#or it lost itself in trying to comprehend something it cannot

[krash-8]

have you ever sipped the galaxy like tea

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, babies! I must confess that this was a story that I wrote with my instincts, I simply let the characters flow. I love filling it with intensity and adding love, I want this to be, in fact, the hallmark of my writing.

And of course, we are entering the final stretch of this saga :)

so enjoy it a looooot <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST TO INTERACT

Warnings: angst and truth revealed

Summary: Wanda discovers the truth about the necklace, and cannot accept it.

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

SOLIS

The crossing between the multiverses was a storm of colors and impossible shapes, a parade of fragments of realities tearing and stitching themselves as you moved forward. It was a hypnotic and chaotic spectacle, where the unknown seemed to breathe around you, whispering secrets no one could comprehend.

You were in Wanda’s arms, the only constant amid the chaos. The warmth of her body against yours was more than physical; it was a silent promise of safety, a beacon in an unpredictable ocean. Your eyes were closed, but even in unconsciousness, there was something about you that radiated a unique strength.

Carol walked beside you, silent at first, but her unease was evident. Her eyes constantly darted to you, as if trying to decipher a riddle that refused to reveal itself. Time passed, and finally, she broke the silence.

“So…” Carol began, feigning casualness as her gaze remained fixed on you. “She’s really real?”

Wanda didn’t reply immediately. Her full attention was on you, her gaze intense and protective, as though her mere presence could ward off any threat.

Carol cleared her throat, insisting. “You know, it’s not exactly common to see someone cross dimensions carrying another person like they’re a lost treasure. I’m curious.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Wanda finally responded, her voice low, almost a whisper, but laden with something primal. “She’s more than real. She’s everything.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but she didn’t interrupt. Wanda continued, her eyes shining with something that bordered on fervor. “I found her when there was nothing left, when the entire world was against me, and yet... she stayed. She saw me. She gave me something even magic couldn’t bring back.”

Carol let out a small sigh, a mix of understanding and discomfort. “And that’s why you’re willing to do all this? For her?”

Wanda looked at Carol with an intensity that made the Captain shrink back for a brief second. “I’m not willing. I will. Because she’s my light, and no matter what happens… I won’t let her go out.”

The silence that followed was filled only by the hum of realities unraveling around them. Carol looked away, Wanda’s words echoing as an unshakable truth, impossible to challenge. After all, who was she to judge someone who had found such a strong reason to fight?

When the last tear in the multiverse opened, you arrived in a vast, desolate field, where the silence was broken only by the sound of boots from an army standing ready. Strange was at the center of it all, his eyes sharp, and his cloak floating with a purpose of its own. Around him, the Avengers stood prepared to fight, weapons and powers ready to face whatever emerged from the portal.

But when Wanda stepped through, carrying you in her arms, the chaos ceased.

Strange raised a hand, signaling his army to stop. His gaze moved from Wanda to you, then to Carol, before returning to Wanda. There was something in his eyes—not just surprise, but recognition.

“She’s real…” Strange murmured, the incredulity in his voice hanging in the still air.

The field seemed to hold its breath, every hero frozen in a moment of shock as they watched Wanda emerge from the portal, you in her arms like something sacred. The tension was palpable, but Strange remained calm, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his understanding.

The Avengers around him, weapons still raised, began to relax, but only slightly. Natasha stepped forward, her eyes narrowed, analyzing every detail. Steve remained still, his shield instinctively raised. Tony, however, broke the silence with a typical comment.

“Well, look at that, the witch brought a… friend?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes were fixed on you, clearly trying to piece together what was happening.

“Tony,” Steve warned, though even he seemed unable to tear his gaze from you.

“She’s not a threat,” Wanda declared, her voice firm but quiet, like a promise. Her gaze burned with something fierce and unyielding.

Strange took a step forward, his hands clasped in front of him. He seemed to avoid direct eye contact with Wanda, focusing instead on you. “The necklace,” he said finally, pointing to the pendant around your neck. “Where did you get that?”

You opened your eyes slowly, confusion etched across your face as you looked around. Strangers, all of them, and yet… there was something familiar. Wanda held you closer, an almost overly protective gesture, as Strange approached.

“Don’t come any closer,” Wanda growled, her magic crackling in her hands.

