#i am not. having a great time. with the underlying fear of Am I Just Contributing To Fandom Aphobia

[eosofspades]

caught in the extremely weird limbo in fandom spaces where i have never once seen any, like, canonically sex-positive ace/romance-positive aro characters (or demi/gray/etc), but aphobia is so widespread in fandom on the grounds of "BUT AROACE PPL CAN STILL BE IN RELATIONSHIPS/HAVE SEX" that it like. almost feels wrong somehow to be making or headcanoning characters as romance/sex positive at all bc fully ace/aro or -repulsed ppl already get barely anything in fandom spaces. idk girl help

[nackrosor]

~Warm, Soft and Alive~

Captain John Price x sergeant fem!reader

8,5 k. - Your captain comes knocking at your door in the middle of the night after the umpteenth nightmare of you dying in his arms jolts him awake.

warnings: porn with plot & feelings, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, soft dom, light power dynamics, praise kink, sleepy sex, multiple orgasms, mildly dubcon (just because you're very eepy), dry humping (except it's very wet), first time together, underlying romantic fluff, I'm not sure if this can be counted as somno but just in case I'm mentioning it.

John has seen many people die. He has witnessed a great deal of bloodshed, both among enemy's and friendly' line. He had his own soldiers fall on missions, fine men and women giving their own lives in order to save others. Some even took their last breaths in his arms. He remembers each one of them.

Everything was heightened during the early years. Every death devastated him, causing him nightmares and awful flashbacks... But as the years went by, his skin thickened and his mind grew used to the atrocities. Nothing could get through to him anymore.

Or so he thought.

He can't seem to shake off the image of you bloody and unconscious, laying in his arms as he puts pressure on the gnashing wound on your side, trying to reduce the blood loss. He can't forget the anguish he felt while looking at you in such a miserable state. How on edge he was on the frantic ride back to camp, with you falling in and back from consciousness the whole time. Those weak groans and cries of pain that left your lips still echo in his ears. He can't forget how lost he felt as the medics took your limp body from his arms and rushed to the operating room to get you under the knife. To save your life. You had lost so much blood on the way... There was a high possibility that you wouldn't... That you... He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if you did. Thankfully, you’ve always been so strong. One of his best soldiers. You perdured. You lived. You healed. Still, he can't forget a second of it all. The sight of your limp battered body sagged against him haunts his dreams to this day. Months after the event. No matter how many times he sees you strolling about the HQ, chatting with your mates, smiling and nodding at him as you pass by. Every night he has the same nightmare of you dying in his arms, and his mind is pestered by fear and doubts. What if he truly lost you? What if you didn’t make it?

Another nightmare has woken him tonight, robbing him of sleep. And at this point, he knows there will be no peace for him until he sees you breathing and standing on your feet with his own two eyes. He can't wait for the morning, for you to wake up. He needs to see you right now, lest he loses his mind entirely. 

That's why he's marching to your quarters through the dark hallways of the HQ. Pace hurried, heart aching in his chest, head still whirling from the dreadful images of your life slipping away from those pretty eyes of yours. He can't take it one second longer. His fist hits the metal surface of your door a bit harder than he intended to, but he needs you to hear him and come open the door as quickly as possible. 

You jolt awake at the sudden knock on your door. Your heavy eyes flicker to the alarm clock on the nightstand, a groan leaving your lips upon noticing the green light signaling 2:40 am.

With much effort, you turn on the lamp then drag your feet off the bed and towards the entrance, groggily swaying the door open.

"Who the fuck-" You're ready to protest and tell off whoever dares to interrupt your sleep, but the words die on your tongue when your half-closed eyes land on your captain.

One glance at your half-asleep, messy look and all the tension washes off of his body like soothing water. 

“Can I come in?” John’s voice sounds shaky, the relief of seeing you battling with the effects of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.

"Uhhh-" you look up at him, momentarily taken aback by his request, your mind still clouded by sleep. Why is your captain at your door, at such a late hour, asking to come inside your room? Perhaps you're still lost in your dreamworld. 

With a sluggish shrug, you eventually move aside and let him step inside. 

John shuts the door behind him, quietly. It is darker inside your room than out, but he can make you out in the darkness thanks to the faint yellow light coming from the abajour on your nightstand. 

His eyes trail down your body, checking you over as discreetly as possible for any signs of injury; a habit he’s taken on since that day. There’s an urge to grab your arms and hold you still so he can run his hands over you, check that you’re real and solid in front of him.

You don't notice his scrutinizing gaze as you rub your hands over your face, trying to wipe the sleepiness out of your features.

"Hm, cap?" you call out for him, your voice raspy and drowsy. One of your hands lazily tug at your thin top, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. "What happened?"

The way you pull at your clothes has John quickly sweep his gaze over the exposed skin. He’s seen you in a similar attire countless times before, but for some reason tonight this sight of you has his stomach flipping.

“Nothin’ happened. I just-“ he breaks off. John can’t admit that he’s here because he woke up from yet another nightmare of you bloody and broken, dying in his arms.

“I needed to see you.”

The words take a moment to register in your hazy mind, and when they do, you blink at him in confusion.

"Hm. Me... ? Why?" you ask him hesitantly, a slight frown taking form on your face. You shift awkwardly on your feet, your head tilting to the side as you look up at him with your doe eyes. Your fingers scratch mindlessly at an old scar on your bicep.

His eyes flicker to your arm. The sigh has his heart twisting in his chest. He knows all of your scars, old and new. And he remembers that one clearly, even more than the others. Perhaps because he wasn’t the one to patch you up that time.

John takes a step forward, closing the space between you two. It’s suddenly stifling in your room, and he’s hyper aware of how thin your top is and how much he wants to touch you. 

Your head cranes upward as he steps closer, your eyes unwavering from his face.

"...Cap?" you whisper softly, your frown deepening at his silence. You hold onto your arm with undisguised unease, warming up your bare skin with your palm.

John reaches to brush some of your messy hair away from your face. Your skin is warm beneath his palm, soothing the coldness in his chest. All those moments of seeing your lifeless body flicker in and out of his mind, and here you are. Warm and soft and very much alive.

He can’t stop himself. John brings his other hand up to lightly touch your shoulder, his fingers tracing the slope of your bare collarbone.

Your flinch of surprise to his touch is delayed, your tired eyes widening imperceptibly as they dart to his hand on your collarbone before moving back to his face.

You're not sure what's happening. Sleep still lingers in your mind, muffling your thoughts, slowing your instincts.

"John...?"

The way you say his name, all soft and quiet and surprised, has his heart giving a thump against his chest. John is aware he’s being too forward. He’s your Captain, he shouldn’t be here, this close to you. Touching your bare skin, in your room. It’s not right, it’s not proper. But after waking from those nightmares for the umpteenth time, all he wants to do is touch you. Reassure himself that you’re safe, that you’re real and here standing in front of him.

John can’t look away. In the low light of your room, your eyes still manage to stand out, full of life even when clouded by fatigue. His fingers trail from your collarbone to your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along the underside of your chin. The contact has you shivering and your eyelids fluttering. You lean into his touch on instinct, heart stuttering in your chest.

He’s suddenly reminded of many a night spent together on a cold ground, of times when you’d curl up beside him and he wrapped his arm around you and kept you warm and safe and alive. He doesn't know if you remember, if you've ever noticed, but he does remember. He craves that feeling again. 

John lets his touch wander down the side of your neck, feeling the quick beat of your pulse. Alive. Alive. Alive.

"What's the matter…?" you whisper drowsily, heavy eyes locking onto his again, your hand reaching up to wrap around his wrist.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, hear it in the groggy whisper of your words. You don’t seem to register what’s going on, not like he does. The way your hand gently wraps around his wrist causes his heart to miss a beat, a pang of possessive need filling his chest.

“Just-“ he swallows roughly, trying to control the sudden urge to push you down on the bed and cover your body with his own. “Need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your brows furrow at his words, head tilting again in confusion, your doe eyes staring deeply into his.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

That pout you make when you're confused? He finds it adorable. And you’re pouting now, staring up at him through heavy eyes, not a clue in the world about the memories or the nightmares that have been tormenting him.

John’s fingers grip your chin, holding your face steady so he can look at you. To really look at you. Your soft face, your slightly chapped lips, the dopey eyes that don’t seem to understand.

“I need to make sure,” he repeats. His voice gravelly and deep, rough in a way that even surprises himself.

You blink slowly, sluggishly, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to close them.

"Cap, I'm all in one piece." you say softly, a hint of protest in your voice. Lazily raising your arms as if to point out that you are in fact all intact, you add, "see?"

The innocent gesture has his stomach twisting. Your top rides up, baring more skin, a slice of your stomach exposed in the dark. When you drop your arms again, the movement causes the fabric to ride up even more, the top shifting along your shoulder and causing the strap to dip down, just enough to show the upper edge of your breast.

John’s eyes fix on the sight, on that sliver of smooth, naked skin. The need to run his hands all over you, feel everything and confirm you’re here, is so strong that he releases your chin and grabs at your forearms instead, fingers curling around your soft flesh.

He pulls you a little closer, until he can look down at you easier. A rough sigh leaves his lips as he gives you a slow glance over. One hand pulls your top back into place. His fingers linger on your bare skin, brushing along the strap.

"I can see that.” 

Your stomach flips at the way he grabs onto your forearms, at the way he stares down at you with such intensity. You still can't wrap your head around what's happening; it all feels like a dream, both so vivid and dazed.

With your arms restrained by his grasp, you bend your head to one side and rub the corner of your eye with your shoulder, causing the strap to drop again. This time, he does not slide it back on. 

"Then... Can I go back to sleep?" you ask him softly, quietly, a hint of plea in your voice. A yawn escapes you right after.

John’s grip on your flesh tightens at the sight of your yawn, but it’s the sound of your slight plea in your quiet voice that makes his stomach do a flip.

“Not yet,” he mutters, not sure if he’s doing it to make himself feel better or because he’s enjoying the rush of power it gives him, holding you. “Gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

A breathy groan leaves your lips at his words. Your eyes, heavy and droopy, blink lazily at him.

"What... is... it?"

John’s fingers wander down, tracing along your collarbone again and lingering at your pulse point. You’re so tired and half out of it, that you don’t even seem to realize what he’s doing. He’s having a hard time controlling the urge to pull you against him, wrap himself around you and let the feeling of you pressed against him ease the flashbacks in his mind. You’re so soft and warm beneath his hand. The fact that he’s touching you like this, that he’s touching your bare skin and you’re letting him, is making him feel drunk on power.

“Do somethin’ f’me?”

You simply nod, slowly and mindlessly, bleary eyes drooping and resting for just a moment before you return your gaze to him.

"Whatever you need, sir..." you murmur under your breath, your words garbled from weariness.

Sir.

He nearly winces at the sound of his title coming out of your sleepy mouth. It does something to him, hearing you call him that when you’re like this. Soft and malleable and so compliant in your groggy state.

John is a strong man, but that? That makes him weak. So weak that he almost pulls you flush against him right there and then, to just hold you and feel you, really feel you. His mind immediately conjures up the many things he needs from you, some of which have nothing to do with his nightmares. You’re barely even fully aware of what you’re agreeing to, how vulnerable you are right now... But he takes a deep breath in, keeping his thoughts under control, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Need you to not be so reckless in the future.”

The words are gruff, but there’s an underlying hint of worry in them. He hates how much the sight of you lying limp and wounded in his arms messed with him, screwed with his mind. So much so that he hasn't been able to get some shuteye in months. 

"Reckless?" you parrot, looking lost. Your face lazily scrunches up in a puzzled frown, your eyes dropping to slits. Your mind is too muddled to connect the dots, to realize what he's referring to. The incident that almost took your life is so far off in your thoughts, so far off in time too, that you barely remember it happening at all. The only poignant memory you're left of the event is the large but healed scar on your side.

"Reckless." John repeats, his fingers leaving your collarbone to trace along that one little faint scar on your bicep, his mind instantly reeling with images of that nasty gash on your side he tried so desperately to clog with his hands. “You could have died.”

The rough tone of his voice seems to lift some of the fog from your mind, the words 'you could have died' resonating within you. Your hand twitches, yearning to move to your face and rub your eyes again, but his hold keeps your arms still.

"But I didn't." you whisper, your voice raspy. "And it's been months since."

John's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around your arms. It's been months since it happened, and he still gets nightmares about cradling your bleeding body in his arms. Even months later, the sight of you being so close to death causes him to jolt awake with his heart hammering in his ribcage. Yes, it has been months, but for him, it happens again and again every fucking night. That moment is ever present in his mind.

“And I don’t want a repeat of it.” He says darkly. John glances down at you again, trying not to get caught up in the sight of you. “I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

You blink at him, his voice making your stomach churn. When he adopts that imposing tone of his, all you can do is nod and whisper, "Yes, sir."

John lets out a low huff out of his nose at the immediate obedience. That sense of power he’d felt earlier spikes, burning hot in his chest. 

He should back away. Let you go back to bed and get some sleep. You’re tired, you’re vulnerable and sleepy… and wearing that goddamn skimpy excuse for a top.

But instead, he hears himself saying: "Lie down... and let me see the wound." 

His order has your fuzzy mind spin. Your tired eyes widen in disbelief and confusion, seemingly regaining some focus.

"T-The scar's perfectly healed, cap. Why would you need to-"

The words stumble from your lips, groggy and tired, as you try to make sense of his demand. He can see the surprise flash in your weary eyes at his request, can feel the way you go to protest against his order. John’s grip on your upper arms tightens, his fingers pressing down into your soft flesh, shutting you up before you can finish your sentence.

“I'm not asking.” he says gruffly, his voice that low, authoritative tone that you’d usually instantly comply with. He moves even closer, making you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

“Lie down and show it to me.”

Your breath hitches at the way his grip tightens on your arms, at the way his voice drops gravely as he reaffirms his command.

You only stall for a moment, gulping, doe eyes boring into his, before you gently pull back from his hold and pad to the bed, tiredly easing yourself down onto the mattress. Your fingers roll up the hem of your top to the underside of your breasts, exposing your left side to him.

You’re disoriented and confused, mind fuzzy from sleep, but you still listen to him. You listen to his order. John’s mind is reeling as he takes in the sight of you lying on the bed. You’re obeying him so easily. So readily. And goddamnit, it’s making him feel insane. You’re following his every word like a good little soldier…

John lets his eyes rake down your form on the bed. You look so vulnerable, so soft and tired. It sparks a possessive urge in his chest. His eyes track the way your messy hair splays out on the pillow and the way your top slides up as you bare your skin to him. He follows you to the edge of the bed. His eyes keep flickering down to your stomach, to the bare skin that looks so very soft and warm and inviting.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits down beside you with one knee settled on the bed and the other leg hanging from the edge.

He knows he’s being pushy, taking advantage of you like this, he knows it. You’re half out of it and clearly confused and he’s using it to his advantage. But the nightmares are too fresh on his mind, still replaying in flashes, and you looking so damn vulnerable and soft beneath him right now has all his instincts on edge.

John's eyes hungrily devour the sight of your exposed side, his eyes falling on the soft curves and the pale, fading scar; the wound reduced to a light puckered line, but nonetheless a stark reminder of how close you came to dying. How close he came to losing you.

You lie there, silently, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him. Your breathing is slightly altered just like the pace of your heart. Even through the drowsiness, you seem to realize how odd the situation is... The effects John's presence in your room, on your bed, so close to you, have on your tired body are evident. What you can't seem to pick up on is that strange flicker passing across his gaze as he examines your scar.

You keep silent though, simply staring up at him and keeping the fabric of your top rolled up, slightly pulling up your braless breasts with your hand as well, to push them out of the way.

John's eyes follow the way your chest slightly rises and falls with your breath. He notices the way it seems to stutter as his eyes drift over you. He doesn't know what to focus on. Your messy hair sprawled over the pillow, the soft curve of your breasts just barely exposed as you lift up the fabric of your top, your bare stomach and the faded scar. His eyes keep flickering from one part of you to the other, his mind going haywire at the sight of you, vulnerable and lying in front of him like this.

His mind begins to fill up with all kinds of thoughts. Thoughts of taking your top off entirely. Seeing all of you bared to him. Feeling your soft skin against his and running his hands all over you. Feeling your warm body under his own.

No matter how much he tries to resist, he can't refrain from reaching out with his hand and let his calloused fingers graze the bare skin of your scar.

The jolt of your body and the sound of you drawing in a sharp breath has his instincts flare in warning. But you don't recoil, you just look at him with wide, hazy eyes. Your body so close and warm and tense beneath his hand. So responsive to the touch, reacting without you even meaning to.

John's hand continues to graze over the skin of your scar, his thumb rubbing over the skin slowly, gently, feeling the way your stomach flexes beneath his touch. His eyes flicker up from the pale scar to look at your face.

"Does it still hurt?”

"It-" you try to answer, but your voice comes out raspy. That forces you to take a moment to clear your throat and wet your dry lips before trying again. "It itches or tingles from time to time... but it's nothing, really." you admit in a whisper, voice still raw as if reluctant to come out. Your fingers tighten a little on the fabric of the top, keeping it still on your chest.

