#mother of death and dawn spoilers

[animezinglife]

Author: I'm going to give you an epic fantasy with a ton of gray areas and nuance. Me: Great! Author: I'm going to make you understand both sides of this war. Me: As is how reality tends to go. Sounds good. Author: I'm going to give you two heart-wrenching romances and extremely deep characterization that's going to make you fall completely in love with people on different sides of the war. Me [getting nervous]: Wait... Author: And they're going to be trying to kill each other. Me: No...

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter)

Instead of Jace meeting Cregan to get his alliance — what if it’s the reader. And when Cregan meets her he’s attracted to her and instead of just remembering his allegiance towards them, he purposes a wedding instead? Like he’s willing to help more to the Black’s IF he’s allowed to wed her daughter. 😏 Definitely just a rough ask so feel free to add or change anything!

It's been a long time coming... I have received so many request for this one! I picked little things from each and turned it into a slightly bigger fic. Reader is Velaryon, and Jacaerys' twin sister. I will be turning this into a small series as the story is getting too big and heavy in content for one post

Title (for ao3): The Pact of ice and fire

Warnings: mention of character deaths (spoilers), political marriage,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Dragons are faster than ravens, so Rhaenyra sent her children on dragonback to raise support for her claim to the throne. Lucerys went to Storm’s End, Jacaerys to the Vale and you flew North to Winterfell. 

Lord Cregan Stark welcomed you into his home and offered you a seat at supper — and a chamber for the night. Dragonstone was a long way to Winterefell, your stomach was grateful for a hot meal. 

While you were eating, you informed the northman of the usurper sitting on the Iron Throne — your mother's throne — and how a war to take it back was about to begin. You didn’t forget to kindly remind him of his father’s oath to your grandsire. Starks were known for being just and honorable. 

‘’Starks do not forget their oaths, Princess,’’ Lord Stark said between two bites of mutton stew. ‘’My father made an oath to King Viserys twenty years ago, and I shall honor this oath. But winter is coming. I cannot promise the Queen my men — I need them at the Wall.’’

‘’Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim, to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my Lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.’’

Cregan took a long sip of his wine, thinking as he drank, then set his cup down. ‘’I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters.’’

Graybeards? You frowned, trying to understand. Did he mean old men? 

‘’No offense, Lord Stark, but I cannot accept—’’ 

‘’They are well-honed,’’ he reassured with a soft chuckle, sensing your concern. ‘’They are not that old, Princess. I can ready them to march at once.’’

‘’If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them,’’ you replied with a smile, reaching for your fork to take a bite. You preferred duck over mutton, but was polite enough to eat what was given to you. 

‘’What do I get of this arrangement?’’ 

A frown drew between your eyebrows. ‘’Excuse me?’’

Cregan cleared his throat, then reformulated his question. ‘’If I give the Queen some of my men, what do I get in return?’’

You considered quickly. ‘’I can send a dragon to protect Winterfell—’’

‘’Winterfell is safe from the Hightowers, Princess. I doubt they will march the three month journey to the North to attack us. It would serve them nothing. And if they did, they would not be able to trespass our gate.’’

‘’Then, what do you want, Lord Stark?’’ 

He turned to you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. ‘’A wife. I would be more inclined to help your mother’s cause if she offered me her delightful daughter.’’

You were caught off guard by Cregan’s demand. While you clearly understood his proposal, the realization of it was slow to dawn on you. For a moment, your mouth opened, before swiftly closing it again, lost for words.

When you overcame your own disbelief, you looked to the man beside you with suspicion. ‘’I am flattered, but I am not looking for a husband. I plan to fight for my mother’s throne, not stay behind and grow heirs for a lord.’’ 

‘’Who said anything about an heir? I am in no rush to step down as Lord of Winterfell. From your perspective, you see only disadvantages, but an alliance by marriage between two highborns would be strategically advantageous. Family is very important for Starks. If we were to wed, we could stand together. I will follow you to war, I will fight for your mother.’’

The dining hall fell into a long, contemplative silence as you considered Cregan’s proposal. You had come north to gain the support of the Northerners, not to find a husband. But an alliance with the Starks would be quite powerful, and perhaps Lord Stark had a point. A Stark and a Targaryen. A wolf and a dragon. Such a marriage had never happened before. 

And you wouldn't be displeased to have him as a husband. The Warden of the North was undeniably handsome. He had this rugged charm about him, with piercing gray eyes. You would not mind warming his bed. 

‘’Would I be required to reside to Winterfell?’’ 

Leaving your family during a time of war was not something you wanted.

‘’Not immediately, but eventually. It is the seat of House Stark, Princess. I would expect my wife, the Lady of Winterfell, to live there,’’ Cregan explained, his gray eyes fixed on yours, his expression serious. ‘’But we could make some arrangements to allow you to remain in the South until the war is over. Would that suit you?"

⁂

After treating with Cregan, you made the journey back to Dragonstone to bring the Queen good news. The northern Lord seemed disappointed to watch you leave, having taken a liking to your company in the few hours you spent together, but you promised to return in a fortnight. He kissed your hand before you mounted on Seasmoke, and watched you take the sky. 

You landed on Dragonstone as the day was turning into night. A knight of the Queensguard took you to your mother’s chambers where horrible news was waiting for you. 

You crumbled into your mother’s arms as the words left her lips, feeling your heart breaking into pieces. As twins, you and Jacaerys had a special bond. But you always felt protective of Luke. You would climb into his baby crib when he was crying at night and sing to him until he fell asleep. 

When you left her chambers, you visited the children’s. Aegon and Viserys were with the nanny, but Joffrey was sitting on the floor, holding a horse toy Luke had handed down to him. A sob escaped your lips, getting the little boy’s attention, and he ran over to you. You hugged him tightly. He was sad and confused, too young to understand death. 

⁂

The days that followed, you were not allowed to leave the castle. During a small council meeting, you had voiced your desire to get on your dragon and go to King’s Landing to burn Aemond Targaryen to a crisp. Jacaerys was on your side, wanting revenge for Luke, but your mother had shut the idea down quickly and forbade the two of you to leave castle ground. 

Alone in the library, you were reading about dragons to make up for not being allowed to ride your own. Unfortunately, the feeling was not the same. Seasmoke, who you had claimed after your father’s death, missed you. You could see him calling for you and flying over the bay from your chamber’s window. 

You sighed and flipped the page of your book, daydreaming of the wind hitting your face and the thrill of flying. 

A voice pulled you out of your head.

‘’A raven arrived from Winterfell, Princess. A message to you from Lord Stark,’’ Maester Gerardys said.

The maester handed you a piece of rolled parchemin, sealed with the Stark sigil. You thanked him, and he left, giving you privacy. You drew your eyebrows together, not expecting anything from Cregan. Did he wish to revoke his proposal? 

Dear Princess,

I have learned of the tragic loss of your brother, Lucerys. I offer you my deepest condolences in this dark hour. Losing a brother is a pain I know myself. Winterfell stands with you in your grief. May the gods give him rest. 

With deepest sympathy,

— Lord Cregan Stark

⁂

Following the murder of Prince Jaehaerys, the Greens had sent ravens throughout the realm claiming Rhaenyra had ordered the death of the little child in revenge for Lucerys — a son for a son. The accusation was absurd. Your mother would never order the murder of a child, or inflige this kind of pain to an innocent like Helaena. 

When night fell, Dragonstone was attacked. Ser Arryk infiltrated the island by passing for his brother, Ser Erryk, and came to the Queen’s chambers, attempting to slay her in her bed. Thankfully, Mysaria noticed the wrong brother making his way to the castle and alerted the guards, saving Rhaenyra’s life. 

‘’Thank you, Elinda,’’ Rhaenyra said as she poured tea to help her calm down. 

After hearing commotion in the corridors, you had asked one of the knights what happened and rushed to the master chambers to check on your mother. She was a little shaken after witnessing the Cargyll twins dueling and dying before her eyes. 

‘’Where was Daemon?’’ you asked, sitting across from her on the couch. 

She shrugged, not knowing. ‘’Harrenhal, I assume.’’ She took a sip of her tea, her hands slightly shaking. ‘’He has been talking of raising an army there.’’

‘’He should have been here—’’

‘’Daemon is following his own path.’’ 

You understood her words as closure to the conversation and respected her desire. 

Come morning, Dragonstone was deemed no longer safe for children. By the Queen’s command, Rhaena embarked a ship with your little brothers, their dragons, and dragon eggs to Pentos. Saying goodbye to your brothers — and half-sister — was sad, but they were too exposed on Dragonstone. 

⁂

‘’Releasing your anger through your sword is going to get you killed. Have you learned this tactic through Daemon?’’ you asked Jacaerys, his sword clinked loudly against yours as you trained on the beach. 

You took a quick step to the side, your movements fluid and graceful. 

Jacaerys grunted, adjusting his stance, and swung his sword again, aiming for your side. You blocked the attack with ease, your eyes never leaving his. ‘’How can I not be angry? The walls of Dragonstone have been infiltrated by the enemy, yet she refuses to attack.’’ He let out a frustrated sigh, his movements growing more aggressive.

‘’Because her war strategies are passive doesn’t mean she is doing the wrong thing. Do you remember when we wanted to go to King’s Landing and kill Aemond ourselves? We were angry and hurting, it was impulsive and foolish.’’ 

At the time, it seemed a brilliant idea, but with Vhagar patrolling over King’s Landing, she would have attacked the both of you before you could get to Aemond. Your mother was hurting so much from losing Lucerys, she would not have bore losing two more. 

Jacaerys swung his sword again, this time with greater force. ‘’It would have been justice.’’

‘’It would have been death.’’ 

Training came to an abrupt end, leaving Jacaerys to himself on the beach. You didn’t want to argue with him. He was usually the rational one between you, but going to King’s Landing to kill Aemond was a stupid idea. 

You were directed to the great hall by one of the guards as soon as you stepped inside. The Queen wanted to speak to you. 

She was standing at the head of the painted table with a piece of parchment before her. ‘’A raven came from Lord Staunton informing us that Ser Criston's army has burned his fields and livestock. Supplies in Rook's Rest are beginning to run low and he requests assistance. I want you to change into your riding gear. You and Rhaenys will be going to Rook’s Rest.’’ 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. It was the first time she was sending you on a mission since Luke’s death. 

‘’Yes, Mother— Your Grace,’’ you quickly corrected. 

Rhaenyra smiled at your slip-up. ‘’Be safe. Listen to your instinct. Turn back if anything feels wrong. It’s okay to retreat.’’

⁂

The journey to Rook’s Rest was relatively short. When you got there, arrows were flying from both armies. The Green’s was larger, but Lord Staunton’s garrison did not back down. 

‘’Dragon!’’ one of the Green knights called out, catching sight of Meleys coming into view. 

Ser Criston’s archers shot arrows and scorpions fire at Meleys. The dragon was largely unharmed by their attacks, and responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragonfire. Their screams echoed through the air, a chilling reminder of the chaos below. You tried not to let it get to your head that humans were being burned alive. They were Greens soldiers.

Coming right behind Rhaenys, Seasmoke roared, and burned more of  Ser Criston’s soldiers. A small part of you was praying to catch the man himself and turn him into ashes. It would be an amusing story to tell Jacaerys and Baela when you return. 

You clung to the saddle on Seasmoke's back as you scanned the battlefield from above, searching for any sign of Criston Cole. The heat from the dragonfire was intense, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

Your search was interrupted by a deafening roar coming from behind and filling the sky. You looked up to see Sunfyre, its golden scales glinting in the sunlight, joining the battlefield with Aegon atop him.

It was expected. The Greens would have been fools to come to battle with at least one dragon.

Rhaenys turned her head toward Sunfyre, having heard his roar, and came to meet him with her claws and teeth. 

The two dragons clashed in mid-air, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Meleys' scarlet scales flashed as she attacked, her claws slashing at Sunfyre's underbelly. Sunfyre responded with a blast of dragonfire, which Meleys narrowly dodged. 

You flew to Rhaenys’ aid. Although Sunfyre was slightly larger than Seasmoke, your dragon had battle experience from when your father was his rider. They participated in the war for the Stepstones together. 

Before you could get to them, another loud noise came from the forest — Vhagar. The massive dragon's roar sent chills down your spine as she emerged from the treeline, her vast wings unfurling. With Aemond atop her, Vhagar soared into the sky, heading straight for the battle.

Seeing them sent rage in your blood. They took your brother from you. 

You wanted to take them down, to kill them both to avenge Lucerys, but you knew Seasmoke would never win against Vhagar. 

Rhaenys glanced back, seeing the new threat approaching, but she didn’t let go of Sunfyre. She was determined to not let them go unscattered from this battle. 

You finally joined them, commanding Seasmoke to bite Sunfyre’s wing. Sunfyre cried out in pain as Seasmoke's jaws clamped down, and Meleys continued to claw at him relentlessly. The combined assault overwhelmed Sunfyre, and his injuries soon became too severe. With a final, agonized roar, Sunfyre began to crash toward the ground, Aegon clinging desperately to his back.

As you and Rhaenys watched Sunfyre and Aegon freefall and crash into the forest with a loud thump, Vhagar, taking Rhaenys by surprise, came from the other side and clamped her massive jaws around Meleys’s neck. The force of the attack was brutal, and Meleys roared in agony as Vhagar’s powerful grip tightened.

‘’No!’’ you screamed, knowing this bite would be fatal for the dragon. 

Life left the red dragon’s eyes, giving one last glance at her rider as they freefell from the sky together, leaving only you and Aemond standing. He looked at you with a smug winning smile on his face, having taken another member of the Blacks down. 

You could have continued this battle, but your mother’s words echoed in your head. It’s okay to retreat. 

With teary eyes, you commanded Seasmoke to turn around and return to Dragonstone, leaving behind the Queen Who Never Was. 

⁂

You felt like a failure after your first battle. Rook’s Rest had fallen into ashes, Rheanys was dead, and you lost a dragon. Your mother had been right, sending her inexperienced children to war was a terrible idea. 

Still in shock from the battle, you stepped into your mother’s chambers, tears streaming down your face. ‘’I’m sorry, Your Grace. I failed.’’

⁂

Guilt gnawed at you since you had returned from Rook’s Rest. Rhaenyra said it was not your fault, but you should not have let yourself be distracted when Vhagar was still standing. Rhaenys died because of your mistake. 

A knock at your door raised your attention. 

‘’Come.’’

The door opened, revealing your mother who came to check on you. She may be Queen, but she’ll never stop taking care of her children. Ser Steffon closed the door behind Rhaenyra, and waited outside your chambers. Since Ser Arryk infiltrated the castle, a knight of the Queensguard was always accompanying her.

She took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, looking stunning in a blue dress. The color was unusual on her, preferring shades of red and black. 

‘’How is Lord Corlys? And Baela?’’ you asked, fidgeting with your fingers. 

You wanted to be the one bringing the regretful news of Rhaenys’ death to her husband, but your mother didn’t allow you. Although Lord Corlys had shown kindness to your family and that losses were inevitable in a war, he would not hesitate to put the blame on Rhaenyra for sending his wife to her death. 

Your mother regarded you with a mixture of concern and sadness. ‘’Lord Corlys is devastated, and so is Baela.’’ She observed the guilt in your expression and the tension in your body. ‘’You mustn't blame yourself for what happened,’’ she said, her voice gentle and loving. ‘’But it is not the matter I came here to discuss. I want to discuss my succession. If my end comes during this war, Jacaerys will ascend and take my crown, as intended. But if anything were to happen to Jace, I want you to take my crown.’’

The thought of something happening to your mother terrified you. But losing your twin brother, your other half, made you nauseous. 

You nodded. ‘’I will, Your Grace. But nothing will happen to Jace. We will protect each other—’’ 

‘’By making you the spare heir, you will be targeted, so I want you to take Seasmoke and stay at Winterfell,’’ she interrupted, her tone resolute. ‘’Lord Cregan Stark will ensure your protection.’’ 

You were taken aback by your mother’s declaration. You felt a pang of hurt and confusion. How could she send you away? She already lost two dragons, and Daemon was in Harrenhal. You going North would subtract another, leaving her defenses with only three dragons.  

‘’I do not wish to hide, I want to stay here! I am an asset to your sleeve, you need me on Dragonstone. I may not be at my best right now, but I am not a fragile daughter. I will go into battle again. Please, do not send me away,’’ you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

Rhaenyra took a difficult breath, her heart aching at your anguished plea. She understood your anger and frustration, having once been brushed aside due to being a daughter. But she never saw you as less than a boy. You always trained with your brothers and often had the upper hand when dueling with Jace. She was doing this to ensure the survival of her succession and the protection of the realm.  

‘’It is not a sign of weakness to hide. It is a sign of strength to know when to pick your battles.’’ Your mother took your hands in hers, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘’I speak the truth when I say the last thing I want is to be separated from you, but I cannot risk you getting captured. I can’t risk the Greens getting their hands on you.’’

