

“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”

“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”

sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.

“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”

“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”

“do you have to cut the cord?” 

what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.

you only smiled bitterly in response.

“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”

sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it. 

he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.

“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.

“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.

“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”

sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight. 

your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.

“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”

“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.

the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.

but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.

sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.

“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.” 

your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.

“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”

sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face. 

“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.

“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”

he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state. 

“i never… took you one for compliments.”

you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.  

this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.

“are you fond of children?”

“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”

“just answer me directly, death.”

you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.

“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”

“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”

you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.

your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own. 

you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.

“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”

you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.

“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”

“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.” 

“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”

“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.

“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”

alright, you admit, he got you there.

“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”

“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”

“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”

“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.

“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”

“what if they aren't gentle with you?”

“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”

ah, he got you again.

—

sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.

all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal. 

sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.

he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.

you would.

why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to. 

“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”

“but we still have to.”

jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.

“can the angel walk?”

twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.

you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.

sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.

“where are we?” he asks.

“in reality.”

his eyes narrowed in a confused glare. 

“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”

the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.

he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?

“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”

“what's going on…”

“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.

against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop. 

“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.

“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”

what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.

“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”

sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.

“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”

“this isn't a game, death.”

sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.

“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes. 

what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?

“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”

his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.

“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”

you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”

.

“three.”

.

“two.”

.

“one.”

.

“RUN!”

and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.

“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”

your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.

you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.

but this time, sunday would rise victorious.

“brother!”

sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.

“it's mr. sunday!”

“are you alright?”

everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.

“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”

sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.

“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”

sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”

“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.

“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.

wait.

“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.

“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”

before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.

“brother!”

something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.

he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.

“it's time to wake up, sunday.”

sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.

the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.

“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”

sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.

and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.

“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”

“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”

“you can't.”

“you don't know that!”

the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.

“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”

“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”

you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.

“no…”

“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”

“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.

there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.

“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”

“you were.”

were. you didn't kill him.

the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.

you didn't kill him.

the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.

“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.

sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.

“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”

how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.

you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.

“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”

you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.

“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”

“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”

“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”

sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.

“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[austinsastrology8991]

> Ascendant Aspects < How you Appear to be, and how your treated based off your appearances > why you look like a clown without makeup

Ascendant aspecting Sun - I like your smile. Did you put it on for me, or for yourself? yes your charismatic, yes we noticed why your so confident, yes your literally the greatest person do you really need us to shower you in affection all the fkn time? your extra but too many toppings ruin a good pizza. your the embodiment of the cheesy smile from that cat in alice in wonderland. main character energy for sure you get the attention and you know how to use it Ascendant Aspecting moon - 🌚 < dont they look like that.? idk but you guys look like someone you want to grab the cheeks of and treat like a baby, your like a sugar glider. but we know your emotional so we have to be careful with how we grab your cheeks 👀 please stop crying its just a joke > also; big ass eyes. you are so sweet that everyone just wants to take you home and feed you till you become so obese you cant leave Ascendant Aspecting Mercury - the most devilish and cheeky smile all at once. they look like a kid about to do something bad, or have just been caught doing something bad and are now trying to explain why they had to do that dumbassery. but no matter how much you explain yourself, we will still question you because its funny watching you come up with explanations. you give me the vibe of any character from cartoon network or nickledoen - timmy turner, southpark, phineas and ferb, ed edd and eddy, or fkn bart simpson, you act like a cartoon yes.

Ascendant Aspecting Venus - I dont normally do this but whats ur number? is what your used to hearing presumably. and its not necessarily because your attractive... okay you are, you can stop pouting now. but its because you know how to get attention and you clearly love getting it. but they act so superficial, and oblivious sometimes... like they purposrfully look away just so its easier for you to look at them, 💀 then they look back playfully and it gets you in the feels. remind me of doctor who's bitches (any of them) they all act the same idc what you say

Ascendant Aspecting Mars - so pissed off lol but its hot. they are fierce > if they want something they are going to get it, and even the mere consideration of negotiating what they want will just get them more mad. which makes them more attractive? idk people love their ferocity, and as much as people say they don't like aggressive types, they don't ever get in their way when they pissed off (ik because im hot head) your basically a hornet > and no one gonna fight a hornet without the proper precautions Ascendant aspecting Jupiter - Yall are excellent at impressions and being impressionable, idk how you do it so well. You just act normal but then pull off this funny shit and return back to normal like its nothing. you guys perfected just being, and this energy makes people want to be around you. Your like a firework, the explosion is awesome, but when it goes away your like damn that was awesome wish it stayed; but thats what makes it so good, because we never know when its coming, and when its gone we want it back lol Ascendant Aspecting Saturn - batman without the mask sucks. thats you. batman without the mask.... why so serious???? > "because life shouldnt be taking for granted and fuckery aint apart of my Repertoire" - is some whack ass shit yall would say. you have great dignity, but people get insecure around you because your on top of your shit. oh and you tell people to get on top of their shit all the fkn time lol. > your like a crow, you look like one and act like one. - Side note- one time i had a stand off with a crow: I was chilling at home and i was on top of these tile blocks, then this crow came along. I tried to scare him, by like staunching him just a bit. but he responded by gripping the tree branch he was perched on, by twisting his claw foot; and he did it with so much ferocity it made this bone cracking noise (from the strength of his grip gripping the tree) and suddenly i was intimated.... by a fkn crow. okay moving on

Ascendant Aspecting Uranus - how did you even become like that. no one really understands why you act the way you do, you do some really eccentric things which are eye grabbing but also disturbing the more you think about it. your like a sword fish. theres probably more effective ways to kill fish, but i mean a sword works, we are just wondering how you attached a sword to your face. also try to calm down, you doing so much and acting so bizarre that im actually more worried about you, even though im laughing my ass off. Ascendant Aspecting Neptune - your like a mirror of all that i ever could want in a person, and this mysterious allure you so easily pull off is truly enchanting. its like being around you makes it feel as if reality can so easily be readjusted into what i would like it to be. but this quality of urs is addicting, and no wonder people project onto you. but you cant even blame them, you literally shapeshift into whatever you want, and typically you like to show it off. your like a chameleon. or a axolotl Ascendant Aspecting Pluto - you scare people easily lol. your a spider. but spiders are sexy.... look at the BUNDA. okay but those teeth yeesh, have you ever seen a spider like lick its lips, bro its fkn scary. theres a reason arachnophobia is the most popular phobia and its because spiders are fucked. and yall are fucked. you move like a spider, and i swear to god you smile like one too lol. but people low key wanna be eaten by a spider..... so go ahead choose yo prey you fkn creepy crawler

[sillygoofyqueer]

Even more thoughts, for you to post if you so choose!

I do love the idea of Shen Yuan having a fancy hair piece with a pin that doubles as a weapon! Just because demon crows don’t have access to spiritual swords doesn’t mean he can’t stab the hell out of you.

For his main weapon, I’m thinking crow demons that can take human form tend to use bows, with the feathers shed by their clan as fletching. (Perhaps demon feathers also grant abilities of some sort to the arrows?)

Looking at the iridescence of crow feathers reminds me of the Chinese tradition of making jewelry with kingfisher feathers. Now I think it would be lovely if the crow demons also had a tradition of fashioning similar jewelry with their own feathers, perhaps treated with solutions and lacquered in a way that brings out even more of their color.

Speaking of colors, while crows aren’t among those birds able to see significant ultraviolet, they are tetrachromats, and thus are able to distinguish colors to a far greater extent than humans. I’m sure his sudden ability to see way more colors than he could in his last life is very perplexing to poor Shen Yuan!

The regular crows acting as an alarm system by cursing and saying spooky nonsense at all unknown visitors is an absolute delight!

I vote that Shen Yuan intentionally never gives them whatever signal that would mark Airplane as a friend, just so they continue to harass the guy every time he comes to visit. 😂

(I’m thinking poor Airplane is trying to set up trade routes for demons, and struggling with the general hostility different types of demons have for one another. Killing interlopers and/or raiding other demons for their stuff is not conductive to trade! It’s no wonder demons lack the arts. Nobody shares anything with anyone, except when giving demon nobles tribute. 😭)

You know, with all the feathers and bird-folks about, the transmigrators probably figure out quill pens. Not sure how big of an improvement they’d be compared to brushes, but they’re at least more like what the transmigrators are used to.

It’d also be funny if all the demon crows and villagers were learning to write simplified Chinese from Shen Yuan, instead of traditional, leading visitors to wonder what the hell is up with this one location’s weird writing system, where half the characters are inexplicably different.

(He probably teaches them traditional too, if only for the sake of reading imported books and things, but simplified is probably faster for personal notes and bookkeeping or the like).