“I just want to understand,” Strange said calmly, though his posture was tense. He knew what was at stake. “If what I think is true, she’s not just unique… She’s impossible.”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda’s fingertips blackened, magic already summoned. “She’s real. And she’s mine.”

Strange hesitated, keeping his hands raised in a gesture of peace, but his eyes remained fixed on the sun-shaped pendant around your neck. He spoke slowly, as if weighing each word before releasing it.

“I’m talking about something that shouldn’t exist. A broken line in the fabric of time. That necklace… it’s not just an ornament. It’s an anchor, a link to something beyond our comprehension.” He paused, as if struggling to organize his thoughts. “She… shouldn’t be here.”

“Watch your words, Strange,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and threatening. Her blackened fingers trembled, and the magic around her seemed to pulse with the intensity of her rage. “She is everything that should be here. And you will not touch her.”

Strange looked at Wanda, a mix of pity and caution in his expression. He knew the line was thin, and the witch was teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss. “I’m not trying to take her from you, Maximoff. But you need to listen. Because if what I’m seeing is true, we’re dealing with something that affects more than just you or this world.”

“Stop it,” Wanda interrupted, her voice rising in intensity. “You don’t understand! You think you know because you have books and spells. But this…” She looked at you, her expression softening for just a moment before hardening again. “She’s mine. Every life we’ve lived, every sacrifice we’ve made. This isn’t a mistake, Strange. This is love.”

“Love or destiny?” Strange countered, his eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and reverence. “Because if she is who I think she is, there’s no separating the two.” He motioned subtly to the pendant. “Do you understand what she’s carrying around her neck? That energy isn’t just ancient, Wanda. It’s primordial. It’s the origin.”

Wanda shook her head, stepping back instinctively, as if she could push Strange’s words away. “You’re wrong! It can’t be that. I would know. I would feel it. I would see it in our lives together.”

“But you didn’t,” Strange replied, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Because you couldn’t. Because this isn’t something that reveals itself. It’s something that manifests, in time and necessity.”

Wanda’s disbelief was palpable. She looked at you, searching for some confirmation that what Strange said was absurd, but all she found was your confused gaze, still lost in the whirlwind of emotions and information.

Strange continued, his voice now heavy with gravity. “She is more than a being. She is a point of convergence, something that all cosmic forces recognize but cannot control. And now, Maximoff, she is at stake.”

Wanda pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. “No. You’re wrong. It doesn’t matter what she is to the universe. She’s mine. And no one is going to take her away from me.”

“That,” Strange said, pointing at Wanda, “is precisely why she is different. Because even with all the power and chaos surrounding her, you see her as a person. Someone to be loved, not feared.” He took a deep breath, the tension on his face easing slightly. “And perhaps, Maximoff, that’s exactly what she needs to be right now. Before the rest of the multiverse realizes what’s happening.”

Wanda didn’t respond. She only pulled you closer, her trembling hands tracing gentle lines along your skin as if to reassure herself you were there—whole and hers. But in her mind, Strange’s words echoed like distant thunder, heralding a storm she knew she couldn’t ignore for much longer.

Tears streamed down the woman’s face. “Feared?” she murmured, the word escaping like a broken whisper. Her eyes fixed on your face, even closed in the torpor of sleep, and she felt a pang of despair at the peace in your expression. Peace that, perhaps, she could never truly protect. She held your hands—your youthful skin standing out against hers.

“How could something so pure be feared?”

You were everything to Wanda. Her doll, so precious and untouchable. Her bright sun, chasing away the shadows of her own soul. When everything around her was darkness, you were always the light guiding her back, the anchor keeping her connected to her humanity. But now, Strange’s words seeped in like poison, awakening something she didn’t want to face.

Why you?

She knew there was something about you, something no one else understood. The way your presence seemed to alter the very fabric of reality around you, as though the universe bent to accommodate you. The way you bore the weight of chaos magic, not as an imposition but as if it were a natural, almost organic, part of you.

You couldn’t be just human.

The idea was unbearable, but Wanda knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Every word from Strange, every unspoken suspicion, every piece of evidence pointed to a greater secret buried deep within your existence. A secret Wanda feared to uncover because it meant you weren’t solely hers.

But you were. You had to be.

The sound of boots echoing behind her broke her train of thought. Strange had moved closer, his gaze now a mix of curiosity and something heavier, almost sorrowful. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wanda raised her hand, a silent warning.