"I see."

John's fingers keep moving over the scar tissue. Feeling the bumps and ridges of the skin, his eyes fixated on your stomach, on how you respond to his touch. Every breath and twitch and soft gasp makes his entire body flare up. It's a struggle to keep his mind somewhat coherent.

His eyes slowly move to your hands balled into the fabric of the top, the way you're holding on just a little bit tighter. He can tell that you're conscious of the fact that you're not fully clothed and that you're feeling vulnerable. Yet, he can't keep his hand away.

"Does it hurt now?" He reiterates. His hands continue to glide across the scar, fingers slowly tracing along the soft curve of your stomach.

You meekly shake your head in response. Your neck cocked slightly to the side, allowing your gaze to drift to his hand and watch as his fingers travel over your skin, so carefully, tenderly, yet... possessive.

"It... tingles a little." you whisper, muscles flexing again under his touch.

He's intoxicated by the sight of you underneath him, and you're responding so sweetly to his touch. Vulnerable, exhausted, but oh, so soft, warm, and sensitive. It's making him lose his mind, seeing you like this. Feeling your heat against his fingers. Seeing you in that damn top barely cresting just under your breasts.

Without thinking, he shifts on the mattress, leaning down to press his lips on your scar.

You gasp sharply, body arching at the sudden contact. Your tired eyes widen and the fabric of your top falls from your hold as you plant your palms on either side of you on the mattress, slightly lifting your torso from the bed.

John is getting addicted to your noises. To the way you gasp and arch beneath his touch. It's like a sick taste of what it would be like to really have you like this. To have you writhing beneath him, moaning and gasping because of him.

His hand tightens on your stomach. He can feel the muscles flex beneath his touch, the way your body reacts on instinct to his lips on the scar. He doesn't think. He just acts. He kisses the scar again, feeling a sense of possession wash over him at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips.

You flinch again at each kiss, soft gasps falling from your lips as you stare down at him, confused, dazed...

"C-Cap...?" you hesitantly call for him, your voice barely audible, breathless. "W-what are you-"

"Shh."

His free hand comes up to rest on your side, fingers splaying across the skin and holding you in place. Holding you down. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's losing control, feeling drunk just from having you below him, reacting to his touch. Letting him do all these things... letting him take all these liberties without even fighting back.

He shouldn't be doing this. Taking advantage of you like this. But your skin is just so soft, and you're so responsive to him, and he can't stop himself. This is his medicine. His medicine against the nightmares, against the horrible memories plaguing his mind. 

Soft gasp after gasp is falling from your lips, sweet in John's ears. The sound and the sight of your body arching below him, writhing at his every touch, is driving him insane. Your fingers digging into the sheets, your body trembling and shaking in his hold, the way your chest rises and falls with your labored breaths. It's all just so damn good. A stark contrast to the sight that wakes him up every damn night. He needs to see you like this. To have you arching and writhing and gasping under him. To see you alive.

He sucks a hot, slow kiss into the sensitive skin of your abdomen, tasting the salty sweat on your skin. His fingers dig into the flesh at your side, holding you down against the bed and keeping you completely in place. His other hand drifts up slowly, tracing over the soft curve of your ribs, his fingers brushing against the bottom curve of your breast, slipping under the top.

"Oh~!"

The unexpected sensation of his rough fingers touching the delicate flesh of your breast sends your fuzzy thoughts spinning. Is this really happening? You can't think straight. And you're convinced that even without the lethargy of weariness inhibiting your judgment, you wouldn't be able to think clearly. Not with your captain kissing your tummy, cradling your breasts, and keeping you pinned to the bed. Your handsome captain… whom you secretly adore...

Your mewling gasp makes a bolt of heat shoot up his spine and all the blood in his body head straight south. The noise that escapes from your lips has his hand reflexively closing over your breast, his fingers squeezing on the warm, supple flesh. A dark, possessive part of his mind revels in the noises you're making, in the way your body shivers at his touch. In having you pinned down with his hand and mouth on your skin. No fight back, no pushing him away, no words of complaint fall from your lips as he kisses and touches and holds you down with little effort. He would pull away from you if you asked him to, he believes that strongly. He would never hurt you, even with the promise of making you feel better. But you aren't pushing him away. You are not protesting. You're not showing him any signs of objections. And it isn't only because you are worn out. He can see it in your eyes and hear it in the way you respond to his touch. You like it, you enjoy his attention. And that's enough to spur him further.

His fingers delicately caress the smooth curve of your breast, feeling the pillowy and tender flesh just beneath his fingertips. He has lost all sense of control at this point. All sense of reason. All he can think about is how soft you are, how warm and malleable beneath him, how deeply he craves to touch more of you…

He lifts his hands, tugging at the fabric of your top, revealing your chest to his gaze. He can't resist a second longer, and he pounces on your breast, attaching his lips on your hard nipple. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your expression, your glazed eyes, the way your back arches up, and your lips part to let those delicious moans escape.

A shiver of pleasure strikes your tired form. One of your hands moves spontaneously to his head, fingers threading in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, against your chest. That provokes a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. It only serves as confirmation that you’re not trying to stop him but rather holding him against you. Encouraging him, even. And he's more than inclined to indulge you.

He's lost every ounce of his restraint at this point. He can't recall why he came to your room in the first place. What was he seeking for? Just to look at you. Or perhaps he subconsciously hoped for more. Now... There is no going back from this. And all he knows is that he's going to make you feel good, make you feel alive and to engrave the sight of you, high on pleasure, into his tortured mind so that it may take the place of any other horrible memories he has of you.

"John..." you whine softly, breathlessly, your half-closed eyes peering down at him, watching as he cradles your breasts and sucks on your nipple, scratching and tickling your sensitive skin with his beard. Your entire body is ablaze, tightening from both fatigue and yearning.

Hearing the sweet quivering sound of your voice uttering his name in the quiet night has his heart thunder in his chest. He keeps his focus on your face, watching how the mist in your eyes seems to intensify. 

He pulls away from your tits with a wet sound just long enough to speak, his voice deep and rough. "Say my name again."

John's mind is slowly slipping into a haze of lust and possessiveness. He's never heard his name sound like that ever before. It's like a drug, something that hooks over his core and keeps him there, wanting to make you utter his name again and again in that pleading tone as if you were begging for more.

He can't take it any longer. Without any warning, he's pulling back from your chest and peeling his shirt off, discarding it as if it was scorching his skin. He doesn’t give you time to register one action, before he rushes onto another. Rough hands grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down in one firm and swift motion.

Your muffled mind struggles to keep up. Droopy, glazed eyes try to follow his movements, your hands idly resting on the mattress, your bare chest raising and falling heavily, mouth open and drawing each breath in quick, quivering gasps. Your newly exposed thighs press together out of instinct, attempting to give you relief from the ache in your core. You can feel the dampness of your panties as they brush against the inner flesh of your thighs. You can feel how aroused you are for him.

John's eyes immediately catch the subtle movement of your legs bending at the knee and rubbing together. And his hands don't take long to follow. He's now hunched over you, his large build dwarfing your smaller, supple body. His hand travels along the inner surface of your trembling thigh, gliding over the smooth skin till his fingers reach the edge of your underwear, then slide across the thin fabric. He can feel the heat and the wetness through the material and that’s enough to trigger a deep groan from the back of his throat, a sound that's somewhere between an exhale and a growl.

This night has gone so far off course he doubts either of you will be able to look at each other the same way after this. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is being with you, and making you feel good. He's not thinking anymore. Thinking has fled his mind. 

He pushes your legs apart, letting his hands run up your thighs towards your center, feeling your muscles tense at his touch.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” he coos, gliding his palm over the expanse of your panties, making you whimper in response, trembling in delight at the contact and his words.

His voice is low, deep, and full of praise as he looks down at you, watching intently the way your body reacts to his touch.

“My pretty girl…”

He repeats the motion, this time with a little more pressure, rubbing the flat of his palm against your clothed heat, watching with a deep, possessive pride the way your thighs shiver and twitch at his touch. He can feel the dampness leaking through the fabric, the heat and the moisture soaking into his skin.

"My reckless, pretty, pretty girl…." he says, his tone firm and territorial, with a tinge of frustration edging it.

He sweeps his hand over the small patch of fabric that covers you, pressing the heel of his palm to your swelling bundle of nerves, drawing a tight circular pattern over it while relishing the way your thighs spasm and your eyelids flutter.

"Giving me such a fright…"

The firm, unyielding pressure of the palm against you sends waves and waves of ecstasy shooting straight to your core. You attempt to speak, to ask him what he means, but only whimpers leave your lips.

He drinks in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, thighs twitching and clenching, chest rising and falling with you heavy breaths, trying to speak but unable to form coherent words. You're so desperate for him, so responsive to his touch, it's making his head spin. He wants to see more of you, he needs it to forget the nightmares. He needs you. 

He moves closer, his hand still firmly rubbing against your heat, fingers curling on the drenched fabric, as he nuzzles your neck and presses scorching, wet kisses all over your skin. His mustaches and beard tease your skin, amplifying the tingling feeling that spreads throughout your body. 

His gaze burns into yours, holding you captive as he moves his palm over your heat in slow, languid circles, watching every expression and twitch of your face from up close, taking every noise that escapes your lips as a hint, making him adjust his touches until he gets the prettiest, loudest moan from you.

"Getting yourself hurt…"

He rubs his hand even more firmly, his palm moving faster and faster, applying more and more pressure on your sensitive nub, as if to emphasize every word he is saying, but it only causes you to lose more focus on his voice.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me… to see you in danger?” he whispers, his voice deep and rough. His free hand slides under your head, to hold onto the nape of your neck. “To see you in pain?”

If you were out of your mind before, you're being totally pushed out of your body now as he takes you closer and closer to the edge. You hear him, you understand what he is saying, but you are unable to form a single thought; you lack the energy to answer or apologize.

Your whole body is buzzing like a live wire, every nerve on fire, your mind blank with primal urges. 

He's watching your face, watching your eyelids flutter with each stroke of his hand, watching your lips part and your tongue slip to moisten them, watching you shiver and writhe under him, whimpering and desperate for release.

"You give me too many damn heart attacks, you know that? Keepin’ me up every night…"

“M’sorry-” you manage to cry out, gazing up at him but battling to keep your eyes open. Your hands find his tensed arm, and cling onto it for support as you feel the knot in your belly tightening, your body arching in anticipation.

Your apology is hardly coherent. He can hear the slur in your jumbled words, feel the tremors in your frame, see your eyes struggling to stay focused, your body arching and bucking and quivering under his touch, your fingers digging into his arm as if you're trying to hold on for dear life.

“I know, doll…” he croons, lips grazing the side of your jaw, close to your ear. You can feel his warm breath fanning your skin, rising goosebumps all over it.

“You’ll be the death of me… but you’re so damn beautiful-”

You look so helpless, so lovely like this. He just wants to give you what you want. His hand grinds against you, harder but steadier, increasing the pressure in a demanding and relentless motion. His eyes keen on watching the way you wriggle and arch, the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw falls slack as he ultimately pushes you over the edge.

"That's it, doll... that's it... come for me... my sweet girl…”

Your release is a sight to behold. Your body tenses like a bowstring before you climax, your moans and gasps turning into mewls of his name with the last shred of breath in your lungs, your eyes flying wide open and rolling back in your head, your nails sinking into his arm… then your entire body goes limp. Your legs tremble and spasm beneath him as he guides you through the aftershocks. John doesn't let up, doesn't stop moving his palm, prolonging your peak until you're left spent and boneless, breathing heavily. Only then does his hand slowly come to a halt, brushing one final time over your soaked panties as he lowers his forehead on yours. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, his gaze glued to your pretty face, his fingers leisurely rubbing the back of your head. When he moves slightly to pull back and take you in, he becomes acutely aware of the strain in his bulge, struggling against the confinement of his jeans. He quickly unzips them and lets his stiff length breathe, with him drawing in a shuddering breath as well.

He chances a look at your panties, the possessive pride in him flares up at the sight; the fabric is so drenched it’s become see-through. His fingers gently move over it, his eyes instantly flashing to your face as you protest weakly at the contact. You're still lost in the high, eyes closed, lips parted, and chest heaving heavily. He’s never seen anything more beautiful; the image is going to be forever burnt to the inside of his eyelids. Well, he hopes so. He’d gladly wake up every fucking night at the memory of this, instead.

John watches you for a moment, letting you regain your bearings. If he could, he would keep you in this state, breathless and blissed-out… but he needs more. He’s only had a taste and he’s already addicted.

“You with me, doll…?”

He murmurs the words against your lips, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth at the way you don’t even pretend to be coherent. You were barely conscious before, he doubts you’ll be able to keep your eyes open for the rest of the night… but he needs you to be present for what comes next.

He dips in and draws your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before gently nipping it between his teeth, like he’s coaxing you back to consciousness.

You whine softly, eyes fluttering and slowly managing to open up. Your hand instinctively reaches out for his hair. 

Your fingers pull on his short strands just the way he likes it, making his eyes grow dark. And he can’t help but chuckle as he notices your half-lidded attempt at a smile, watching your tired self struggle to lift the corner of your mouth as if it took all your strength to do so.

He reaches down, fingers curling around your jaw and gently shaking it to make sure you focus on him. “There you are…” He coos, his voice deep and gravelly. “Did I wear you out already, sweetdoll?”

You groan, eyes dropping closed again and slowly opening up a few seconds later.

“Hmm… ‘was already worn out-” you slur, voice hoarse and quiet, almost as if it's coming from someplace distant. 

You’re barely lucid, half-conscious, and yet you’re still trying to sass him. That’s his girl.

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he leans in to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He’s smiling widely as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, traveling up your jaw, the corner of your mouth, your cheek.

"I know, sweetheart. I know..." He murmurs the words against your temple, his fingers gently stroking the side of your face, caressing over your cheekbones, your eyelashes, your mouth.

"But you're about to sleep on me. Can't have that…"

He wraps his fingers around your jaw and gives it another gentle squeeze. “You’ll have to stay awake a little longer, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

He keeps his firm grip on your jaw, waiting patiently for your hazy eyes to focus back on him. The expression you wear, dazed and exhausted, is like something out of his most depraved, shameful dreams.

“I don’t know if I can, John…” 

His expression softens at the sound of your weak voice. He can’t deny that you look downright adorable right now, your eyes droopy and half closed, your jaw slack in his hand, every inch of you vulnerable and malleable in his grasp. 

He lets go of your jaw and gently runs a hand through your hair, smoothing the loose strands away from your face. “Try for me, doll. Can you at least try?”

Your head lolls tiredly against the pillow, following the movement of his hand, a quiet hum leaving your lips. "M'so tired..." Your slurred whisper is barely audible, your voice growing ever distant. Your eyes cross as your eyelids droop again. 

John sighs. He can see the exhaustion in your face, the way your eyes keep wanting to slip close against your will, how much you desperately want to give into the fatigue. You look like you’re about to pass out at any moment now.

His hand keeps on caressing your hair as he weighs his options in his mind, trying to figure out what he should do. He can’t deny that he wants to do so many things to you… One above all, peeling those ruined panties off your legs and burying his face in your wetness, devouring your cunt and every drop of your juices like a man starved and feeling your soft thighs twitch and tremble and clamp against his head. Then he would sink his cock inside your still fluttering walls and watch your spent body come alive again an again and again as he fucks you all night long.

His eyes drop to your thighs, his jaw clenching tight. He can feel his stomach twisting and his erection throb painfully in longing even only at the thought of doing all of that to you. But you’re too exhausted. Too out of it. He wants you to enjoy every second of what he plans to do to you, but in your state you wouldn’t be able to.

His eyes flicker to your face again and he leans in to gently kiss your lips. He feels you respond, even if meekly. He pulls back to look down at you again, your eyes reduced to slits but fixed on him. Your hand lazily reaches up to cradle his cheek. He smiles at the gesture, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Maybe he can do one last thing before you doze off to sleep. 

Carefully, he eases himself down next to you, lying on the mattress on his side and gently moving your body so he’s spooning you.

“Stay awake for me just a couple more moments, hm? Just a couple more, doll.” he croons in your ear as he wraps one strong arm around your middle and moves his other hand to his pants to hurriedly tug them further down, together with his boxers. 

You mumble sluggishly in response, but relax into his warmth, head lolling back, forehead brushing the rough skin of his cheek. He places a firm kiss on your temple while digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your belly and pulling your panties to the side with his other hand. He shifts, bringing his hips closer to yours and letting his hard length rub along the crevice of your ass.

“Mmh… John-?”

He squeezes you harder as he presses his cock against you, moving it up and down a few times before guiding it between your thighs and through your soaked folds. A low groan rumbles through his throat, blending with your weak whimper. His breath fans the side of your face as he gently pushes his groin into your ass, coating his length in your juices, his tip hitting the moist fabric of your panties, eliciting one more exhale from him. He pulls you flush against him until your body is molded into his. Only then does he begin to buck his hips back and forth, letting your drenched folds stroke his cock and your panties tease its head. He won't fuck you, not properly, not while you're not fully present, but he is going to steal one more orgasm from your exhausted body - and pleasure himself in the process - before allowing you to drift off completely.