⁂

No raven had been sent to Lord Stark to inform him of your arrival to Winterfell. You could not risk revealing your position were the message to fall into the wrong hands. So when Cregan heard from his men that a dragon had been seen flying over the northern villages, he was confused. 

With a loud thump, you landed outside the courtyard and dismounted Seasmoke. Guards bowed their heads as you walked to the gates of Winterfell, seeing the sigil of House Targaryen on your clothes. They escorted you into the castle as whispers of your arrival began to spread amongst the court, leading you to the council chamber where Cregan was occupied with matters from the Wall.

‘’I will inform Lord Stark of your arrival,’’ one of the guards said. 

You gave him a nod and waited in the corridor.

Normally, no one disturbed him during council meetings, but you insisted that the matter was urgent. With a nod, Cregan dismissed his council and instructed the guard to bring you in.

The men filed out of the chamber as you stepped in, dressed in your riding gear and flakes of snow sprinkled on your braid. Cregan stood from his seat at the end of the table, his towering figure casting a shadow against the cold stone of the chamber. 

‘’Pardon me for not welcoming you myself, Princess. Your presence here is unexpected.’’ His eyes fell on the bag on your shoulder, holding personal effects, raising his curiosity. ‘’But always welcomed,’’ he added, not wanting to give you the wrong impression.

You gave him a small smile. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I apologize for my unannounced presence. Sending a raven was just not a possibility; actions had to be taken rapidly and in the utmost secrecy.’’ 

A frown formed between Cregan's eyebrows. Seeing you walk through his doors unannounced could only mean something serious had happened. You wouldn't come all the way to Winterfell unless it was necessary. 

He then gestured to a seat at the table, motioning for you to sit down. 

You tried to not make a scraping sound with the chair as you pulled it, and sat down across the taller chair. Cregan joined you, his gray eyes looking at you, waiting for explanations. 

‘’There was a battle at Rook’s Rest,’’ you began, a lump forming in your throat as horrific flashes of Rhaenys falling to her death filled your mind. ‘’Aegon the Usurper and his dragon were severely injured from my and Princess Rhaenys’ dragon. She and Meleys didn’t survive the battle.’’ You blinked rapidly, chasing the tears from your eyes. 

‘’May the gods give her rest,’’ Cregan said respectfully. 

You nodded in reciprocal, then continued. ‘’The Queen is worried they will come after me for what I’ve done to their King and decided I should go into hiding. Since I accepted your demand, she send me to Winterfell under your protection.’’ 

Before you, Cregan's frown deepened as he thought about the upcoming departure to the Wall. In a week, he and his men would be leaving for a long, harsh winter, and he wouldn't return until spring. As Warden of the North, his duty to the Wall was stronger than his duty to the Queen, but was it stronger than his oath to his future wife? You were only betrothed at the moment, but assuring your protection was part of his duty as husband. 

He gave you a single nod. ‘’Of course, Princess. You will be safe here, you have my word. No harm shall come to you behind these gates.’’

—

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[giuliettagaltieri]

Fight for Carnage

Pairing: Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x Mentor!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Admirer

Warning: angst, unrequited love, mean Coriolanus Snow, academic rivalry, elitism, injuries, greed, mentions of death, Capitol cruelty, spoilers

Word Count: 1296

1 of 6

Before the onset of the Dark Days, Panem has seen no better tag team than that of Crassus Snow and Thanatos Swansworth, your father.

Men who helped shape the society, who kept the rebels at bay by putting a leash on them.  They were the lightbringers of the Capitol and the harbingers of death to the Districts.  They were well respected, or feared.  Nobody really cared to understand the difference.

And to you and Coriolanus, they were people to be highly looked up to, they were not the best fathers but they were great men.  And being their children, given the task to take up the challenge of reviving their legacy is a dream.

Although, it was never that easy.

Coriolanus Snow is your classmate in the academy, but he never really liked to socialize with you.  It was a great insult to you when he once left your company to seek out Sejanus, a person he claims only to tolerate.

It did not deter you.

In class, you tried to offer smiles to him, asking him about his day, and he would respond to you curtly.

When there were gatherings, you tried to get him to make you his date, lingering by his side like a desperate little puppy, but it was always Clemensia Dovecot, his class partner who got the honor of having an arm looped around his.

It hurt you deeply.  Especially when you always believed as a child that it was him you would marry.  Your fathers loved to bring it up in every opportunity they had.  They say that you and Coriolanus are one and the same. 

Coriolanus disagrees with that.

Aside from having dead tyrant fathers, you had nothing else to sympathize over.  

He had chosen his friends well.  They were promising individuals, truly in the path of being the next great leaders of Panem.

And you, of course you were an exceptional student, someone who made it into the Academy’s top 24 best-performing students.

The news of having to become mentors in the 10th annual Hunger Games made your stomach turn.

Death was not foreign to you, your mother made sure you watched every single game.  She said it was a way of honoring your late father.  She has done it every year until she followed your father in death.

As a child, you had to develop resistance to brutality.

And the thought of having to take part in the backgrounds of such savagery did not affect you.  The task, however of having to make your first step into the path your father wanted you take, had you completely anxious.

They had given you a young boy from District 8.  He was plain.  You saw no potential in him.  Not that you voiced that out when they assigned him to you.  It was only when you got to talk to him and he told you interesting things you can do with a sewing needle that your interest was piqued.

Coriolanus was invested in his tribute.

You saw it, heard it, as you passed him in the cafeteria when he had his luncheons with Sejanus.  The way he looked at Lucy Gray’s eyes, the way they talked with such familiarity.  You had trouble hiding a sneer.  Surely, he would not stoop so low as to trick a woman’s affections just so he can come out as the victor.

When the games started, Cooriolanus became more and more detached, jittery, always on edge, as if using every moment to scheme.

That evening, you chose to rest early so you can come back before the break of dawn.

You were alone when you arrived, and you were met with the battered face of your tribute.  Had it not been for his clothing, you would not recognize him with how bad his face has suffered from the brutal blows.

You stand in front of the screens, your body rigid as you cross an arm over your chest to support the other.  You saw your father doing it often when he was plotting with Crassus.  He often had a thumb under his chin and his index pressed in his lips as if to silence anyone who dared disturb him, and overtime, you managed to acquire the same gesture.

Your eyes were calculating as you watched every detail around him.  It was a bloodbath around him.  From the looks of the splattered blood, the culprit did not hold back.  And the weapon, it was lying on the side, the concrete painted crimson.

Your narrowed eyes squinted at the other tributes, hardly anybody moved from their spots.  Who could have done it?

You stood in the middle of the stage, eyes on every screen.  Most of them had their own chosen weapons.  What could have happened that your tribute had to die such a slow and brutal death.  A pitchfork to the heart or an ax to hack his throat would have been better, at least his suffering would have been short.

Coriolanus Snow arrived after you.  His eyes were blown, his forehead sweaty, and his shoulders stiff.  He made no effort to acknowledge you first, you decided to do it for him.

“How have you been?”  You ask gently.  “I see your tribute is still cooped down there.”

He glances at you and at Lucy Gray on screen.  “Yours?”

“Dead.”  You smile at him.

The stillness in his movement did not go unnoticed by you, so did the grimace he pulled when he moved his shoulder wrong.  You did not hide the way your eyes scanned his posture and he was watching you as you did so.

“Where were you last night, Corio?”  Your smile is still on your face.  Tone similar to the usual one you used when you ask for extra notes in class.

“Library.”  He spoke with practiced calmness.

“In the middle of the night?”  Your brows frown playfully.  “And in the middle of the games?”

His back straightens at the tone of your voice.

Coriolanus Snow always detested how you were your father’s daughter.  It was unfair to you, of course.  But how is it that you, the daughter of Thanatos Swansworth did not have to suffer like him when he also lost his father.  You were a sweet little girl.  But the way you are at this moment, he started second guessing everything he knew about you.

“Were you scouring for strategies, you sly little fox?”  You giggle as you walk over to him.

Coriolanus did not respond. 

For a moment you just look at each other.  His eyes are as glacial as you remember.  He really is attractive, his ambitious nature even more so.

You squeezed his arm and the way your eyes darted to his shoulder had him holding his breath. 

“Promise me you will not do anything stupid again, please?”  You say with your voice barely above a whisper, almost begging him.  He tries to break free but you pull his coat with your free hand, you are gripping his arm now.  “Please, Corio.”  You press yourself closer to him, eyes searching for something that is clearly not there.

He grabs your wrist tightly, making you let go of his coat.  His eyes are not fazed with the unshed tears in your eyes.  As his lips remain a firm line, you shy away from his cold gaze, feeling utterly pathetic. 

But you will not let him see that he got through you.

It never ceases to amaze him how you can pull such authentic looking smiles.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Coriolanus Snow.”

You stand on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his jaw and you leave him there with his thoughts building up a storm inside that golden head of his.

Hunt for Glory

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (1)

1. The wolf and the sheep

MASTERLIST

Summary: Cregan Stark takes the capital

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

Wordcount: 2.2k

Notes: Sorry for the delay people jeje, anyways, this is a warm up for the real thing, this is and will be very political, I hope it can go smoother than this

King Aegon, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, was dead

He had been poisoned by his own council

As Cregan Stark and an army of twenty thousand men strong, plus the survivors of the Riverlands, known as “the Lads”, and the Vale by the sea, all sieged the Capital in name of their late Queen Rhaenyra, he didn’t think of surrendering, he intended to keep fighting the war, killing hundreds of thousand more 

He was never going to surrender, and he was going to get himself, and everyone else on the Red Keep, killed

The king had grown mad in the last year

How couldn’t he? he had lost his entire family but his daughter, and his dragon, and he was the cause for millions of deaths all over the seven Kingdoms

It had finally catched up to him 

And he was going to harm the Princess, little Prince Aegon, and Baela Targaryen

Corlys Velaryon couldn’t let that happen 

So in the crack of dawn, the servants found Aeggon dead in his bed, he seemed like he had perished in his sleep, but he was still holding a cup of wine in his hand

People celebrated his death

And now people could call him the usurper out loud

Because everyone knows the truth…

Cregan Stark was coming

They were dark weeks in which the wolf was looming over the herd of sheep

And the remains of the small council were still discussing what to do, Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, Maester Olwyle, who was let out of his imprisonment by Rhaenyra, and Aegon’s former King’s guard, Gyles Belgrave,  and other Lords from higher houses, Borros’ younger brother

“Aegon the younger should be named heir”, said one

“King”, corrected another, “we are too late to name heirs, someone must sit the iron Throne”

“We have her older daughter” said Corlys, “if we don’t name her then all the war was for nothing, because we would be denying her in favor of the male heir”

“Let's marry them, they will rule together”

“Aegon is six, the princess is shy of turning eight and ten!”, fighted Corlys

“Aegon must marry princess Jahaera, to finally unify both fronts, and end this war once and for all”

“They are children”, fought another

“Addam Velaryon is alive, I will marry him to the Princess”, demanded Corlys

“Of course you will, so your bastard son will rule?”

“There is a inconvenience”, muttered maester Orwylde

“Which is?”, asked the Sea Snake

“According to the pact of Ice and Fire, a treaty signed by the late Prince Jacaerys and Cregan Stark, the princess is set to marry the Wolf of Winterfell” 

“That was two years ago”, said Corlys, “many things had happened since then”

“Stark is marching on the capital in revenge for his Queen!”, the old man fought, “as said treaty dictated”

“When he arrives… who will he find on the Iron Throne?”, asked Tyland, “his betrothed? or her six year-old brother?”

“It is dangerous to have Cregan Stark as a King consort”

“I think it’s exactly what we need”, muttered Corlys

“You just now wanted to marry the princess to your bastard!” 

“Where is the princess?”, asked Larys Strong, with a unsteady smile on his face

“She is her rooms”

“That girl is… she is not well!”, muttered Tyland

“She is traumatized…”, said another

“I checked her myself, she has no signs of being… unhinged nor unstable”, muttered Olwylde 

“Aegon made his dragon eat her mother alive in front of her”

“Aegon, a six year old boy was also there present, the one you would prefer to sit on the Iron Throne, a child!”

“She will seat the Iron Throne!”, said Corlys, “we must agree to it, don’t we?”

“Yes we have to” 

“Aye”, said Maester Orwylde 

“Has anyone spoken to her?”, muttered Tyland

“No since Aegon died”

“The usurper”, called Corlys

“We cannot call him that, we served him…”, remembered the Lannister 

“Cregan Stark, and the armies of the Riverlands are marching on the capital”, remembered the Sea Snake

“Do we know what his intentions are?”

“To take the capital for the blacks”, muttered Corlys, “and right now, we are all Greens”, the room was silent

“We have to please the wolf” 

“We have the Queen”

“We have to surrender the city to Stark”

Lord Baratheon just watched, amused, Larys had his eyes on him, curious about what he wanted to say

“Open the gates, we receive Stark”, he demanded, and everyone looked at him

“He will kill us all”

“Not if we don’t put resistance”, he tried, “the girl or the boy, whichever we place on the throne, is from Rhaenyra’s blood, not our Queen, but our enemy, Stark is coming here to kill us, and make sure one of them sits the Iron Throne, if you want to survive this week, i say we grab the kid, send him to the wolf and the Lads as a sign of good faith”

“What about the girl?”

“The road is no place for a princess”, he continued, “she should stay in the Keep, safe”

“As insurance”, mocked Tyland, “in case something happens to the boy”

“We send Aegon to The Lads, not to Stark”, said Alard Baratheon, “see if the Wolf takes the bait”

“She can’t know”

So the council grabbed Aegon the younger from his rooms, gathered a large caravan and delivered him to the Tullys, and leader of an army

While you… remained in your rooms unaware of what was going on.

. . .

The realms had been submerged in chaos for the last two whole years, brothers fighted sisters, kin usurped kin, dragons danced with dragons, and the results where incalculable loss of people, the fall of the greatest dynasty in Westeros, and the death of Dragons, the most incredible and powerful creatures

because dreams didn’t make the Targaryen Kings, Dragons did 

The Red Keep, House of the Dragon since a hundred years ago, had seen four monarchs in the last three years, people had come and gone, killed for their alliances, traded for others, like a mythological creature.

One man, with one monarch to serve lost his head, two more, following a different monarch rose on its place

Now the castle lay inert, quiet, those who followed Aegon had been decimated, those who had followed Rhaenyra were killed or chased away, now everyone who resided there seemed to be replaceable, taken for granted.

It wasn’t the home of the reigning family anymore

It was a carcass, waited to be filled by the next power who dared to take it for themselves, waited to be lived again by those faithful to the next Queen or King of the Seven Kingdoms

The castle was grim, silent, Viserys, Alicent, Aegon, Rhaenyra, and then Aegon again, all of them had tried to make his mark inside these walls, so now it had taken a form of some sort of Chimera, a monsters with a different head, body and feet, a part of each animal, a part of each monarch.

The colors gold, green, black and red, one started where the other ended, melted together sewing the bloody story of what it was about to be known like the Dance of the dragons, it was upsetting

Uncertainty

Doubt

Three survivors of what it once a big and powerful family

Three broken children

A empty castle

A divided Kingdom

An empty carcass, and no brave men left to fill it

None but one

Cregan Stark had come home after the defeat of the winter wolves, to gather a powerful army of forty thousand men strong.

The mission was to eliminate the remain of the Green forces, and strengthen the position of his Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Even though as he gathered his army, his Queen had been assassinated by her brother

That did not deter Cregan Stark, if anything, it made his mission even more imperative, now, he was up for revenge

He knew Rhaenyra had two remaining children, her oldest and only daughter, and her son Aegon the younger. The first one, two years ago, he agreed to wed, back when she was the second older child, behind Jacaerys, and a princess with nothing to her name but to make alliances

It was for her he marched south, to keep his word to her mother

He planned in taking the capital, no matter the cost, he planned on killing every single last green, even though The Lads had gotten ahead of him, eliminating Borros baratheon and the remains of his army, the Green army

As he had no news of the capital since he left Winterfell, he knew the Usurper sat the Iron Throne, no, he didn’t actually, he sat on a wooden chair at the feet of it, since he couldn’t even climbed up the steps for it

He was going to surrender the city or die at his hands

He was the late Queen’s biggest supporter, and he failed her, he took too long, he had to make amends, make things right

He, and his army, was going to mach to all corners of the Kingdoms, until everyone was accounted for their part in the usurpation of his Queen

A rider reached his army when he was passing through Harrenhal

King Aegon the usurper was dead, killed by his own men

But this did nothing but to disgust the wolf

Snaked inhabited the capital, no one else

His new Queen, and his prince were there, in midst of traitors and turncloaks, so the news of the Usurper being dead only encouraged him to march south even Quicker

The Lads were ruling those zones, assumed to ambush everyone who passes through the king’s road, but even though his scouts encountered men from the Riverlands, they did nothing to prevent him from passing

A silent truce, and agreement, they were on the same size

They did not join one another, but The Lads let Cregan Stark pass through the RIverlands uninterrupted 

Independently from Aegon the younger traveling to Harrenhal to The Lads as a gesture of good fiat, even though the young prince was part of Cregan’s mission, his main goal was to bring justice to the realm

And to keep you safe

With prince Aegon in his power, and the main commanders of the Lads, Cregan reached King’s Landing on the twentieth day of the sith moon of the year 131 AC

He found the city gates wide open, waiting for him

He found the city completely ready for the taking, the people didn’t stop him, he couldn’t see soldiers anywhere, when he arrived at the Keep, the small council was right there, on the steps leading to the great Hall where the Iron Throne was.