She wasn’t ready to listen.

Carefully, Wanda adjusted you in her arms and stepped back, keeping your presence as a shield between you and the world that seemed determined to unravel you. Her mind was a whirlwind of denial and fierce protection, but in her heart, a doubt grew like a shadow.

“What is she?” Wanda asked, her voice low and hoarse, almost a whisper swallowed by the vastness around her. She didn’t lift her gaze, fixing it on you in her arms as if the answer might lie in the softness of your breathing or the warmth of your skin.

The tears at the corners of her eyes glimmered under the magical light still hovering around, and even without meeting them directly, no one there could doubt what was happening: Wanda Maximoff, the most feared and powerful woman they had ever known, was fragile.

Stephen Strange saw it. He saw the vulnerability hidden in the witch’s careful gestures, in the trembling fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He saw the weight she bore, the duality of her strength and fragility.

Slowly, he straightened his posture, squaring his shoulders. The gravity of the moment demanded more than words; it required a delicacy he rarely needed to wield.

Stephen took a deep breath, adjusting his stance as every eye in the room turned to him. The silence was palpable, broken only by the distant sound of held breaths. Wanda continued to hold you in her arms, her gaze fixed on Strange, daring him to say something that could explain the impossible.

“There are stories, legends even, lost in the darkest corners of the Multiverse,” Stephen began, his voice firm but laden with reverent respect. “Stories of the Guardians Infinitum. They are not merely powerful beings. They are... embodied concepts, tied to the fabric of the Multiverse. Each of them belongs to a clan, and each clan is responsible for maintaining the fundamental balance of existence.”

Thor crossed his arms, his surprise evident. “Guardians of the Multiverse? I’ve not heard of them in Asgard.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Strange replied without breaking his gaze from Wanda. “They existed before Asgard, before Odin. Before even time had form.”

“And her?” Natasha asked skeptically, leaning forward. “Where does she fit into this?”

Strange hesitated, as if the words were difficult to articulate. “She... is a Solis. The rarest of all. The clan that represents the Sun, the primordial essence that fuels everything that exists. They don’t just create; they maintain the cycle of infinity. Pure cosmic energy, capable of shaping realities and undoing even the most absolute forces, like death.”

Tony let out an incredulous laugh, breaking the silence. “So, what you’re saying is she’s a walking cosmic battery? Fantastic. Just tell me she has a self-destruct button.”

“Shut up, Stark,” Wanda snapped, her voice sharp as a blade, but her gaze remained fixed on Strange.

Stephen ignored Tony and continued. “The Solis clan was... lost. Almost all of them were destroyed by Thanos. He feared them because they represented something he could never control: primordial energy, the force that keeps the Multiverse connected. But now...” He looked directly at you, still unconscious in Wanda’s arms. “She is the last. And that makes her a target.”

Thor frowned, his expression growing serious. “If the clan was lost, how is she here? How did she survive?”

“That’s what I need to find out,” Strange admitted. "Wanda?" He raised an eyebrow at Wanda, encouraging her to say something.

“Her parents. In every life, they were already gone, and Y/n was either raised by adoptive parents or in orphanages. In this life, she told me about a fire. It was massive, violent. She and the necklace were all that was left.”

Thor crossed his arms, gripping his hammer tightly as if feeling the weight of the story unraveling. “A fire that destroys everything... and spares only a child and an artifact? That doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”

“It isn’t,” Strange replied, his voice grave. He stepped into the center of the room, his cape softly flowing behind him. “The Solis were known to protect their descendants with extreme measures. Even in moments of annihilation, they created mechanisms to ensure their essence—their power—would never be entirely lost.”

Tony scoffed, breaking the silence with a cynical laugh. “Right, so we’re talking magical inheritance now? Some kind of cosmic insurance policy? Because, frankly, this sounds straight out of bad fiction.”

Natasha shot Tony a cold look but said nothing. Her focus remained on Wanda, who held you even closer as if fearing someone might snatch you away. Wanda seemed lost in thought, but her hands trembled slightly, betraying the storm inside her.

“It’s more than that,” Strange said, ignoring Tony’s comment. “The clans were masters of manipulating existence itself. It’s possible her parents channeled everything they had to protect her, sacrificing their own lives in the process. The necklace she carries... it’s not just a keepsake. It’s a link. An anchor for her power.”