“It’s alright, sweet girl… It's alright…”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin and planting lazy kisses all over it. John keeps his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand splayed over your soft stomach, holding you in place against his body as he moves leisurely against you. His pace is so slow and steady that it feels like it's lulling you to sleep. That's what he wishes to do; he wants to ease you back to sleep by numbing your nerves with pure bliss. He wants you to collapse with his cock grinding against your cunt, stimulating your swollen nub with each slow, deliberate push.

You’re boneless against him. Moaning ever softly, body too tired to wriggle but tensing up in ecstasy all over again. He can feel the flutter of your stomach under his palm, the quick steady puffs of air leaving your nostrils. John moves his free hand to your hip, letting it glide over your smooth skin until it closes around the underside of your thigh and gently lifts it and places it over his leg. Both of you moan at the new position which lets you both feel more of each other. 

He feels your hips shake and hears your shallow breaths getting louder. He knows you’re already close. That’s good. You’re still awake for it. That's all he wanted. The hand resting on your belly glides down your mound, slipping under the fabric of your panties and touching your heat. He groans at the contact. You’re so fucking wet and hot… The pads of his fingers find your clitoris and start to rub tight circles over it. His lips press into the side of your neck, feeling your pulse, while you squirm faintly at the added stimuli. You make such pretty sounds for him. Soft mewls and moans, whimpers and gasps. Even weak and tired as you are, your body’s still so reactive to him. 

“That’s it, doll… you’re such a good girl…” he praises in a breathless whisper upon your flushed skin. “Stay with me… just a bit longer…”

When his hot breath brushes against your neck, he can feel a shudder go down your spine. He can hear your breathing getting heavier, your body twitching and trembling against him, and the whole feel of you is driving him insane.

It just takes a few more thrusts of his hips and flicks of his fingers for you to come undone again, spasming weakly in his arms - arms that hold you snugly to soothe your tremors. You cum all over his length, letting out a feeble cry so deliciously filthy that it makes his hips stutter. He halts altogether before he can over stimulate you.

“There you go, my sweet girl… There you go…” he coos in your ear, lips brushing against your cheek, before he buries his nose in your hair and drinks in your scent. 

John squeezes you tightly in his embrace until your shakes and ragged breaths subside. He watches your eyelids flutter one more time before they drop and remain closed.

He feels your body sag against his, your muscles going entirely limp in his arms. He keeps you nestled into him, his hand resting on your stomach and softly kneading soothing circles over your scar, while your other leg lies boneless over his. He can hear your breathing even out, slowly falling deep and regular, the warm puffs of air hitting his arm with each exhale. For a few moments, he remains still, listening to the sound of your breathing, feeling the rise and fall of your chest… trying to figure out if you’re still conscious, but your soft even breaths confirm to him you’ve finally fallen asleep.

He glances down at your serene expression, eyes closed and lips parted. Even in the shadows, he can see the light drool trickling from the corner of your lips. You’re completely knocked out.

John takes a few deep shaky breaths, his fingers digging into your hip. He allows himself a few more thrusts, taking care not to disturb your sleep. It’s not long before he falls apart, dumping his load inside your undies and muffling his moan with your hair.

He takes a few moments to regain his bearings, breathing deeply, getting drunk on the scent of you and him mixing together. Then, with great care, he fixes your clothes on your unconscious body, as well as his own pants, and wraps your form in his muscular arms, pressing every inch of you against him, until you're completely enveloped in his embrace.

He can’t help but notice how right it feels to hold you like this, to have you nestled against his chest, protected and secure in his arms.

A content sigh escapes his lips.

Closing his eyes, he knows this time no nightmare will jolt him awake. Not with you, warm, soft, and alive, sleeping soundly in his arms. Not with the steady drumming beat of your heart drowning out the demons in his mind.

With one more kiss brushed upon your bare shoulder, he whispers, "Sleep tight, sweetheart." before succumbing to his own exhaustion.

MORE STORIES 🥀

Please also consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi if you want to (but mostly can) support me, thank you ❤️

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Wait For Me (Hadestown)

I hear the walls repeating/The falling of my feet and/It sounds like drumming/And I am not alone/I hear the rocks and stones/Echoing my song/I'm coming!

"There's hope and longing and need, there's fear and pain and anger. I can't really articulate how this works so well but it really sells Orpheus's journey down in a single song. Also if you've seen an IRL production of hadestown the light work is just amazing."

No Children (The Mountain Goats)

I hope that our few remaining friends/Give up on trying to save us/I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot/To piss off the dumb few that forgave us/I hope the fences we mended/Fall down beneath their own weight/And I hope we hang on past the last exit/I hope it’s already too late

I hope it stays dark forever/I hope the worst isn't over....And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out/You'd stay the hell out of my way

I am drowning/There is no sign of land/You are coming down with me/Hand in unlovable hand

And I hope you die/I hope we both die

"The song of all time. It's the soundtrack for countless bad vibes ships (affectionate). The phrase 'hand in unlovable hand' has immutably altered the brain chemistry of thousands with its underlying sentiment and launched a hundred accompanying memes. 'I hope you die, I hope we both die' crams such incredible rawness and depth of feeling into all of nine words. It also makes for a great singalong."

"I need to leave. I need to LEAVE. I need to get out of this situation and I'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way. I need to leave. Please. Let me out. HAND IN UN FUCKING LOVABLE HAND"

"Just. Man. These two are so broken. They want to be in love. They aren't. They hate each other so much. They are the only ones who understand each other. They wish that they weren't so close but all they can taste is ash when they think of leaving each other. Just, mutually assured destruction tastes so sweet when you can taste the blood on their tongue."

"It's No Children."

"goddd man this song is about being an irredeemable freak with another irredeemable freak and i think that's beautiful. there's something so fuck you up ish about the person you hate and despise the most in the world also being the only other person who is like you, who gets you. im going down, but youre going down too. we can be terrible people together... even if i hate you... even if you're the fucking worst. because we don't have anyone else. there's always a sort of comfort in knowing that there's someone out there who's as terrible as you are, and maybe you only hate them because you see yourself in them a little, too. anyway clay and bloberta from moral orel"

"The sheer emotion packed into the way it’s sung, the lyrics themselves, all of it just screams ‘clinging desperately to someone you hate because you don’t have anyone else and you burned those bridges yourself’ and I find that painfully relatable"

"It's a song about both virulent self-hatred and virulent hatred of someone else and yet you see yourself intertwined with that hated person forever."

Poll runner: Do I even have to add anything? This was the tournament's most submitted song.

No Children submitted by @leovaldezdefender + @diogenescynic2288 + many others

[softguarnere]

Hi, Dove!

It’s been awhile! I hope you’re doing well!

Sending in an request, idk where this is going😂

Okay so female reader with Liebgott and something along the lines where one of them yells “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!” in the middle of an argument. I’m not really sure about the rest of the details, so you can do whatever you want😂

Have a great day!

Hardheaded At Best

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks so much for another wonderful request! I hope you enjoy it, and that you have a great day as well 💕 (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Warnings: language, mentions of war

When was the last time that you felt this angry, this fired up? Some distant part of you wonders as white-hot wrath courses through your veins. Your nails dig into the soft beds of your palms, barely containing yourself as you stalk through the hallways, boots echoing off the walls of the remnants of Haguenau’s buildings. Although you think you’re doing a pretty good job of appearing calm, the people who pass you by give you concerned looks as they watch you go. Is it that obvious?

Either it’s not, or Liebgott is good at pretending. Because when you stomp into the room, he only glances up at you. He doesn’t look ready to fight, or even to throw a witty remark your way.

For a moment, you just stand before him, spluttering as you work out what to say and gasping as you try to catch your breath over the adrenaline caused by the anger surging through you. Finally, you manage to spit out the simplest question you can manage. “Joey, what did you do?”

The two of you are the only ones in the room. There’s no one else around. No one else to look cool for, to perform for. Yet Joe continues calmly smoking his cigarette. He blows a smoke ring, as if you haven’t just demanded an answer, then grinds out his cigarette and looks up at you, completely neutral.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Am I the only person in second platoon not going on this patrol?” You wonder aloud. “Tab said that you volunteered to take my place.”

Joe shrugs. “Yeah.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing a lungful of air to try and calm yourself. You don’t want to yell. Hell, you and Joe were so competitive back in Toccoa, half teasing and half not as you competed against each other in everything, that you’ve been determined not to argue since you finally became friends back Holland. But this – this is testing your resolve.

“Why would you do that?” You ask slowly, emerging from behind your hand to look at him again – still infuriatingly casual.

“(Y/N), the war is almost over.”

“So they say.”

“I’m not risking losing you over there,” Joe says. “We’ve been watching each other’s backs forever now. But we’re too close to making it out of this thing to risk it all now. Besides, what’s the point of having two translators?”

He’s not risking losing you over there? “But what about you, huh? I don’t want to lose you either, Joe.”

“Had to be one of us.”

He’s right. Someone has to be able to communicate with the prisoners that will be taken. But if someone has to go, you would prefer that both of you cross that river. Then one of you wouldn’t be waiting anxiously all night. You could watch each other’s backs, just like you’ve been doing.

Any points you might make to refute his lodge in your throat, sticking there while you fumble. Liebgott is hardheaded at the best of times; you don’t know what to say to make him see this from your perspective.

The conflicting emotions must show on your face, because Joe cocks an eyebrow in question. “Why does this bother you so much, anyway? It’s not like this is the first time only one of us has gone on a patrol.”

No, but it’s the first time that this has happened since you became friends. Since you started caring about him. Since you started worrying about losing him . . .

That’s when the realization hits you. The emotion that underlies all of your internal conflict isn’t anger – it’s fear. Fear of losing someone you’ve grown to care for.

“Joe, I can’t let you go alone. I’ll talk to Speirs myself. I – “

“(Y/N), no!” In a second, Joe jumps up from his chair and places a hand on your shoulder to stop you. His eyes are wide, and he’s got an expression that you’ve never seen before, and that you can’t quite place. “I got you taken off that patrol for a reason.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” you retort, a renewed wave of anger sweeping over you. “It wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I did it because I love you, you idiot!” Joe exclaims. Then he blinks, as if stunned by his own words. Perhaps they did not have his permission to be spoken. Or maybe they weren’t planned, or he doesn’t know where they came from.

You certainly don’t. Don’t know where they came from, that is. Joe never seemed interested in anything romantic with you. You, however, have occasionally allowed your mind to wander to a place where your friend is something a little more – a place where he holds your hand and reserves all his warmest smiles just for you. You never would have imagined that his mind had wandered in a similar direction. “You – you what?”

Joe hesitates, then nods, confirming his words to both you and himself. “I love you, (Y/N). That’s why I got you taken off the patrol. So that I don’t have to worry about you.”

“That’s why I want to be on the patrol – with you! So I don’t have to worry.”

“Oh.” Joe blinks again, taking it all in. “I tried to protect you. You tried to protect me. We both fucked up.” He tilts his head, studying you. “Do you really?”

“What?”

“Love me?”

“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation. It’s strange to say it out loud. To realize it, here, in this moment, at maybe the same time that he did. And right before the patrol places you on two different sides of that river, where God knows what will happen.

Gently, Liebgott takes your hand. His lips are warm when he presses them against your knuckles in a sweet kiss. “Then I have a reason to make it back across the river.”

Your heart trips over itself in your chest. How cruel is fate, to let it happen like this. “You better. Joseph Liebgott, I swear to God, you better come back from the patrol.”

But maybe fate isn’t cruel after all. Because you’ve hardly left the room, hardly stepped outside, when Major Winters stops the two of you and informs you that Joe will not be crossing the river – he will be staying firmly on this side to provide covering fire, with you.

The major walks away like nothing happened, leaving the two of you confused, but smiling. You can’t help but laugh as you take it in. “What happened?” You wonder aloud. After all, how are they going to take German prisoners without a translator?

“No clue.” Joe squeezes your hand. “But I ain’t complaining.”

It’s brief, but from across the street, Webster catches your eye. The Harvard man gives you a nod. He’s a writer. A romantic, even.

You return the gesture, wondering if Joe saw it as well. “Yeah. Me neither.”

[lylathewise]

Episode 4 first thoughts

I love the songs they play in order to cram as much exposition as possible, it's a really great move storytelling wise

Maddie, seriously?!?

Caitlyn could not look less enthused

Ok, so I am seeing Cait wanting ambessa to take the place of her mother

I love how Jinx looks so delighted with Isha, like I've never seen her look more happy

I kinda see a parallel between the scene with Jinx and Isha's beetles and Vi and Jinx making up monsters, except this time Isha won't ever be scared by this

I think Jinx will be a better parent than Silco was, not a high bat but still

She's being so forthcoming with Isha, it's so sweet

"You kind of remind me of her." What if I cried?

The handshake?!?

I'm on your bridge, Goatman, only thing I could think of when I saw him

Oh, they want hextech so bad it makes them look stupid

"Keep their name out of your mouth."😶

"How could I not secure the scientists?" Oof, not a good look

"She hides while you all suffer." Aww man, really poor choice of words

Waterbear grenades

The mirroring of Jinxs eyes over Caitlyns

"Fearless child, you never shy." I think Ambessa is trying to manipulate Caitlyn into seeing her as a mother figure

"Why is peace always the justification for violence?" Man, I just want to sit with that line

Stoking the embers of a dying fire as she talks about what's been lost

Is it just me or did Salo get a little fuckable? No? Just me?

Salo? Meeting singed? Weird

Not her forgetting she didn't have a middle finger 🤣

Man, mentioning both her father figures that she killed in practically the same breath 😬

I fucking knew it! If Jinx had a single true friend, none of this would have happened

I held my breath the entire time she was in Silco's office

That's... a different look than I'm used to seeing from Sevika

Please tell me they won't kill Sevika

Warwick is summoned by Singe's blood being spilled? That's pretty cool

3rd time Sevika has crawled to her boss with her arm fucked up

Singed is creepy as hell, but he do got grandfather vibes which I appreciate

Man, how must Vander feel seeing his old self?

That guard is bored out of his mind

THE FUCKING JINX READ?!?!

That guard can't even see her face and he wants to get freaky? Loser behaviour

Stillwater prison break? Please?

Sorry, Rictus knew that some random guy had blue hair under his hat, but Ambessa can't tell that the really scrawny Enforcer is weird?

Buncha cops are about to die? Oh nooooo

Cool, Ambessa does realize something is off. Still though..

The fear in her eyes, she's never had someone welcome her

The relief in her as she realizes she doesn't have to fear them

The underlying theme of the song Powder sang in the beginning

The hug 😊

Wait, Singed is planning to die in the prison? Neat

Warwick is genuinely terrifying

Isha is giving off some 'Frodo screaming Gandalf' vibes

Wait, Jinx is Gandalf and Warwick is the Balrog. That's really funny

Aww yeah, Vander remembers her designs

And again, the underlying Powder song

I was not expecting him to talk

[sunbloomdew]

Love Confessions in the Baxter DLC

Because i am very unwell, thank you. Part 1/3

After over 70 hours of playing the Baxter DLC – and despairing over that one monochrome guy, you know who – I wanted to take a moment to talk about all the possible love confessions in Baxter's version of Step 4. I find them all lovely and each of them made me squeal and smile like crazy, and i just gotta express my appreciation for them somewhere.

In Step 4 there are three love confessions. Two of them can be initiated by the MC, and the third one will be proclaimed by Baxter, if the MC doesn’t confess first. I tried all of them a couple of times, and they are all very cute (although my personal favourite is the confession the morning after the wedding)!

Before we begin i want to warn y’all that i wasn’t sure about the approach i wanted to take when talking about these moments, and as a result this post might not be a "put together careful game analysis" thingy. It's mostly just my ramblings and feelings that hopefully are a-okay to read haha. Without further delay, let’s begin!

Spoilers for specific moments in Baxter's version of Step 4!

All of the confessions take place after the wedding ceremony, so if you hadn't gotten there and don't wanna spoil those great moments for yourself i don't recommend reading further. I will go quite in depth about each option.

In chronological order, the first feelings declaration is the confession immediately after the wedding has ended.

Or as i've been referring to it in my head, The Wedding Confession!

Everybody is busy cleaning up, and MC hasn’t had a chance to have a one-on-one moment with Baxter since they split off in the morning. Naturally, they want to talk with him after the event is over. There is this underlying fear, that Baxter will leave again and they can't let that happen.

The two talk and Baxter apologises for his actions towards MC, five years ago in Sunset Bird and now, after they met again. I need to add that this apology is very well written and it definitively pulled on my heartstrings. Here the player can choose to confess on their own, accept his friendship hoping for a different type of relationship later on or just become friends.

Since i’m yet to play Baxter’s version of Step 4 with platonic feelings, i don’t know if this option appears if you have him at Fond. If anyone of you has done it, i would love to hear what it looks like! For example, does the player get to confess either way, in case they changed their mind (just how here you can choose to be friends)?