“Lord Stark”, greeted Corlys

Cregan was still atop his horse, looking down at this.. things, more serpents than men

He dismounted, not even caring to respond to the calling, his household, his most trusted men entered the keep, swords in hand

“This city is now under my control”, he demanded, “I have taken it, in the name of Late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen!”, he said out loud

The soldiers there did surrender their weapons, as the northerners spread all over the courtyard and the main streets of the city 

A pack of wolves in a hunt

Cregan paid no mind to the weakened remains of the Green council, and he found no real authority there, Cregan Stark started to give orders

“Send word to Dragonstone, to send whomever is left from Queen Rhaenyra’s council”, he said to the maester Orwylde, who just nodded and limped away to fulfill the order. “Including a new maester”, he said with a demanding look on his face 

Nobody questioned him

He was tall, and broad, long black hair secured by braids, two piercing eyes and a reputation in battle.

The wolf had come to the capital

He had taken the city without even shedding a drop of blood, without even unsheathing his sword 

He entered the throne room, and he was not surprised to see it empty, The Iron Throne right there.

A strange wooden chair with wheels at the foot

“Have that burned in the courtyard, where everyone can see”, he demanded to his second in command, he nodded and took three men with him to fulfill his order, “For every green dragon banner that I see I will behead a Lannister, a Baratheon or a Hightower!”, he said aloud, and at least ten men from the Keep ran to get rid of the sickening symbol

He took only one step up the Iron Throne, he only needed the one, he turn around, to meet the council of traitors and cowards 

“Where is she?”, he asked out loud

“Where is who, my lord?”, asked Corlys Velaryon

“Where is the Queen?”, his voice resounded en the entire Throne Room

taglist! <3

@lyannesworld @unlesshouse @mxtokko

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

WE CAN GET THROUGH THIS GUYS LET'S GO (Part 4):

While Silver is in the darkness, he then sees Lilia's old memories. The first one is of Lilia visiting Wild Rose Castle after a peace treaty was made, this takes place 300 to 400 years after the events of Meleanor's death

While walking through the abandoned castle, Lilia hears a cry in the throne room. He rushes there to find a baby, and not just any baby IT'S BABY SILVER WHICH REVEALS THE FIRST CG IN THE GAME 🥹

(SILVER BEING TWISTED FROM AURORA IS REALLLLL)

Of course Lilia wondering why the hell is there a baby in the abandoned castle uses his Unique Magic on it. Thus revealing his UM "Far Cry Cradle", this allows him to see the past memories of someone who gets hit with the spell. This is how he finds out that the baby is actually the son of the Knight of Dawn and Princess Leah, while the war was happening 3 fairies blessed the baby by making him sleep through the war, even if it will last 10 to 100 years (well it went beyond 100 years). Once the little prince finds someone who loves him (or in other words true love), he will awaken from slumber; AND IT WAS LILIA WHO APPEARED WHICH CAUSED BABY SILVER TO WAKE UP WHICH IM JUST AAAAAAAAAA 😭😭😭

We can't forget that present time Silver is watching all of this happen, and noticed Lilia having mixed feelings about the whole thing. He (Lilia) tries to kill the baby after finding out he was the child of the enemy, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Lilia then asks himself if he can even love a human being? After losing his loved ones to them, and everything that happened. Which causes Silver to scream at Lilia that he doesn't deserve love (STOP SILVER IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT)

Lilia then tells baby Silver that the day he finds him will be his birthday (which is May 15th), and blesses him. This explains why Silver has silver hair despite being born blonde. Lilia also names the baby Silver because of the moon that shines through the night, which serves as a light to light up the path

We then move to another flashback, now this time it features Malleus. We see the cottage that present time Silver grew up in (which is like the cottage from the movie)

While Lilia is singing a lullaby to baby Silver (the same one Meleanor sang to egg Malleus), Malleus comes in cuz he overheard from the fairies that Lilia found a human. Then Malleus proceeds to call baby Silver A NAKED MONKEY CREATURE NAHHH 💀🤚

We also have to remember that Lilia didn't know shit about taking care of a human, much more a baby, so he visits Baul's daughter and son-in-law (Sebek's Mother and Father) for advice. Lilia then tells Malleus he's going out to get baby supplies and leaves Malleus with Silver, but Malleus is afraid that he might destroy Silver if he holds him (aww that's cute 🥹) but Lilia still leaves him behind regardless

Baby Silver wakes up to Malleus and starts crying and Malleus is now wondering if lullabies can help put it (yes he referred to the baby as "it") to sleep. He then hums to the baby the only lullaby he knows, which is the same lullaby is mother sang to him (I forgot to mention that whoops). This is the same lullaby Malleus sang when he placed the sleeping curse on everyone in part 3. Baby Silver falls asleep to it and Malleus is relieved, hoping for Lilia to come back soon but also wonders where he heard that lullaby before

We then see more flashbacks of Silver growing up, from his first time walking and his first words (which is "Dada/Father")(Edit: got this wrong by accident sorry guys). We also learn more about faes from here as well, it takes 30 years for a fae child to learn how to walk, but for the case of Malleus it took him 20 years to have a 2 legged form

Malleus then asked Lilia why he decided to take the baby in and Lilia respond that Malleus's father, Leverne said that Fae and Human should learn more about each other, thus learning a language that humans can understand. Lilia wants to learn how to love humans through Silver, but Malleus is like "but what if you can't", he replies with "let's not jump to conclusions"

STOP YOUNGER SILVER CALLS LILIA "TOTO" MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE THIS. WE ALSO FIND OUT THAT THE ACORN BRACELET WAS SILVER'S GIFT TO LILIA (since it symbolizes living a long and healthy life). He (Younger Silver) also says "I love you Toto!" (Guys what if this my last straw 😭). One more memory we see is Silver running away from home after finding out him and Lilia aren't related (in reference to his 1st birthday card)

Back to present time Silver, he thinks that he doesn't deserve to be called Lilia's son because his true origins is that of the son of the Knight of Dawn, this causes him to take on his biological father's form and General Lilia appears before him, saying he's the enemy (BUT IT'S ALL NOT REAL)

Thus a battle between the two begins, until present time Lilia suddenly appears; telling Silver to stand up and stay alive 😭

This end Silver's segment of the story, but we can't forget about Sebek, Yuu and Grim

Next: Part 5

Previous: Part 3

[wingedblooms]

Secret, slumbering land

This meta is a continuation of theories (forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, bright as the dawn, and heart of the night court) about Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land. This new thread focuses on the gentle healing land and lake that the sisters visit in their stories. Maasverse spoilers below, so please proceed with caution.

It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. (acosf)

Both Feyre and Nesta visit a turquoise lake nestled in the mountains. Because their description is the same, this theory operates on the assumption that it is the same place. And since things come in threes in this series, Elain may visit this magical lake in her own story. When I reread the scenes with previous visits, I was struck by the language Sarah used to describe it—secret, slumbering, forgotten—and the clues those words might hold for Elain and Wyrd, the Stone Mother.

Secret

During the first visit to this lake, Azriel teaches Feyre to fly and shares their court philosophy on training, which is connected to a legend about Nephelle (more on that later). During this scene, Azriel is bathed in blinding sunlight and his shadows are gone. His appearance is stark and clear, readable.

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch. (acowar)

@offtorivendell connected his appearance to the bonus chapter ages ago, and it is still one of my favorite metas. In that bonus chapter, we learn Azriel’s shadows are also prone to vanish around Elain.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.  The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.  A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (Azriel’s bonus) 

He tells us he doesn't need to rely on his shadows to read her, so his deep trust and vulnerability might be the only explanation for his shadows' behavior, but they can also sense power and respond to it as power themselves. For example, if someone's power is related to music, they might sing or dance in response. What power, other than the revealing light of Truth, might cause them to vanish?

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.  The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus) 

The Faelight reveals Elain's secret, lovely beauty: she glows like the sun at dawn. What do we know about dawn? In nature, dawn restores the light and awakens the earth. In the Maasverse, it is also associated with healing magic. And when we return to the lake in Nesta’s story, we learn it was once connected to healing. Healing light is bright and warm like the dawn; it has the power to pierce the darkness and outrace Death itself. It is pure life in its rawest form.

Sarah has repeatedly connected Elain to rebirth and renewal, especially in relation to Azriel: in his presence, she's the lovely fawn, vibrant spring behind her. Standing before Death. Even the headache tonic, a lighthearted remedy, serves as potential hint for this secret, lovely beauty: 

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.  I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.  Elain smiled again, ducking her head.  Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (acofas) 

Elain’s gift awakens life, veins of emerald, in the earthy brown and gray within his soul, just as she does in her own garden. It is no coincidence that Elain, who is most radiant in healing hues, glows like the sun at dawn in the dead of night. And Azriel is stark and clear before her just as he is about to finally allow himself a taste of pure life, of healing. In the wake of Elain’s healing presence, we even glimpse Azriel’s emotional scars through his internal dialogue. On healing journeys, lingering scars are faced and overcome rather than avoided. Some wounds require deep trust as the healer, patient as a gardener, walks the road with them on that journey. 

Slumbering

On our second visit to the lake, we learn the surrounding land is inhabited by ordinary faeries who prefer solitude. This immediately made me think about Elain, content and beautiful in her simple gardening dress, and Feyre’s comment about her clinging to Azriel for some peace and quiet. It would be fitting for them to come here in their story, to find joy and love and healing here together. And if I were to hand select a place for Rosehall, where someone like Azriel's mother could find solitude and healing, this would be it.

He knew these mountains well enough from flying over them for centuries: shepherds lived here, usually ordinary faeries who preferred the solitude of the towering green and brownish-black stones to more populated areas. The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. That people injured in body and spirit had ventured to these hills, the lake they were now two and a half days from reaching, to recover. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here. 

-

She’d never seen such a view. It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. […] The mountains watched her, the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake. (acosf)

The mountains here aren't brutal and sharp, but they still have a powerful presence. Like the third sister. The mountains watched Nesta like a protective seer, and the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake, like Elain’s scent. Her scent is a sparkling river, a promise of spring, that guided Nesta to her. And what did Nesta find when she reached the source of that scent? Elain’s sharp angles, once like the Illyrian mountains after she was Made, were now replaced with softness. She glowed with health and her smile was bright as the sun. She also smells of jasmine and honey, which are soothing scents and herbs that have healing properties. 

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf) 

In the span of a few pages, we're also told twice that this land is slumbering. Since it was once used for healing, it would make sense for healing magic to be at the core of its slumbering heart. Remember, the rawest form of healing magic is pure life and we just learned that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, was once blossoming with pure life. Elain’s wyrdcrown seems to mirror Stone Mother's creative powers in the form of sleeping buds:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

This imagery of Elain’s power has always reminded me of the darkness of creation and rest Yrene receives guidance from while she bathes in Silba’s Womb, which she calls the slumbering heart of the earth. In the tog series, Silba was the goddess of healing and gentle deaths and Elain shares many connections with the healers who honor her. So, it’s possible slumbering simply means the land reflects the restful and restorative healing power of those who once lived on and fed the magic of the land. 

Slumbering or sleeping can also indicate dormant magic, which is something we’ve seen in both tog and cc. In tog, Dorian has raw magic and he can shape it into different things—phantom hands, shifting, healing, etc. His raw magic is sleeping in his heart before he explores it. 

“You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his. “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and gave him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.” With that, she walked away, the courtiers parting, then swallowing up her wake. He stared after the princess, wondering what her last words had meant. And why, when she said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside him had opened an eye. (com)

We recently learned the Asteri poisoned the waters in Midgard with a parasite to feed off of the magic of its citizens. This parasite warped their magic and it is described as dormant and tethered as a result:

The Asteri had infected the water we consumed with a parasite. They’d poisoned the lakes and streams and oceans. The parasites burrowed their way into our bodies, warping our magic. (hofas) - Somehow, a barrier had been removed. One that had ordered him to stand down, to obey … It was nothing but ashes now. Only dominance remained. Untethered. But filling the void of that barrier with a rising, raging force— (Ithan’s magic, hofas) - Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep. What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t. (Lidia’s magic, hofas) - Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood. He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him. […] He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. (Ruhn’s magic, hofas)

Similarly, the Asteri pooled and imbued their magic in Wyrd to warp her purely creative magic. 

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas) - Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” (hofas)

Is it possible Elain’s sleeping buds, as a mirror of Wyrd’s original magic, represent what remains dormant, tethered?

“Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.” A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

In the scene above, Cassian and Rhysand are discussing Nesta’s powers. We learn that they aren’t dormant, which makes sense; they seem to represent the magic that the Asteri imbued into Wyrd to become a tool of death and destruction. That magic might be feeding off of Wyrd’s creative powers like a parasite and keep her half-awake, like the Fae in Midgard and, perhaps, the healing land: 

It was all so still, yet watchful, somehow. As if she were surrounded by something ancient and half-awake. As if each peak had its own moods and preferences, like whether the clouds clung to or avoided them, or trees lined their sides or left them bare. Their shapes were so odd and long that they looked as if behemoths had once lain down beside the rivers, pulled a rumpled blanket over themselves, and fallen asleep forever. (acosf)

Ancient, half-awake, behemoth. These terms are also used to describe Wyrd. The word behemoth in particular is associated with a primordial chaos monster in mythology and may be yet another potential hint that Chaos is Hel’s name for Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

-

As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. (hofas)

-

But the Cauldron. As if some great sleeping beast opened an eye. The Cauldron seemed to sense us watching. Sense us there. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I believe Wyrd saw Elain as a kindred spirit and gifted her the language of creation with the hope that she could be the key to her freedom, her healing in body and spirit. Those original creative powers could include a deep connection with the earth (earth magic), divine sense (seer abilities), fluid form and movement (travel and shifting), and healing, pure life and world-building power. Elain might already be testing the boundaries of that creative magic, learning to shape it into different things (explaining her mysterious appearances).

Elain may also need to bring her sisters together to help Wyrd. They represent the three faces of the Mother together and have been marked by her from the beginning of the series. When Feyre physically healed the Cauldron with the help of Rhysand, she cupped her hands and became the first face of the Mother. Nesta became the second face of the Mother when she healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove. And the healing lake appears to hint at Elain's role, the third face of the Mother:

Nesta cleared the hill that Cassian had mounted ahead, and a sparkling, turquoise lake spread before them. It lay slightly sunken between two peaks, as if a pair of green hands had been cupped to hold the water within them. Gray stones lined its shore. (acosf)

This is our first earthen depiction of the Stone Mother. Someone with green fingers or a green thumb is skilled at gardening. Gardeners provide gentle order to pure, blossoming life with their green hands. And we already know, thanks to Rhys and Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty—stained green, even—for a pretty result. 

When Elain's creative magic rises in her story, will it flow like a sparkling river, unfurl like a bloom, to awaken the soul of the earth? Could it soothe Azriel’s icy rage and bring true spring and healing to Ramiel, softening its sharp angles when its heart, Wyrd, is finally restored? Only time will tell.

Forgotten

The land is also described as a place time had forgotten and, as I mentioned earlier, it's where Azriel shared the story of Nephelle—the one who had been passed over, who had been forgotten—while he tended to Feyre's wounds after a fall during flying practice.

Nephelle, who had been passed over, who had been forgotten…She outraced death itself. […] And yet her too-small wingspan, that deformed wing…they did not fail her. Not once. Not for one wing beat. (acowar)

Nephelle wanted to be a warrior, but was turned away due to her small wingspan. So, she made herself indispensable as a cartographer and excelled at finding the most geographically advantageous positions for their armies. And now that hofas has been released, we know earth magic can be used to locate the best geographical locations:

…those with earth magic were sent ahead to scout lands [...] Not only the best geographical locations, but magical ones, too. They could sense the ley lines—the channels of energy running throughout the land, throughout Midgard. They told the Asteri to build their cities where several of the lines met, at natural crossroads of power, and picked those places for the Fae to settle, too. But they selected Avallen just for the Fae. To be their personal, eternal stronghold.” (hofas)

Those with earth magic are deeply connected to the land and their creative power flows freely in places where the natural magic in the land is untethered. Is it possible Nephelle excelled at finding the best locations because she possessed earth magic? And could that come into play in the next story if Elain possesses earth magic as part of her creative powers?