I've always loved when people have weapons in discreet places, so it seemed necessary to dump that onto Shen Yuan because he's the most iconic character ever. Especially CrowYuan as well, it seems like something he'd do just to be safe when it comes to these things - after everything he's read, it's hard not to always be prepared. (Also, a more cheeky reason if I may, imagine Shen Yuan in a sticky situation and he pulls the hair pin out of his hair, now holding a weapon and looking AWESOME as he does it) Also, main weapon as a bow IS MAKING ME LOOOSE MY MIND. Ever since I was little, I've been obsessed with people who use bows (Legolas, Robin Hood, Hawkeye, Kate Bishop, various book characters) and the idea of giving Shen Yuan a bow?? I am dropping to my knees and shaking my fists at the sky. HUZZAAAHH!!! Feathers as fletching is a great idea, almost like a calling card of sorts, as well as a warning. Demon feathers giving certain abilities to arrows is a brilliant idea, such as resilience, poison, increased speeds (useful for high pressure situations where someone has to die before they can be alerted). I'd find it interesting if different demon feathers grant different abilities, and it's almost a norm for these demons to trade feathers! The jewellery idea is absolutely gorgeous and adorable! I was thinking that it could mainly be a crow demon thing, and to have one made for you if you aren't a crow demon is a sign of great trust within the community, a decision that has to be agreed to by at least half of the community! Also, itty bitty angst idea, this jewellery could also be highly sought out because it's gorgeous and its making is entirely a clan secret that is only taught to those within it - so, it's often seen as a spoil of war, a way to brag about a crow demon's death is to wear the jewellery "won" from "battle". Shen Yuan would most definitely be thrown off guard by this wider arrange of colours, often found in the wildest areas of the forest and just staring at everything. At first, he wonders if it's because he's a demon now, but more research (aka, bullying a demon chicken Airplane for answers) shows that it is fact not because he's a demon, but instead because he's a crow. He is both excited that he can see all these colours and fiercely delighted that Airplane can't, because he's a spiteful little shit and I love him. If Airplane comes to visit, he's grown adept to immediately submitting to the harassment of the crows because they soon grow bored of him if they don't get any reaction other than pitiful screaming. (He would highly suffer from trying to set up trade routes as well, lmaooo) OH MY GOD, if Mobei Jun ever comes to visit Bing-ge, he would also be immediately attacked by crows and that is funnier than anything else right now in my mind. His stern face immediately becomes one of absolute outrage, but it quickly becomes confusion when Bing-ge says he can't attack them back because "Shen Yuan would never forgive me" On the idea of feathers as quill pens, that would end up being incredibly useful for them! Perhaps the use of certain demon feathers would be better than others if we go by different demon feathers holding different abilities - for instance, let's say crow feathers hold increased speed, that would be helpful for writing because one would merely need to guide the quill and let it do the rest. However, a demon feather that created a poison effect, let's say chicken feathers, would not be the best for writing, which makes certain feathers more valuable than others for different things! Shen Yuan would be a great teacher, because he knows the traditional Chinese - which is useful for things you previously mentioned - but then he would be able to introduce a whole new writing system that makes it easier to write. This would be especially useful for those who may struggle with the traditional Chinese, because then they would still be able to access writing!! {part seven! part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, and part six!}

[vonspe]

(was drafting this literally seconds before u posted the fade prison image lmaooo) but i was wondering if u have any thoughts locked and loaded about what specific main plot events affected scipio in a lasting personal way vs what he's able to compartmentalize and brush off after the fact, if that makes sense. i think you've made a really well thought out and engaging character and it makes me want to prep a microscope slide for him.

OOH great ask! Difficult to answer-ask :'D I have a couple! Let me lock in for a minute because I do have to start before the in-game events lmao

Viago saving Rook's neck, right? RIGHT?? Viago clearly cares for Rook like, a ridiculous, uncharacteristic amount. We know the Crows kill each other for offences like fucking up a contract, going completely awol and ruining months of work on a bigger plan. We also know that Viago is all about status and climbing the Crow ladder, but he risks his own reputation to get Rook off the hook. In conclusion; Viago is the only crow in Treviso who's loyal to Rook over everything else and actually cares if he lives or dies. And Rook just betrayed him because he wanted to get excommunicated because hE wAsN't hAvInG a GoOd tImE anymore. He carries that guilt with him for a long time. I think this would've been in Rook's regret prison, ngl.

Encountering Blight and darkspawn for the first time as well as the entire Weisshaupt mission put Rook in such a state of raw fear he could hear colors for a hot minute. He's been riding that high ever since :'DD Most memorable main quest to me too as a player, 10/10.

Blood of Arlathan had some of the most bone chilling moments in the entire franchise imo; the Venatori acting exactly in a way that people in cults act like. Reminded me of public executions from history, even lynchings. I'm straight up mirroring my own feelings here, but I genuinely felt kinda sick to my stomach during that quest and I was NOT expecting any of it. It stuck with me, so now I'm saying it stuck with my Rook.

That's some of what's been on my mind after 2 playthroughs :D PS. LOVE your url!!!!!

[hotvintagepoll]

Edward Everett Horton (Holiday, Top Hat, Arsenic and Old Lace)—Edward Everett Horton was a character actor who appeared in over 100 films between 1923 and 1971 who excelled at playing nervous, tightly-wound characters encountering mishaps or otherwise out of the element. You only have to watch his world-famous double take to see why people kept hiring him as the nervous best friend of the main character, a put-upon suitor to a leading lady, or the person in charge of making sure the show was a big success. A 1940 article in Time Magazine stated that “In all his contracts, Horton includes an unwritten clause that he shall not be compelled to play a married man, kiss a woman, have any children.” This does not reflect the roles Horton actually played, either before or after 1940, but it does sum up his vibe pretty well, his vibe being “gay and anxious.” It’s a wonder he’s not already tumblr’s favorite character actor! In another article about a Broadway run of Springtime for Henry (a show that Horton toured around the country, to the tune of more than 3,000 performances in his lifetime) he’s described as having a “persimmon face, crow beak nose and scissor lips” which feels pretty “scrungly” even if, at six foot two inches, Horton doesn’t really fit the definition of “little.” He steals just about every scene he’s in, thanks to his excellent expressions and impeccable comedic timing, managing to be funny and believable. Or as Horton himself said “The reason people think I’m funny is because I remind them of someone they know. Somebody who probably annoys them considerably, but for whom they really have an affection”.

Lotte Lenya (From Russia With Love)—She's a Russian assassin who tries to kill James Bond with her shoe! What a legend! And is immortalized in the song Mac the Knife.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Edward Everett Horton:

He was just perpetually anxious, and being around Fred Astaire trying to woo Ginger Rogers, or whatever Cary Grant was doing would make you anxious. I just feel delighted every time he graces my screen

i know he's already in but he's the funniest character actor who ever existed so have some additional propaganda for the most perpetually startled and put-upon and woe-betide-me crumpled napkin of a man to ever sigh beleagueredly on the silver screen. master of the double take, the triple take, maybe even the quadruple take. he's in SO many movies and he bumbles and scrungles his way exquisitely about all of them with the deft precision of his comic timing and the minute flicker of every facial expression. he's the odd little man i'm always happiest to see pop up anywhere. tends to play a charmingly ineffectual fussy bachelor in need of a tums who things are always happening to.

Lotte Lenya:

[djevelbl]

I feel like explaining how Branzy's mannerisms look like in my head is SO. HARD bc he feels like SUCH a peculiar and specific type of person, that even if I TRIED there wouldn't be a fully correct way to string words together to paint the picture. But fuck it we ball — lemme try anyway

(ofc, I'm here talking about his character and personality as he portrays himself in his videos; the same goes for any other youtuber I namedrop as I'm yapping. I don't feel like I have to clarify this, but still. covering my own ass out here, media literacy, yadda yadda, you get it)

In the LifeSteal videos I've watched where he participates/is the main focus of (the Heart Factory + Amusement Park saga mostly, so not a lot lol) he has this... This showmanship, this stage presence, like he's standing alone on the stage floor, the spotlight's on him and the little earpiece hung on him has told him "it's showtime." It's like he's the opening number for the Broadway Musical you came to watch, like he's the circus master of the show; he's all you can focus on once he starts talking, really: he's hilarious and charismatic, disarming with that devilish charm of his, that has endeared him to the deadliest player of the server — even if you never see his face, you can hear his smile every time he talks.

For having been on a Minecraft server that prides itself in death, destruction and preying on players' insecurities before shaking hands on a good season played, Branzy wears his emotions very plainly in how he speaks: he doesn't hide his fear, or his amazement, his excitement, his bloodlust. It's how he is, of course — hiding who you are is hard, but Branzy also plays this all up in his favor: faking his reactions when necessary, blatantly able to disregard his current emotional state to match the attitude of those around him (main example being him matching Clown's attitude even through his own fear of the guy), being able to lie through his teeth about pretty important things (like the state of Carnival Mode to Squiddo at the end of season 5), and others.

His poker face is a smile — all crow's feet and charming show of teeth, something happy and elated as he shows his newest killing contraption and explains it out to his soon-to-be victims. And they fall for it hook, line, sinker. A practiced dance everyone follows Branzy's lead in, subconsciously or otherwise. Because how deadly can it be if it's Branzy who made it?