Moving further, if we choose to confess right away we get to pick how we want to do that - with words or by kissing him. Each choice will be preceded with an internal monologue from MC about their and Baxter’s relationship and what he means to them. I really like the way it's written. They go through all of the stages they've been around each other. If you met him at the Cypress in Step 2 Soiree Moment they mention how he was a boy in their memories, becoming real when they meet again by chance during summer of 2016. How he made this summer into everything and more and how he left. The years apart and finally the summer they reunited. I can't explain my feelings well, but i find this monologue very sweet but also full of longing - it makes me smile and it makes my heart ache at the same time.

Depending on when the MC confesses, Baxter has a different reaction to their silence. Since now he is waiting for them to accept him into their life again, he gets nervous the longer MC is lost in their thoughts, which is reflected in the expressions of his character model. It’s described as cracks of anxiety appearing on his face and him slipping back into his professional pleasantness. He chose to be vulnerable, and how MC replies will affect him.

After the character’s musings end the player gets one last chance to reaffirm the decision to confess.

Personally, I really like that we have the option to do so. Not only is it useful in case the player suddenly changed their mind, but also helps create the response you want from your MC.

If you back out then you no longer can confess in that moment. The story progresses the same as in the case of choosing not to confess. You can confess later in the game, or not confess at all and have Baxter do that.

If you pick the option to check if he means it, Baxter will reassure MC about wanting to stay by their side. It’s really adorable - especially since in response to MC he says “I do” (ya know, the famous wedding catchphrase) which he immediately follows up with: “You’ll have to excuse me for using that answer at someone else’s wedding, but I am entirely serious.” What a dork. After picking this option only two of the three are left - you can go further or back out.

And finally, you can confess. MC makes note of how now that the wedding was over, there would be no complications for the newlyweds (although they thought Miranda proposing to Terry at their wedding would be a great idea, so they really wouldn't mind lol). They think that since Baxter asked them out first, five years ago, it’s only fair that they do it now. It's one line, but for some reason i like this sentiment a lot. Like hell yeah, go MC! Ask him out now, make him speechless!

When it comes to spoken confessions, there is an abundance of choices to pick from. But my absolute favourite option is to echo Baxter’s own words from Step 3 Sightseeing Moment back at him: "Could I consider all the time we've spent together a date?". Chef’s kiss, it’s all coming together like a beautiful piece of tapestry. Simply iconic of them.

Confessing with a gesture has less options to choose from, but all are equally cute! If you choose to confess in this way, MC will have a short revelation about how different kissing Baxter now feels to kissing him five years ago. Baxter reacts a bit differently to this type of confession, since MC enters his personal space. My favourite is confessing by kissing Baxter on the forehead. It's absolutely precious.

The way Baxter reacts to MC confessing to him is… very interesting to say the least. He was ready to be friends them again or accept their rejection (there is no option like that in the game, but realistically, you just know he would prep himself up for this possibility) but he was not ready for a love confession. Baxter gives MC a moment to move past this and pretend that nothing happened, but it’s not going to work. I find that a curious thing to do. Baxter isn't hoping that MC doesn't have feelings for him and he himself does for them, but there is still that feeling of insecurity in him, that prevents him from accepting the confession right away.

We have the option to have MC sweep Baxter into a dance, or keep talking without that. I love the former choice and i always pick it for my character haha. It’s especially cute how Baxter stumbles and is so out of his depth. Both because of the unexpected movement and the sudden confession.

You can pick an option to tell him, that MC wanted to be with him even five years ago. His reaction to it is just. He is stunned and he doesn't believe it. But he knows MC isn't lying as well. I can feel the conflicted emotions he must have been experiencing upon hearing that just in one line of dialogue. And i think that's pretty powerful writing.

But then he fires back. He is full of disbelief and he doesn’t understand what could he have possibly done to deserve MC's affections. He doesn’t want to call MC a liar but he can’t accept that outcome either. Baxter’s old ways of dealing with relationships are resurfacing, because he can’t believe that he has the right to form such a deep connection with someone. It’s pretty heartbreaking to witness.

It's... so sad. "What did i do to make you like me?" he asks, because there must be something, because simply being himself is not enough, when Baxter inherently believes that he doesn't contribute anything. And if he doesn't contribute anything to somebody's life, he has no place in it.

MC decides to change tactics. Instead of trying to make Baxter accept their feelings, they ask what they mean to him. Whether they end up together is secondary - their goal is to help him overcome his mindset. I find that a really powerful act of love - helping the person you care about understand that they deserve to be loved without extravagant outings and carefully constructed barriers.

I really love Baxter’s response in this confession because it is very true to his character arc. His hesitance, how he withdraws and tries to appear unaffected. He reciprocates MC’s feelings, but he is too ashamed of himself and afraid. His view on himself makes him think that he can't be in a relationship with someone or friends with them, and that is something i find deeply sad. Still, he answers MC’s questions, with a few prefaces. He cites his inability to do things in the morning, less financial income and his past relationship management as reasons for why MC wouldn’t want to be with him. It’s him giving MC the chance to resign, to take back the love confession while they can. It reminds me of declining a meeting with your friends, because you believe that they will have more fun without you. It's self-preservation of your own feelings and diminishment of your impact on others, which comes from some form of dissatisfaction with the way we are.

But MC doesn't take their feelings back. They assure him that they want to be with him.

And once that is done, they ask him:

(I usually can comment on writing/art, but when i can't that's how you know it's the shit. i sat with my mouth open and my hands flapping around just cause this confession got me that excited <3)

This is the dialogue you get when you have Baxter on Crush. If you pick Love, instead of "I want to be with you" he will say "I'm in love with you".

Just like that, he accepts. I was totally shocked when that happened, but well, it does make sense. It was never a question, and Baxter admits so himself. He never stopped wanting to be with MC. He further expresses that he wasn't happy pushing them away five years ago and when they met again. It's quite sad to hear him admit that he didn't think staying together (in more than a romantic way) was an option until moments ago. But he got there ultimately and that's worth celebrating. Growth isn't linear, and sometimes we fall back to our old habits.

I really adore how openly Baxter expresses his affection for the MC, in the confession and later. Compared to Step 3 it feels more mature (no shit, sherlock) but also self-assured. Because he is finally starting to believe, that this - a relationship with a person who really knows him and chooses to stay - is something he can have.

These two lines of dialogue? Murdered me in my sleep with love and care. Sir, how dare you do that to me.

After that the two sillies finish their dance. Their story has a happy ending, they have been reunited. I adore how warm and happy this situation feels, and the descriptions make it feel so light and cheerful, like the moment with MC failing to catch their breath because they are laughing gleefully or Baxter holding them in a gentle embrace.

I really like this confession. Like i said before, it’s very true to Baxter’s character, and it also shows, that despite having good intentions and doing everything you can to change, people can still slip back into their old habits. But there will be people around you that believe you can learn and do better, and will stay with you and help you through it.

I also adore the overall silliness (after the angst is over, but i do love my fair share of angst as well) and the emotional beats. The characters banter, joke around.

And express how much they care about each other.

Also the fact that Miranda, Terry and Cove just gawked at the pair while they were having this huge emotional event is just hilarious. They are very nosy friends and i love them for that lol. Of course, Baxter is completely unaffected. GB Patch knew that if they made this man blush more than he already does in the game, they would actually kill us.

I'm not kidding, i die every time he blushes and get revived when he snorts. That's just the circle of life.

So yeah, that was one out of the three confessions! It's amazing and i hope i was able to convey what i love about it! Prior to playing the Baxter DLC i had around 50 hours on Steam, and after i got it It turned into 120 hours so... Yeah, Baxter Ward.

I'm splitting my confession ramblings into three posts for convenience. Parts 2 and 3 will be finished soon... Hopefully. Once they are i will place links to all the parts in each post (if i learn how to,,,,). Also wow, this post took me way too long to write, holy shit.

Peace out <3

Part 2!

[jaynovz]

Madi Fic Rec List

Well hello again! I’ve been compiling this list for quite awhile, but I finally sat down to finish it. 

To me, Madi is characterized by this strict balance between her fiery spirit and the poise she must display as someone raised from birth to be a leader, to be royalty. She’s wicked smart, but also desperately young and inexperienced. She’s thoughtful and conscientious, but with an underlying desire to just go, explore the world, be part of something big, and effect change for her people.

Anyway I just love Madi a lot, and these are some of my favorite stories featuring her in the fandom. They’ve been helpfully categorized into sub-sections! 

Enjoy~~

--

Madi-centric:

Burial at sea by le_mru:

Summary: Two years after Skeleton Island, Madi sets out to find Flint and recover the treasure for the Maroon community, Flint is adjusting to a life after death, and Silver interferes as usual.

in a vault of starlight by whimsicalimages:

Summary: The distance between Nassau and Savannah can be measured as: six hundred and thirteen nautical miles, five thousand pounds’ worth of pearls, or four extraordinary lifetimes.

Alternatively: in the aftermath, Madi writes her own story.

Lightbringer Verse by ElDiablito_SF:

Summary: After failing to fix her relationship with Silver, Madi sets off to find Captain Flint again.

i’m a black ocean leaping and wide by loosedindecember:

Summary: “I am going to Jamaica,” she tells Long John Silver, pirate-killer and pirate king, “and I will have my war after all. And you are going to help me.”

Madi gets her war, and a life beyond war, too.

Quid Pro Quo by annbonny:

Summary: "Trust is a strong word, particularly pertaining to pirates.

She trusts John Silver, but with every day that passes, she is gradually realising that he may not always be around. If Flint ends up killing him- or more likely, she suspects, they kill each other- who will guarantee that the alliance will hold? What is to keep Teach from wiping out her and her people when he feels they inconvenience him?”

OR: Madi adjusts to her role as queen. It is a steep learning curve.

armed with the past and the will by whimsicalimages:

Summary: The language of winning and losing, this language that men favor – Madi can speak this language, though she disagrees with its precepts. Success takes different forms, and failing once does not mean failing forever. It does not even mean failing the next time.

lacuna by doomcountry:

Summary: Madi loves him, and that is her misery. She hates him, too, and the two are at war without ceasing in her breast; the torment, now, after sixteen years together all told, is that it has all dulled, all settled out like water undisturbed.

SilverMadi:

Where There Is Great Love by stele3:

Summary: A brief interlude in the Tether series that jumps back in time to...establish certain things.

“Do you not have a comb?”

Twitching with surprise, Silver turns. The princess—Madi—stands on the shoreline, only a few feet away. Silver quickly glances around and finds her bodyguard standing back near the treeline. Kofi, that’s his name. (Stoic man, much taller than Silver, always has a knife and knows how to use it. Silver would need the captain or Billy with him to survive an encounter.)

He smiles for the princess. “I fear that would only make the problem worse. We had little to eat in the doldrums, and that made all of this quite breakable.” He gestures to his hair but lets his hand trail longer through the air. Better that she think them weak and easily overcome. If his own body is to be a metaphor, well, at least he finds it apt.

Love and Kindness by Wildehack:

Summary: “This is insulting,” John complains, as Madi fastens the shackles around his wrists, looping a chain through to the hook in the bulwark above his bed. “I’m not rabid.”

(Or: the inevitable sex-pollen AU.)

anything for your queen by urca:

Summary: the Silvermadi pegging fic, as promised!

lover please do not fall to your knees by lucystonersix:

Summary: Despite themselves, despite everything, Madi and Silver fall in love. Missing scenes, with spoilers only through the end of season 3.

Into the Blue Blue Sea by Magnetism_bind:

Summary: Madi slowly realizes she's drawn to the pirate with the blue eyes.

FlintMadi:

Maybe in Another Life by samedifference61:

Summary: At the rail of a ship James doesn’t command, they stand shoulder to shoulder.

"John still thinks you’re dead,” James states, because it’s something that needs to be said aloud before they continue.

With eyes unblinking toward the rolling sea, Madi says, “And he still thinks you should be dead.”

James’ lip curls in anger. The wounds of betrayal are too fresh for either to say anymore.

your legs are the north star by jaynovz:

Summary: Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, warmth seeping through his shirt. He peers up into deep solemn eyes. Madi. They've struggled, side by side, ruling in concert, for weeks. Through the toil of retaking Nassau, hardening themselves from this feeling which weakens his knees in its intensity, the sheer hopelessness swamping him like dark waves.

Flint cannot let himself fall away into the abyss, he cannot fade and forget. There is at least one thing left, standing strong and entrenched as a mangrove tree, even as she mirrors his own sorrow.

"Come, Captain, it is late. Let us rest."

taking orders by le_mru:

Summary: Written for the Black Sails Rare Pair Week:

“To be entirely frank,” Madi says, her voice loud and clear in the silence of the evening, “I am concerned if you can take orders, Captain.”

“Orders?” He scoffs. “From whom? Blackbeard?”

There has been some discussion around making Teach Admiral of the fleet, which Flint was, of course, firmly against.

“No.” Madi takes a step to the side and turns graciously, facing him fully. “From me.”

she hangs upon the cheek of night by ElDiablito_SF:

Summary: Madi won't let Flint sleep, but he secretly doesn't mind.

(Set after 4x05)

Line of Sight by samedifference61:

Summary: Flint leans in close so the others won’t hear him. “She wants me to teach her how to use a blade.”

Or, Flint finds it difficult to refuse Madi, and Silver has insecurities.

On Gossamer Wings by khazadspoon:

Summary: It was the first time he had seen a woman naked since Miranda.

Miranda had been slender. Her skin was pale and soft, her hands lightly calloused but still delicate when they touched him. She had been commanding in her sexuality and he had loved her because of it. She had taken control from him, taken the reins and lead their lovemaking with confident and caring hands.

But Madi… Madi was not Miranda.

stitched with its color by x_etoile_x:

Summary: He is my friend too.

She’d reached out to him for the first time after he’d said those damning words, slipping her small hand into his and leaning against his side. Had duty not pulled them back into the world, he thinks they might yet be standing on that beach, like silent watchers in some myth, fading away to nothing with their eyes fixed on the sea.

-

The scene where Madi tells Flint that Silver is alive.

let it rain, cuz you and I remain the same by jaynovz:

Summary: “We have some time yet to wait,” Madi says, taking note of the sun’s position. Their contact isn’t due at the tavern until after dark.

James strides over to the bookshelf. "What would you suggest?" he asks, humming. He strokes a finger along the spines. "I bought a new book in the last port. If you wish, I could read it aloud." James casts her a hopeful smile over his shoulder, standing at a loose parade rest, eyes crinkled and warm.

Madi is so helplessly fond of him in this moment, the way he brims with excitement at the thought of such a simple pleasure. It is appealing, she admits, the thought of settling against James’ sturdy chest as he reads to her, feeling his voice rumble against her back while Madi is charged with turning the pages. Madi stretches languidly and rises from her seat. As much as she enjoys that type of quiet domesticity, she has a more adventurous suggestion for how to pass the time. In truth, it’s something that she's been considering for a while.

Madi cuts James a sly glance as she approaches. "Do you remember the time I caught you in here with John?"

something beyond by eleutherya:

Summary: "The bay isn’t visible from the rebel encampment, but he faces it as surely as a compass points north. Up on the fort, Flint stands with his back straight and his shoulders set, his hands folded neatly behind him. He stands there as though, if he simply waits long enough, if he hopes hard enough, the sea will return John Silver to him."

Madi and Flint have a discussion about grief after losing John Silver. Set directly after 4x01.

By Faith of My Body by x_etoile_x

Summary: Flint is unmoored in the aftermath of the battle on Maroon Island, struggling with grief and his troubled relationship with Silver. Discovering an unexpected bond with Madi prompts a difficult conversation, and perhaps the start of a new friendship. But what evolves between them quickly becomes more complicated, and Flint is forced to confront parts of himself he'd thought buried.

This fic started as a response to a prompt asking for more FlintMadi content, with a special request for non-sexual BDSM, building on the special deference he shows her and the beliefs they share. However, the dynamics between all three characters are explored and it's building toward OT3.

Written for the Built On Sand Black Sails Event 2023

OT3, MadiSilverFlint:

I’m getting tired, and i need somewhere to begin by lacecat:

Summary: Madi watches him steadily as he approaches her. “Perhaps one day,” she begins, but cuts herself off with a swallow, blinking back tears. They won’t be able to fill the hole between them, but maybe they can try to build around it, accommodate it.

He lays a rough palm on her cheek, gentle. He loves her so much. “Perhaps,” Silver says, even though they both know it’s the furthest from a promise. They have survived on far less, after all.

how we could be brought here by love by mapped:

Summary: A 4x03 AU where Flint receives a minor injury in the battle of Nassau Town and Silver is very shaken by it.

I wish for once we could stay gold by jaynovz:

Summary: Madi has discovered that pirates truly are a grimy bunch, but her two have managed to keep fairly clean the last few months when they had access to fresh water.

The governor’s mansion is filled with bustle, men scurrying about, seeking answers from both Captain Flint and their new King, but there is time enough to steal them away. Time enough this evening for some respite, to cleanse the grief and violence from the last few days alongside the dirt.