Despite being perceived as weak, Nephelle outraced death itself with her small wingspan to save Miryam. Her miraculous rescue inspired the Night Court's philosophy toward training: 

I raised a brow. Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”  “The Nephelle Philosophy.” (acowar) 

We saw this philosophy in action at the final battle with Hybern when Elain raced against death itself and appeared out of nowhere with Truth-Teller to protect her family. Like Nephelle, she was and still is passed over, forgotten.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (Nesta to Elain, acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today." "Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not." "Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." "Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (Elain and Nesta's exchange, acosf)

-

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her. (Cassian's observation, acosf)

These quotes hit differently with the release of hofas. @offtorivendell and @willowmeres seem to be on track with their theories that the warped magic of Hewn City affected Elain's creative magic. What if she reflects the magic of the land around her, and when that magic is warped or tethered, her physical appearance mirrors it? Is this another sign she will be able to use the language of creation to unearth Prythian’s secrets, forgotten by time? And maybe, like the legendary Nephelle, the things that Elain is viewed as weak for—her little garden, a symbol of her care for and connection to the land, and her appearance, a reflection of what was forgotten—actually become her family's biggest strength.

[jeonsweetpea]

Moonstruck (14)

Werewolf & Vampire Hybrid!AU, Supernatural!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader | Werewolf!Taehyung x Hybrid!Reader (ft. BTS)

genre: angst, e2l, supernatural, thriller, slow burn

rating: mature

description: Ari wants to see who truly loves you by pitting your lovers against each other.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: contains SPOILERS!!! kidnapping, cussing, fight scenes, betrayals, blood, dark magic, attempted assault, (temporary) deaths, 

a/n: The series is almost over! Just one chapter and I hope you’re enjoying reading as much as I am writing. Hope to hear your thoughts. Thanks for sticking around so long and giving my series a chance. <333 It's also on AO3 if you prefer reading over there!

Moonstruck Series Masterlist

“It’s a pity our own granddaughter has to die,” a gentle voice said. 

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing the old couple from before. An immediate realization dawned upon you as you noticed the chains, bounding you in the shape of an X to the cold stone wall. These were no ordinary chains—every wriggle, every struggle, intensified the pain. Wolfsbane and vervain were laced into the links, sending stinging sensations to your wrists and ankles. Your body felt groggy, so it was certain you were injected with something beforehand.

Last thing you recalled was falling into the frozen lake. The freezing water filling up your lungs… oh right. Jimin had killed you too. Just your luck.

Looking around, it was evident this wasn’t the lake. But it wasn’t the underground cellar or cave in the mountains. Where exactly were you?

“Don’t get soft on her now. She’s awake,” a gruff voice responded. 

“Granddaughter?” The question hung in the air, escaping your lips in a hushed whisper. Another whiff of your mother’s familiar perfume triggered a sudden realization. “You’re…” 

“Your grandparents? Yes, dear. It’s sad we had to meet this way, but we had to make sure you died once these stupid 100 days were over,” your grandfather replied. “Frankly, we should take matters into our own hands.”

“We can’t. We don’t have the stake and that witch girl is frightening. They’ll kill her at the end of the day anyway,” your grandmother assured. “Besides, it’s nice not having to get our hands dirty.”

“100 days?” you breathed, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was difficult battling the drowsy state forced on you.

“God, she sounds delirious. Yes. Because you sired that other abomination and Jimin and that Ari girl are so insistent in breaking that bond first before killing you.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” your grandfather retorted with his arms crossed. “As long as you’re dead in the end, all the hybrids you’ve sired will cease to exist too.”

The weight of this revelation jolted you out of your drowsy trance, and you shot them an alarmed glare.

“What did you say?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? When you create those repulsive hybrids and sire them, you form a sireline. It’s like a family tree that never goes away. So if you die, then all the non-Original hybrids you created will die too. Even if the sire bond is broken.”

“Is that true?”

"We didn't dedicate our lives to learning everything about you just to lie now."

"Then... does Jimin know about this? He'd never let Jungkook die," you questioned, sensing the answer in the subtle withdrawal of their body language.

“Of course he doesn’t know. He’s too hellbent on killing you to realize he’s gonna kill his lover too,” your grandmother sneered. She approached you and bent down eye-level, analyzing your features carefully. “Remarkable. You look just like your mother.”

You spat in her face and she wiped it away immediately, taking a few steps back. She chuckled at your feisty behavior, a dark amusement in her eyes.

“Mom will never forgive you for doing this!” you exclaimed.

“Do you think we care? We disowned her when she eloped. Who would’ve thought she was pregnant with you…”

“You’re my family. Why does it matter so damn much to you?” you asked, your voice teetering between anger and disappointment.

“Blame your mother and father. They were never supposed to fall in love, much less have a child. Your existence is a loop in Mother Nature and unnatural!” your grandpa exclaimed. “It took us an eternity to track you down. Imagine our surprise when Jung Dawon showed up to the hospital where we worked.”

You held your breath. “She was your patient?”

“I think her name is Jiwoo now, honey,” your grandma reminded with a pat on her husband’s shoulder.

“Ah, right, right. What would I do without you?”

The two of them started to snuggle their noses together, their display of affection making you want to vomit. 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! You two treated Jiwoo during her coma?!” you asked.

“Yes. That’s how we crossed paths with Jimin, H.O.P.E.—shame they’ve disbanded now thanks to your professors, no doubt. And then the Jungs had to die or Jimin wouldn’t have upheld his deal in the bargain,” your grandmother informed.

“You killed Hoseok’s parents… You deserve hell.” A past memory suddenly resurfaced to the forefront of your mind. “Years ago, Dad said you reached out. Said you apologized and wanted to meet me. Was that all a lie?”

Her gaze met yours, an expression of feigned pity playing on her face as she nodded, and your grandfather, reveling in your naivety, let out a cynical chuckle.

“You’re lucky your mother was so stubborn and unwilling to meet us. She even went so far as to make you move homes time and time again. It’s like she knew we had cruel intentions,” the old woman remarked.

“Cruel? Is that what you call it? This is diabolical, I deserve to live just as much as you do! You call my existence unnatural, which is hypocritical considering none of us are human!”

“She talks too much,” the old man interjected.

“Yeah, let’s shut her up.”

“No, no! I’m going to reveal everything! You won’t get away with—”

It was futile. Your grandmother held your head still while your grandfather retrieved a ball gag from a nearby table. Your nose picked up wafts of vervain and wolfsbane, causing you to whimper. As the straps secured around your face, your skin ignited with pain, and you couldn't contain the sobs that escaped.

Your relatives walked away from you once the task was complete, heading for the stairs. The last words you heard were from your grandmother.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

Meanwhile, back at the dimly lit cellar…

Cage 1: Jungkook, Taehyung, Sunghyun

In the first cage, Jungkook stood tall, his back against the bars. Taehyung was standing on the opposite side, muscles tense, while Sunghyun minded his business and rested on the cot in the middle of the two. 

Cage 2: Namjoon and Yoongi

In the adjacent cage, Namjoon lay unconscious, sprawled on the cold floor. Yoongi sat with his back against the cage, observing their surroundings with a calculating gaze.

Cage 3: Jin, Hoseok, Jiwoo

The third cage housed Jin, who gazed through the bars with a mix of determination and worry. Hoseok stood tall with his sister Jiwoo sitting beside him, a protective arm wrapped around her. 

No one dared to utter a word. Each person bore the weight of their own struggles in the metallic confines, the atmosphere oppressive and thick with tension. The silence broke when Taehyung got down on all fours.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook questioned.

“I’m getting out of here. [Y/N]’s in danger.” He closed his eyes, narrowing his focus while using his werewolf instincts.

“Turning won’t work. These cages were built to withstand supernaturals,” Jungkook recalled, his arms crossed in a display of frustration. Taehyung, irritated by the diversion of his focus, furrowed his eyebrows and then opened his eyes. 

“Well, it worked for Hoseok. Didn’t it?” he declared as he stood up, hands planted firmly on his hips.

“I was set up by you and Jimin! You tainted my food!” Hoseok argued. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t your lover over there?” Taehyung smirked, his words a venomous tease.

“Go to hell, Taehyung!” Yoongi exclaimed.

Chaos reigned as accusations flew, each member of the imprisoned group hurling blame and calling out their short-comings. Only did the sound of the creaking cellar door garnered their attention. The unexpected arrival turned out to be Ari, who was descending down the staircase in a frantic scramble. 

“Oh my god, what have I done? You all have to get out of here!”

A collective confusion lingered, yet none dared to question Ari's sudden change of heart. Retrieving the keys from her pocket, she approached the nearest cage—Taehyung's. Nervousness interfered with her attempt to unlock the padlock properly.

“Come on, Ari!” Taehyung yelled.

“I’m trying here!” 

In an unexpected twist, Ari fell to her knees, clutching her chest and breathing heavily. She let out a pained groan, followed by an unsettling expulsion of water. “Oh… that can’t be good.”

“What the hell is happening to you?” Professor Jin asked, gripping the cage bars for a closer look. “The dark magic is killing you!”

“It’s not that. Jimin’s trapped in the frozen lake. He’s drowning and dying over and over.” Struggling to stand, Ari's focus remained on the stubborn padlock. “I’m running out of time. She’s going to come back soon.”

Moments later, the padlock clicked open. She swung the cage door open, urging the boys to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A dark, menacing voice emanated from Ari's lips, her face contorting as if an evil force sought to break free.

"Let them go!" The familiar, authoritative tone sounded like the Ari they knew, yet beneath the surface, a fierce battle between the light and darkness waged.

“No. You’re too weak to stop me!” 

Ari threw up some more water as she collapsed to the floor with a thud. She reached her hand out to the boys and whispered. “Run…”

Her hand dropped and she was unconscious. The shock of it all left everyone frozen when her eyes suddenly fluttered open, pitch black, and she scrambled to her feet at lightning speed. 

Taehyung, Jungkook, and Sunghyun rushed upstairs but it was too late. Ari used dark magic to telekinetically rip out Sunghyun’s heart, permanently killing him. His remaining corpse fell down stairs as Jiwoo shrieked. Hoseok shielded his sister away from the sight in a tight embrace, trying his best to calm her down.

“Now… you two. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. We still have to go talk to your beloved [Y/N].”

She knocked them out with the snap of her fingers before teleporting them to your location.

You gave into exhaustion and surrendered to a nap for however long possible. Nothing mattered anymore. You were trapped and because of your reckless plan, so was everyone else. Your grandparents wanted you dead and at this point, you yearned for an end. 

What stirred you from your slumber was the sound of groaning. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Taehyung and Jungkook lying on their stomachs a few feet away. They were chained to the floor like animals. 

Jungkook was first to fully regain his senses, sitting up right away at the sight of you. “[Y/N]! You’re alive—oh fuck. What did they do to you?”

The ball gag and restraints didn’t aid in your efforts to communicate as the only sounds you could make were whimpers. Taehyung, driven by desperation, got on his knees and tugged at his chains madly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out. It’ll be okay!”

In the heart of the room, Ari manifested from the ceiling and floated down like an angel. A dark one, that is.  

“What is it about you, hmm? You have not only one but TWO suitors who are willing to do whatever it takes to save you. To love you. Meanwhile, I can’t even have one…”

She landed gently on the ground as she circled around Jungkook, eyes locked into yours. “You said Jimin never loved me, but what about you? Do you really think Jungkook loves you? He admitted feelings for another.”

You bit your lip to fight back tears. This was too painful to deal with.

“[Y/N], don’t listen to her. Listen to me,” Jungkook begged. The sadness within your gaze caused a pang in his heart. “This is the truth. There were times I spent the night at his dorm because I couldn’t stand watching you with Taehyung. I got to bond with him on a deeper level. He was the first friend I had outside of you that didn’t judge me. Didn’t make me feel like a loser. Like I was weak.”

“So you kiss him,” Taehyung remarked. “A little heart-to-heart and you’re all tongues.”

“He kissed me!” Jungkook snapped at him. He refocused on you. “During the sparring session. I was trying to get information out of him. Promise! Of course I felt something; it was a kiss. It surprised me. But that doesn’t mean he’s the one I love.”

“Excuses, excuses,” the werewolf said with a dismissive hand gesture. 

“You don’t get to judge something you don’t understand. The sire bond affects emotions and it’s almost broken. I’ve been living my life through a filter! I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t believe her when it mattered most. Nothing’s worse than not being believed. She must’ve been crushed.”

Taehyung’s right. You were.

“You watch your mouth!”

“Or what? We’re all chained because that bitch of a witch can’t stand the fact her boyfriend is in love with you! This is all your fault!”

Ari cackled and rushed over to Taehyung’s side like a devil whispering in his ear. “That’s right. Rile him up.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Taehyung huffed in disgust. “You killed Sunghyun.”

Your eyes widened, devastated at this information. Professor Jin was right. The Ari you knew was long gone; she would never murder someone in cold blood. 

Your ex-best friend paced back and forth and then shrugged. “Oh, please. You don’t care about him.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you near me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. Sunghyun was asking for it by trying to escape. And he showed Jungkook my journal.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up at this. Ari smirked and continued, “Yeah. I know about it. My old self had a tendency to jot everything down and then spelled her drawers, so I wouldn’t be able to see it. That is, until you and Sunghyun used his amulet to bypass it. Thanks for that.”

She snapped her fingers and the journal in question appeared in her hands. She flipped it open and hummed in amusement. 

“Hmm… wow, I really did not hold back. Lots of juicy information in here. But,” she closed the book, “she didn’t write everything down. You really want to know the truth, Jungkook? The whole truth?”

“What is your end goal, huh? Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook questioned. Ari replied with nothing but a smirk. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Let me talk to him. I can stop all of this. He can have me as long as he lets [Y/N] go.”

Ari grabbed his neck in a chokehold and he wheezed, powerless against her unexpected strength. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? Jimin is mine and mine only. There was a time when I’d share him, but not anymore.”

She released him with a fierce anger, and he coughed, struggling to regain composure on all fours.

“Turn,” she commanded and Jungkook snapped his neck up to look at her. 

“What?”

“It’s the last day of the sire bond. You have to turn one more time, right? So do it.”

“You’re delusional. I’m not doing anything you say.”

“Come on. Amuse me. You might be able to save your precious [Y/N] by turning.”

“No.”

Ari fumed at his response, kicking him in the stomach and forcing him to fall on his back. She stomped on him multiple times, your muffled screams rendered useless. The air was charged with tension as Ari spoke, her voice tinged with frustration and jealousy.

"Do you have any idea how infuriating it is, Jungkook? Watching you and her, with your damned sire bond, risking everything for each other. It's sickening!"

Jungkook grabbed her foot to stop her from crushing his ribs any further. “Ari… this bond is beyond our control. It’s not something we asked for.”

Ari scoffed at his response. “So why won’t you turn? End it. End this stupid connection you have with her. Show everyone your love was conditional, a hoax!”

She left his aching body and went up to you, a clawed hand in front of your face with a malevolent black glow. 

“Turn or I’ll kill her,” she threatened, the White Oak Stake presenting herself in her grasp. Panic gripped you at the sight of the weapon. “That’s right, bestie. This is the one and only stake that can kill an original hybrid.”

“Don’t lay a finger on her!” Taehyung roared. She turned around, tapping the stake against her palm in a rhythmic cadence, reminiscent of a stern ruler used for chastising children in the past.

“Ah, yes. The other lover is vying for your affection. God, you just can’t catch a break with these two!”

“This doesn’t have to end this way. We both want the same thing. I’ll talk to Jimin, we’ll figure something out. As long as Jungkook is out of the picture, it’ll be worth it! We can still be a team.”

“Team?” Jungkook questioned. 

“We?” She let out a chuckle. “There is no ��we.’ You and Jimin have dictated everything from the start. He strung me along like a fool. All I wanted was his love. I was willing to risk it all only for him to want someone else and cast me aside entirely!”

She faced Jungkook. “My journal revealed all of Jimin’s plans, but not Taehyung’s. I think you’ll find this interesting.”

Taehyung's gaze narrowed, a subtle intensity flickering in his eyes as he shook his head slowly.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Where do I start? Oh. Taehyung is the one that ordered H.O.P.E to attack you that dreaded day. You know, the day that started it all.”

Ari reveled in the chaos she had orchestrated, the atmosphere thick with tension and despair. Jungkook's eyes burned with fury as he faced Taehyung, betrayal and anger intertwining in the lines of his furrowed brow.

“You planned this? The attack, the kidnapping?”

Taehyung, unapologetic, met Jungkook's accusatory gaze with a stoic expression.