Not just that, but he's very energetic and has a brand of attitude and sass that kinda reminds me of JT Music in The Details in the Devil (stay with me. I SWEAR this makes sense) — it's the over-the-top singing, the way he goes from a higher pitch to a lower one, the way JT Music's voice rasps around the edges; it all has the same vibe and attitude to me as Branzy's showman persona: all glamour for the camera, a big smile to attract new clientele, charm that oozes out of every pore and you don't even notice that it's a deal with the devil you're making. Until he's gone and you're left to pick up the pieces — even then, sometimes you just don't. notice.

A maybe (hopefully) easier to picture example

To me, in a sense, Branzy feels like the in-between missing link of AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream and Caine from The Amazing Digital Circus: all the bloodlust, anger, and sadistic tendencies from AM, and all the genuine, kind, goofy showmaster personality of Caine — a weird combo, for sure, but Caine is already based off of AM so like, thought it was as appropriate of a comparison I could make; especially bc Caine is a ringmaster, and Branzy does give ringmaster vibes to me so idk

Ofc, this is him at his peak, in his element, where he controls the playing chips — he's playing 4D chess and everyone's using checkers pieces. This is him gathering and casually using the power and influence he lords over the server — I mean, have you seen how ppl react to his mere appearance?? People love him, that's where he thrives: where people have an attachment to Branzy, Branzy has power; people kept coming back to the rollercoaster bc it was fun and a challenge and bc it was Branzy who made it — throw the credit onto Clown, ManePear, FlameFrags, any other pvp-skilled player, and watch as people run the other way. Branzy is the perfect combo of charismatic, charming, boyfailure-coded, somehow still competent, and fun to amass server-wide cred that wouldn't be broken no matter how many lives he claims via his machinery.

Clown is dangerous, sure — he's good at pvp and intimidating, he can do his fair share of manipulation when needed, but he's ultimately relatively easy to avoid: he follows a set of rules and while he doesn't vocalize them, if you observe him enough you'll eventually learn them. You'll eventually understand what the triggers are, which convo topics are best to avoid and how to best gain favor with him.

Branzy, though? He's very much a loose canon — beyond keeping his good relationship with Clown for protection (and bc he cares, let's be honest here) and whatever he deems fun today, I doubt he cares about much else; these two things are THE. MOST important to him, and there's little you can personally do to control either, if anything at all.

Branzy is SO interesting to me bc he's outwardly all smiles, happy-go-lucky in a sense and a coward — everyone knows this, it ain't no secret, and if it ever was meant to be we've left that station SEVERAL seasons ago. Yet inside there's a raging beast that begs to be released — the only reason we don't see it too often is LITERALLY bc Branzy is HORRIBLE at pvp; we STILL see it though: in how he encourages people to keep trying his deadly park rides, how he dangles prizes in front of their faces so sweetly and so casually so they keep coming back. In how he doesn't hesitate to betray his team so he can gain favor with Clown, a character he believes will be a bigger protection than his team was beforehand. In how he didn't even bat an eye as he bold-face lied to Squiddo about Carnival Mode being broken when it was most beneficial for Clown for it to "be broken". In how he casually makes a bragging joke about having easily killed two of the strongest players without lifting a finger to battle, because they wanted to play his carnival games.

Branzy has two loyalties: first to Clown and second to himself. Everyone else be damned

So coming back to the mannerisms thing — in my head he's extra extra: I'm talking "dangled upside down from a tree branch to scare someone as he introduced them all to the Chicken Launchers" type of extra, I'm talking "he did a handstand on the rollercoaster cart (with his elytra on, he isn't stupid I swear) as it jumped over the tiny lava pit to introduce people to the attraction" type of extra, I'm talking "he designed a mechanical crossbow he could wear on his arm so he could shoot the door locking mechanism trigger at the bigtop tent the most dramatic way possible" type of extra. He's a theater kid at heart, I just know it — he's dramatic and extra and so fun, so of course he'd have fun with it all! He's an adrenaline junkie (honestly? Why else is he still a sucker for Clown?? Adrenaline junkie + that's his work bf) and he will do a dramatic full split in front of Fleshy's to introduce people to the food stand and you cannot change my mind

So. Yea! In my head Branzy's mannerisms are a combo of showman enthusiasm, theater kid dramatics, acrobatics fueled by his adrenaline junkie ways, and random rubberhose-like body movements that are uncanny on like. an ACTUAL normal human body bc he reminds me of Bendy and I. Don't know. How else. To cope with it, so deal with it.

[himasgod]

Kazuha x Reader

(Happy birthday to my beautiful boy! It means a lot to me, because he was my main for a long time, an essential component in all my teams. Kazuha I love you so much happy birthday, this is dedicated to you 😭. I made this a bit shorter because I'm preparing a Halloween special that will take me quite a while, still, I hope you enjoy it! 0.4k words)

The sound of the sea and the waves in the Alcor were part of the daily landscape, but since Kazuha and you began sailing together, the tranquility of the ocean took on another meaning. He used to observe the sky in silence, looking for shapes in the clouds or listening to the wind as if it were confiding secrets to him, and you stayed by his side, feeling at ease in that serenity.

It had been months since your relationship became something more than friendship, and although Kazuha maintained his reserved and peaceful character, there was a special tenderness in his gestures. Today, in the crow's nest of the ship, both of you shared a quiet conversation while observing the horizon, he reciting fragments of poems, and you simply listening, capturing each word.

“This place reminds me of a mountain I visited in Inazuma,” he murmured, his eyes gently squinting in the wind. “The sound of the sea there was different, but the calm… is the same.”

You knew what it meant to him to remember Inazuma, a past marked by the loss of his family, his fallen friend, and a wandering life that led him to become a fugitive from the shogunate. Despite his quiet words, you noticed how he gently held onto your hand, as if finding in you an anchor that kept him grounded in the present.

“Kazuha, do you plan to return someday?” you asked, though you feared the answer.

He sighed, letting go of your hand to let the wind carry away the weight of his uncertainty. “My heart has found a home here, with you. But sometimes, Inazuma calls to me… not so much the place, but what I once was there.”

He turned to you, a serene smile on his lips as his hand returned to yours. “But where my peace is now is where the wind has taken me; it took me to you. That is enough for me.”

You caressed his face gently, and he closed his eyes, relaxing under the touch. At that moment, you understood that Kazuha's journey had no end or concrete destination, only the desire to find beauty and peace in what life offered him. And you, in his life, were a constant, his refuge amidst the storms and calm of the ocean.

You knew that one day he could return to Inazuma, guided by the wind, but as long as he was by your side, the world seemed to stop, as if both of you were one with the sea.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

It genuinely keeps me up at night that when Van Eck attempts to reveal to the Merchant Council that Wylan can’t read, they all react exactly as Wylan feared they would. (Spoilers ahead!) Of course since they don’t believe him and Wylan’s brilliant memory for Jesper’s words protects him we don’t see the full force of their response, but it is made PAINFULLY clear that they all would have responded the same way Van Eck did - “How could you say such things about your own blood?”. It’s an incredibly meaningful and arguably subtle detail that Bardugo implements to remind the reader that although Van Eck was our main antagonist in this case, there is no singular villain in this story because what the characters are fighting is an ultimately unbeatable source. The system is impossible to truly defeat because it is a hydra, we see that when Dryden’s father died he took on the role of the Council and acted the exact same way he did, and if Van Eck had raised Wylan to one day take over from him then he too would have been forcibly moulded into that shape by the poisonous environment of this governing body. The defeat of Van Eck, had Kaz not amended his will to name Wylan his inheritor, would have been only that: the downfall of a singular man, to be easily replaced by another with the same dangerously capitalistic values and crude methods of implementing them. It would not have been any change in the system that oppresses the main characters - I think it’s kind of similar to the Hunger Games (spoilers ahead) when Katniss chooses to kill Coin instead of Snow because she realises that killing Snow doesn’t actually change the system if someone else will simply step into his shoes. We also see this reflected in Kaz and his mission to destroy Rollins, since by doing so he too has taken the actions Rollins did. When Inej points out their similarities he denies it, saying “I don’t sell girls, I don’t con helpless kids out of their money”. Inej replies with the gentle, HEARTBREAKING sentence: “Look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz”. And this is so important because Kaz has no consideration for what happens to those people once they step outside his door. How do they fair after he scams them? How many of them have had no other money to fall back on? Did one of them sell their daughter to be able to pay off their debts to him? He’d never know, he just had the money and that’s all he thinks about. But if that girl survived long enough to want revenge, who would she blame? Say she didn’t want to blame her parents, like Kaz doesn’t want to blame Jordie, then who becomes the manifestation of all her hatred, the one thing she has decided that destroying will cure her? Kaz does. Just as Rollins has for him.