Good Morning by bana05:

Summary: As Madi prepares to take care of her lovers, they instead decide to take care of her first.

the only way out is the way back in by samedifference61:

Summary: And Silver obviously means to further agitate Flint’s state when he says, “Do you know what she said to me this morning? She said, ‘I cannot understand why the two of you have not been intimate yet.’”

a shared bath, a conversation about death, and a promise

a three way knot by jauneclair:

Summary: Flint knits; Silver pries; and Madi secretly doesn't mind at all.

your heart is the only place I call home by vowelinthug:

Summary: Madi learns the secret of John Silver's past: he used to be the worst.

pass on your way, then, with a smiling face by youremyqueen:

Summary: Flint sleeps in the spare room until he doesn't.

join your hands to your hearts by jauneclair:

Summary: Madi's approach to diplomacy in negotiating relationships is not what Flint expected.

Two Points In Space by illgiveyouallofme:

Summary: Since Silver returned from the dead, Madi has watched him and Flint dance around each other. She decides to take matters into her own hands.

And then everyone takes some things into their own hands.

--

As always, if you have a potential inclusion, feel free to DM me and I will check it out! Thanks.

[moonspirit]

Hello Moon,

One relationship that I would love to hear from you on is one that I don't think has been discussed in great length; let's talk about sisters-in-law Annie and Mikasa

I think there relationship has a lot of promise going forward. These two once bitter rivals would find common ground in their love and devotion to Armin, and it seems like this would blossom into a beautiful friendship.

It seems like both would be able to confide in one another as both have had very similar experiences when it comes to things like romance; I see Annie seeking Mikasa’s advice in the moments of friction that come with any relationship, and Mikasa being  “big sister” can help her understand some of Armin’s feelings or thoughts that he is hesitant to express

Also, even though she lives in Paradis, I think there will be times when Mikasa will have extended stays with the two, specifically during Annie’s pregnancies (let's be honest, they are having more than one). She will help around the house and support Annie when Armin is off on his duties, getting a headstart on being the Best aunt.

Its a relationship I am very keen to hear your views on as it is one that while it started with an animosity between rivals I think would become something truly special.

Hello anon!

There's actually a really special relationship between these two and it's very nice to explore tbh.

Mikasa and Annie are two extremely focused individuals. Obvious similarities aside (i.e, being the sole female character from each trio; matching each other in strength; cold and emotionless on the outside - a mechanism to drown out their emotional trauma; feared by the entirety of the 104th & so on), it's important to note that both Annie and Mikasa, even in their early days in the 104th, held a deep respect for each other's prowess in fighting skill. Among some others, I believe it's the one thing that kept them off each other's throats (though more so on Annie's part).

They are both also emotionally reserved, though in different ways. Annie emotional well being is stunted to the point that coming to terms with her feelings is a hard task. Mikasa on the other hand, is straightforward and quite blunt as far as protecting Eren is concerned, but her deeper feelings (as to why she's really so attached to him) remain something she finds hard to put into words. Going further, these two girls received, from Eren and Mr.Leonhardt each, some kindness and affection respectively, and made it their entire life goal to protect/return to them. For this, each was willing to cut down anyone and anything standing in their way.

It's why I believe that Mikasa and Annie understand one another's emotions so perfectly during the final battle. Mikasa understands Annie's feelings for Armin, and Annie understands Mikasa's underlying love for Eren. It's acknowledged during their conversation on their last night in Paradis too (Hange stew episode). Annie sees Mikasa willing to even let the Rumbling take place if it means she can get Eren back alive. The two have exactly one person in mind to protect (and this number grows, ofc; in Annie's case she goes back for Armin and the others of the 104th, and in Mikasa's case, she gives up Eren for the world). These are incredibly difficult decisions to make, which is what makes their exchange in Odiha and on Falco's back so wonderful.

Post-rumbling, it is also the handing over of a baton. From Mikasa to Annie: the duty of protecting Armin.

Now, headcanon time!

I honestly think they'd write a lot of letters to each other. The Alliance sans Mikasa isn't going to be able to step foot on Paradis anytime soon, so if a channel opens up between the two places to reliably exchange letters, that's a way to communicate. Annie being somewhat awkward with letters in general doesn't write much at first, but slowly the things she has to say expand from just Armin-centric stuff to other things as well. Mikasa however, is warmer, and this helps Annie get more comfortable in turn.

I wouldn't say Mikasa's going to be a person who will step in as a very delicate mediator when Aruani have relationship problems, but she's definitely reliable, firm and sensible. She says things like "Annie, you have to stop avoiding Armin," and "Armin, if you don't tell her what you're scared of, she won't understand." and so on. Straightforward, you see.

She's also a fantastic source for information and insider-secrets and behind-the-scenes knowledge about all things Armin.

There's a lot of hard feelings between Mikasa and Annie, but over time there come to be just as many points of understanding, empathy and genuine care; all of this makes their post-canon relationship truly special and warm.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: and sings the tune without the words, ch. 14

Relationship: Jiāng Yànlí & Jīn Zǐxuān, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Yànlí & Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jiāng Fēngmián & Lán Qǐrén, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Niè Míngjué

Characters: Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Lán Qǐrén, Jiāng Fēngmián, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Wēn Ruòhán, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Yú Zǐyuān, Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao

Additional Tags: Epistolary, Food, Music, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Politics, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Kidnapping, Hostage Situations, Mentioned Wei Changze, Disobeying Orders

Summary: A panicked Nie Huaisang writes to Lan Wangji.

Notes: See end.

Previous fic in the series: “the thing with feathers”

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

AO3 link

——————

Dear Lan-xiong,

It’s okay if I call you that, right? I don’t want to be too familiar if it makes you uncomfortable, but I’d like to consider you my friend. I hope that’s not too forward! 

A-Die had a small qi deviation, not a terrible one, but it was still scary because if he dies then Dage has to become zongzhu and he should be able to grow up more. I’d write to your brother but I figure Dage is, or I would write to Lan-xiansheng but I’m sure the healers are, so I thought I’d write to you. 

The truth is, I’m scared, and I know that when Jiang Wuxian has had his episodes it has scared you. How do you get through the fear? I know A-Die won’t want to be treated like a fragile person, and you do a great job not doing that to Jiang-er-xiong. Can you give me some advice?

I don’t have many people to talk to, especially about this. My grandfather and his father and all the Nie have died of qi deviations but no one can tell me why. It seems like people are just expecting A-Die to die eventually and that’s really not fair! And then what will happen to Dage! Will it happen to him too? 

Will it happen to me? I don’t like to cultivate because all the cultivators in my family line qi deviate, but am I doomed anyway?

I’m sorry to dump this on you like this, but you were the first person I thought of. I don’t know, I really don’t know. Do you think there might be books in the Lan library that could help A-Die? Your clan is well known for knowledge on spiritual energy, and you have the best library. Would you be willing to check into healing from qi deviation?

Apologies, I’m simply very concerned. 

I hope you and Jiang-er-xiong are both well and have had a peaceful winter with no interruptions by the Wen clan. I’m sure A-Die would have been informed, but I worry about you too!

There’s too much to worry about these days.

Nie Huaisang

------------

Dear Nie-xiong,

I am amenable to being called Lan-xiong. A-Ying would prefer Wuxian-xiong to Jiang-er-xiong. We consider you a friend, particularly after the last conference. 

Xiongzhang has spoken of it, and is spending time in the library. Shufu is coincidentally spending time in the library. I daresay they are searching for similar information. We can join them when possible to accelerate the research. 

I do not like to leave A-Ying’s side when he has episodes. I worry for him, and I know he fears that he could wake without his memories, so I fear that as well. But I know I will help him through it again if necessary. I don’t know if this helps. You might consider what you can do to alleviate other burdens your father carries, if possible. It won’t necessarily alleviate the fear, but it can be an outlet. 

This sounds like it goes deeper than just a qi deviation if it runs in the family, and so A-Ying is making notes on what might be underlying and how we can research it. Some things in life are unfair, but this seems less like unfairness and more like it’s being caused by something. If we determine what is causing qi deviations, we can find a solution. We will certainly help you.

Your letter came as a surprise because you haven’t written before, but we would not turn you away. The Cloud Recesses has a fairly extensive library, one that is said to rival the Wen sect’s. A-Ying and I will look with Xiongzhang and Shufu. I’m sure Healer Lan will help as well, if he is to be informed. 

I apologize if you did not intend A-Ying to know; we are rarely apart. We are both well, and the winter has been serene in the Cloud Recesses, as I hope it has otherwise been for you. We will take care when traveling to Lotus Pier next season. 

Worry about what you can influence, only. 

Lan Wangji and Jiang Wuxian

-----------

Dear Lan-xiong & Wuxian-xiong,

You’re both so kind and helpful! I very much appreciate it! I don’t know what I would do without your help. If Wuxian-xiong can point me in directions of research, I can look in the Nie library for what I can. 

With the two of you, your brother, and Xiansheng on the case, I’m sure we’ll have an answer quickly, or at least directions in which to look.

A-Die is grumpy, and he said I’m too much like a fluttering bird around him when I worry, so I’ll definitely have to do something. I know Muqin used to take care of inventorying for domestic supplies for the Unclean Realm, so maybe that’s something I could help him with. Just take over that duty so he doesn’t have to do it. It’s work, but I like domestic supplies, so maybe that would work. 

Ah, you and Wuxian-xiong have such a beautiful relationship, and I am privileged to know how close you are and how you anticipate each other’s needs and worries.

You must be right that there is an underlying cause. And if there’s a cause, there has to be a solution, as well! I somehow missed that, and I’m glad you pointed it out. Your help is already fruitful!

I’m so sorry I haven’t written before; I’ve never had anyone to write to before, and you were the first person I thought of now. I’m so glad you welcomed my letter, and I will be sure to continue correspondence. I can write to you about all sorts of things, like poetry and art and literature…

Ah, I don’t actually know if this is something that is supposed to be widely known, whoops. So Healer Lan might not know and maybe I shouldn’t have even told you, but I can’t regret it because now we can write back and forth. 

Even if I don’t write about A-Die, do you think Jiang Wanyin would appreciate letters? It would be nice to stay in touch with everyone.

I’m very glad the winter has been uneventful and calm. When you go to Lotus Pier, maybe you can see what their library might have as well?

I don’t know if I can control my worry like that, Lan-xiong. It sounds hard!

Nie Huaisang

------------

I had some trouble figuring out who would write, and my lovely beta reader, adrian_kres, helped me figure it out through conversing about the options. This seemed like a good way to get the kids started on the Nie problem, not that they know the cause. Nie Huaisang doesn’t know enough about it to give them direction, and I doubt Lan Xichen knows a lot more, aside from it being associated with their cultivation, which is largely secret-secret. The Nie healers, who wrote to Lan Qiren, are being discreet as well. 

a-die = dad

dage = older brother (casual)

er-xiong = second brother

muqin = mother

shufu = uncle

xiansheng = teacher

xiong = brother

xiongzhang = older brother (formal)

zongzhu = sect leader

[awakentheeldritchabomination]

First Random Writing Dump

CW: mentions of self harm and emotional abuse

As decreed by the poll, most of ya’ll seem fine with a little bit of word vomit, and since I have some time, I’m just gonna spew a bit of my thoughts on my version of Charlie so far. It won’t be much, just a jumbled list of rough ideas. I don’t know how set I am with these, but here goes:

- They may or may not be renamed

- They use they/them pronouns but don’t correct people who misgender them; they find gender to be an odd concept, and they can’t quite grasp why people care so much about it

- They know a lot about human history but have not personally interacted with many people beyond what is necessary (until later)

- Their capacity to empathize with the plight of humans comes from guilt, their mother, who is still going to be Lilith… maybe…., a horrific chance encounter, and their relationship with V (gotta pick a name for her lol)

- Still, growing up in a privileged position largely removed from the sinners’ reality while being surrounded by reminders that these people invited suffering through their own wickedness has given them this sense of innate superiority; they are semi-aware of the fact that their elitist mindset exists and is not…great…but they prefer to bury it under toxic positivity and pretend it’s not an issue

- They have been trained to fight (heaven and hell are still basically at war, after all), but they’ve never had a real battle, and they’ve certainly never killed anyone before; the weight of dealing death terrifies and paralyzes them

- They are aware of what they are, and they deeply fear what they are capable of

- They are not very well acquainted with their demonic form, and they’d rather not be; it’s often triggered by ugly feelings they don’t want to confront

- Yeah, they’ve got some things going on deep down. Beneath the sunshine and rainbows and genuinely good intentions, there’s this raw, wriggling darkness, gnawing on their insides like maggots; they don’t know why

- Spoilers: it’s the manipulation and emotional abuse Lucifer subjected them to as well as the resentment harbored against both parents for deciding to bring a child into a realm meant as an eternal torture chamber for evil people; they don’t consciously recognize the abuse they experienced because of strategic subtly, gaslighting, and isolation from other experiences. Both they and Lilith know something about Lucifer is off, and it creates this eerie, underlying fear that permeates every interaction, yet neither of them know how bad it actually is; Also Lilith likes to make excuses just like: “Oh, don’t be like that. He’s just doing whatever coz he loves you :)”

- Their warring sides will come to a head; the anger inside them will boil over, and they will be a terror

- Lucifer cuts them off after a falling out that occurs because of the hotel proposal; they will only be accepted back once they’ve “come to their senses”

- Charlie and Alastor have a weird relationship; they’ve got this yin-yang, mirrored image thing going on; they:

1. Are both biracial and are torn between different worlds

2. Have distanced themselves from one (their blackness. Yeah, Charlie is technically half black. But it’s a little more about their relation to the whole of humanity for them), but while one is actively trying to seek it out, the other has been conditioned to avoid it

3. Are performers (which will play a role in discussions of identity, y’know, what it means to perform an aspect of identity; what is whiteness vs blackness; queerness vs heteronormative ideals; how we generally define them and individually express them. But it’s also just “hey, we both like doing a thing. Oh, wow. Neat.”)

4. Have a volatile amount of anger that makes them violently lash out

5. Have strictly opposing yet similarly extreme moral principles

this will also be present in their designs (they have opposing coloration: blue vs red, white on black vs black on white, etc.); then there’s the wolf vs deer thing… I feel like I’d need a separate post to go through all that. I feel like this is already a lot lol

- They kinda feel conflicted about being friends with Al because he allows them to cut loose a bit and have fun, and they weirdly enough have a bit in common….but like…. dude ate people…..uhhhhhhh (does that make them a bad person if they like a literal murderer?), but then they think “I’m not supposed to judge. I’m supposed to help (and I’m totally fine….right….?). Meanwhile, V’s just like, “No, babe, please judge”

- They don’t like absolute silence, and they don’t like being alone; it allows their mind to wander into dangerous places; since Alastor is a literal radio that spits out music and static constantly, they sometimes just seek him out when their thoughts are too loud. Like, he just becomes a sentient noise machine for them basically

- Charlie’s got a habit of chewing on things when they’re nervous—pens, the inside of their cheek, their nails—coz dog (or….wolf….dragon….thingy); it’s usually harmless, but when they feel especially bad, they bite themselves (sometimes they bite the stuffing out of pillows as a substitute); when they start to more aggressively gnaw on their nails, V usually tries to guide their hand away

- They hide under the bed when they are feeling particularly miserable and anxious

There’s a lot more crap brewing, and I didn’t go into as much detail as I could have…. But I think that’s enough for maybe the week idk. If anyone’s at all curious, I might make another post about V or something.

Leave thoughts in the notes if you wanna!

[moiraineswife]

Moiraine And Lan - The Inability To Communicate Trauma

Hello friends. It has been quite some time. Quite some time since I have: absolutely lost all my fucking shit over my blorbos at great length via a long and quotation filled tumblr meta. Fear not: the status quo of the universe returns, and I am once again: back on my bullshit (literally hours before the next episode airs and this gets drowned/replaced with New Content. Because I’m smart like that). ANYWAY.

Today we’re going to discuss: Mo and Lan and the singular moron-flavoured braincell they share, bond or no bond. More seriously, however: I’ve noticed a few bits of commentary/takes/analysis of the current state of their…well state, let’s be frank here, and realised that my contrary ass has: Different Opinions. So I figured I’d share them. Bc that’s what I do.

(Obligatory disclaimer that there is no right or wrong way to interpret something - that’s why it’s an interpretation, and this is not a call out or a “oh wow you’re wrong and here’s why!!!!” post directed at anyone or anything. Just my observation that I am going against the grain of what I’ve seen and thus throwing out: a new chew toy for us to gnaw on).

Also: please do note that this post will cover, rather extensively/in-depth, the trauma arc that Lan and Moiraine are going through at the moment and will contain trigger warnings for: depression, PTSD, trauma response, rape (in the context of the analogy that Verin presented), suicide, suicidal ideation, suicidal attempt (again: all in the context of the show/previous events), and everything related to the topics that have been raised in the first two episodes for these characters. Be safe and tap out if you need to!