Wanda finally looked up, her tears dried but her eyes still shimmering with conflicting emotions. “So, you’re saying this wasn’t an accident? That she survived because they wanted her to? For... what? What kind of life is that?”

Strange held her gaze for a moment before answering. “I don’t know if it was a choice or desperation. But what’s clear is that the fire wasn’t just an accident. Someone knew what she was. And they tried to erase her before she could realize her potential.”

The silence that followed was so heavy it seemed to fill the entire space. Thor appeared to be digesting the information, while Natasha watched Wanda’s every move, ready to intervene if necessary. Tony rubbed his temples, visibly uncomfortable but without a joke to lighten the mood.

Thor finally broke the silence, his deep voice resonating through the room. “And the necklace? Does it hold that power too?”

“Not exactly,” Strange said, stepping closer to Wanda. “The necklace is a channeler. It stabilizes her energy, prevents her from consuming herself. Without it...” He looked directly at Wanda, as if willing her to grasp the weight of his words. “Without it, her power would be chaotic. Unstable. And devastating.”

Unconsciously, Wanda pressed the necklace against you, as if Strange’s words had confirmed her worst fears. “She won’t lose it. No matter what.”

Strange nodded slowly, but there was something more in his expression, something he hesitated to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice lower. “Wanda... the necklace might also be the key to something much greater. Something not even the Guardians of Infinity could fully understand.”

Wanda’s gaze hardened. “What are you trying to say?”

Strange hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’m saying her power might not be complete yet. And Seline... the child... she has a destiny too. It’s not just the Solis bloodline running through her veins. It’s your magic as well. Chaos. A cycle within a cycle.”

Wanda didn’t respond. She simply held you closer, her eyes fixed on the emptiness ahead as if processing the weight of everything she had just heard. The room was tense, and even Tony was at a loss for words this time.

What no one noticed was that, in the corner, a small golden flame danced on the edge of the necklace, pulsing softly as if alive and listening to every word.

Standing abruptly, her breath uneven, Wanda tried to compose herself. “And what am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Leave her here,” Strange said plainly.

Wanda laughed, but there was no humor in her voice; it was sharp, dripping with irony and despair. The room fell silent as her magic began to thrum in the air, red energy crackling with intensity. Everyone held their breath, watching the witch who seemed on the verge of exploding.

“You think I’m going to leave her here? With you?” Wanda gestured, her voice filled with disdain and disbelief. “In another universe, surrounded by strangers who would never understand what she is? Who would never protect her like I would? You’re insane, Strange.”

Strange remained calm, but his expression was serious. “Wanda, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for her, but listen. Here, I can study her, help her channel her powers. If she’s as powerful as she seems, she’ll need control. Guidance.”

“She has control,” Wanda snapped, her anger boiling over in her words. “And I’m the only guidance she needs!”

“Wanda—” Strange tried to reason, but before he could continue, she raised her hand, and with a swift motion, flung him against the wall. The impact was loud, making the shelves tremble as books tumbled to the floor.

“Only I can protect her!” Wanda roared, her magic crackling around her, transforming the space into a storm of chaotic energy. Natasha stepped forward, ready to act, but hesitated when she noticed something.

It was your voice, so soft it was almost a whisper amid the chaos, that cut through the air like a blade. “Wanda? What happened?”

The room froze.

You were awake, your eyes blinking in confusion as you looked around, vulnerable and so small you seemed to shrink within the vastness of the unfamiliar space. “Why... is everyone yelling?” Your voice trembled, each word an effort.

Wanda turned to you instantly, her expression shifting from rage to something softer, almost broken. All the energy around her seemed to wither, as if your very presence was a balm to the storm inside her.

“You’re awake...” Wanda murmured, kneeling beside you. She pulled you close again, one hand gently stroking your head while the other clutched the necklace around your neck, shielding it from every gaze in the room.

Strange, still recovering from the attack, remained silent, watching. The golden flame on the pendant glowed more intensely, as if echoing Wanda's promise. But something in the light seemed different... something he knew Wanda hadn't yet noticed.

"Wanda, I..." You tried to speak, but your voice failed, and your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. "I'm scared."