Every system of this city is a hydra, and there are so many beautifully written reminders of this without forcing it down our throats, but there is also the hope of genuine, real change. In Wylan, joining the Merchant Council as someone opposed to its views, as someone who has lived in both sides of this city and been abused by both of them, as someone who understands that real change is hard to implement. In Inej, as she journeys against the system that abused her not for revenge, but for the protection of all the children who have been hurt and killed, of all the children being hurt and killed, and of all the children who would have been hurt and killed if she didn’t stop the slavers who sought them, as someone who knows that real change is action. In Jesper, as someone raised far from the suffocating closed-minded atmosphere of the Merchant Council and who can support Wylan through it, as someone who knows that striving for real change is messy and chaotic, but that it’s where he thrives. In Matthias, who died believing that the world could truly change, who died believing in Nina, believing in himself, and believing that his death was a necessary sacrifice to real change, even though he wanted it to be peaceful. In Nina, as someone who had learned that real change cannot always be won with violence, as someone who will learn to use her new power to restructure a civilisation, as someone who will spend the rest of her life striving for change because nothing could ever be worse than her beloved having died in vain. And in Kaz, in the small ways, in the fear of what he could become that will hold him back from becoming the next head of the hydra, in his love for Inej shifting his perception of the world, and in his slow journey of healing, maybe one day killing Rollins will be enough. And if that doesn’t work, he’ll burn the world down and start it all again.

[theweeklydiscourse]

What Makes Feyre’s Pregnancy Plotline in A Court of Silver Flames so Upsetting?

The answer is that the events and outcome concerning Feyre’s pregnancy speak to a fear of one’s loss of autonomy, specifically one’s reproductive autonomy. Furthermore, this plotline demonstrates Maas' consistent prioritization of her male characters at the expense of her female characters. Multiple factors make this subplot feel particularly uncomfortable and upsetting, but I can condense them into three main points that converge to create one frustrating scenario.

1. Rhysand and the Question of Choice

From ACOMAF onwards, the reader is made aware of Rhysand’s unusually progressive politics and his attention to the autonomous choices of women. This is demonstrated through his selection of counsel, appointing Mor and Amren in roles of authority, and eventually crowing Feyre as High Lady of the Night Court. In addition to this, we are shown his emphasis on choice through his interactions with Feyre. Rhysand repeatedly reminds Feyre that she can choose, that she can make an autonomous decision that he will respect. So, it is these positive features of Rhysand that make the pregnancy subplot of ACOSF so disturbing.

He, and the Inner Circle by extension, purposefully omit the information that Feyre’s pregnancy will turn deadly and never volunteer the information to her. During Cassian’s meeting with Rhysand and Amren, we are shown their thought process behind withholding information from Nesta (and Feyre by extension) According to Amren, it is not lying because they are technically not telling lies in the traditional sense, only withholding information.

While this is about Nesta, the reader can see the parallels between both cases. The choice to lie by omission reveals that both Amren and Rhysand are aware of the dishonesty of their actions, choosing to mitigate it slightly on a technicality. It feels distinctly like a loophole in Rhysand’s previous promises to Feyre, making this act feel more deceitful while demonstrating Rhysand’s willingness to undermine Feyre’s authority as High Lady. If Rhysand had a condition or illness that would eventually kill him, informing him of it would be certain, you wouldn’t even consider the possibility of not telling him. However, because Feyre is pregnant, she is not afforded the same autonomy.

Wanting to keep Feyre in blissful ignorance is not a sufficient reason, especially when Feyre is still of sound mind and can advocate for herself. Rhysand’s reasoning sounds noble, but in reality, it is just benevolent sexism. It doesn’t matter if he thinks it will cause Feyre stress, she NEEDS to be aware of what’s going on and the fact that the news will ruin her peaceful pregnancy is of little consequence when her life is on the line. Rhysand prioritizes his feelings and implicitly gives himself executive authority over Feyre’s pregnancy, demonstrating his disregard for her autonomy and choices. This action directly contradicts the progressive beliefs Rhysand stated in previous books and is a betrayal for the reader as well as Feyre.

2. The Infantilization of Feyre

The omission of this critical information, good intentions or not, is based on a belief that Feyre would not be competent enough to handle such a pressing situation in her pregnant state. Amren claims that the stress and fear could have physically harmed Feyre, but such a claim assumes that Feyre would not have the fortitude or ability to handle the situation.

Amren's explanation demonstrates a belief that Feyre's input on the matter would be irrelevant and pointless because it prevents Feyre from offering any. It is a plan that assumes Feyre will not be able to add anything meaningful to the solution and that it would be less harmful to her if she was kept out of it. This is infantilizing and paternalistic because Feyre has proven herself to be capable of coping under pressure and happens to be an unprecedented magical anomaly. Feyre’s access to pertinent medical information should not be revoked and it is insane that Madja her physician, actively misleads her with Rhysand’s consent.

This infantilization of a pregnant character echoes how pregnant women have been infantilized throughout history. It is a terrifying thought to imagine that your bodily autonomy could be stripped from you in the name of serving your supposed best interest. Rosemary’s Baby is one of the most famous horror movies of all time and it explores this exact topic, the same is true for the short story The Yellow Wallpaper, both stories capture the horror of reproductive/medical abuse that still happens to women today.

3. The Aftermath & Prioritizing Male Rage

Lastly, one of the most disturbing elements of this subplot is the way the text consistently prioritizes and coddles the violent rage of male characters at the expense of female characters. This is on full display when Rhysand flies into an intense rage after Nesta reveals the truth to Feyre. Although Nesta can be faulted for her harsh phrasing, let it be known that even Feyre felt that she did the right thing and was expressing her anger at the paternalistic and unjust practices of the Inner Circle. However, Nesta is still subjected to severe physical and emotional punishment in the form of a grueling hike where she is left to stew in her guilt and suicidal ideation despite Feyre ultimately not faulting her.

Feyre admits that Rhysand “majorly overreacted” and that she wanted Nesta back in Velaris. And yet, Nesta is still punished. But why? Will Rhysand or any of the Inner Circle be punished for betraying Feyre? Why, if Feyre agreed that Nesta was right to tell her, would she ever need to be subjected to a severe punishment when she was justified in what she did?

This is a particularly telling detail that compels me to ask: is this punishment about Feyre’s feelings or Rhysand’s? Why is it that Rhysand’s “overreaction” needs to be assuaged by punishing Nesta? What I observe from this passage is the characters prioritizing the feelings of a male character and placating him with the suffering of a female character, even when he wasn’t the one who was hurt in that situation. Feyre asks Cassian to tell Rhysand that the hike will be Nesta's punishment as though it isn't truly a punishment, but it undoubtedly is.

Throughout the hike, Nesta is in a silent spiral of guilt and self-hatred, Cassian never tells her that Feyre is alright and that Rhysand overreacted, letting her dwell in it alone. He hardly speaks to her, he pushes her to the point of exhaustion and is somehow surprised that Nesta shows signs of suicidal ideation.

This isn't constructive at all, it is not evidence that Cassian cares about Nesta's well-being, and the scenes of Nesta internally repeating that she deserves to die and that everyone hates her are nothing but gratuitous and disgustingly self-indulgent. The text basks in Nesta's suffering, even when she was in the right and this hike only happened to placate Rhysand who wronged Feyre in the first place.

Hindsight am I right? Fuck off. A more productive resolution to this matter would be for Feyre and Nesta to talk it out ALONE. Feyre could express her feelings to Nesta directly and they could find a solution together, that way Feyre’s situation could be centered on the two sisters working together. Cassian can see that Feyre is alright, she’s obviously upset, but she didn’t crumble like he expected and that makes it completely baffling that he would punish Nesta anyway. It’s a solution that prioritizes his and Rhysand’s feelings as opposed to Feyre’s, making it not about a perceived transgression against Feyre, but against Rhysand.

In Conclusion

This topic has already been discussed at length by many people in the fandom, but it is a topic that still stays on my mind with how upsetting it is. It is a stunning example of the misogynistic undertones in Sarah J Maas’s writing and makes reading a very straining experience due to her obvious bias towards certain male characters. Not even her main character matters when Rhysand is factored into the situation, his emotions are always centred by other characters and is permitted to betray his wife and get off scot free.

Feyre’s reproductive autonomy is violated, and Maas doesn’t bat an eye. But when Nesta rightfully reveals the truth to Feyre, everyone loses their mind. Both Nesta and Feyre have their autonomy stripped away from the, by way of the Inner Circle’s paternalism, and when Nesta advocates for herself and Feyre, she is punished severely. Being put in her place as the hierarchy is strengthened.

[laylasverse]

TOLD 'EM IN PUBLIC

౨ৎ doing this shifting exercise by zaddizu for my better cr . this is a longer one so buckle up. i skipped some of the questions, sorry lol . . .

✶ WHAT IS YOUR NAME ? my name is layla amelie mullis. my mother named me after the song "layla" by eric clapton. she knew from childhood that she wanted to name her daughter after the song. my biological father gave me my middle name & last name. "amelie" is after a girl he found pretty at the dmv.

✶ WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD ? this question is so difficult to answer because it changes all the time. and the answer is dependent on a lot of variables. anyway, right now i love yogurt parfaits with strawberries & granola.

✶ WHAT IS A SONG YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE FOR IN YOUR HEART ? mockingbird by eminem. i used to listen to it as a little girl and it reminds me of my biological father. ( we don't have time to get into this rn lol )

✶ FAVORITE COLOR, GO ! dark red, but i look best in green because of my hazel eyes so green too.

✶ WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MEMORY ? my favorite memory is every time i saw a movie with my sister and my step-dad. it isn't really a specific movie but the feeling over sitting in a movie theater with them. sharing popcorn, making stupid comments & jokes, complaining about plots, having the aux on the way home and so much more. i am forever grateful for those moments.