So. Obligatory wiffle aside: what shall we discuss? In a nutshell (bc I’m real good at that) I’m covering how, as I see it/am fascinated by it: the responses that they’re having to each other at the moment are mirrors/insights into the responses that they’re each having to the recent traumas that they’ve both suffered. In more depth/the points where I think I differ from the norm we’re going to cover: 

1)-why Lan is: not an idiot, actually. I see it as him being still perfectly capable of READING/understanding Moiraine without the bond; what he’s having difficulty with is COMMUNICATING with her without the bond

2)- that Moiraine is actually: ALSO failing dismally at communicating with Lan, and that she’s doing: a real fucking bad job of manipulating him. (is she HURTING him? Yes. 100%. Is she MANIPULATING him into doing what she wants? Given that she clearly wants nothing more than for him to: leave her, and that after 5 solid months he has: not left, I’m just going to put out the idea that maybe she’s not quite meeting her all of her targets in this area.

3)- wow they’re both doing incredibly stupid things, and they’re doing them for the same incredibly stupid reasons, and they are, in fact: INCREDIBLY THE SAME. See: singular moron-flavoured brain cell. This manifests slightly differently, due to their own individual traumas influencing the specifics of their actions/thought processes - but the general underlying thesis is the same for both.

The TL;DR here is that: these weirdos still know each other, and love each other, and understand each other without their bond. Can they communicate any of what they want to communicate in any kind of effective way? No. No they cannot. They BOTH suck. (I say that with legitimately all the love in the world).

So. Let’s start with Lan. Purely because I think my takes on him are the most Spicy/differ the most from everyone else’s and, let’s be honest, everything here feeds into everything else and this is going to get complicated where I start SO. Drama first. (I think it’s what they would want).

Okay so first and foremost I want to try and establish/explain what I mentioned at the outset of this thing which is: Lan is not blind, he’s not stupid, and he is not suddenly completely and utterly incapable of understanding a single feel that Moiraine feels if he can’t feel it with her via bond.

The largest and most obvious piece of evidence for this feels like the best one to start with and, for me, this is the fact that: HE DIRECTLY AND COMPLETELY CALLS HER OUT ON HER BULLSHIT, TO HER FACE, TWICE!!! 

“Don’t smile at me. You can shut me out, try to drive me away, but don’t you dare smile at me. As though everything is fine. As though you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

This is from episode 1, where he finally snaps at her after she gives him that fake ass little smile and is like ‘is an aes sedai not allowed her secrets’ when he tries to talk to her/get her to explain: literally anything to him. And THAT is what pushes him over the edge. 

She has been cold. She has been dismissive. She has flat out ignored him like he’s not even present. He has taken it all. Not happily, and with obvious frustration, but he hasn’t said a peep. Not when she gives him one brusque, dismissive one-word orders (“door”) like a dog. Or when she deliberately turns away from him and refuses to so much as look at them - he endures all of that and just takes it and let’s her do it. Because he understands that this is her current expression of: not being fine. 

If she WAS fine, she would not be doing these things, and he knows that, and I think sees it as something like a storm to weather? It is something that will pass (he hopes) if he has the patience and the strength to wait it out. When she smiles at him? When she tries to make a JOKE out of what she’s doing? Out of the secrets that she’s been keeping from him - secrets like the fact that she was planning on going to the Eye of the World to die without him - THAT is not acceptable. She’s smiling at him and trying to joke with him as though they’re still capable of that - as though they can still tease each other the way they did, as though things are fine, both in herself, and between them, and they are NOT. When she’s treating him like a slave, or a stranger, or an annoyance - that is strangely better - because it’s this unspoken acknowledgement/agreement (the only one they’ve been able to achieve) that this is because things are not fine. She treats him badly because she’s not fine, he KNOWS she’s treating him badly because she’s not fine - is a strange kind of shared truth. Like sarcasm - something said/done where both parties know that the meaning/intent is completely different. Smiling, joking, pretending she’s fine? That is an insult, because he knows damn well she is NOT in that place.

Okay, so let’s look at the second instance of this, which occurs in episode 2 (oh how quaint) and is as follows: 

L: “Then tell me! You and I have walked this path together. Every step, every choice, every sacrifice.”

M: “We have never walked this path together. You have never seen the forest for the trees because I have never shown it to you.”

L: “I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t push me away.”

Again, as with the previous scene, he tries to get her to talk to him, to stop keeping secrets from him, to share this with her and let him help her carry her burdens the way they always have. She puts him walls, she, again, tries to force distance - she tells him that they have never been together as he says. And he calls her out. AGAIN. He knows what she’s trying to do. It hasn’t changed. She’s still just doing the same thing she’s been doing from the start of episode 1 - trying to force him away, because she’s desperate, and she’s suffering, and she doesn’t have anything else but this - even if he knows what she’s doing, even if it hasn’t worked so far. 

Both of them are guilty of this - both of them get one idea stuck in their minds of how to handle this situation/how to fix everything, and they both refuse to change. They both dig their heels in, plant their stakes, pick their hills to die on, and are refuse to budge for love, money, or common sense. For Lan it’s in trying to get her to talk, to open up, to push back on the destructive coping mechanisms she’s got - trying to force her to include him, tying to force her to include herself and come to dinner with them etc. For Mo it’s this: it’s pushing him away, because she is no longer worthy of him (and believes she never was) and protecting him.

(to continue this: unhinged adventure, pls continue under the cut!)

So she commits to this, even if she honestly knows it probably won’t work now, either. (she empties her entire quiver on him in this scene, and the atomic bomb she had in her back pocket too for good measure. These things she’s been holding back in reserve, the last cards to play - that she misled him about Rand’s death, that she has discovered they (and notice that she still says “we” when she talks about this - even though she went to the Eye alone, even though she made that choice alone, even though she rejects the idea that they have been together on this quest, as he says - when she is not actively choosing every word to hurt him, she thinks of them and what they’ve done as an unconscious “we” and a unit) have freed Ishamael/possibly other Forsaken - one after the other, meant to just overwhelm him and be the final coup de grace. And it STILL doesn’t work. She unleashes everything she has on him and he STILL insists that he’s not leaving her. And it’s because he knows - as he just said - what she’s doing, and why. And he will not let her. And he says that to her “I’m not letting you walk away from me again” - because the last time he did: she went to the Eye to get herself killed. And it’s only by some miracle and twist of cruelty that she was left alive to suffer instead.

Also I’m going to take a brief sidebar here, before we move on to Further Evidence/thoughts on this. But I think that it’s really important to consider LAN’S trauma in what he’s doing and why? Like, I think people are doing this for Mo already? They recognise that she wouldn’t be behaving this way if she 1)- wasn’t trying to protect Lan (her intention) and 2)- wasn’t suffering the effects of her trauma/being cut off from the Power at the Eye. Lan is a little less obvious (both in that his trauma is not a single fixed point/event that’s very obvious and easy to refer back to; and that he’s a bit less blunt Lan Mo’s “brick to the face” techniques and motivations) but, as I said at the start: his reactions to Mo are a direct reflection/window into his own trauma responses.

So, as I just mentioned - Lan is SO adamant about not leaving Moiraine, not giving her the opportunity to distance them/push him away - because the last time she did that, in just nudging him, like, an inch to the left, she used that to mask their bond and skip off into the Blight to go get herself killed with Rand. And there is: no doubt, and no question, and no room for wiggling or negotiation on this. They BOTH were FULLY aware that that was a suicide mission. The first thing he says to her when he finds her is “you’re alive” - because he was sure that history was repeating on him.

Because I think that it’s very important to not just consider Mo’s actions here, I think it’s important to remember Lan’s experience with Stepin as well. The two played out very similarly for him/parallel each other almost exactly. They both talked to him about Nynaeve, encouraging him to seek a love and a life with her. They both manipulated him/the circumstances to make it impossible for him to try and protect them - Stepin by drugging him, and Moiraine by masking the bond so he was unable to sense her, so that they could leave him. They both had clear plans and intentions - and both of their ultimate goals was for it to end in their death (obviously the REASONS behind this are very different - Mo was trying to save the world; while Stepin’s had already ended). But in both cases, Lan wakes up alone, realising that they’ve left him, realising, instantly, what they intend to do and in both cases: he was too late and he feels that he failed. Stepin he finds dead - and the only reason that he DOESN’T find that has happened to Mo is not because of something he did, it’s not because he got to her in time, it’s not because he protected her, it’s not because HE did anything at all - it’s just because some whim of cruelty decided to spare her. And these two events happen within, like, a week of each other I want to say? Like that’s…That’s an incredibly damaging and traumatising thing to go through ONCE - but back to back? How guilty must he have felt? How ANGRY with himself? Because how could he not have learned? How could he have let this happen AGAIN?

Of course he’s terrified now. Of course he’s terrified that if he leaves she’s going to die. Of course he refuses - past the point of any sense or reason - to just back down and leave. He is certain that if he does it will mean the death of the person that he loves the most in this world. And it will be HIS fault. She’s being cruel to him, she’s pushing him away, she’s ignoring him, she’s ordering him around, she’s deliberately pushing every button he’s got, and stabbing her knife in every sensitive spot she’s discovered over the last twenty years. And what kind of weak, selfish, useless person would he be to let that be all it takes for him to just say ‘well fine, I’ll just abandon you and let you kill yourself without me’. He cannot fail again. He WILL NOT fail again. He has been here, history is repeating on him again and he will not let it. Whatever she says to him. However she hurts him. Whatever he has to endure to weather this storm with her he will. Because none of this pain even comes CLOSE to what it will be like if he leaves her and she hurts herself and that is entirely his fault.

(Note: I do not actually think that Moiraine is actively suicidal at this point. As Verin notes - she chooses to fight every day. She wakes up, she fills her buckets, she puts one foot in front of the other and she clearly keeps going. It’s wobbly, and it’s messy, and she’s clearly grieving and depressed and traumatised - but she is not suicidal. Does LAN know that? Can Lan, without the bond, and with Stepin, and the Eye, haunting him even begin to scrape together the required rationality to see that? No. Lan sees Moiraine as being in just as much danger as she sees him being in and all he can do, all he has left to do in this world is protect her. And so he will).

To conclude the wrap of: the most painful breakup scene in the history of the world (for me and my present blorbos at this present moment in time, anyway) I want to just talk about the infamous “we were never equals”. And a lot of it has been covered, and I agree with the takes that Moiraine does not believe herself equal to Lan (and never did (SELF ESTEEM ISSUES!? IN MY CODEPENDENT PLATONIC SOULMATE RELATIONSHIP!? NOOOOO!!!!!!! NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)) and that is how she’s able to say this oath wise. I just want to touch on the fact that some people seem to be like ‘bro how can u not see what she’s saying DIRECTLY TO UR FACE, BRO!? COME ON LAN. LISTEN!!!!’ and like. So, to bring up a controversial and possible shocking observation: Lan is, in fact: still a human being! Emotions are messy, and logic is a fine and wonderful thing from a couch, yelling at your tv screen, and with the delightful ability to rewind and replay conversations/moments in time to be able to link them together nicely.

But Moiraine has been cruel to him for months at this point in an effort to drive him away. And, as discussed - he knows what she’s doing. He knows WHY she’s doing it. He is enduring it and putting up with it and stomaching it without throwing things at her because he knows it’s an expression of pain and is a reaction to what she’s been through. But he’s also hurt by it. Not least because: even if she’s only SAYING these things to hurt him/drive him away - she still believes them enough that they’re true for her to be able to actually get them out of her mouth. That HURTS. That’s going to break you down, that’s going to GET to you, that’s going to be thing that keeps him up at night and just echoes in his head over and over again and like - my man’s self-esteem and self-worth wasn’t actually sitting up at the peak of Dragonmount BEFORE 5 months of this, like dear Light people.

To have the person you love the most in this world tell you that “I don’t want my saddle to slip” (I don’t trust you to do this for me), to have her admit that she deliberately misled him, that she has actively kept important, possibly world-changing events from you, that she says, to your face - the thing that you are MOST afraid of, the thing that tormented him via Machin Shin, the thing that torments him still about Stepin - that he FAILED her? For her to believe that so firmly that it’s truth to her? Of course he doesn’t think he’s worthy of her? Of course he’s willing to take what she says at face value. SHE CAN’T FUCKING LIE!!!! And the set-up to this is so important, because she goes right for the jugular in this scene, and she does so repeatedly, in quick succession.

So she hits him with: ‘actually I lied when I said before that WE were going to the Tower - I’m going on my own without you. We yote a forsaken out into the world OOPS. -I refuse to explain anything to you. -We have never been walking this path together. -I have never showed you everything, I have always hidden things from you. -OH also ur lil sheepherder dude is actually: not dead and never was, I #lied to ur face abt that. -I am loyal to the Dragon - and ONLY him. -You can’t protect me anymore without the bond. -No, you’re not my Warder, you failed me, and I would be dead in spite of you if not for the help of people more competent than you. -ALSO here’s our good buddy Alanna and I am going to THREATEN TO HAVE HER TAKE YOUR BOND BY FORCE IF YOU KEEP REFUSING ME and I arranged this ahead of time to make this right. ALL of this gets dumped on his head in the space of LITERALLY AROUND TWO MINUTES. Like damn Mo the bloody Fades were less efficient than that.

He has just had all of that thrown in his face - the things she’s been holding back, keeping in case she needed them - her lying to him, her isolating him, her NEVER walking this path with him or ever showing him all that she saw, telling him that he is not her Warder anymore, that he has FAILED to protect her, that she will have him bonded against his will just to get rid of him. And he stands there on the ground, while she gazes down at him from on top of her horse (which she mounted - for the first time we’ve seen on screen - without his aid (which is a GUTTING little touch, because we see him smoothly and seamlessly help her mount a couple of times in season 1)) and she just says, to his face, the TRUTH, as he asked for: they were never equals.

And she can say that because she believes that he is better than her, and we know that, but can you blame him for not quite catching that in the moment????? She’s just told him that he’s a failure, that she’d be dead and he didn’t do a damn thing to protect her, that she will have someone bond him forcibly - and in this moment she just says what he’s been thinking for months, for YEARS honestly, given what machin shin torments him with “you can’t protect her. You’ll watch her die.” Of course he believes it. He is ALREADY taking an irrational level of responsibility over all of this, over what he perceives as his failures.

Adeleas calls him out for this and tells him he’s taking it too personally (and he IS) - he is assuming responsibility for not preventing something as though that means that he caused it. And again: this is a trauma response. This is an overreaction to a perceived series of circumstances that led to the death of a friend he’s had for possibly decades, to the one person he is supposed to protect, who he let go on a suicide mission alone so that he could get fucking laid, who he let slip away from him AGAIN to get attacked by Fades - where he failed her FOR A THIRD TIME. But like…He starts this little conversation off with her by apologising because he didn’t sense the Fades. He has: absolutely no way, reasonable or other ways, to sense INVISIBLE CREATURES THAT MOVE THROUGH SHADOW without the bond giving him the ability to do so. It’s a ridiculous thing to say. It has no logic to it at all and that’s the POINT. He is not capable of logic about this situation. He is blaming himself for everything - every single thing he can think of, whether it’s reasonable or not, is his fault, and his responsibility - he should have sensed the fades, he should have sensed her leaving, he should have stopped her going to the Eye, he should have stopped her from being cut off. He is trying to assert control, he is trying to assign blame and reason to the things that have happened to him - to the losses he has suffered - so that he can stop suffering them. And he can’t. He can’t. It happens over. And over. And over. AND OVER again. The trolloc blade that hit Moiraine in the Two Rivers and nearly killing her. Logain’s shield exploding and the axe handle piercing her side and nearly killing her. Being drugged by Stepin who killed himself while Lan was absent. Letting himself be distracted by Nynaeve while Mo went to the Eye. Missing Mo leaving AGAIN and her being attacked by the Fades. Actually getting there while the attack was in progress finally at LAST being able to DO something, to STOP something - and he can’t even fucking manage that. Over and over and over he fails people and he loses them and it’s his fault and he can’t stop it. He’s been retraumatised by circumstance, and is now retraumatising HIMSELF by adding even more perceived failings to the existing tally. Of course he believes her. He’s just been waiting for her to say that to him from the day they bonded. NO ONE IN THIS DYNAMIC HAS ANY SELF-ESTEEM. LIKE THEY STARTED WITH ZERO TOTAL AND SOMEHOW IT’S GOTTEN WORSE.

Okay so shifting focus slightly for the last thing I want to say about Lan, but still related, because: the problem (for me) is not that they cannot read/understand each other, it’s that they cannot COMMUNICATE with each other. And there is a distinction here. Lan’s issue is not lack of understanding where Mo is at - he sees her suffering, knows she’s not fine, understands she is reacting to the loss she endured at the Eye, he gets that. He’s known her for twenty years - bond or no bond - he knows what pain looks like when he sees it in her eyes. That’s not it. What he’s struggling with, and what he’s frustrated by is that they are not TALKING. He knows how she’s feeling - he doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t know how to TALK about that with her. He doesn’t know how to fix it because she refuses to engage with it at all - and they’re SO bad at this that they don’t even get to the part where she can ignore him trying to talk abt the actual problem, bc she just nips it in the bud and ignores him/deflects him from the opening bland ‘small-talk’ set-up questions to start making forrays into that. 