“[Y/N] could’ve died! We all could’ve!” Jungkook exclaimed. 

“The plan was only for you to die. That way [Y/N] would find comfort in me and only me. But then you survived. Stupid sire bond.”

“Oh yeah, the whole scavenger hunt thing was also Taehyung’s idea. Jimin pretended to be a hunter to kidnap [Y/N],” Ari added. Jungkook’s confusion was blatant.

“What on earth could that possibly accomplish for you, Tae?”

The werewolf shrugged, reluctant to answer. Ari, the puppeteer of chaos, was more than willing. 

“He was betting on [Y/N] saving him with her blood. Then he was going to kill himself to become sired to her like you.”

“You crazy bastard!” Jungkook roared, chains rattling as he attempted to pounce on Taehyung but couldn’t. “All of this pain and suffering, all for some twisted desire to be bound to her?" This isn’t love, it’s obsession! You don’t deserve her!”

Taehyung held his ground. “And you do? I actually want to be bound to her for life. All you’ve ever done was taken her for granted! Just turn already!”

“If I do turn, it’s to rip you to shreds!”

“Yes~, yes~!” Ari cried. “Indulge in your anger! Let the beast out!”

She ripped his clothing off with no remorse, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Seeing him stripped against his will left him vulnerable and the humiliation almost killed him. He punched the ground, the concrete pulverized into tiny pieces and his knuckles bloody. 

Clapping eagerly, Ari urged for him to turn. You hated seeing him in such a vulnerable state. When your gazes met, there was nothing but shame and heartbreak. You didn’t know what to expect once the 100th day arrived, but this definitely was not it.

“Maybe one isn’t enough,” Ari remarked, striding over to Taehyung’s side and tearing his clothes to shreds. “You turn too. Fight each other. You want Jungkook dead and [Y/N] all for yourself, right?”

“Fuck you, I’m not some pawn for you to toy with!”

“Aw, come on. I’m actually helping you out here. I know tonight’s not a full moon, so it’ll hurt like a bitch. But don’t you want [Y/N] to see how sexy it is for you to turn anyway? You said you love her.”

She sauntered back over to you, the White Oak Stake dangerously close to your chest. 

“Either you guys turn and battle each other or this goes through her heart.”

She casted a spell and had the stake hovering in front of your chest and the boys roared with anger, but had no choice. The air thickened with an impending sense of dread. You, restrained and unable to look away, watched as Taehyung and Jungkook grappled with the impending transformation, a painful struggle that unfolded before your eyes.

The first tremors wracked Taehyung's form as his body contorted with the agony of shifting. Bones cracked and muscles rippled beneath his skin, the visceral sounds of transformation echoing in the confined space. His anguished groans reverberated through the cold, unforgiving walls. Without a full moon, this process was far more difficult to go through, but he persevered thanks to the emotional intensity of his love for you.

Beside him, Jungkook's transformation mirrored Taehyung's torment. The once-human features distorted, replaced by the primal visage of a werewolf emerging from the depths within. Claws unsheathed and black fur sprouted, a physical manifestation of the feral power coursing through him.

You’ve watched countless transformations over the years, but none were as painful as this one. It was as if your heart was being incinerated, the connection between you and Jungkook severed. A part of you cherished the pain because it’d be the last time you two would feel each other’s emotions. 

Ari watched with a sadistic smile, leaning close to your ear. 

“This is fun, isn’t it? Love versus obsession. Or maybe love and obsession are the same. They’re trying so hard to save your life.”

Your silence earned a “tsk” from her.

“Don’t feel like talking?” she taunted. “Well get this. Remember how my grandmother was the one who taught me magic? She visits me in my dreams sometimes. Do you want to know what she told me?”

Jungkook and Taehyung’s combined screams of agony made it difficult to focus on her voice, but she leaned in even closer, whispering ever so softly.

“My grandma delved into dark magic once. Your father made a deal with her. He paid her to make your mother fertile. With you.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You clenched your fists in disbelief and whined, not wanting to hear more.

“That’s right. You were conceived with dark magic. You always told me it seemed like the universe was against you and now you know why. Darkness follows you wherever you go; you’re not meant to be happy. That’s how you were able to use my dark potions. That darkness lives inside you. And it’s your father’s fault.”

Tears welled up in your eyes before cascading down your face. She giggled at your suffering, adding salt to the gaping wound in your heart.

“It must hurt to know every single person in your life has betrayed you in some way. You have no one left.”

The transformations were nearing completion. Sounds of bones snapping and muscles contorting filled the basement, a symphony of agony that echoed the torment of Taehyung and Jungkook’s dual existence. Taehyung's body convulsed, his once-human features now obscured by the emerging gray fur, streaked with haunting shades of white. Jungkook's transformation mirrored the shadows, his form engulfed by inky blackness as he fought against the pain that laced every fiber of his being.

As the final moments of the agonizing metamorphosis approached, the chains binding them groaned under the strain, holding firm until the transformation reached its peak. 

“One more thing,” Ari whispered. “The stake has been spelled to kill Jungkook once he finishes transforming.”

“No!!!” you screamed, although muffled. “Jungkook stop!!!”

Jungkook, having more experience, finished his transformation before Taehyung’s. Ari turned to you with a wicked smile. 

“Enjoy the show, [Y/N].”

You watched in despair as the spelled stake launched through the air straight for Jungkook when Jimin emerged from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. His eyes, determined and resolute, locked onto the impending threat aimed at Jungkook. He leaped in the way, the impact of the enchanted stake against Jimin's body resonated through the basement. 

His shoulder had been hit, but it was not a fatal wound. In the stunned silence that followed, Jimin's eyes met Jungkook's with an unspoken understanding. 

The next few minutes were a blur. Taehyung completed his transformation and was liberated from his chains seconds after Jungkook. Ari, relentless in her pursuit, launched another attack at Jungkook, but Jimin intercepted with a spell of his own. You squinted and recognized the blinding glow of Sunghyun’s amulet around his neck. 

The black wolf and Jimin united forces and the two of them battled Ari together. 

Meanwhile, Taehyung sprinted to you, using his teeth to pry the chains from your limbs. As the metal links fell away, you fell on top of the beast’s body. Using his agile speed,. Taehyung bolted out of the building as fast as possible, leaving Jungkook, Jimin, and Ari behind to hash things out.

You clung onto his back as he navigated through a common neighborhood with the veil of nighttime, your fingers tightly entangled in his fur. Though a bit groggy, you could feel whatever was in your system was wearing off gradually. It dawned on you that you were held captive in the Jung family’s old house, specifically the secret basement Professor Jin and Yoongi had uncovered months ago.

Taehyung kept running until he reached the secrecy of the woods. As he eased to a stop, you rolled off his back, laying on the forest floor and taking deep breaths. The wolf nudged your cheek with his nose, a comforting gesture, followed by a few licks to your face, as if to ease your worries. 

As much as you loved the notion, you couldn’t erase the truth of what he had done. You swiftly got to your feet and shook your head.

“Stop. I know what you’re doing.” He lowered his head and let out a whine. Human or wolf form, he had mastered the puppy dog eyes. He nuzzled his head against your side, desperate for solace, but you rejected him. “Taehyung, no!”

As you retreated, your foot came into contact with something, kicking it further backwards. Turning around, the moonlight revealed the mystery object buried in the snow. The sight pulled an involuntary scream from your lips, causing a startle strong enough to make you fall on the cold snow.

There laid your grandmother’s decapitated head and with little effort, you spotted your grandfather’s nearby.

Taehyung had reverted back to his human form and wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace.

“Shhh, shh,” he cooed in his deep, soothing voice. “It’s okay.”

You pushed him hard enough that he fell onto the snow. “Did you do this?”

His eyes widened as he stared at you, shocked. “I’ve been spending the last few hours TRAPPED because of you. How the hell would I have time to do this?!”

You sat criss-cross, hands on your head in distress. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He grunted, rising to his feet, and offered you his hand. You peered up, finally registering he was without clothing in the moonlight. The soft glow accentuated every chiseled feature of his handsome face, rendering you speechless. Staring at his hand, you contemplated taking it. 

“No,” you finally said, getting up by yourself. “I don’t even know why I’m apologizing. You brought the hunters here. You were working with Jimin. YOU wanted Jungkook dead.”

“I promise when I conspired with Jimin, he didn’t tell me he was going to kill you. He wanted to be with Jungkook and I wanted to be with you. Believe me, darling. I had no clue of his true intentions.”

You were sick of crying, but that was all you wanted to do. Angry tears were slowly dripping down your face as you used hand gestures to convey your frustration.

“I can’t just forget it all.”

Taehyung cupped your face with both hands, his eyes full of hope and desperation. “But what if you did? Let’s run away together. Start over and forget all this misery.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on your lips to seal his words. “You and me.”

He continued to kiss you despite your feeble pleas for him to stop. Your tone lacked conviction, perhaps due to exhaustion. Maybe you found a glimmer of belief in his words. Or maybe deep down, you craved his touch to momentarily replace your ache. 

The warmth of his lips, the weight of his breath, the hand on the small of your back—you melted for a fleeting moment. In the end, you had to force yourself to pull away.

“Tae—”

“Allow me to tell you my offer before you make a choice.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “If you allow it, I will whisk you away to where you will only experience peace and be loved the way you deserve. In the daytime, I will be your loyal companion, a listening ear, anything your heart requires to feel at ease. Soft kisses, warm candlelight, watching your favorite show on repeat,” he said with a chuckle. Then his eyes darkened with lust. 

“Later deep into the night, I will be your source of release, making love to you for hours on end until you’re drowning in pleasure that humans wish they could experience. Passionate kisses, lingering touches, our sweaty bodies pressed together.”

He squeezed your shoulders with gentle pressure and brought you closer until your chests were touching.”

“I don’t want nobody else. You are all that matters. Not your fertility, not your history. Just you.”

Your resolve was crumbling. Taehyung knew all the right things to say and knew how to make you feel good. You wished things were different but at the moment, you wanted no one. You just wanted things to end.

“Tae… I can’t. I need… I need to be by myself. This is too much.”

“Too much?” Taehyung’s grip on your shoulders suddenly felt tighter. You didn’t even register how fast he pinned you down, hands held above your head. “Was it too much when I fucked you?“

“Stop! What are you doing?”

“Answer me!” He started to grind his cock against your thigh unashamed, the heavy pants causing chills to go down your spine. “Didn’t it feel good? Didn’t you enjoy it?”

He slipped a knee between your legs, pressing down hard enough to elicit a whimper from your lips. 

“Let me take you again. I’ll make sure you feel good.”

He placed searing kisses along your neck much to your dismay. You refused to lay still, squirming around to avoid contact, but you were still too weak to retaliate. 

“S-Stop,” you sobbed. 

He removed his hands from your own and grabbed onto the column of your throat, admiring your struggle. “You always did like it rough. So beautiful. So sexy…”

To your relief, he didn’t choke you but caressed your neck gently like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Realizing his true intentions behind that action, you summoned every ounce of strength to act quickly. Planting your feet firmly on the ground, you arched your back, utilizing the leverage to break free from Taehyung's hold. In a swift, well-timed move, you twisted your body and managed to flip the situation.

Now he was the one pinned down and you swung at him once. Twice. Then once more to ensure he was unconscious. You let out screams of rage while doing so, hating everything he’s become.

When he no longer moved, you rose from the cold ground, your steps heavy in the snow. That was when he grabbed at your ankles, forcing you to stumble forward.

“There’s no reason to stand,” he said in a venomous tone, “I like you better on all fours.”

The sounds of your struggles entwined with his grunts as he scrambled to lay on top of you, clawing at your body with his greedy hands, not caring how he was shredding your clothes or how you were getting bloody scratches from his nails. He wrapped his arm around you in a secure chokehold and you began to lose vision.

“You sure pack a punch. I’ll bite.”

Taehyung’s eyes shifted to a fiery goldenrod as he bare his fangs, sinking them into the side of your neck harshly. You let out the most blood-curdling scream as crimson dripped down and tainted the snow. It was like the world stood still, the betrayal amplifying the unimaginable pain. 

He finally released you after he got his fill, making an obscene lip-smacking sound after having tasted you. 

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up. I always claim what’s mine, [Y/N]. And that includes y–”

A sudden blast of magical energy knocked Taehyung off your back and his body landed far away, rolling in the snow until it came into contact with a tree. You’d be sure to thank your savior if you made it out of this alive. All you desired was to fall into a deep slumber, hoping this was a simple nightmare. 

You felt someone’s hand rolling you onto your back and you saw the shiny amulet around his neck. 

“Jimin… what irony…”

“I’m not saving you,” he said, holding the White Oak Stake above you. Seems like he was going to end you for good. “I just needed him out of my way.”

You didn’t have it in you to explain why you deserved to live. Not even for Jungkook’s sake, considering your lives are linked. You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. Jimin watched you carefully, his hand trembling. He couldn’t do it. 

When he was drowning in the lake, the amulet fortunately collided with his body and ended up saving him. He then had an encounter with your grandparents, overhearing them talk about the sire line. He was left in the dark, hating that if he ended you, he’d lose Jungkook too. So he murdered them out of spite for hiding something so crucial.

And now, when his plans were so close to fruition, he just couldn’t risk it. Part of him hoped your grandparents were lying, but what good would that do them now? Their main objective had always been eradicating hybrids. The thought of them going after Jungkook never crossed his mind and he felt incredibly stupid.

You opened your eyes after some time had passed. Jimin was quick to notice, so he raised the stake up high, forcing himself to express determination to kill you. Underneath his facade, you could see the internal struggle raging within him.

“You can’t do it, can you?” you breathed. 

“Shut up!”

“You know about it. The sireline. That’s why you’re hesitating, isn’t it?” Your question reignited the conflict burning within him and he snapped, bringing the stake downwards with force, aiming towards your chest. 

However, your moonstone necklace blazed with intense light, stopping Jimin in his tracks. You couldn't help but notice the eerie similarity to the glow emanating from his amulet when they were in closer proximity. No matter how hard he pushed, the stake wouldn’t budge any further. 

That’s when Taehyung pounced onto Jimin, sinking his teeth into his neck. A struggle unfolded in the snow, but Jimin finally overthrew him. Blood spurted from Jimin’s neck and mouth as he fell to his knees and then collapsed completely. 

You stood up, mirroring Jimin by clutching the side of your neck as you walked toward him. There was no way he was going to survive a second werewolf bite. Not this time. 

Silence lingered between you and Jimin, an unspoken exchange of emotions, a complex tapestry of anger, sadness, and spite colliding with exhaustion, frustration, and burnout.

But the ordeal was far from over.

Taehyung ran over to you, shaking you by the shoulders. 

“Do you fear me? Do you hate me?” His eyes gleamed with madness, a wicked smile on his lips. “Nothing is going to stop us from being together. I want you to do it. Kill me!”

You were tortured by his existence and he knew it, exploiting it to his advantage. But if you ended him, that would be falling right into his twisted trap. With his blood in your system, he’d become a hybrid. 

“N-No.”

“Kill me, [Y/N]! I know you want to! Do it!” He roared, forcefully grabbing your hands and pressing them against his neck. “Strangle me! Rip my heart out!”

“You’re being crazy, stop!!!”

A snarl in the distance froze both of you. As Taehyung looked over his shoulder, a black wolf emerged, lunging at him. Taehyung was jovial in his struggle against the wolf, elated to have his wish granted.

“That’s right. Take your anger out on me. She doesn’t love you anymore! Your love was a sham!”

Jungkook growls intensified, clawing him to a gruesome death. You ran over as fast as you could, desperate to stop him.

“Jungkook no! Don’t do it! He bit me!”

As if your words reached him, Jungkook transformed back into his human form, staring at his blood-covered hands in horror. Seeing your neck wound, guilt consumed him, and he fainted.

"What have I done?" he whispered before collapsing. You caught him just in time.

"Jungkook? Jungkook, wake up!" You patted his face urgently. "No, no. What's going on?"

In the distance, you spotted someone crawling through the snow toward Jimin's dying body. Marching over, you grabbed Ari by the collar.

"Ari, what the hell is happening?! Fix it! You're a witch, you're strong. Do something!"

She shook her head. "I can't… I'm dying too. Jimin and I… we're linked."

“What?!”

“The night of the banquet when we took shots of alcohol… I spelled it to link our lives forever.”

“Oh my god… what about Jungkook? He’s not waking up!”

“Why do you think?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “He and Taehyung are linked too.”

[seri-41]

Let’s estimate AFOs Kill Count 😀

Been seeing people say AFO isn’t a good antagonist cuz he hasn’t killed anyone………. Tf?

So let’s take a look!

Be mindful this is an estimate! 😀

Spoilers and TW for character deaths obviously.