✶ IN A CROWED ROOM, WHO WOULD YOU LOOK FOR FIRST ? my little sister. i drag her along with me wherever i go so she's always there. she the first person i tell when something major happens so i always look for and to her.

✶ BEST MUSIC GENRE ? oh, definitely hip-hop. it has set the foundation for so many trends & norms.

✶ WHAT TOPIC WOULD YOU DEFEND WITH YOUR LIFE ? literally anything kendrick lamar does. like the imagery and storytelling in his works is just so amazing. my friends know not to say anything bad about him while i'm around because i will not stop defending him.

✶ WHO IS A CHARACTER YOU RELATE TO ? stiles stilinski, because i am also the funny best friend of the main character.

✶ PICTURE YOUR ROOM, IS IT ORGANIZED OR MESSY ? right now it's a combination of both. it's messy but i know where everything is. i should really just clean it out like an intense spring cleaning but i got other things to do ( this is me procrastinating if you couldn't tell ).

✶ GUN TO YOUR HEAD . . . ARE YOU FUNNY ? yes, i am. i know that may come across conceded but being funny has been my thing since childhood. i was not the prettiest girl growing up so i had to be funny for people to be my friend. i used to hate just being the "funny friend" but now it's just who i am. and i love making people laugh.

✶ FRUIT PLATTER OR CANDY PLATTER ? fruit platter, one thousand percent. fresh strawberries, pineapple, crunchy green grapes, raspberries, green apple slices, mandarin oranges, & kiwi. like give me five minutes and it's gone.

✶ SUGAR, SOUR OR SPICE ? spice. even though my mouth sometimes feels like it's literal lava afterwords, i love spicy food.

✶ WHAT'S YOUR AESTHETIC ? i don't even know how to put it into words so here's a little moodboard.

✶ WHO IN YOUR DESIRED REALITY WOULD NOT SURPRISE YOU AS BEING A SHIFTER ? this might be an easy answer because she's a shifter here but my friend stevie. we both add each other to our drs and stuff so it would not surprise me if she gave me wink or whatever.

✶ WHAT'S YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE ? i was never a harry potter girlie. i tried to watch the movies a few years ago. they didn't really latch onto my brain though. my friend kennedy is really into harry potter and stuff so i took the quiz a few times & always got gryffindor.

✶ AMBIVERT, INTROVERT, OR EXTRAVERT ? ambivert. around my friends i am an extravert through and through. i enjoy making them laugh so i turn up my personality while i am around them. but at home or in front of people i don't know i am definitely an introvert. talking in front of crowds is the bane of my existence.

✶ BEST SCHOOL SUBJECT ? math because there's a definite answer for everything. or maybe history because it's already happened and i don't have to analyze some author's meaning. can you tell how much i hate my english classes?

✶ WHERE CAN SOMEONE FIND YOU WHEN YOU'RE SAD ? in my room, for sure. i love to be alone when im feeling "big" emotions. i just need like two hours to deal with it all on my own then i'm good.

✶ SOMEONE'S MUSIC YOU DON'T ENJOY ? it's not so much of a person than a type of music. i really don't like music without lyrics. it just doesn't make any sense to me. i can't focus on anything if there's like classical music playing.

✶ HAVE YOU HAD A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE ? surprisingly, no.

✶ WHO WAS YOUR FIRST LOVE ? DO YOU REGRET IT ? okay, so... surprisingly jason was not my first love. i had a friend that i had an intense homoerotic friendship with from sixth grade to the middle of freshman year. i don't exactly regret it but if i could go back i wouldn't got through it again. she was just not someone I shouldn't have loved. when i confessed she acted like i was crazy even though literally everyone around us thought we were already together. so sick, awesome.

✶ HAS THERE EVER BEEN SOMEONE FAMOUS YOU DIDN'T LIKE ? oh, many many many people. usually when i meet someone i almost immediately get their vibe and most famous people give of strange ones. sorta like leeches or parasites. lmk if y'all want me to tell you who...

✶ DO YOU ENJOY YOUR FANBASE ? yes! well, most of the time. sometimes they get a little weird when i bring a non-youtuber friend into my videos because they become bloodhounds and have to find out everything about them. but other than that they're pretty chill. they make a bunch of compilations on youtube & i watch them with my friends stevie because she's in my videos often.

✶ WHAT ARE YOU FAMOUS FOR ? i'm famous for my elementary school vines & baking videos.

✶ LEAST FAVORITE INTERVIEW ? my least favorite interview i've done has got to be when i had chris evans on my "show". but only because he made me nervous a few times so i fumbled over my words. this is one of the few interviews of mine i literally won't watch back.

IB : the amazing @rrezshifts & his post !!

[aria-bun]

ALRIGHT SIX OF CROWS AU 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

This is a modern au, where they're all adults and alive thank you for asking.

Wylan is freshly graduated from college with his theatre degree, and in an attempt to land a side role in a musical, gets the role of the female main character's love interest. Except he's gay and is slowly falling for the guy who did get the role he was looking for.

Jesper has been around the theatre circuit for a while, and after getting off a west end production of Hamilton playing John Laurence, got casted into a new production directed by a friend of his with a cute male lead.

Inej didn't think her career in dance would bring her to west end theatre, but after doing an audition for a show just for kicks (and to stop her friend from bugging her about it), she gets casted as the female lead and has to keep adverting her gaze from the director.

After Kaz broke his leg while playing JD in a west end production of Heathers, he distanced himself from the spotlight and used his dual major of business and theatre to use, and reminding himself to not get close to the actors due to what happened last time.

Nina bugged the director to get her friend a role in the production after she got casted as the female lead's best friend, though she spends more time flirting with the costume designer that was apart of the rival drama department at her college than actually rehearsing.

After getting severely blackmailed by the director, Matthias agreed to make the costumes for the production, all while trying to ignore the constant flirting attempts from his theatrical rival.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, just out of curiosity, given that each character is twisted from some Disney character, and Malleus is full dragon fae, could it be possible that Raverene (still wondering how they got that name translated that way) is actually twisted from Disney's version of the Reluctant Dragon, as they have a LOT of similarities? Both are pacifists, can be slightly cowards, like humans, etc. Do you think there's a chance of it or is he likely to be original? Thanks.

As a reminder, not every character is entirely twisted from a Disney character or concept and no one else. Within the main cast, we have characters of dubious origin (for example, there is no singular Disney wolf that Jack is based on), and I think the same applies for non-main cast like their family members. Yes, some family members have direct Disney counterparts. Cheka--a naive and bright lion cub destined to be king and robbing that spot of hope from his bitter uncle--is twisted from Simba. Rollo has an unnamed little brother whom he lost to "sin" (in this case, magic), which follows the story of the stage production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Others do not fit as cleanly. Najma is Jamil's younger sister who constantly annoys him. Her Disney counterpart, Nerissa, is Jafar's sister BUT she is his fraternal twin sister, not his younger sister. Additionally, Nerissa is far more wicked than Najma and does not fight with Jafar as often as Najma and Jamil do. Riddle’s dad does not get along with his mom, but we don’t know if that’s because Mr. Rosehearts is also meek like the King of Hearts is. Several other family members do not have obvious Disney parallels at all. For example, Chenya talks about his grandfather, but the Cheshire Cat does not have known family members; the Shroud parents have no equivalent in Hercules, etc.

That being said 💦 I have actually never heard of The Reluctant Dragon until now (nor did I know that Disney had a film of this name), so I’m not familiar with it. Based on the lack of name recognition alone (we know how much Disney and TWST love to bank on nostalgia points), I’d say the parallels between it and Raverne are coincidental?? It feels to me that Raverne was made the pacifist to balance out his much colder wife Maleanor and best friend Lilia. There’s also many parallels between Raverne and Diablo, Maleficent’s crow companion, so I definitely don’t think that Raverene is meant to reference the Reluctant Dragon alone, if he is meant to be twisted from it at all. When TWST introduces a new character, the inspiration more often than not tends to be super obvious and the fact that I have this doubt is another mark against the theory. (Although this is in part due to how little we actually know about Raverne aside from the stories we hear about him, which may not even be entirely accurate to what his character is like in modern day.)

Of course, I don’t know what the TWST devs’ research process is like or how obscure the media they pull from is 🤷‍♀️ Maybe the similarities were meant to be there and I don’t see it due to my own lack of familiarity with the story.

[purpleqilinwrites]

on that day in the summer rains.

a/n: this my entry for rylie's @cheriecoke love through the ages collab! thank you for hosting this collab, rylie! i had a lot of fun writing this, even if the research was a lot to handle hahaha. this reminded me how much i love nanami, so thank you! ❤ the other entries for the collab can be found here!