Because before all of that would have happened instinctively via the bond - she feels the bad feels, he knows why, he sends the required good feels back/makes her tea/gives her an extra blanket/just responds without having to think about and, and this is the key point: without having to talk. Because, let’s be real here: these idiots BOTH suck at talking about their emotions/needs. Genuinely think they would both just lie on the ground and fucking die rather than say ‘I need a bandage because I’m BLEEDING PROFUSELY FROM EVERY ORIFICE.’ Because they’re deeply repressed, traumatised people who were never given the tools/language/space they needed to be able to safely and healthily learn to express their feels (but that…is a different piece of meta for another day). 

THE POINT IS: we’re now going to turn to my beloved, my man, my favourite, the myth, the legend, the ICON: Tomas and his tomatoes. And by this I do of course mean that we’re doing a deep dive of the scene where Tomas gives Lan some advice after they go out to the (absolutely THRIVING - good job my man) garden to pick some tomatoes for dinner (or at least….Tomas goes out to pick tomatoes for dinner; and Lan goes out to brood in his proximity while he does so. ) But eh. Tomayto, tomahto….) ANYWAY: 

So this scene gives Lan a chance to talk about losing the bond - and I think that is important as well? Likely obviously Moiraine is Going Through It here, and Lan hasn’t been cut off from the Power/isn’t dealing with that experience but WE DON’T PLAY TRAUMA OLYMPICS IN THIS HOUSE!!! PAIN IS PAIN AND IT SHOULD ALL BE VALIDATED AND DEALT WITH IN A CONSTRUCTIVE AND POSITIVE WAY. Ahem. Anyway. It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for: QUOTE TIME AGAIN;

“The bond made things easier. It was like a friend walking along with us chatting away so we never had to.”

I think this is a really interesting (and honestly fascinating) way to describe the bond - to personify it and see it as another individual existing between them and making things easier by doing the things that they both struggle to do - use their goddamn words. 

“She’s tired, she’s hungry, she’s angry, she’s afraid. Now silence.”

This part, too, I think is really telling. Because if I had to put money on it and pick out the Top 4 Feelings Moiraine Is Having I think I could do a lot worse than ‘tired, hungry, angry, and afraid’. He KNOWS how she’s feeling. He can read that in her still. He doesn’t need the bond to tell him that. That’s not what he’s missing. He doesn’t need the bond to point out what she’s feeling to him, and he doesn’t miss that aspect, he misses the ‘chatting away’, he misses the noise, he misses the COMMUNICATION, and he is struggling with the silence.

THAT is what the bond used to do for them - it used to ‘chat away so they never had to’. A friend, a helper, who facilitated between them and allowed them to communicate when they couldn’t speak/didn’t have the words. We see this over and over and OVER again in season 1. They have whole ass conversations without making a single peep. Most notably in extremely tense or emotional moments - Kerene’s funeral and the look they share, Lan struggling with Stepin’s grief, coming to Moiraine, kneeling beside her, holding her hand - so much happens in that scene in particular. Without saying a word he communicates an exhaustion, a fatigue, a grief and a sorrow - a need for comfort and support - and she gives it. At Stepin’s funeral - the lookk that he gives her, the way he seeks her in the crowd, again needing her strength, which she gives to him through their bond and across a room. THAT’S what’s gone. That’s what he keeps trying to get back. 

Because he gives her that same look - that same obvious cry for help and look of desperation at the end of ep 1 with the Fade battle. He is WRECKED he is DONE, he’s disarmed, he cannot stand, he can barely crawl - he NEEDS her, he needs her strength, he needs her help. She tries to channel - she reaches for the power, as she would once have reached for him through their bond - and it does not come. It is not there. It cannot help them. And the words that he speaks to her then echo a repeated sentiment he’s had for her throughout: “what aren’t you telling me?”

The bond isn’t there to talk for her anymore. And she refuses. Consistently. Verin and Adeleas comment on Bayle visiting - and Lan notes that she doesn’t tell him any more than she tells them. After Bayle is gone, Lan tries to small talk, he slaps on a casual little smile and he asks a mundane ‘let’s start the ball rolling on that conversation thing’ question, easy to answer, nothing tense, nothing painful, a very common “how did it go?” she ignores him. He presses further - asks who that person was? She gives him the bare minimum (and doesn’t answer the question he’s ACTUALLY asking) and then he tries to push again - what did she want. At which point she hits him with that fake smile and the ‘can an aes sedai not have her secrets?’ - and he’s not even really asking for much. He’s not asking what he actually wants to ask which is: how are you? Are you okay? What can I do? What do you need? What are you thinking? And this idea repeats - in ep 2, when he tries to point out it takes 8 aes sedai to cut someone off, she snaps that he has no conception of the power the forsaken have - so he snaps at her to tell him then. And she refuses. 

They are both FEELING - and their feelings are seen. Lan sees how Mo struggles he sees how she shuts herself away, he sees that she’s not eating, and not sleeping, that she’s frustrated, and she’s frightened. Mo sees that she’s hurting him, she sees that he’s frustrated as well. They know this. But they’re not TALKING. They’re not COMMUNICATING. And at the dinner sequence - this is what Verin, Adeleas and Tomas try to give them advice about - their history is the “common language” that they are; maybe he needs to listen to what she IS saying and not try and demand her to say other things. They don’t know how to talk about things like this - they’re not good at that ANYWAY - but with each other? When they’ve never had to before? When for once, for the first time for both of them, it was effortless to share these things and communicate these deep insecurities and emotions that they struggle to give to others? THAT’S what they’re lacking and that’s what the biggest problem is.

Alright let’s leave poor Lan be for now, I have tormented him enough. On to Momo. This will (hopefully, dear god) be shorter, because people have covered Mo before. We know that she’s traumatised, we know she’s trying to push Lan away to protect him, we know she’s trying to regain control, she feels powerless, she feels helpless, she is trying to deal with something life-altering, something that made her vulnerable and helpless, she’s being reckless with her safety, she’s taking foolish risks etc etc.

The point I want to touch on here is the idea around her ‘manipulating’ Lan, because I usually see this go hand-in-hand with the Lan stuff I talked about already. Largely: how ironic that without the bond Lan doesn’t understand her/cannot read her, but Moiraine is doing it so well with him and i must: respectfully decline to go along with that perspective. And this is (I imagine u know what im going to say now) *inhales deeply* because they SUCK AT COMMUNICATING!!!! 

It doesn’t really MATTER that he is trying to open her up/communicate that he loves her, and he’s there for her, and he wants to support her; while she is trying to communicate the same - she loves him, she cares about him, she wants to protect him. They are both: failing dismally. Lan’s incessant pestering of Mo to talk to him is just making her clam up more and more because she can’t and what’s more: she doesn’t bloody want to. She wants to shove her trauma under a rug in the corner of Verin’s study, and then she wants to drag a bookshelf over the top of it, and then she wants to fill the bookcase with books, and then she wants to put a whole bunch of extra things on top of the bookcase, and then she wants to flee the country and forget that any of that ever exists because she does not want to deal with it. And Lan keeps pushing. He keeps trying to make her talk, because he’s desperate, and he misses the chattering of their friend the bond, and he wants to help, her wants her to let him back in, and it’s just pissing her off. Which is what the cottage squad calls him out for (when will Mo get her ‘come to jesus’ talk?? For Fairness? Like i need this too).

So Lan is coming at this: far too softly, and far too indirectly in a lot of ways. He never asks about what he actually wants to ask about. He talks about the weather, or how shiny Aldieb’s coat is this morning, or how nice and red and juicy Tomas’s tomatoes are. He never actually just says what he wants to say which is: “I love you, and I’m worried about you, and I’m failing you more and more every day and I’m sorry and I need you” he pussyfoots around it and avoids it and lets her shut him down because that hurts and, well, he deserves that hurt so alright then.

And then there’s Mo. Who has managed to somehow twist the logic of the universe so that she can say “I love you” by, uh *checks notes*: Not saying anything at all/ignoring him. Or by saying things like “you failed me” instead. Because she is just THAT powerful. Okay I’m being a bit sarcastic here, clearly, but she has convinced herself (based on how her trauma is affecting her) that she: 1)- does not deserve Lan/is not worthy of him and so he should leave her so he can be happy and 2)- she needs to protect him and so he should leave her and go and be safe.

Maybe she tried to articulate this at some point? Sit him and down and be like ‘okay Allan so I know u have a lot of trauma abt, like, being abandoned/being left behind so ppl u love can go do themselves great harm but…it would REALLY be just swell for me if u left me all by myself while i go through possibly the worst things that’s ever happened to me: alone. Okay? Okay.” However I doubt this. Bc, as previously and repeatedly discussed: these two can’t communicate for SHIT right now.

I think she probably made some sort of roundabout suggestion? Like she didn’t directly say ‘you need to leave me because reasons’ but she probably…asked him to go the White Tower and watch over Nyn and Eggy, or maybe go with Perrin and the Shienarans to help, or even ‘hey remember Mat? The little scrungly one?? I wonder where he is’ and he just told her ‘absolutely fucking not’ (or words to that effect) so she had to try something else instead. Which is: being mean af.

So far so good and I think we’re all (relatively) in agreement to this point. But then people think…She’s being successful here? And she’s reading him well - largely because she knows EXACTLY what to say to hurt him? And yes, she absolutely does, I will 100% give you that. Blade directly to the heart each and every time, she never misses. HOWEVER. This is not the actual point. Causing Lan pain is not her endgame - it’s actually just the painful middle step that’s hurting her too to try and get her to her endgame.

Manipulation essentially involves doing ‘y��� (in this case being deliberately cruel/causing Lan pain) to make the person do ‘x’ (in this case: push Lan away and make him leave her), in theory/if it’s super successful: without the person realising that you’ve orchestrated this/making it seem like it was all their idea/decision. This is, uh, not working too great. It’s been 5 months and Lan is probably less likely to leave her now than he was when she started (because he now has 5 months worth of knowing that she is actively trying to get him to leave so she can do the Light only knows what and if that’s what she wants him to do while she’s in this state then it’s absolutely the last thing that he feels he should do - so in that sense this has actually backfired kinda spectacularly on Mo. Because: SHE’S COMMUNICATING JUST AS BADLY AS HE IS!!!!!!!!!! Just. On the COMPLETE opposite end of the spectrum to him. Because they’re drama and aesthetic that way.

And the added bonus content of this is: she CAN do this. She can (and does) manipulate people spectacularly well. Take Bayle for example (god she needed that little win SO badly, bless her and her buckets). She wanted: to see/examine the broken heartstone - but what is she actually going to DO with it? She doesn’t want to put it in a fancy display case or collect it, she wants to know WHY it broke. So what she ACTUALLY wants from him is information. Information such as: the poem. So she haggles with him on the thing she actually wants - makes him feel like he’s getting a win when he agrees to budge on that, far cheaper, item - but then he counters and says that he won’t move on the heartstone chunk itself - which she has no interest in. So she gets her essential infodump poem for a bargain price, and takes Bayle down like six pegs in the process. 10/10, excellently managed misdirection, making him do all the work and lowering the price of the poem so she didn’t even have to ask for it, and making himself look like a plonker into the bargain. Delicious. She CAN manipulate people - she just cannot manipulate Lan (not in this instance/about this anyway) because she’s as wrongfooted as he is, and is scrambling as much as he is without the bond, to try and find a language she never thought she’d need to try and speak with him.

And so if we now consider BOTH of them: they’re in this very weird space here, where the traumas that they have suffered, and the reactions they’re having are placing them in this fundamental position of opposition. Because their needs/the things they believe/have convinced themselves they have to do put them in direct conflict with one another. They’re like an immovable object meets an unstoppable force, right? And this idea reveals itself in several smaller ways - eg: Lan thinking that Mo needs company and to not isolate herself to get better; while for Mo that just feels completely intolerable and she wants to be alone and in Her Space, her study, where she is in control and can pretend to her visitors/informants that all is well and nothing has changed. But I think the biggest point it revolves around/where it’s most obvious is that, ultimately, their absolute overall goal is to protect the other person?

The difference/tragedy of this is that: Moiraine believes fundamentally that Lan is in danger WITH her, and that she has to make him leave in order to protect him. Lan believes fundamentally that Moiraine will be in danger WITHOUT him and that he has to stay in order to protect her. And this is the hill they’ve both chosen as their last stand/thing to die for. So she is going to push him and push him and push him, and she is going to hurt HERSELF by being crueller and crueller and crueller to him to protect him. And all the while he is going to endure and endure and endure and let himself be hurt to protect her.

AND THEN IT GETS WORSE (or better if ur twisted and u enjoy these kinds of parallels the way i do) because: they are both stubbornly trying to protect the other; but they’re also both feeling like they’re martyring themselves/are hurting themselves more and more to do so. She feels like he is being stubborn and forcing her to hurt him more and more every day - which she does not want to do - when he could just go, just let this end, just leave her the way she clearly wants him to! But this will make her stronger. She will be stronger for this, for having let him go, and for knowing that at least she managed to protect him. So she will just keep going - tomorrow, that will do it, he has to break tomorrow, he has to finally break tomorrow. And this goes on. The next day. Maybe the next day. The next–

And then HE feels like he is enduring, and that the pain she is inflicting on him is his cross to bear, and he has to endure it because he will NOT leave her, no matter what she throws at him. And it’s almost a test of his will and his love and his devotion (even though I think he knows it’s not: but it’s kind of become his own little personal quest. Because yes. Yes he SHOULD suffer this way. She SHOULD hurt him like this. He deserves it after how he failed her. He has to take this pain. He has to prove what he’s willing to go through for her, prove how dedicated he is, how much he will suffer for her, how even she cannot break him). And he too is thinking that next day it will get better. If he can just endure, just survive this onslaught, it will end. It will get better. She will get better. This will pass. He just has to prove his strength and last as long as he needs to in order to see that through.

And, to bring us back to the start of this extremely long and rambling essay I present you my final, deeply insightful, deeply professional, deeply ~meta~ thought which is that: they are BOTH. SO. FUCKING. S T U P I D!!!! (in a genuinely really interesting and complex and  fascinating way, as i have hopefully discussed/explained - the idea that their lost bond/connection makes them mirror/echo each other but now in a destructive way? That instead of seamlessly and instinctively meeting each others’ needs they are both unconsciously and unintentionally triggering the other person’s trauma and making things WORSE? What an absolutely fascinating take/an incredibly subtle but profound way to show the depth of exactly what they’ve lost/how much it has affected them while ALSO rooting the entire thing in their individual traumas, experiences, and characters - like who ever wrote/conceived of this NEEDS A GODDAMN RAISE I SWEAR) But also yes they are: morons. Absolutely. Without a doubt. One singular moron brain cell that ping pongs between the two of them but is, fundamentally: the same. Absolutely fucking delighted. Can’t wait to see where this goes from here. Join me again in the future for me: ‘wow Rowyn that’s a whole lotta thoughts u got there buddy’.

Also I swear I’m friendly and I like engaging/talking with ppl! Pls feel free to comment/reblog/message!!! And do note that if u reblog i WILL read and appreciate ur tags bc im: one of those Old People. 

OKAY BYEEEEEE!!!

[snowswan-royalehigh]

Please, can you talk more about the misogyny in Remarried Empress and shit on the male leads, I love it!

Of course! The whole thing is built in such a pick me girl way, it's so hypocritical! The fandom, doesn't do much to counteract it, (I am slightly fearful for the media literacy right now.)

RE has underlying tones of classism and sexism

In order to try to prevent spoilers, I'm gonna mainly focus on the Webtoon, with 1 Rashta spoiler.

THE ONE GOOD WOMAN THEORY.

Why do I say this? Navier. Navier as a character. I actually like the concept of her. Navier herself however, I feel really perpetrates this sexism as well. She's the designated 'one good woman' which I notice in other historical drama/fantasy webtoons. Had it been Rashta's point of view, I'm sure Navier would have a horrible nickname like 'Trashta' maybe like, 'Nasty-vier' and they would make fun of her appearance like they did Rashta. (I love Rashta, but good lord the Christmas tree wedding dress...)

Personally, I don't have that much beef with Navier. But her stans. Especially people who think Navier had it harder than Rashta.

Navier did suffer, but ultimately, women in this story are treated disposably. Tuania, the most beautiful noblewoman, was cast aside by her husband via rumors. Krista, was easily killed off by her own father, and Rashta who's whole life was misery with one time of false happiness before rotting in a cell, taking her own life. And honestly. Navier would've been just like them too, if she wasn't the main character. However, to my knowledge none of the male leads have had to struggle like this.

People often forget, Navier was petty ASF. She was justified, but I felt as though the whole RE story felt classist too. We don't get to see a 'good commoner.' Lebetti, an actual slaveowner and abuser, got a happier ending than her victim. If you like Lebetti, you just like the spoiled brat version of Rashta. And when we see a 'good commoner' it's highly likely that they'll be a throwaway character, or just fodder to support the plot, such as Delaney's, (the maid who had her tongue cut out) brother, only existing to be another thorn in Rashta's side. Even then, Delaney is unable to get herself justice without a man.

None of the male leads really have to depend on women, as much as the women do. Krista, Delaney, Rashta, Tuania, Krista, and even Navier have had to rely on men.