I will be basing this on:

1. Lifespan: AFO is over 121+ years old. Assuming he was active in villainy for most of this time, we can estimate his annual kill rate and multiply by the number of years.

2. Historical Events: Important events and battles where AFO is known to have killed. This includes those who were affected by the battles; civilians, heroes and villains.

3. Direct Kills: Instances where AFO is explicitly shown or mentioned to have killed someone in the manga.

4. Indirect Kills: Considering the broader impact of his actions, such as orchestrating villain attacks, leading the LOV, and creating Nomus.

I will be covering the manga only.

1. Yoichi Shigaraki

2. Kudo

3. All of Kudos relatives and any children/women close to him (Let’s say ~10)

4. Bruce

5. Banjo Daigoro

5. En

6. Nana Shimura

7. The Shimura family (Indirectly, but he still planned it and used someone else so it counts; that’s 5 people).

8. Orphans he collected at the orphanage (Said by Dabi: rogue or useless kids were disposed of)

AFO has been ruling Japan for a long time, and it was mentioned in the Character Book Ultra Analysis he has orphanages all over the country. Let’s take the most reasonable number we can.

If there are approximately 2 orphanages per prefecture in all 47 prefectures, that would be:

2 orphanages per prefecture * 47 prefectures = 94 orphanages (Keep in mind some of these children might have been stolen by AFO/the doctor over the years)

If each orphanage has about 1,000 orphans, then the total number of orphans would be:

94 orphanages * 1,000 orphans per orphanage = 94,000 orphans

So, there would be a total of 94 orphanages and ~ 94,000 orphans. Sound like a stretch but Japan has a population of 122 million so not unreasonable.

Minimum: If we take 1% who are useless or disposed of, that’s 940 killed/nomufied.

Maximum: If we take 50% who are useless or disposed of, that’s 47,000 killed/nomufied.

9. The winged Nomu

10. Other children/people (heroes, villain, and other randomly killed civilians) he and the doctor collected to make Nomu (~50)

11. Oboro Shirakumo (Used an explosive meant to kill Aizawa)

12. The people he gave quirks to over the years that ended up going insane (~100)

13. The people he murdered during his rule at the dawn of quirks directly/indirectly (~1000 +)

14. During his childhood chapter 407 (8 people)

15. The thousands of off-screen deaths especially during the final war (Bare minimum 1000+)

You don’t need proof for that

16. His own mother (Indirectly and not his fault, but worth the mention)

17. The people he murdered in front of the Aoyama family (Let’s say ~3)

18. Those killed during the Kamino incident

19. Tomura Shigaraki

20. Star and Stripe

21. Stain (that’s the blood that came out when AFO punched the guts out of him)

22. Gigantomachia

23. The Glowing baby

Attempted on-screen kills:

1. Lady Nagant

2. Bakugo Katsuki

3. Aizawa Shouta

4. Spinner (Almost turned him into a Nomu)

(-4 for that, but it’s still worth the mention)

In summary:

Annual Kill Rate:

If we estimate a conservative rate of 1000 kills per year (considering both direct and indirect actions), over 100 years, this would result in:

     • Minimum: 100 years * 100 kills/a year = 10,000 kills

     • Bare Maximum: 100 years * 1000 kills/a year = 100,000 kills

Yeah. Make your own assumptions based on this. That man has killed millions on average, so to the people that have been complaining on AFOtwt, here you go.

If you know anyone else I missed, please mention :) if you think I made an error please let me know!

[greetingfromthedead]

Ghost of You (SingleDad!Vash x Dead!F!Reader)

Plot: Your death haunts Vash for years, filling his dreams with nightmares, but for his twins, he will put on a brave face and do whatever it takes to make their childhood a happy one.

Series: Not a series per se, but a continuation of Stormy Night

Pairing: SingleDad!Vash x Dead!F!Reader

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: post-Trimax (minor spoilers), no use of y/n, death, angst, funeral, widow Vash, single father Vash, kids, childcare

Word count: 3.6k

Author's Note: Seems like my only goal in life is making @biancalattei cry. But you brought it on yourself. This is a touch more lighthearted than the previous one, but still, it's mostly pain and should be enjoyed with a healthy side of sad music. that's just my opinion.

"Hold on. Just hold on. You will meet the babies. You have to. We have our whole lives ahead of us. We will be a family. We will see them grow up. You and I will get through this together. Just hold on." Vash's voice has lowered to a whisper as he presses his face into your hair. "We will make it through this storm."

This can't be happening. He clutches you tightly, his arms wrapped around your unmoving body. The moment your grasp on his human hand loosened, he knew that something was terribly wrong, so he did all he knew and pulled you closer. It is just the two of you in the empty room. Vash's ears refuse to hear the voices of the nurse and midwife; the cries of the children are drowned out too. The howling of the wind is nothing more than a faint whisper. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

"They will run around the house, and we will play hide and seek until the sun goes down," he continues to whisper to you, the words slurring together where sobs want to escape. "Our home will be filled with laughter and sunlight. And we will live happily ever after. We will see to it that they never have to feel the hardships we did. You are my beautiful wife. I love you more than words can express. You have to hold on."

Vash repeats the same things over and over again, begging you to stay with him, to hold on for a moment longer. He holds on to hope until the moment the midwife speaks the truth, which he couldn't accept. You are gone. You never got to meet your children, the twin babies you had looked forward to meeting all these months. Anything he might try to say get drowned out by his sobs. Tears stream down Vash's face as he presses his cheek against the top of your head. The only sound in the room is his heart-wrenching cries of grief. He rocks back and forth, still clutching your lifeless body and holding you in his embrace. This cannot be true. How could you be gone? This has to be a lie, an illusion, a nightmare.

Vash cried in disbelief and grief. He hoped that dawn would never come because he is incapable of facing the rest of his life without you, no matter how long or short that might be. If the day breaks, it would mean that tomorrow has arrived, and he would have to confront reality without you by his side. He knows that he can't bear that thought. The screaming sobs scratch his throat and echo throughout the clinic, a haunting reminder of the void you left behind.

Vash suddenly sits up in bed, covered in sweat, and he wipes the tears from his face. It's still dark outside, and in a way, he is glad for the hungry cries of the babies in the other room, for they woke him up from the nightmare that, sadly, is a replaying memory. He swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushes himself up with a grunt. He is alone in the house with the twins. Luida went back to Home to take advantage of the cold sleep, and Milly and Livio returned to their own house too. They still visit during the day to make sure everything is alright and to help out with the twins, but Vash has now completely stepped into the roles of both mother and father.

He is still half asleep as he drags himself to the kitchen to prepare the milk bottles for the twins. The cries make his gut twist painfully, but he unfortunately only has two arms and can't comfort both of the twins at the same time while preparing their meal. He tries to hurry and finally manages to settle into the recliner with both the children to feed them. He thinks back to before he lost his powers, before his hair turned raven. Back then, he was able to do everything effortlessly, and while he got tired, he didn't get as exhausted as he does now. The hunger didn't hurt him as much either, and he barely noticed the sticky heat. Being truly human is tiring, but he has no choice but to brave through it and keep pushing forward, both for the children and you.

Things have settled into a rhythm; the first few months were the hardest, but now the twins just need to be fed once during the night. Vash tries to remember what he and his brother were like at that age; they grew up rapidly, and while he admired Rem for raising two kids by herself, he realized just how different human babies are. He was already speaking at that age and walked around by himself, while there was a long way to go until his darlings will start to crawl.

The little girl settles nicely into the crib after the diaper change, but the boy remains fussy. Vash holds him gently, with the baby's head on his bare shoulder. He bounces the twin lightly and taps on his back, but the cries don't stop. Vash paces around the room, shushing the child to settle him down, but nothing seems to be working. Suddenly, he hears laughter from the crib under the window. Vash goes closer to look at the little girl, and as he turns to her, the boy quiets down. The baby on her back still giggles, looks past Vash to the wall behind him, and reaches out her hands. The baby in his arms starts giggling too, but as he turns to look behind him, there is nothing but a chest of drawers filled with baby stuff. There are no toys or funny shadows in sight. As he keeps looking, the boy gets fussy again, and Vash carefully turns him around. He calms down immediately.

"What is going on?" Vash mumbles to himself as he settles the baby into his crib. Both seem content and start to yawn soon after. Their eyes largely remain fixed on something on top of the piece of furniture.

Is that really you? Part of him denies the possibility loudly. You don't look like that. Your skin is vibrant, your eyes are bright, and your smile warms his heart. The woman in the coffin resembles you, but her eyes are closed, her expression is neutral, and her skin is dull. He was never supposed to see a sight like this. You were supposed to outlive him in every scenario. How can he bury his beloved wife? How can he accept that once the lid is placed over your resting body, you will be lowered into a deep and dark grave, and he will never lay eyes on you again?

He keeps his blurry gaze on you, as if waiting for a miracle. Vash isn't sure if he has stopped crying since the day at the clinic. He doesn't see the crowd of mourners around him. It is just him and the coffin you lay in. He dreads the moment he has to say goodbye. The pain of loss feels like a physical weight on his shoulders; it wants to press him down to the ground and keep him there forever. Would it be so wrong to lay down beside you and face the future together? He doesn't want to be left behind. He knows he can't do that. Not here, not now.

One by one, faceless people stop in front of him. They shake his hand, they pat his shoulder, and they hug him gently, but he doesn't feel any of it. He is just numb with sorrow; it doesn't feel real. Their condolences fall on deaf ears, and he can't even truly bring himself to turn away his gaze from your body, lying there so still. He is lost in a sea of grief and disbelief. He watches as the people move to you, each one offering you tender words and well wishes as they honor your life.

Vash would remain standing there for the rest of his life, unable to move a single inch, if a hand didn't push him forward. It was Brad, signaling to him that it was time. Vash takes careful steps forward to stand beside the simple metal coffin. You lay in it, surrounded by white fabric, peaceful and unmoving. Vash takes a deep breath to steady himself before reaching out to touch your cold hand. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of your absence. As he stands there, memories flood his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter you shared.

"If only I could have you back. I wish I could have you until I can put into words how much you mean to me. How much I love you. You would live forever because there are no such words. You were sunshine, and now there is only darkness. I couldn't save you. You were my everything." Vash can't hold back the tears anymore, and a sob escapes him. He wipes his face into the black fabric of his sleeve. The twin suns set on the scene, painting the sky with hues of red and orange. As dusk creeps near, candles light among the mourners, casting a warm glow over the desert sand.

"I never thought this day would come," Vash continues quietly as he clutches your hand, "where I have to lay you to rest. I thought you would be here forever, like the moons and the stars, a guiding light even in the darkest of nights. You will never be forgotten, and you will take my heart with you on this long journey. It is so very hard to say it, but I must." He sobs again, frantically wiping away the tears and snot. "This is our final goodbye. And for one last time, I get to tell you: I love you."

Vash bows down and presses his lips against your forehead, where he has left a million kisses before. As he stands up, he takes a deep breath and turns away, his heart heavy with the weight of his words. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks away, leaving behind memories that will forever linger in his soul. As he stands among the others, his hands shake too much to hold on to a candle; instead, he uses them to bury his face, muffling the sobs that press out of his spasming lungs. Someone holds him, their arm around his back, but he does not know who. He barely sees the lid being placed on your coffin, sealing you away forever. The world has gone dark, and he is lost in his grief as you are lowered into the ground, never to return. Vash remains there even as the sand is piled on top of your grave and the people surround your mound with candles before leaving. The flames flicker in the darkness, casting long shadows on the desert landscape as Vash kneels before your grave and sobs, much like the day you died.

His hand is lifted, and something nuzzles into the crook of his elbow. He has to blink a few times to clear his eyes and see his daughter settle in against his side. She looks up as he shifts slightly, and pain flares in his heart as the face looking at him is so much like yours. He recognized you in your daughter the first time he looked at her, and the resemblance has only grown stronger over the last two years.

"Don't cry, daddy!" she says, pulling out a teddy she had brought with her. She throws it on Vash's chest before nuzzling more against his arm. Vash pulls her closer to his side.

"Daddy wasn't crying. He was just sweating." He lies, not wanting his kids to see him like this. . His heart aches at the thought of them worrying about him. He wipes his eyes quickly into his other hand, only to hear pattering feet approach the bed in the dark room. Without saying anything, the older twin climbs into bed and crawls closer to Vash. He settles in against his dad's other side, pulling a cat stuffy closer against his cheek.

"I seep wit daddy too!" he says, throwing an envious look at his sister over Vash's chest.

Another painful reminder of a person he wasn't able to save. As he looks at his young son, he can't help but see the face of his brother. He knows that in reality it is his face looking back at him, but still, the reminder is there, making his gut feel heavy.

"You should both be in bed, asleep." Vash says softly as he holds them both close.

"I wan seep here!" The little boy exclaims and nuzzles more into the warmth of his father's chest.

"Me too!" answers the other kid with a stare so resolute that there was no arguing. She looked so much like you, it was uncanny.

"Alright, just for tonight. You do have your own beds, and this is daddy's bed." He looks tenderly at his two kids, happy to be here in this moment with them. "But no tomfoolery! I mean it, you two. Close your eyes and go to sleep."

He tucks the twins in and leaves his protective arms around them, gently stroking their backs until they fall asleep. He remains awake for a little bit longer, thinking back to the bittersweet memories he has of you. It is hard to believe that this grief will ever truly go away. Every day, he thinks about you, missing you with every breath. He can only hope he does justice to you in his own life. He tries his best to raise the kids you brought into this world, hoping that they will grow up to be just as kind and loving as you were. He still feels guilt for how their lives began and how he nearly abandoned them completely in hopes of keeping them safe. He carries the weight of his mistakes, but he finds solace in the fact that your love continues to guide him, even in your absence. Despite the pain of losing you, he is determined to honor your memory by being the best parent he can be for your children.

He slipped into a dreamless slumber and woke a few hours later, when morning had arrived and filled the room with golden light. He looks over to the empty side of the bed where you used to lay, feeling a pang of sorrow in his heart, but the dark hair of the kid to his left caught his attention. The little boy turns in his sleep, and that's what woke him up in the first place. His peaceful expression brought a smile to his face. On the other side, his daughter uses his forearm as a pillow; her black locks look like a mess, and Vash already knows it will be a struggle to get that sorted out. She has the habit of hiding all the combs in hopes she won't have to brush her hair. One of the little ponytails is sticking up at a strange angle, and the other is barely holding on on the other side.

He has his little family, and while you aren't with them, you are still in his heart. He wonders if he should visit you today, take the kids with him, and say hello. He continues to contemplate the decision, knowing it could bring both happiness and heartache. The main question is if he can keep from sobbing right then and there; he wouldn't want to cry in front of the kids. His thoughts stray to breakfast just as his son lifts his head from his arm and rubs his eyes with his little fist. "Good morning," Vash says quietly as he smiles at his son, hoping to hide the pain inside.

On the other side, his little girl makes fussy sounds as she turns, still half asleep. Vash leans down to gently kiss the top of her head, knowing that he has to be strong for his children despite the turmoil in his heart.

It turns out to be a slow morning. It takes time for the kids to completely wake up, and even more time for Vash to negotiate with them to get the morning routine going. The prospect of pancakes is what gets them all out of bed. Vash gets the twins ready for the day to the best of his abilities, but the nightmares are taking a toll on him. He could lay back down and sleep for the whole day, but he knows his family needs him to keep going. After a quick nappy change and dressing the children, he leaves them to play in the living room, in his line of sight, where he stands in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

As usual, the play that begins rather gently quickly turns into roughhousing and loud laughter as the twins chase each other around for one reason or another. As the chaos escalates, he can't help but smile at their antics. This is how he imagined things to be—a house full of giggles and love. It is just missing you. He longs for the day when you'll join in on the fun and complete their little family, but he is well aware it will never come. There is a tiny part that still feels as if you could walk through the door at any second and make everything right again.

"Hey! No running in the kitchen!" Vash calls out a little sternly as the twins start to chase each other around the dining table. Vash is worried he might have overdone it with that tone of voice and will now have two screaming toddles on his hands, but to his surprise, the two babies come to him, trying to peer up onto the stove with wide, curious eyes. As they are too short to see anything interesting, they resort to playing peek-a-boo with each other, hiding behind Vash's legs. They both hold on to his pants tightly, and soon enough, hang off them. Vash is glad he wears his belt tight nowadays, or they would have fallen down long ago.

"Hey now, kids! Daddy is making pancakes on the hot stove! You shouldn't be playing here!" But the kids continue to dangle from his pants, giggling and swinging back and forth as they peek at each other. "You must be hungry. I will give you your plates if you let go."