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: nanami kento

genre: fluff

info: heian era setting; japanese folklore au; nanami is half-kitsune; reader is half-tengu

warnings: feminine pronouns used

synopsis: it was during the time of summer rains when you accepted lord nanami's offer of marriage with no expectations.

word count: 5.5k

Nanami Kento

It was a late afternoon cloaked in the gusty whispers left behind by the summer rains when you were received once again into the proud Nanami residence in the Third Ward. In a different manner from your first arrival, the front gates were open prior to your hired ox-drawn carriage making an appearance from around the street corner. From within, you heard the loud voices of the servants calling out their welcomes to you, the new lady of the house. They were throwing rice into the air by the handfuls so as to ward off evil for an occasion the head of their household considered joyous.

Nanami no Kento was among the people who were waiting to greet you when you exited your carriage to ascend the stairs leading to the main pavilion of the house.

He recited a series of poems written with particular emotion – you were worldly enough to recognise that all seven of them had already been written by more prominent men than he – as he escorted you along the verandas of the main building to the northern pavilion that had been prepared for you. You noted, with a certain gusto, how the smile of one specific servant girl faltered when she caught a glimpse of you as you walked a man's pace and a half behind him. Hiding your smile behind the fan you held up to cover your face, you kept your eyes on Lord Nanami's back even if you would've liked to peer into the rooms he was leading you past.

Silently, you listened to your new husband's admittedly attractive voice rumble pleasantly over the sound of the evening breezes flitting about the trees.

Being a stranger to the capital where a horde of mortals lived made you a stranger also to their many peculiar habits. One such habit that you expected you'd likely never be at peace with was this very strange obsession with speaking in poetry.

"Lord Kitsune, speak plainly to me," you said, lowering your eyes so as not to meet his. You put on a bashful display by lifting a sleeved hand to your face, though it was already partially hidden behind the fan you held with your other hand. "Do not hide behind words written by other men."

The weight of the sigh of relief that escaped Lord Nanami at your words surprised you. It had been your express intention to befuddle him, even if only a little bit. Though your intentions hadn't succeeded, your interest in him was piqued. What a fascinating husband you acquired!

You've known him for the space of only a spring and a couple of months past, but you knew nothing of him that had not been gleaned from eavesdropping on gossip. For the largest part of the time you were acquainted with him, he had been in a comatose state due to a spiritual force that no one could dispel but you with your supernatural abilities and your biwa.

Against your expectation of the gentry of the capital, Nanami no Kento, only son of the Minister of the Left and relative to His Imperial Majesty himself, thanked you for your candour.

You were in the Nanami residence for all of a week before the rumours about you reached your ears.

It came to you through one of your shikigami that you had enchanted from a pinch of your own hair trimmings into a crow. The stark black shape of him swooped down into your inner chambers from a thick branch of one of the many maple trees in the garden, eyes bright, and he landed on your shoulder. Sensing his excitement to make his report, you halted in restringing your koto and laid it on the floor beside you in the meantime.

"Ichirou knows! The gossip is that the emperor's favoured diviner married a godless barbarian!" he cried, fluffing up his glossy night-dark feathers in a display of pride. "The tall-hatted nobles all think that the kitsune man is hiding you away because you are ugly and large and muscular!"

You chuckled as you listened to the gossip Ichirou gathered after having circled the capital for a few days, unperturbed by the apparently negative light that Lord Nanami's mortal peers viewed you in. It was within your expectations, and your first appearance at the capital only confirmed it.

Despite the fact that the Imperial Princess Utahime herself summoned you to the capital with a lot of gifts and a little bit of pleading on behalf of her second cousin Lord Nanami, these mortals who prided themselves on their purportedly superior breeding were unable to see past your origins from a lowly far-off island. You never supposed that a subsequent appearance to the capital would change their minds even in the slightest.

Lifting your hands from your lap, you guided your shikigami off your shoulder to perch on the layers of robes draped over the bone of your wrist instead.

"And what does this kitsune man think of me?" you asked, rubbing your fingers along the sides of his head.

Ichirou lowered his head, as if to tell you a secret, his eyes alight with a familiar glimmer of mischief. "Ichirou does not know! Ask Jirou! Ask Saburou!" was all he cried out before he hopped off your wrist and returned outside to wander noisily at his reflection on the still mirror provided by the landmark artificial lake in the south of the Nanami residence.

"Your shikigami has been following me."

Lord Nanami announced his presence in a most unorthodox fashion, though the herbal incense that scented his formal courtly robes preceded his words and even the steady rhythm of his footfall on the veranda. You continued reading the bound book of Chinese poems laid across your lap by orange lamplight, smiling to yourself.

"Which one?" you asked, pretending to turn around so that you may greet your husband properly but ultimately ignoring him in favour of stirring the ashes in the brazier. With a whispered command falling from your lips, the metal rod resting along the outer lip of the brazier rose to attention and began dutifully making its rounds.

Lord Nanami remained on the veranda, watching you in silence. If it had been another man in such close proximity to you, you would've liked to chase him away with a terrifying illusion, though perhaps a particularly monstrous gale would work better. However, while you have never personally seen him at work, you were aware that he had earned his lofty position as the emperor's most favoured diviner. An unusually quarrelsome wind would've hardly been cause enough for one such as him to blink.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him rap his knuckles against the sliding door that separated where he stood from your position in your inner chambers. You gestured for him to take a seat across from you, and he nodded as he stepped over the threshold.

"If there's anything that attracts your curiosity, you may inquire of me directly," he said. "I don't intend on leaving anything undisclosed to my wife."

Once again, Lord Nanami surprised you with his straightforward manner, and you could not help the smile rising into full bloom on your lips. To avoid loosing an unseemly bout of cackling, you instead gave the command for the metal rod to cease its movement. There was an unceremonious clang of metal hitting metal as it fell to the previous position. Lord Nanami paid it no mind, keeping his eyes on you as he waited.

"You have lived in this capital for all thirty or so years of your life and not once have you taken a woman into your home. Not until your cousin the princess called for me out of my Satsuma province," you said, closing your book of poems. You had an inkling that this conversation was about to become far more interesting than what was within those pages. "It is most curious indeed."

Lord Nanami, you were quickly coming to understand, was not erratic like the mortals you have had both the pleasure and displeasure of meeting in all your years. He lacked their capriciousness, both in emotion and in purpose. It was becoming more apparent to you that the two of you were more alike than he thought to mention.

"I sought only a wife who would empathise with my lived experience," he said.

It was an admission of sorts. The way he spoke was how you imagined the mortals liked to speak to their deity who lived on the moon, or one of their unending number of minor gods who might live at the bottom of a large body of water. There was the barest of tremors in his voice, and you were seized by a strange but fond urge to bite on his nose to make it stop. "It has been quite the burden to bear, this kitsune blood of mine."

You maintained the silence. It seemed that he had yet more to add, but you waited for nought.

"I have never once been ashamed of my tengu blood," you said, finally. The reality was that you were speaking to your husband, but in these long shadows cast by the pine trees outside the northern pavilion, you were speaking to a kitsune boy who was telling you a secret. You had no intention of comforting him. "There is no absolution to be found for those like us in the eyes of these mortals. You will learn to bear your blood with pride, else do not bear it at all."

Nanami no Kento did not require anything of you as his wife. For that, you would count yourself as exceedingly blessed above the other women in the capital. You would dare say that you were more blessed than even Her Imperial Highness herself.

The principal wife of his father has visited you at the Nanami residence twice already: once in the week immediately after you became a wife, and then again in the dead of winter. She jabbered on about this and that regarding your apparent duties to a prominent courtly man such as Lord Nanami. Whilst her mouth formed words, she busied her hands with grinding inkstone so that she may write these duties down on a scrap of paper pulled from within the folds of her many-layered robes. Not once in either of those two visits has she looked you in the eye, or anywhere remotely close to your eyes, for that matter.

If an educated and worldly mortal woman such as her was this vulnerable to rumours that were yet unfounded, you decided you wouldn't interfere.

You maintained a neutral face as you sat across from her, a stark contrast against the growing beguilement in your heart. With a word disguised as a demure clearing of the throat behind your sleeve lifted to your mouth, you willed the already cooled tea in your cup to become hot again. Even when the curls of steam rose lazily from the cup directly in front of you and nowhere else, the woman didn't appear to pay this anomaly any mind.

Ichirou was proud to reveal the mortals' misguided notion to you when the woman left your pavilion after her first visit. "Defilement passes through the eyes! Misfortune passes through the eyes!" You were scratching under his chin as he repeated his refrain, amused that he was spending his time collecting gossip even when you had not asked.

"Do the mortals behave in the same manner towards Lord Nanami?"

The question rose to your lips and materialised into the air unbidden. You hadn't processed the thought before it formed. It was unexpected enough that Ichirou shut his beak for longer than he ever managed to be quiet for since his creation. He tilted his head quite dramatically to the side, as if asking you where that had come from.

"They do not like him either! They say the kitsune man brings misfortune! Poor, poor Lord Nanami!" Ichirou shouted. Before you could prod him for more information, he promptly removed himself from his perch on your sleeve and took off for the trees.

Even as Ichirou circled the maple trees in the courtyard, you could hear his voice interspersed with the general din of servants preparing for Lord Nanami's arrival home from accompanying the emperor on a short pilgrimage. "Poor, poor Lord Nanami! Poor, poor Lord Nanami!"