Navier is a good character, due to her flaws and wants, but honestly, people disregard these very real flaws about her.

Petty and uncalled for actions from Navier, actually aren't that uncommon. Like how Navier treated Rashta's abuser, in the way Rashta wanted to be treated. Rashta didn't start out with bad intentions, at all. She was honestly, somewhat sweet in her initial approach. Navier was justified in disliking her husband's mistress, though.

You can notice a trend: Women not associated with Navier's good graces, don't get happy endings. Their only redemption is Navier.

Navier is a great character. Cool. Cunning. She's rough. She's intelligent. However, she is jealous, petty, and vengeful at times. Navier is flawed. Which is good. But in the RE fandom, people can even dumb down Navier, who's one of the most sharp characters into 'soft'. It feels as the story goes on, they're dulling the once sharp blade that was Navier. Navier is desperate to keep herself on a throne. To remain empress.

People demonize Krista all the time, but her motives for being an antagonist is similar to Navier, if not more wholesome. Krista coveted the throne as well, either for power or love. And honestly, Krista was good. She knew how to operate as queen. Navier was alright to be upset, but notice how Krista was killed. She died. Only as fodder for her own father.

I don't remember any sharp quips, or intelligent phrases said by her, since season 1. Such as the 'But if someone comes at me with a knife, I'm not going to let them stab me just because they're weaker than me.' or 'Are you saying that you only have value while you're loved by the emperor?'

Not to say people can't be softened as time goes on. However, I feel that she could start displaying behavior similar to Rashta, and no one would bat an eye. I also remember them pretty much getting rid of Navier's sharp fox eyes, and making them more doe like, like Rashta's.

TLDR: Navier benefits from what I call 'One good woman' theory. The other women can only support her, or scorn her. Either way, they will fade from existence and be forgotten. Her supporters will have happy endings and go away, and her enemies will die horrible deaths.

[radical-revolution]

THE LAST FIGHT OF OUR DIVINE MOTHER

Like a lover whispering in my ear, trying to rouse me out of my liminal state, that day I heard the voice of what was unmistakably our Divine Mother, Mary, Isis, Shakti, the heart of the Cosmos itself, God of all gods and the consecrated breath of the manifest world. She goes by many names and has taken on many creeds and colours and forms. A great and ancient electricity ran through my being as her soft yet powerful presence penetrated me. I could barely make out her words, she spoke so gently and with such graceful delicacy, yet I felt too the terrible convulsions of world creation and destruction beneath each syllable, untold billions of universes being born and dying, expanding and contracting in an unending torrent of life, and, underlying all these forms, the taste of that Infinite Love that just might be the salvation of this broken world.

They had murdered her beloved child, she said. Murdered him in cold blood. Murdered him in their ignorance and fear. Unhealed trauma had unconsciously struck its death blows! She wept, she lamented, she spoke of the loneliness of loss and the grief-infused rage of the bereaved mother, yet she also told of a world that was yet to come, not some other world, no, but this very world, this shattered and terrified world infused with divinity, shot through with the brilliant light of compassion and understanding.

Here is what I heard her say in my half-asleep, half-awake state, or at least, this is what I remember of it….

“…Oh my boy. My baby boy. What have they done?

What has this samsara brought?

How much more of this can I bear?

My love! You suckled my breast. My breast was full for you. I watched you grow strong on my milk. You clung to me and learned to let go. You grew and spoke your truth and listened calmly to the truth of others. You became a man and father and loving brother to many, and I was proud of you and they broke you on the cross of this world. They nailed you up there, my boy, my poor, sweet, kind boy. I could not stop them and I could not reach you. They spat at you, broke your spirit. They hung you from trees, gunned you down into pits, gassed you in industrial ovens, robbed you of all that you cherished and all that you had worked so hard to build. They took away your rights, enslaved your children, stole your sense of self respect, tried to drown you in their own river of shame.

They knelt on your neck until you could not breathe and you cried out for me and I will never forget your cries.

What kind of world is this?

What kind of world have I made, my love?

I would have taken away all your pain if I could. I would have breathed for you, given you my final breaths, emptied myself out for you.

Make no mistake, I am wrath today. I am fire and hatred too. I am indignation and outrage and I would burn this filthy creation if I wanted to, yes, in a single exhale I would blow it all away to kingdom come. But no, I love this world too much right now to end it. I love this fractured world beyond reason for this world is my child too, it emerged from my belly too and it shall return there in time. So today I take all this fire and frenzy and breathe it back into my bottomless womb, and there I transform it, transmute it, transition it into pure electricity and holy spirit, into Eros itself, the nectar of life. I flood myself with its righteous and erotic anger-power, I strengthen my spine and heart and breast and head and I build up my dignity and resolve in a near-unbearable inferno of compassion and I offer this soft lightning back to this world, I place this power into the hearts of women and men fighting for justice and equality, I give courageous voice to those whose voices have been stifled for too long. They are all my sons and daughters too! And when the ignorant and the unhealed and the unloved, when the narcissistic and the tyrannical forces try to destroy what I have created they only empower me. Where they bring intolerance I bring more abundant life! Where they sow fear and suspicion, where they ridicule and mock and deny the inherent rights of my precious ones I bring fierce protection and awakening power!

Forgive them, Father. They do not know what they are doing and they do not know what they have unleashed in me. They do not know the world-changing power of my wrath! They see it as ungrounded rage, but oh, it is infused with unspeakable love! Oh yes, I come today in a torrent of peaceful revolution! No force can stop me, nature or man-made, real or imagined. I am coming for them in their sleep, the ignorant ones, the ones who do not see or do not want to see. I shall make them see. I shall penetrate their strongest defences, place hairline cracks in their outdated belief systems, and in moments of doubt and vulnerability and self-reflection I shall enter them, through their own shame I shall enter them, I shall push myself up into their chests and loins and spines and into their very inhalations and exhalations, and I shall make them shake and sob and weep and moan to the heavens when they finally recognise what they have done to me, what they have done to my flesh, my own beautiful flesh, my boy, and his brethren, and what they have done to themselves, for we are only reflections of reflections of each other, versions of my Original Face, and I shall hold up my terrible mirror to them! The poison they witness will be the cure. A torrent of Truth will be unleashed on this planet like never before. All that has been repressed will finally be brought into the Light. I shall make America face her sins, tell the truth of what she has done. Truth and reconciliation, truth and reconciliation, are on their way, for America and for the world, and nothing can stop me now.

I am Mother of all mothers! I am Power of all powers! Grief of all grief! I weep for my little boy, yes, I cannot stem these tears, I am too far gone in grief, too advanced in it, I am as shattered as any mother would be! I have wept untold oceans, cried for aeons for all my boys, all my girls, my skin is red raw with tears. But when they buried my son deep in the Earth – oh my sweet boy - when they planted him in the sod along with his brothers and sisters, they planted a terrible seed of love that will grow unhampered by time and distance now, its haunted roots spreading deep underground, roots connecting with other roots, strong firm roots of the forgotten ones, roots of the martyrs and the slaves and the outcasts, roots of the oppressed and the wrongly accused, weeping roots connecting and weaving and nourishing each other as they intertwine and heal, a great loving conversational organism forging itself underground now, a terrible beast of loving transformation ready to shake the very foundations of civilisation itself, ready to construct a new society built on love and equality, and the most heart-shattering Truth. Utopia is nearer to every man and woman’s heart than they would ever believe. But first we must pass through this time of reckoning. We must first pass through the dark night of grief, and rage that drips with the very same grief.

Nothing can take away the pain of my loss. Samsara is so cruel, feels so meaningless sometimes, all this unnecessary destruction and pain. But I am full of hope today, although I am broken with grief, my love, I am full of hope. I created you to recognise the other as yourself and yourself in the other. I forged you out of Divine Love and you must never forget this. I gave you milk when you were young and you cried out for milk. I was full for you. I looked deep into your brand new eyes and a bond was formed between us that can never be broken, not by any power on this Earth, not until after the last Sun has cooled, and all this pain and devastation has been forgotten.

Your death will not be in vain, my sweet boy, your death may very well be the salvation of this world.

I am coming for you…”

And with that, her lamentations faded into silence. I managed to open my eyes at last but she – Mother Mary, Kali, Shakti, the great Matriarch of the known and unknown worlds - was nowhere to be found. It may have all been a hallucination, a vision, a lucid dream, a trip into my own deepest being, for these sacred and timeless archetypes live in our collective consciousness and transcend historical and cultural contexts. It does not matter though – her guttural cry of undying love and fierce maternal courage has entered my heart forever, and hopefully, through these half-remembered words, she has entered yours too.

Her rage dripping with grief, her compassion for humanity unrestrained, her heart torn asunder, broken and weary yet full of hope, she fights on.

- Jeff Foster

[mysticsiddhi]

I hope you are well, I have a question that I am very curious about, have you ever experienced an existential crisis on this journey, because I do? Does it bother you that we live in such a random universe? If I am God and my eternal consciousness, why don't I remember the time before birth? Why don't I know what happens after death? Knowing these may be possible with future change. Thanks to the change, I was able to go so deep into consciousness that I was able to recognize Neville who said we are gods, but if I had never started this journey and continued to live like an ordinary person, these questions would have been answered. always remains secret. What if I had never known this journey, how would I know that I was God? can i know? If I'm God, why don't I know everything? And the biggest thing for me will probably be this question: What if I never learned this? What could happen? There is such a possibility. These are just some of the things that bother me. Maybe there are other things that bother you existentially. How did you overcome these or do you know the answers to these questions?

Oh, my first ask! Happiness!

Existential crisis is a part of the natural human condition. I find as I understand the human condition, I understand there is little to no crisis of this nature. The person is a tool of exploration, it is naturally curious, it will always question things, like a child. It's you/awareness who must look at it with understanding and love, like a good parent would.

The universe, of course, is not random. Acausal, yes, but never random. It is only apparent and appears random to 'you' due to our limited understanding and perception of the underlying order.

Memory before birth and knowledge after death are experiential matters. The person cannot know these things intellectually, and as long as you bind yourself to this awareness "I am a person, I live this one life," it will not be essential for you to know.

That calling itself 'You' is only a part of divine consciousness. While you are essentially divine, you bind yourself to that awareness I just mentioned, "I am a person, living in a world." The concept of divinty is not about omniscience in the human sense, as it is actually beyond all definitions completely. The actual problem with 'omniscience' is that /as humans/, we follow our finite minds and perspectives, and our understanding is always evolving. The pursuit of knowledge for the human is a journey, never a destination.

I feel the person's greatest blessing and curse, is the drive and ability to consume and know things. If you want to remember this 'time before birth' it will find millions of scenarios to reason to you. Same with 'what happens after death. We are already 'omniscience', idolizing a peak of ourselves that we like to put out of our reach by knowing ourselves to be a person.

So if you never knew this journey, you would simply follow the directive, "I am a person, living in a world," that alone is a great honor. They would not be secret as they never were. I will tell you now, that absolutely nothing came before birth or after death, none but your own imagination. It's just that they are imaginary, but the person may not be satisfied with that!

The fact that you have discovered these teachings is the grace of the divine (Ishvara) and the result of your own karma. For the 'how,' which you will soon stop asking of yourself if you don't want to overconsume anymore:

For your fears of the unknown, learn to leave the memories and expectations of your thoughts alone, come to the present moment, be established in the knowledge of the eternal self.

If you want to 'educate' the person, then you must 'show' them, what they are and what you are not. I did this through self-inquiry and neti-neti. For simplicity; "If I am not this person having this crisis, who am I?" pause and study that pause of silence. That is the answer, and it reveals itself to you in time.

The ultimate knowledge I can give you, then, is to unlearn all the things your think you are, and have humility and acceptance of the mystery of existence. Let it show you directly.

[dinxieyinxie]

I beg ya tell me about your OC Yonal and Snape, I need to know about them.

omg,, my heart is so full rn qwq i didn't really expect anyone would be interested in them so idk where to start DFHFDHJ

Yonal isn't fully fleshed-out yet but I made a post sometime ago about them to kickstart their story and a snippet of their friendship with Snape but I'd like to add a few new info for their lore (I did mention that I'd delve deeper into their friendship) so buckle up!

(I am not well-versed with words so lmk if you'd like me to clarify something! ><)

Their friendship is something these two weren't expecting at all tbh and the fact that they managed to build such a strong foundation is somewhat peculiar to me, in a way that they have the most contrasting personalities that it even clashes from time to time but still having that "homey", cozy feeling about it. Yonal being carefree and chaotic, the type to just "go-with-the-flow", and thinks that the glass is half-full while Severus is completely on the other side of the spectrum, with him looking at everything realistically and pessimistically at the same time. I could describe their relationship as:

Sun and Moon

Yin and Yang

Achilles and Patroclus

Red String of Fate

There's more but they're basically rocking that "opposites attract" typa energy HAHAHA

Yonal is most of the time, if not, completely, unaffected by Severus' attitude but rather he (Yonal goes by he/they!) chooses to respect and understand why Severus is like that and would even offer insight in which Sev would always be taken aback. (Not saying Linx is a dunderhead but he can be quite clueless LOL) I like to think Severus learns to accept Yonal the way he is and even appreciate it (He wouldn't outright admit it tho)

There's a lot of things Yonal and Severus don't particularly agree in but there are a few that allows them to connect with each other like the thirst for knowledge, great interest for the Wizarding World, socks, dead-beat dads, loneliness, and other things that I cannot think at the top of my head rn hehe

Idk if I've mentioned this already but even though Yonal loves being an absolute headache to Severus, he deeply respects that raven-haired mf and wouldn't dare ruin their deeply-rooted friendship in any way. I explained in this post how he's willing to bend his habits for him and it is still true to this day!

What fascinates me about them is that they definitely keep each other grounded in a sense that they have that ability to calm each other's turbulent souls, which opens to a lot of vulnerable moments. Something that both of them don't really allow themselves to be in. I like to think they'd grow closer as they confide with one another. Sometimes, home is a person.

Back in the day, they had underlying feelings with each other but these two dumb mfs didn't want to poke and probe in fear that it might end the bond that they have so they set these emotions aside but it does slip out sometimes teehee! In present times, the old flame ignited on its own and over the course of the time they have together, I think it's safe to say that they'll eventually finally confront these feelings and get it over with. But for now, I'm evil and love to hurt myself so im subjecting them to a slow-burn love (angst included!) <333

There's much more that I want to spew but I think that would be for another time. Honestly, I just want Snape to be happy bc God forbids he have peace in his depressing life

As a treat, here's a silly one I made uwu

[clove-pinks]

Lately I have been thinking a lot about how the northwestern frontier of the War of 1812 is ultimately part of the Sixty Years' War for control of the Great Lakes region.

Settler colonial powers clashed with each other (with other overlapping conflicts like the Seven Years' War); and numerous First Nations/Indigenous people joined one side or another in a fight against genocidal removal and the loss of their culture. The frontier was already militarised before the War of 1812.

When he turned his attention to politics, General Harrison specifically emphasised his 1811 win over Tecumseh's confederacy ("Tippecanoe and Tyler too") where he destroyed the Indigenous community of Prophetstown—not his impressive role in the War of 1812 against the British at Fort Meigs.

In the introduction to his 1985 book Men of Patriotism, Courage & Enterprise! Fort Meigs in the War of 1812, Larry L. Nelson discusses his reliance on primary sources in the form of letters, diaries, and journals from the (settler) participants, and how this affects the interpretation of a complicated history:

The use of these primary sources, however, often serves to accentuate the underlying and widely held prejudices of the times. The unsympathetic treatment of the Native American is a case in point. Scorn for the Indian runs as a common thread throughout much of the writing of the period, and is inescapably found in some of the excerpts quoted in this work. For much of white North America during the period, the American Indian was the object of fear and hatred held in equal portion.

The United States already looks pretty Not Great in the long view of the War of 1812—all of our enslaved people constantly fleeing to the British, the bungled invasion of Upper Canada and the burning of York—and there's another dark legacy in the frontier warfare. No wonder the western parts of the United States were so eager for a war with Britain: because it was mainly a war for the expansion of settlement, and there was propaganda depicting the Indigenous population as allies of the British. The New England states wanted to avoid war and almost seceded from the US.

I feel sympathy for many of the defenders of Fort Meigs, particularly the ordinary enlisted men. I don't think they were monsters, even if they were fighting for their nation in a long campaign to break old treaties and expand settlement at the expense of violently displacing native people. The Fort Meigs museum did a nice job with the different perspectives on the conflict, although it's mostly the voices of the US military because they have all of the diaries and letters and other primary sources.

I only just learned that Tecumseh's verbal sketch of Henry Proctor as "a fat animal with its tail between its legs" was in Shawnee, not in English. Tecumseh was revered as an orator, but so few of his words seem to have been written down (that was one of my takeaways from Tecumseh and the Prophet: The Shawnee Brothers Who Defied a Nation, by Peter Cozzens).

There are many challenges for me as a historian, but I am increasingly fascinated by the northwestern theatre of the War of 1812. (And now living there, getting to personally visit these military history sites).