Vash's negotiations fall through, and instead the twins cling on to his leg, using his feet as seats. Vash lets out a deep sigh and surrenders to his fate. He resigns himself to the fact that his children are as stubborn as you and him put together. They will never let go. So he twists around to the best of his abilities, reaching out the plate filled with pancakes to place on the table and pushing anything potentially dangerous farther away from the edge of the counter. He lifts his legs, one at a time, with the children still clinging on, and makes his way to the cabinet with the plates. As he sets their plates down, he can't help but smile at the sight of his children's determined faces. Despite the chaos, he wouldn't have it any other way.

With some bribing in the form of syrup and whipped cream, he settles the kids into their high chairs, where they start to fool around with the plates they were given before they see the stack of pancakes waiting for them on the table. Their little grabby hands immediately stretch out towards the treasure that lay just out of reach. Vash smiles as he gives the twins a knowing look, already anticipating the mayhem that would ensue once the pancakes were within their grasp. Predictably, breakfast is just as turbulent as it is most of the time, but this time it is more sticky on account of the syrup. The twins giggle with delight, thoroughly enjoying the mess they had created, but are not that thrilled by the prospect of a bath.

Vash's life is not easy. Despite the sweet moments, there are all the sleepless nights, the nightmares and worries, and two sugar-high toddlers running around the house. His home is filled with noise and life, despite the shadow of death looming in the dark corners. Not a day goes by where he doesn't wish he could share it all with you—the joys and heartaches. He longs for your presence to fill the void in his heart; he misses you with every breath he takes. Yet in some way, it feels like you never left, like you are still watching over them all, guiding them through life's challenges, and celebrating their victories. It would explain why the twins first words were "mama", despite them not meaning him. He takes comfort in knowing that your presence is still felt, even in your physical absence. So he continues to do what he can—his best.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

And if you feel like reading more of my dad!Vash, but want to recover from this trainwreck, then I have the perfect thing for you: Little Feet.

[episodeoftv]

Round 2 of 8, Group 2 of 4

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: 5.16 The Body

tw Death of a major character, grief, dealing with the death of a parent

Buffy, Dawn, and their friends deal with the aftermath of Joyce's death.

The purposeful removal of music for the whole episode, the grief portrayed, the portrayals of people with varying amounts of interaction with death. It hits so hard.

This episode killed me. I have never watched anything that has fully emcompassed the feeling of loss and what it's like to experience death close to you than The Body. It is an absolute gut punch in the best way. I actually had to take a week off of watching Buffy to recover because I was so destroyed. 12/10 I don't think I will ever be able to watch this episode of TV ever again

One of the greatest depictions of grief and bereavement of all time. Both formally inventive and unique in its cinematography, sound design, editing etc. while also being an incredible personally affecting emotional experience.

There’s another buffy episode that probably deserves the title more, but I did have to give this one some recognition. For a whacky silly show about vampires, this episode is maybe the realest portrayal of death and grief I’ve ever seen. It’s not just a sad episode that makes audiences cry - I mean it is that - but it’s also this incredible examination of what it’s like to lose someone, and how the world shifts on its axis when that happens. The lack of any non diegetic music is an amazing touch to give this episode a sense of distance from all others. It’s real in a way that’s hard to watch but also unforgettable. Certain scenes and lines will always stay with me and will forever shape my feelings on life and loss.

Avatar: The Last Airbender: 2.07 Zuko Alone

As Zuko tries to make it by in exile without his uncle, he remembers how his father became Firelord and what happened to his mother.

[animezinglife]

Max is a menace.

[reblogdirect]

Thoughts about Book 7 and how the new theories are messing with my head (Spoilers ahead)

You know, when I first started playing twisted wonderland, book 6 wasn't out on JP servers yet so there was basically very little content about Diasomnia aside from the crumbs in the events, yet I was sure of one thing.

Diasomnia was going to be a crazy story.

The moment I learnt more about the four of them, I thought for sure there had been a war between faes and humans, and that either Lilia/Maleficia had cursed Silver in retaliation of his ancestors. There was 0 doubts to me that when we'd reach Diasomnia's book, we were going to get a literal bomb concerning Silver's true past. I KNEW his parents/ancestors would be the Draconias' enemies. I didn't know how it would play out, but that was something that was clear to me.

I was sure that Malleus would overblot because he'd learn of Silver's ancestors and how his parents had died because of Silver's human family.

I thought we had to learn of the past because it would be the cause of Malleus trauma.

But now that we keep on going through book 7, things went down differently, and that kind of confuses me. We're not just discovering Malleus' trauma compared to other books. We're literally getting a glimpse into the past.... We're reliving the past that links so closely Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek as well.

Heck, we're seeing how two kingdoms fell into ruins because of a war, and how it shaped up the future of two different races. And that got me thinking...

Why would Book 7 go to such lengths?

I mean, yeah, ever since Book 1 and Riddle's story, we've slowly gotten lengthier chapters as we progressed through the story. It started to branch out and we got more and more information. We'd get more glimpses of the overblottes, and I thought Book 6 had really gone in deep in the story... Yet Book 7 went even further.

But when you think about it... It's not even Malleus' "story", like it was for the other Dorm Leaders/Jamil/Ortho. He doesn't seem to be aware of how the events truly played out. He was an egg at that time, and I don't even think he knew that he hatched only because of Lilia's love.

We're clearly seeing that Lilia couldn't bring himself to tell a truth that would hurt his sons. And I doubt Maleficia would sit down Malleus and tell him anything about the past. In fact, I think she wouldn't even know that Silver is the Knight of Dawn's child.

So going back to Malleus' overblot. He didn't have a mental breakdown because he found out the truth about his mother's death. He didn't break down because the little human he ended up growing fond of and watched growing up was the son of the man that caused his mother's demise.

He didn't break down because he found out that Lilia knew all of this yet lied to him.

Compared to the other overblottes, he literally lost it at the start of his book. This is my personal thought, but he didn't seem to overblot because he lost it like the other 6. He literally seemed apathetic to me at that moment, and then he seemed to "embrace" his blot. It reminded me of how Idia said to "Ortho" to leave it to his nii-chan before he overblotted, yet we learnt later on that Ortho's death was a deep trauma for Idia. Malleus on the other hand? There wasn't THAT type of factor that caused something to break in him.

Like don't get me wrong, I'm not at all diminishing his love for Lilia/Silver/Sebek or even his fear of being alone and loosing them... But when I look at what we're discovering in Book 7... Just why would he overblot before we even got to the absolutely tragic moments we're seeing? The tragic past HE's witnessing as well??

If Malleus' curse/blessing was so that EVERYONE would live a "happy ending"... If his wish was for the others to be happy... WHY would Lilia dream of this??? Why would Lilia relive some of the most tragic moments in his life when he's supposed to dream happily? We could've just had the cute moments where he raised Malleus, Silver and then Sebek...

There seems to be no reason whatsover for Book 7 to go so far in the story...

Unless they're not actually telling us the story of why Malleus is overblotting...But instead, it's hinting at someone else's story.

I know I'm going all over the place, but I just have to talk about another of my initial thoughts when I started playing. At that time, I was also convinced that Grim was that beast at the start of the prologue, and that he'd end up overblotting or whatever it was that caused him to become like that. I was even more convinced when we learnt that he had a mysterious and ancient curse on him.

When we learnt of Malleus' dad, there was a lot of crack theories that came around saying that Crowley was his long lost dad. I didn't like it at all, not because he's a pathetic man, but because it scared me with its implications lol.

I've always been convinced that Crowley is a manipulator and is hiding weeell his true thoughts/motives. Part of it is definitely because of the sequence we see at the start of the game when it shows him summoning Yuu, yet we've basically NEVER saw him act so seriously later on. He's silly, a coward, and leaves everything to others to fix... But what if that's what he wants others to belive about him? Regardless of who he actually is, I sincerely don't think that a man that has so many ties can truly be so foolish.

I wasn't sure if he was purposely causing the overblots or not, because I sincerely couldn't think of a motive for him.

But now, with Book 7? I can think of a very clear motive, like some theories have brought it up...

Meleanor.

You know, when we heard of Leven and Meleanor a couple of months back, I thought maybe he's the one who had the same fate as Diablo (meaning he got turned to stone/killed) while Meleanor would loose it from the pain.

Yet what have we seen in this chapter? She was still alive, and she has been the one to die first.

So what if as Lilia/Baul & Egg Malleus fled, Levan came only to find the aftermath of the battle?

What if he only found his beloved's corpse, knowing he was too late? What if HE was the one to lose it instead of Meleanor, like Maleficient had in the movie?

If truly Crowley is Levan and is trying to bring back Meleanor, it would explain why he's causing the overblots. It would explain why he's hiding his identity and acting dumb, why they didn't even show us a silhouette of his despite that ugly Henric bastard having a sprite. I mean some could argue that Leah/Leia(?) didn't get a silhouette either despite being the Knight of Dawn's spouse... But let's be real, she's simply not as important as Levan was to Meleanor, Lilia & Malleus.

Part of me thinks of what this theory would imply with Lilia and Malleus. Both of them would be furious and heartbroken, but I think he'd be ready to lose everything if it means getting back his wife. And in the case he fails, I think he would just be willing to face death instead of seeking forgiveness from his old friend and his son.

Anyways I should stop rambling now lol. I just needed to get this out of my chest because Book 7 and the theories with it have literally taken over my thoughts and I just.... keep on thinking. I can't wait to see how

[aliellnea]

The loving theory- Kageyama Tobio

Part 2 of my Kageyama story

Content warning: MANGA SPOILERS, angst, mention of a family members death (that's probably it for now, aside from my very watpad plot and probably my bad english), THE WORST WAY OF CARRYING A PLOT

Not proofread

PART 1

Looking out of your window you watched as the wind gently swayed the trees. Your mind was clearly not on the math homework in front of you. You was definitely going insane since your encounter with Kageyama earlier, but you couldn't get it out of you mind. Did your mother know he would be going to Karasuno? Why didn’t Miwa tell you? How come you hadn’t seen him for the past week at all on the way to school?

With a sigh, you focused entirely on the street. With the sun setting, the night lights were already on, and most people were already home, so it was fairly deserted outside. The house in front of yours had all the lights out, meaning the Kageyamas weren't home yet. You had been there so many times before that you knew the exact floorplan of the house, which was slightly different from yours. Your bedroom window was face to face with Kageyama’s but you made sure the blinds were closed almost all summer so you wouldn’t have to see him but after seeing him today you thought it was useless now.

Glancing at the clock on the desk, it read 7 PM, meaning you had to hurry and prepare dinner for you and your mother. With only one source of income, you lived quite tightly, but you made it work, even if it meant sacrificing time together. Your mother had taken on additional work shortly before the school year began, increasing the household income. As a result, there was an established routine where yoy assumed the responsibility for cooking dinner every evening.

“Oh dear that smells wonderful” said your mother from behind startling you slightly, you didn’t ever hear the door.

“Hi mom, how was work?” you said, smiling

“Same as always baby” replied your mother while kissing your head “ Actually, I just ran into Tobio how late do these boys come from practice?” added with wonder in her voice

“Did you know he chose to go to Karasuno?” you lowered the heat on the stove to speak.

“Oh god you didn’t know? I’m sorry baby I thought Miwa or him would’ve told you”

“We haven’t talked in months” you replied in a week tone

Your mother's expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart," she said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay, Mom," you said, forcing a small smile. "you’ve been busy with work and everything."

Your mother gave you a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to the simmering pot on the stove. "Well, let's not dwell on that now. Dinner smells delicious. Why don't you go set the table, and I'll finish up here?"

Nodding, you moved to the cupboard to retrieve the plates and set the table once yo were done you ran to your room to take a jacket and there you saw him, in his room. He must’ve seen the light switch in your room as he looked up directly at you. He was shirtless and combined with his shocked face he waved awkwardly at you. Blushing, you took the jacket and left the room as fast as you could leaving a shocked Kageyama behind.

The image of Kageyama shirtless lingered in your mind, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

Your mother glanced at you curiously but didn't comment, instead pouring steaming bowls of soup into each plate. "Everything okay, honey?" she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, everything's fine, Mom," you replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a bit tired, I guess." your mother gave you a knowing look but didn't press further.

On Monday morning, the rain painted the town. You luckily didn’t encounter Kageyama that weekend after Friday’s incident, but you spent the whole weekend thinking about joining a club. Your first choice was being a manager for the men’s volleyball club. You found the time you spent with Sugawara and Hinata quite enjoyable, and you were in desperate need of friends in this school. However, after learning that he was also in Karasuno, you kind of discarded the idea.

You looked at Kunimi and Kindaichi on the other side of the booth while sipping on your overpriced drink. The two boys were talking about their classes and the club but your mind was everywhere except their conversation.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Kindaichi

“I don’t know, I’ve been thinking of joining a club but…”

“you don’t want to run into Kageyama” interrupted Kunimi

“Was I the last one to know that he was also going to Karasuno?” you said with disbelief “anyway, how do you even know that?”

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t care less where he went” started Kindaichi “I could never play again with someone as selfish as him”

“Yu” you couldn’t help but scold

“You can’t keep defending him. I don’t care what his problem is you even tried to help him and he treated you like garbage”

“Kindaichi calm down, this is not the place for this.” Intervened Kunimi before the other boy could get more worked up “We actually know because next week we have a practice match against them”

“And?”

“Oikawa requested it. Kageyama has to play the whole match as the setter”

“Oh god, can he be more egocentric? Isn’t he old enough to get over whatever issue he had when we were 13?”

“He’s actually quite nice you know. It’s easy to play with him” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes “Okay okay no more Oikawa. Why don’t you join the club? Fuck Kageyama. Didn’t you say that there was also that lousy player? The orange haired one”

“I know but Kageyama was the exact reason I quit last year”

“And I’m still mad about that” said Kunimi.

"Aki'," you said with a hint of affection, a playful glint in your eye. "If you're so eager to kiss me, just say the word," you teased, only to be met with his playful retort, complete with mock puking sounds “Okay maybe I could do like a trial or something but, if I end up being their manager don’t be sore losers when we win”

“Likewise” answered the both of them

Even if you didn’t approve of what they did on their last tournament Akira and Yutaro had become great friends. You also kind of understood why they did what they did because after all Kageyama had been their friend and teammate for two years, they reached their limit that day. They were there on your father’s funeral and made sure you didn’t isolate yourself you were grateful to have them and still be in contact with them after choosing a different school than them.

When you left for home it was already dark outside but since it was a school night the streets were pretty calm. You always liked going on night walks, specially with Kageyama and his grandfather. They started when his health deteriorated and couldn’t join you on your jogs, but those walks became the best part of your days. If you weren’t with your father, you would be at Kageyama’s watching some match on the TV or playing outside so when he died it was also a blow for you. You tried your best to keep Tobio company and try to distract him a little, you thought you were helping him until he snaped that day.

As you approached, you spotted Kageyama walking towards his house, sporting the Karasuno jersey. He looked really good in it; you couldn't help but notice. You've always thought he looked best in darker clothes, especially with his dark hair and pale skin. Suddenly you remembered the sight of him shirtless in his room and blushed a vibrant red. He looked up and caught your eyes as you reached your door.

“I’m sorry” he almost shouted making you jump.

Flustered and caught off guard you let out a simple “Okay” and closed the door rapidly. How the fuck were you supposed to manage the club and see him every day?

[wingedblooms]

The river to Hel

This meta builds upon theories in Peering into a pit of hell, The space between, Forbidden secrets, Flower of life, Blooming dreams, Bright as the dawn, and Heart of the night court. It includes spoilers for hofas, so please avoid if necessary.

In Heart of the night court, I wondered if there could be a doorway to Hel under/on Ramiel that is linked to Temple of Chaos (Wyrd). I’m very curious about the Pass of Enalius on Ramiel, the heart of the land, that seemed to breathe—

like the pit at the heart of Chaos’s (Wyrd’s) temple seemed to breathe.

In the stone illustrations leading to the sacred peak on the Prison island, we see a Helscape beneath the land. Is it possible that the land above mirrors the Helscape below? And could the dark water in the Bog of Oorid, which flows underground, into the sacred peak in the Middle, and into other courts—including the Night Court—be the start of the path on the black river in Hel? A River Acheron Archeron, like @offtorivendell theorized long ago?

Nesta and Bryce make similar observations of the dark waters in both places:

-

The black surface of Oorid is even compared to a mirror, just like the Temple of Chaos seems to mirror the Temple of Wyrd in Midgard. Is Oorid a reflection, near-mirror, of what lay beneath, like sister-glass?

As indicated by the mist, it is a thin place, which means the veil between worlds is thin there. The color of the water may even be from black salt. Bryce and Hunt use black salt in Avallen, combined with water, to travel to Hel in a dream.

Before the land was cursed by Fionn’s death, it was once a sacred place (like the three sister peaks). People used to lay their dead to rest in the bog.

Did its waters, like a solemn stag, once guide souls of the dead to Chaos’s (Wyrd’s) womb at Ramiel?