There was a painting that you were forming in your mind of his time in the capital. Each brushstroke was becoming thinner and smaller than the last as you began filling in the small details of what you knew of your husband. It was not the picture you expected. The knowledge you were in possession of concerning the hierarchy of the mortals and how they interacted with each other failed you repeatedly. Instead, you had to learn a new thing and learn yet again.

You summoned Jirou by name, calling him to your inner chambers from the shadows where he normally remained. He landed on bent legs rather clumsily when he appeared on the wooden flooring in front of you at your command. "I want you to follow Lord Nanami. Make yourself present about him at all times. When you feel you have learned enough, report back to me."

The time of year would come again when the list of court appointments would be published.

You were leaning over your handiwork that was draped across your lap, a makeshift covering in the cold weather that provided some warmth. The servant girl that you recognised as harbouring some romantic feelings towards Lord Nanami was on the veranda of your northern pavilion, kneeling beside your allotment of the evening meal as she addressed you by your title.

You have been the lady of the house for almost half a year. It surprised you that she would hold on to those unreciprocated emotions for as long as she has. In all your time in the Third Ward, the affectionate glimmer in her eyes when Lord Nanami was present had not dulled in the slightest.

If you were one of those spiritual beings who hungered pointlessly after power, she would likely be the first mortal that you'd consume. Her heart was strong, so it would nourish your supernatural abilities well.

"Madam, is that for Master Nanami?" she asked, after you had granted her permission to enter the outer chambers of your pavilion to bring you your meal.

You looked up from your current preoccupation, and a light chuckle passed your lips at the immediacy in which the servant girl averted her eyes from your general direction. Even with the girl's head turned away from you, she was bold enough to keep her eyes on the long edge of the dark silk robe you were in the middle of hemming.

A strong heart she had indeed.

"Yes," you said, turning to her fully to watch her reaction. "He will wear it for his first appearance to the court after his appointment is confirmed for the year. After all, is it not the duty of a wife to present her husband in dignity to his fellows?"

A dark cloud of emotion passed over the servant girl's face before she chased it away. It had the form of jealousy, but you couldn't tell for certain what it was. You had no personal experience with such a transitory, inconsequential thing.

"You haven't played your biwa once since you became my wife," Lord Nanami said, making quick work of removing the peel of the mandarin in his hands and then separating the flesh into segments. The fragrance of the fruit burst into the air, crisp and sweet, and you were salivating despite yourself. You watched him with rapt attention as he placed the mandarin segments in a neat row, starting from the edge of the plate that was closest to you.

"Is residing in the capital so displeasing that your musical sensibilities are obstructed?" The fruit was mostly sweet and only slightly tangy on your tongue, and exceedingly juicy. Lord Nanami's attempt at a humourous jab was almost lost on you as you savoured the familiar taste.

It's been a while since you had the pleasure of eating mandarins grown in your home province of Satsuma. The family of fruit farmers of whom you were a frequent customer must be wondering why Saburou hasn't yet visited them with an order from your residence and a partial payment. You had it in mind to send your shikigami with a letter that explained your recent lack of patronage once Lord Nanami had retired to his own pavilion for the night.

"Not so, Lord Kitsune," you said, reaching for another piece. "I am not so inclined to entertain, is all."

Lord Nanami appeared to accept your answer, nodding in acknowledgement and turning his attention to the bowl of mandarins that needed peeling. In the middle of perhaps the third or the fourth mandarin that he made ready for your eating, he asked, "Would the lady of the house be inclined to play a song for me sometime yet? Without the sufferance of a malediction, of course."

In light of the discreet, almost boyish smile that tilted the corners of his lips upwards, you recognised that it was your turn to return the jest. "Pity that I require the misfortune of others to do any beneficial work at all."

Lord Nanami laughed, and it was a melodic, chesty sound. Somewhere in your own chest, there was a secret kindling that caught aflame.

You were in the middle of practising your calligraphy when a shadowy shape came hurtling into the standing screen that kept you hidden from any busybody courtiers.

According to Lord Nanami, his family residences had historically drawn many of such mortals, beginning from the time of the rumours surrounding his father's acquisition of his mother, a secondary wife. It was the hearsay that said she was disguised as a mortal woman that caused the worst of these unnecessary surveillances.

Since the news and subsequent verification of your own marriage had spread about the capital, these gossipers have taken turns visiting the Nanami residence under the pretence of leaving your husband a gift or a letter.

It wasn't any of the busybody mortals or the servants of such who came uninvited into your pavilion.

"Ichirou knows! The fake mother has been asking about you!" was the announcement that your shikigami brought to you. Picking up the mess of papers that accumulated over the span of your days spent practising calligraphy, you shuffled them into a neat stack and turned away from the table to stretch out your arm to Ichirou.

He made a series to clicking sounds to ensure that he had your attention, settling firmly on the curve of your shoulder instead of the arm you offered him.

"The fake mother does not like you! She says 'poor Lord Nanami'!" Ichirou said, in a lower volume than he normally spoke. His posture was conspiratorial, bent close to your head with his beak brushing against the shell of your ear. "The bolts of silk and boxes of incense that came as gifts in the past three months are all from her! Those fake court mortals are paid to be nosy and find out if you are pregnant yet! She said it is because she is concerned that you never leave the house!"

You cackled.

This principal wife of Lord Nanami's father was agonising over the production of an heir to the Nanami clan! An heir that wouldn't be from her line and therefore one that she could not take credit for, considering that Lord Nanami was her son only by her marriage to his father.

There was a familiar twinkle of mischief in Ichirou's dark eyes, and so you asked him, "And what terrible lies did you whisper in that woman's ear, Ichirou?"

Your shikigami loosened his talons from the fabric of your robes, jumping up from your shoulder and making a dramatic landing on the wooden floor in front of you. He trilled pleasantly, hopping about rhythmically on the same spot and alternating his landing between his right foot and then his left. "I say 'Beware'! Over and over! While the fake mother tries to sleep, I make her afraid! 'Beware! Beware! The time is coming!'"

When the cherry trees around the capital unveiled their blossoms, the Imperial Princess Utahime sent an invitation for you to accompany Lord Nanami to the palace for a viewing party. He was quick to assure you that you need not burden yourself with accepting, but you were just as quick to counter him; you have yet to thank Her Imperial Highness for her generosity that followed even after the task she set for you was complete.

"I don't imagine the capital had much appeal to you, and yet you came when the princess asked for you." Lord Nanami poured tea for you, and you let him.

When you thanked him, it brought to remembrance the many grievances of the woman who called herself his mother, who fretted about him and about your supposedly indecorous manner towards him as though she had personally birthed him. The woman might start pulling her own hair out once she was made aware that it was your husband who took pleasure in serving you and not the other way around.

"I have my curiosities," you said, using the hot tea within the cup to warm your hands though you were made impervious to the early spring chill by a spell of your own creation. "However, I admit I was the most curious about you, Lord Kitsune."

The tips of Lord Nanami's ears began to flush at the same time that a short gasp of surprise escaped him. Heartened by his unexpected reaction, you kept talking. "Spiritual beings do not typically have dealings with mortals, and children born of such dealings are scarce. I might have heard a rumour that such children are a master's work among crude materials, so to speak."

Time appeared to still about him as you lifted your cup to your lips for a sip of tea, waiting. Having finished it within a series of small mouthfuls, you refilled your own cup for once and waited some more.

The meaning of your words finally dawned on Lord Nanami when you heard him poorly counterfeit the rasp of a cough into his sleeve. His ears bloomed pink in the same manner as the cherry trees that were early for the season. The colour travelled down the back of his neck, contrasting beautifully against the fair strands of his hair that shone like the finest golden silk threads in the afternoon light.

"Perhaps your all curiosities have been adequately sated?" he asked, coming back to himself and to this moment with you. In the honey-brown bright of his eyes, the slit pupils have swelled endearingly to a full circle that scrubbed off part of his kitsune charm and made him appear more mortal.

It was a sight that you, despite yourself, tucked away in your chest. A most precious sight that should only be witnessed by you.

You smiled into your second cup of tea, having one unspoken curiosity about kitsune answered. "I should think so," you said. "We tengu have the deepest of affections for things of gold and things of beauty, after all."

Jirou was giving you his report of the months he resided within Lord Nanami's shadow as per your instruction, when you picked up the noise of a crowd of mortals approaching the direction of your pavilion. It was much louder than the usual servants' chatter and footfalls that you had grown accustomed to. You took your shikigami into your own shadow, wary of the presence of an unfriendly supernatural power within that mass of people.

A servant arrived on your veranda from within the ruckus. They knocked and then slid open the door to your chambers before you granted them permission. From behind the standing screen that obstructed the view of you from the veranda, you were able to discern the sound of Lord Nanami's voice in the distance.

The servant spoke. "Madam, I apologise for the interruption, but Minister Nanami and the Lady of the Second Ward have arrived. They have brought a priest on behalf of the madam since your ladyship was absent for the Great Purification. They request that the madam would don mourning robes for the purification, and quickly."

The ceremony for purification was mandatory chiefly for the imperial family and the courtiers who served them. It puzzled you that Lord Nanami's father, with his principal wife, would take the time and the effort of bringing this mortal rite to you when you were counted neither as a member of that family nor a courtier beneath them.

You had no interest in taking orders from a mortal, and so you remained seated with the intention of turning away anyone else who came to your chambers with a demand.

The servant who was on your veranda easily took the silence from within your room as a refusal. With another apology, she closed the sliding door and left. The sound of her footsteps told you she was going away to the main pavilion of the house, and you called for Jirou out of your shadow once you had to strain to hear her walking.

"Jirou knows the minister and the wife are Lord Nanami's family but they are not his kin," he said. "Lord Nanami does not belong."

You had gleaned as much from the account he gave before he was interrupted, but there was a finality to hearing this conclusion spoken aloud. There was a pinch in your chest. It ached with a pain that you thought you had long forgotten about.

What could Lord Nanami be saying to them? What more did he have to say after years of living like this?

All the paint strokes of Lord Nanami's life before you were coming together as a full picture in your mind, but there were still glaringly large patches of empty space here and there. It was made up of the things that he never said aloud. Things that you thought to ask only briefly but ultimately forwent.

"Lord Nanami is at the door," was all the warning Jirou gave before he hopped into your shadow. Knowing that your shikigami had a penchant for avoiding anything that had the stench of a hassle, you heaved a sigh as a means of mourning your previously quiet afternoon.

You inclined your ear to the direction of the veranda when the commotion in the courtyard finally arrived at your pavilion. Indeed Lord Nanami was standing outside your pavilion, but he wasn't the only one there. The principal wife of his father was with him, as well as a few other mortals whose presences and scents you didn't recognise.

Lord Nanami's voice was much clearer than it was earlier on, muffled only by the overlapping blabber of whoever else was crowding the veranda with him.

"Unacceptable."

There was a harshness in his tone that was entirely unfamiliar to you. In the entirety of your time as the lady of his house, Lord Nanami spoke to you gently. Even though his servants esteemed him highly enough to show deference to you no matter their personal feelings, you knew it was their duty that moved them. It was nothing like the consistent kindness shown to you by Lord Nanami, sincere enough and true enough that even your winter-dead heart was warmed by it. By him.

The shriek of that principal wife of Lord Nanami's father cut through indignant whispers of the servants – you realise now that those other mortals must serve her and not your husband. "Can you sleep peacefully knowing your wife hasn't been purified? This will be a year of misfortune for her. As long as that woman remains in this house, you can be sure she'll ruin you too, Kento."

The wooden slats that made up the veranda gave a high-pitched creak when a sudden weight dropped onto them. From behind the closed sliding door, Lord Nanami's supernatural abilities palpably bore down on the air. The desire to gaze upon his mysterious shikigami moved you to look through Ichirou's eyes, believing that his prying tendencies would've placed him among the maple trees facing your pavilion regardless of your command.

True enough, Ichirou was perched on a high branch alongside a few crows that he must've befriended during his spare time roaming the capital. His field of vision was a straight line to where Lord Nanami had his back against the door to your chambers, standing guard.

In front of Lord Nanami stood a fox-like creature that appeared to be made of stone. Even with his front legs bent in preparation to pounce, it was apparent that he would dwarf even his master at his full height.

Only Lord Nanami remained standing. Everyone else who was crowding about him on the veranda crumpled when the shikigami released a sharp exhale through an open and eager maw, baring rows and rows of pointed teeth that glistened thickly with drool. A thrill rose up within you as you watched the principal wife of Lord Nanami's father scramble to put space between her and the shikigami. You cackled, feeling Ichirou mirror your amusement, a pleasant thrum at the base of your throat.

The wild fear that danced in the woman's dark eyes was most delicious. You licked your lips, waiting to see what your husband would do next.

"My wife is not to be disturbed. If she makes her appearance, it will be of her own will," he said, gesturing for his shikigami to come to heel.

His servants grasped the underlying meaning of his words, arriving along the walled corridors to disperse the crowd that had gathered outside your chambers. Through Ichirou's eyes, you saw how Lord Nanami kept watch on the movement of the people, ensuring that he alone stayed behind.

It was a curiosity to you that he was taking such great pains to safeguard your privacy. You hadn't asked it of him even once. Not even in passing.

Still making use of Ichirou's lurking among the lush summer foliage of the maple trees in the garden, you saw the fatigued sag in Lord Nanami's shoulders once he had ascertained that the task he set for himself had been accomplished.

You summoned Jirou to make his appearance to Lord Nanami.

"You have my gratitude, Lord Kitsune." It was your voice that sounded from Jirou's open beak. Lord Nanami's mouth moved, but it was to dismiss his shikigami.

He took two steps away from the closed door to your chambers before he gave his response. "You are most precious to me. What I have done is only to make them recognise it," was what he left to you, before he tread heavily along the way back to the main pavilion of the house.

Unlike the disorderly manner in which the mortals crowded the Third Ward residence that Lord Nanami shared with you, there was no commotion when the minister and his principal wife and their needlessly large retinue exited the open gates.

It was after you partook of the evening meal that Lord Nanami arrived on your veranda, sliding the door open and letting the late afternoon breezes in. His footsteps were quick and his breath was ragged, signs that he made great haste to come to you even in the presence of summer rains. Even the lacquered hat he wore that signified his courtly rank was askew.

The thought of him rushing to meet you was sweet. You made sure your voice reflected your heart when you pretended not to know the reason for his appearance, wandering aloud.

"This is the first time you called for me," he said, stepping in after you invited him closer.

Part of the white paper of the letter you sent to him after the noontime meal was peeking out from within the layers of his formal courtly robes, bright against the dark dye of his outermost coat. You took delight in noticing that the paper was slightly rumpled despite being so thick, as though he kept your letter close to his heart for the hours that he was busy at court and couldn't yet return home to you.

You lifted your koto onto your lap, mirroring the smile that your husband wore, though his was more boyish and almost shy. The roundness of his pupils revealed his feelings, and you revelled in it as though it was a new thing to you. In some ways, you supposed it was.

"I do believe there is occasion for a song or two. If it pleases you, my lord," you said, delicately plucking at the strings as though you were checking on their condition.

Lord Nanami settled onto the cushion beside you, sitting close enough for your knee to press into the side of his thigh. "I ask for nothing more."

[vagueeyes]

A part of the in9 + extended universe journey that I'm really enjoying is watching the films that the League love - you get to know their influences and understand how their brains work!

Last weekend, I watched HÄXAN - mainly for three reasons (reesons?):

It's a favourite film of Reece's

@silverview's post about the film's parallels to THE TRIAL OF ELIZABETH GADGE

@unreesonable's post about Reece narrating the film at an event in 2017 (I've also since read the interviews he did when he performed it at the Flatpack Festival in 2018). After watching, I can definitely see why he was invited to do this (it's SO in his wheelhouse). What fun these events must have been!

Yesterday I relistened to the commentary for THE TRIAL OF ELIZABETH GADGE, and today I reread the script and rewatched/read along. I already quite like the episode, but watching the film definitely made me appreciate it even more!

Under the cut are 4 moments of interest from the script + ep, as well as 5 film + ep parallels that jumped out at me:

some spoilers for HÄXAN (& ELIZABETH GADGE ofc), also trigger warning for depictions of torture

In the commentary, r&s mention the opening scene was cut down, which is definitely what happened - in the episode, they also added in a shot of a crow, later revealed to be Elizabeth Gadge:

I really love the first two pages of the script because it's so full of detail. The character descriptions for Mr Warren & Mr Clarke, in particular, is my favourite part:

Not to mention this exchange (& stage direction) that was cut:

Steve also talks about them making the mistake of calling the family the Gadges, and it turns out one of these mistakes is left in the script (which I really didn't notice until I was rewatching & reading along!):

One main element of the film that I think the episode captured really well is how baseless and ridiculous witch trials were. But what I think is also interesting is that the episode actually has a calculated reason for Elizabeth Gadge being accused (her family wants to get rid of her so they can take over her room), whereas in the the film's dramatised witch trial, a man dies in his bed and his wife subsequently accuses a poor, old woman (who turns up to their house to beg for food) of causing his death through witchcraft. She is quickly arrested and tortured into confessing.

In both instances, the inquisitors in the film & Mr Warren in the episode have no interest in the truth!

The aforementioned wife in the film also gets arrested and accused of witchcraft, and there's a scene where she's essentially tricked into confessing, which reminds me of the scene where Mr Warren traps Elizabeth Gadge by crumbling & placing the cheese in front of her, so that Snowflake the mouse would go to her:

There's also a section in the film that shows the instruments of torture that were used to extract "confessions", pointing out, "You and I would also be driven to confess mysterious talents with the help of such tools, isn't that so?"

There's a part about the thumbscrew, which is also shown in the episode! There's even a bit in the film where one of the actresses apparently "insisted" on trying it out, which was pretty wild.

The "pricking" scene in the episode is also in the film, although the latter depicts it for a different reason:

Finally, on a more light-hearted note, I have to mention the part where Waterhouse accuses Elizabeth Gadge of "kissing the Devil's arse":

I was convinced r&s made that up, but this is actually shown, like, twice in the film??

What!!