If this place does mirror, or bleed into, the path to Chaos’s (Wyrd’s) temple, then could the violence of Fionn’s death have defiled it?

Theia and Pelias may have violated the peace and beauty of this sacred place by ruthlessly killing the king who also seemed deeply connected to its land. It withered upon his brutal death, falling into a deep winter.

When he was drowned, Fionn was gagged and bound. What if his soul remains trapped in its watery depths, unable to make the journey home? Perhaps Elain, a lovely fawn with vibrant spring behind her, might be able to guide him to the womb of the Mother, her sacred temple, and right an ancient wrong. Could this act of peace purify the darkness of Oorid and thaw the winter gripping its soul?

[candied-boys]

Another - Rio x F! Reader Part 1

When Emma chooses another, Rio has to go home without her... But there's more awaiting him than just forgotten memories...

Themes: hurt and healing, facing the past, learning to love again, aka angst with a happy ending!

Warnings: angst, Rio route spoilers, eventual smut

“Well, I was hellbent on taking revenge for killing our mother, but it seems fate has taken care of that for me, hasn't it, Valerio?" Emidio laughs in a cold voice you remember all too well in spite of your amnesia.

"You were with her for what, three whole years, and she dropped you like a pebble in the ocean for some prince she's known less than a month. At this point, I think I'd rather let you stick around so I can enjoy watching you suffer than put you out of your misery.”

You only nod. You've changed. Being beside her was like being reborn. You have become a very different man — one who regrets the actions that led to the late queen taking her own life. The most dramatic change perhaps being that you agree with him for once. You deserve this. It is retribution for that which cannot be atoned.

The trip to Benitoite takes a week by carriage. Your brothers bicker. The only discussion you participate in is business prospects and politics when strictly necessary. They tell you the court is more divided than ever. It's unlikely to improve until one of you three is named successor. Throwing your existence back into the running is undoubtedly going to cause more friction.

Her voice is ingrained. You should try your best for your kingdom, your people, and yourself. You only ever wanted to try your best for her. What does it even mean to do what's best at this point though?

Too exhausted to let your thoughts fall down the same rabbit hole again, you instead turn your focus out the window. A wretched mistake.

Brilliance. She is the definition of it. The sea stretches on infinitely in its azure glory. Its shores are the place of your dull, grey nightmares. Its reflection haunts you. It is a place you long to love once more, just like the person you had wished to love it with.

The moon is the single royal witness to your arrival. Attendants unfamiliar pay their respects before ushering you to your chambers — now equally as unrecognizable as the servants. You were presumed dead afterall. You should have expected this much. How long will you feel like a guest in your own home when home is where she is.

What luggage accompanied your journey is little; mostly worthless save for being the vessels of priceless memories. With similar emotion you hesitate to remove the clothes you wear. If left out, they will be taken to wash. The last of Rholodite soil to be scrubbed off along with the remnants of her affection. Perhaps it would be best to burn them instead of wearing them devoid of that last hug.

After a long bath you crawl into the bed. Its grand size, though intended to provide comfort, only serves to emphasize your singular presence. In an abyss of loneliness you pray, perhaps for the first time since the carriage accident, for death to swallow you whole.

Instead cruel exhaustion steals you away, leaving you shipwrecked under a familiar gun-metal grey sky. Rain caresses your heart soothing the ache like salt on a wound as you stare out across the mirror of still water.

The oddly familiar sounds of breaking dawn dredge up your consciousness from the seafloor of dreams. A thousand days have passed since last you were here, not a single one beginning with the call of the ocean, yet the cries of the gulls and the crash of the waves at high tide wash through your being as if you had never left.

You lie beneath the dancing reflection of sunlight on water where it seeps through the cracks in your curtains. It should be beautiful, yet with each shimmering lap of the waves upon your ceiling a longing to drown ripples through your soul.

At length, a servant knocks and enters to help you dress. It's been years since you've worn garments so intricate they require the aid of another. Already exhausted before the day has begun, you make your way to the throne room.

Awaiting your arrival there are the king and his mistress — now queen consort thanks to your malice, so vicious that you shamed the previous queen into suicide. You once thought yourself righteous for avenging your mother's suffering, even if you found no satisfaction in the result. Now you think yourself but a mere fool, a cruel monster, a horrible being unworthy to be called a man.

Stepping over the threshold you move swiftly to kneel at their feet. The entire court of one thousand or more looks on at the scene from your periphery. The king and queen welcome you formally, and you raise your head at last to seek their faces. Time has been unkind, you see. Their heads hoary where they were once lustrous. Their eyes duller than you recall. Their youth replaced with wrinkles. You only have yourself to blame.

Restraint evident in their voices and tears welling in their sapphire hues, they tell you how happy they are to have you home. As true as it is that you are relieved to see them, you are not at all happy to be where they call home for that title belongs to her and her alone.

Upon His Majesty's command you rise. Beside each regent stands an attendant — an old minister at the king’s right and a young lady in waiting by the queen consort’s left. As you answer your parents queries you notice her eyes never leave your form. You pay her no mind. She's obviously new.

“And the fair maiden to whom we owe everything for saving your life?” the king’s voice tugs your attention back to him.

Steadying yourself you answer with none of the emotion you feel, “Is to be married to one of the Rholodite princes.”

He insists that wedding gifts will be sent and invitations for a celebration in their honour will be written immediately. You promised yourself that you would stay true, that you wouldn't turn bitter, that you would bear the pain of seeing her with another man. But you know too well that to have them visit as royal guests will either be false happiness or true agony.

“You will dine with your old man and the chancellors this morning, son. We have much to discuss.”

A curt nod is the only answer you can muster before following him out to the dining hall.

Long hours stretch past lunch and into the afternoon while you navigate the bittersweet memories of your life in Rholodite, the complexities of the bell system, the crowning of the new king, the nuances of the internal politics you witnessed first hand, and so forth until other obligations draw your father away.

Drifting down old hallways, tacking a course your body knows in spite of your amnesia, you find yourself standing in front of your mother's chambers.

As the attendant opens the heavy wooden door, you catch the same profile as this morning — now seated at your mother's side, a work of exquisite embroidery in her lap and needle in her hand.

She stands immediately upon the announcement of your presence, curtseying and bowing her covered head while your mother rises.

You are met with overflowing affection, the hugs and tears your mother held back earlier engulfing you like a tidal wave. Every question you've longed to ask her since bits and pieces of your miserable childhood had begun returning to you months ago pours forth. She soothes your fears, reassuring you that beyond the toll that mourning the death of her only son took, she has been very well.

“But, Valerio, why do you only enquire about my health?” she asks, a pained expression tainting her beauty.

Clasping her hands tightly in yours, you reply in confusion, “Who else should I ask about but my dearest mother?”

You follow her sky blue gaze as it is cast aside. A pair of brilliant hues, moist with tears, hold yours expectantly.

“You do not remember her, do you, my darling?” your mother's hushed tone echoes in your ear.

Turning your gaze back to the queen you answer, “I'm sorry, mother. Truly I do not… Should I know your new lady in waiting for some reason?”

“Valerio…” she pauses, her eyes now equally as watery as the young woman at her side. “This is your wife…”

Part 2

[neonscandal]

Manga With Me: Obscure Head Canons (and Hypotheses) You’d Probably Develop When Reading the JJK Light Novels, Pt 2

Same as before, hypotheses at the end in case you want to keep it light and tight!

Part One

⚠️ Spoiler Warning for Jujutsu Kaisen Thorny Road at Dawn and season 2 of the anime (manga spoilers are vague at best).

Head Canon: The Moral High Ground is Going to Cost You

There's something to be said for sorcerers who operate in secret, careful to not evoke chaos with the existence of their strength and power and that of curses. Moreso when, in the heat of battle, they still factor in the greater good and weigh it against those in immediate danger. We saw it in Shibuya as Gojo used his technique in the presence of countless civilians which still came at a great cost to them. He was a bit more cavalier but the first story focused on Inumaki and his monk-like discipline to never use words carelessly lest he curse those around him.

Curses and curse users are shown to be morally impudent and his careful existence is juxtaposed by a curse user with a similar technique who employs it freely and without giving it a second thought as he tries to capture and subsequently traffick Nobara. Even when backed into a corner, Inumaki is taking hits to avoid accidentally causing harm to Nobara and it does him no favors. This is obviously indicative of a larger theme we see wherein the primary antagonists of JJK are regularly seen frolicking on the beach, playing soccer, playing board games, etc. Meanwhile, the limited stock of sorcerers are regularly having their asses handed to them for the sake of doing the right thing. Another stunning example of this is Nanami Kento when compared directly to Mei Mei.

Head Canon: Perhaps, More Specifically, Emotional Ties to Others Are Going to Cost You

What's funny about this is the fact that this is shown multiple times in a novel that only has five stories. We've already seen it countless times in the anime/manga:

JJK 0 - Yuta's inability to part with Rika curses her.

Season 1 - Megumi saves Yuji or vice versa and it brings about Sukuna and the killing curse upon Tsumiki.

Season 1 - Junpei's mother is used as his breaking point just as Junpei himself is used as leverage against Yuji.

Season 2 - There's something to be said about Riko Amanai and the hopelessness and turmoil her death inspires, whether you want to say Geto was emotionally tied to her or not.

Season 2 - In the story's biggest reveal, we come to realize that Gojo's inability to properly dispose of Geto's body creates a vulnerability Kenjaku is able to exploit.

While the story with Inumaki also ties into this, I think his relationship with Nobara is more proximal and subsequently, his story more or less shows that he is earnest regardless of whose safety is on the line. Emotion being a sliding scale and all, it makes sense that Mechamaru's story is the best example of how, even when there wasn't a physical risk to him, he was still grappling with how best to win a fight against another shikigami user. Mechamaru is uniquely qualified for the fight since his robot body is the only thing that can go into a gas infused curtain. While this is another example of technique matchups, ultimately, it's a far better insight into Mechamaru's presumed pragmatism when weighed against his affection for Miwa. He'd rather potentially gamble a strategic loss than jeopardize a friendship bracelet she'd given him. As for it's impact on the larger story, this heat of the moment desperation to maintain this connection to Miwa is perhaps what later inspires him to be greedier down the line in seeking a new body from Ken!Geto and Mahito and... we see how that turned out.

Head Canon: Gojo is Far More Sentimental Than His Flippancy Suggests

Gojo is constantly on his bull shit. The duality of the strongest sorcerer capable of processing everything who is constantly spouting Digimon references, binging sugary sweets and asking about his colleague's kink satisfaction is my favorite thing, honestly. Gojo cavalierly addresses his responsibilities as a sorcerer, one could argue he's kind of a bad teacher, but he goes out of his way to protect people even if his manner is rude. He point blank told Ijichi to not become a sorcerer lest he be killed which was disrespectful as hell but... the man had a point. Ijichi falls under the purview of Gojo's concern (whether that be as his once kohai or given how useful he is to him now, I won't say) and Gojo pulls strings to make sure that he too is taken care of. Ijichi, the backbone of operations at Jujutsu Tokyo carries that weight unyieldingly because he assumes "it's the least he can do" even though we know that managers actually pave the way for a lot of the goings on in jujutsu society. It's a symbiotic relationship but Ijichi carries every loss, like Yuji's death on a mission, excruciatingly personally. To the point where it wears him down. In the last book, we saw that, following Geto's defection, Gojo recognizes the delicate nature of a person's heart. It's why he entrusts Yuji's mentorship to Nanami. What's interesting about all of this is, if he can see Ijichi's stress and exhaustion, how did he miss Geto's? Maybe that's a burden he also carries. Ironically, I think this harsh way of caring for others is maybe the way of the sorcerers because we see it with Megumi and Nobara in how they treat Yuji.

Head Canon: There's an Obvious Sacrifice of Youth in Jujutsu Society But There's Also Nowhere for Girlhood to Exist

With what we don't see of Mai in the main story, the story that centers on her deciding to go against orders and take on a curse much stronger than her is actually so heartbreaking? Let's start off with the fact that she chose to unnecessarily exorcise a flyhead which is ultimately what forges a connection between her and Yuu, a girl who later became a window for sorcerers. Seems like a small task considering Mai's relative competency but as the story progresses, we get a deep insight into the fact that, the terror Mai had for curses as a kid is still alive and well within her. Whether she can defend herself or not, she is still fearful but she pushes forward "alone" because that's the only choice Maki left her with.

What's interesting about Mai and the Kyoto students is, 1) the sheer volume/concentration of female students compared to Tokyo and, 2) their propensity to attack as a group with the exception of Todo. In JJK 0, Maki remarked that those who are weak tend to have to stick together. I don't mention this as an assessment of the relative strength of Miwa, Nishimoto or Mai (especially since I still think Miwa will get a power up). But this story demonstrates their pack mentality when they were just idling in a cafe like students should but even in not allowing Mai to go after Yuu alone. Their success was because of their reliance on one another but, from what we've seen in Shibuya and what's to come in the culling games... that doesn't bode well for fighters who can't defend on their own.

Mai is a product of one of the big 3 jujutsu families, the Zenin clan being incredibly misogynistic to boot. As such, she is still downtrodden and runs the risk of being admonished even when fulfilling duties in line with what a sorcerer should do. She (and the other girls) are damned if they do and damned if they don't. Additionally, I assume the Kyoto school's tendency to fight as a group is from the influence of Gakuganji (which leads me to think Gojo might be pushing his students a bit more recklessly for the sake of making them stronger). But where there are many characters, specifically adults, who have an outright desire to protect their childhood, I think it's interesting that Mai, Miwa and Nishimoto are doing all they can to hang onto whatever sense of girlhood they can muster. It makes them catty and they seem to espouse some misogynistic ideals of what girls should look like and be but the basis of it is still desperately grasping at something that keeps them soft in the face of terror which, in their own mind, is probably a rebellion to what they know. That and, I think Mai is hyper aware of her weakness. That coupled with her dissatisfaction as a sorcerer ultimately later guides her steps in the resolution of her character arc.

Hypothesis: There's a Reason Gojo is Always Pondering the Figures and Politics of Periods Long Gone

I frequently question what goes on in the mind of Satoru Gojo. He has, for all intents and purposes, all the time in the world to process and compute all the mysteries of the universe. Instead, he asks his coworkers about whether they're caught up on Jump Comics at bars. He's so unserious. But at the same time, he'll immediately follow this silliness with a deep cut like -

"Our precious present rests atop the deeds of our forebears." - Gojo Satoru

He absolutely gets clowned for his random pop culture references and, any time he calls upon a historical reference (of which he seems to be really knowledgeable about), it seems shocking to most of those around him (Shoko notwithstanding). The girls who get it know that Gojo is just as traumatized as Geto. He's just traumatized ✨🤪 where Geto is traumatized 🔪. So this veneer of goofiness belies what is ultimately a really contemplative person and one who holds a clear grievance against jujutsu elders. We know that Gojo telling Megumi about their ancestors locked in battle is obviously something that becomes a critical plot point later (hello, Sukuna showdown which we're not getting into here). It told Megumi he could have power that rivals Gojo's but it was also critical exposition for us as readers. We've also seen that Yuta, a distant, distant Gojo relative is similarly OP and this was established by his ancient connection to Gojo as well. Again, critical exposition into how things fall together when Gojo is no longer on the board. But what I'm hypothesizing is... suppose Gojo had tangential knowledge of Kenjaku this whole time? Kenjaku was clearly wary of Gojo, for good reason, but was Gojo already aware of the existence of the body snatcher? What a reveal that would be.

Hypothesis: There Are Bad Match-Ups But The Best Way To Beat a Cursed User Is With A Stronger Version Of Their Own Technique

So this isn't a comprehensive hypothesis since I know it's only half true. Por ejemplo, in the first two stories Inumaki fought a cursed speech user and Mechamaru fought a shikigami user. The victorious combatants happened to have stronger versions of the shared technique (and maybe a strategic edge). This, of course, lends to the idea that the resolution to this story may lay in the hands of Yuta Okkotsu. Okkotsu can summon immeasurable cursed energy and copy techniques. Who's gonna check him? BUT, in reality, we also know that there are also, canonically bad matchups. For instance, Yuji and Nobara are bad matchups for Mahito - Yuji's soul is protected in a sense and Nobara's technique allows her to strike spilled blood or discarded limbs/extensions of one's body to injure the main body.

We know Sukuna, at this point, is the big bad that will require taking down but we don't know how at this point. Nobara would of course be helpful given the still outstanding fingers but is tentatively off the board for now (this is a hill I will die on). But, are there other allies who haven't been revealed that will help in taking Sukuna down or will it all come down to Yuta? At this point, Gege wrote themselves into a box they are trying to course correct with the in universe power scale but I'm curious how things will fall.

What do you think? There's a fifth story that is super heartwarming and too sad to write about given the conclusion of season 2 so go read the novel for yourself and let me know your thoughts!