The sound of your vulnerability seemed to break what little was left of Wanda. She closed her eyes, her tears returning silently. "I know," she whispered, her voice laden with desperate tenderness. "But you don’t need to be afraid. I’m here. And no one is going to take you away from me. Ever."

The silence that followed was tense, but Strange knew it was the right moment. He didn’t try to approach immediately. Instead, he stayed where he was, rubbing his sore neck while observing you and Wanda. His eyes fixed on the pendant, glowing softly, before meeting yours.

"You know what that is, don’t you?" he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant. He didn’t want to scare you.

You looked at him, confused, then at the necklace around your neck. Your hands instinctively touched the pendant, its familiar warmth offering a sense of security. "It’s just... it’s just a necklace. It was my mother’s." Your voice was low, as if the words carried a weight you didn’t even know existed.

Strange frowned, not in disbelief, but with cautious curiosity. "Do you feel anything when you wear it? Something... different?"

You hesitated, your fingers still on the necklace. "I... I don’t know. Sometimes it feels alive, like it has a heartbeat of its own." You looked at Wanda, seeking comfort in her gaze. "But it’s just a necklace, right? Just a keepsake."

Strange took a step closer, slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. "It’s not just a necklace. It’s an artifact from a clan that shouldn’t even exist anymore. The Solis Clan. And you... you’re proof that it still does."

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What does that mean? What’s really happening?"

Strange took a deep breath, realizing he needed to be direct. "The Solis Clan was responsible for maintaining primordial energy, the force that connects everything in the Multiverse. They were powerful, but also dangerous. And for reasons no one fully understands, they were wiped out. Or at least, that’s what we thought."

Your eyes widened. "Wiped out? Why?"

He hesitated but continued. "Because the power they carried was too immense. So much so that it could destabilize everything—every life, every universe. The kind of power people fear because they can’t control it."

"So you think I’m like them?" Your voice trembled.

"You’re not like them," Strange corrected. "You are one of them. The last. Which means, somehow, you survived what destroyed your clan. And the necklace—it’s connected to that. It protects you. Or maybe, it protects the power inside you."

Your hands fell, your eyes wide in shock. "I don’t... I don’t want to be dangerous. I don’t even know what you’re talking about."

"I know it’s a lot to take in," Strange said, his voice gentler. "But you need to know. You need to understand what this means. Because, with or without your consent, that power is in you. And there are people out there—things out there—that will want to use it. Or destroy it."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No. I’m not that. I’m not a monster."

"You’re not a monster," Wanda intervened, her voice firm and laden with emotion. She cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. "You’re mine. And no one is going to hurt you. Not while I’m here."

Strange watched the scene, his expression a mix of understanding and concern. "Wanda," he began, but was cut off.

"Don’t say another word," Wanda snapped, her voice cold. "She’s scared enough already. Do you think explanations and theories will help? They won’t. She’s not an experiment for you, Stephen. She’s a person. And she’s staying with me."

You looked from Wanda to Strange, trying to process everything. His words echoed in your mind: power, danger, clan. But it was Wanda’s voice that seemed to anchor you, like a beacon in the storm.

"I just want to know who I am," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

And in that moment, Wanda realized that despite all her love and protection, perhaps you needed to hear more truths than she was willing to accept.

Hours later, Strange offered a room in the tower. Wanda hesitated; leaving you there, so vulnerable, in a place that wasn’t your home, felt wrong. But you were exhausted, your eyes barely able to stay open, and reluctantly, she agreed.

Now, Wanda stood before a mirror in the room, her face illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. Solis. The word seemed to vibrate in the back of her mind, laden with meaning. Guardian of Infinity. Wanda had always known love was complicated, but this... this was a destiny she had never imagined.

If she had enemies before, she now had an army of threats.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her thoughts. You entered, your hair still damp from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that seemed too big for your small frame. Seeing Wanda, you smiled shyly and approached. Without a word, you gently kissed her shoulder, a soothing gesture that made her tense shoulders relax slightly.

"Where are the boys?" you asked, your voice soft and concerned but clearly tired.

"With Agatha," Wanda replied, straightforwardly.

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "Oh. So Professor Harkness… she—"

"Knows everything? Yes." The answer came quickly, but then Wanda’s voice softened, almost thoughtful. "She helped me at the beginning of all this. To understand my magic. She saw things in me that even I didn’t understand."

You were silent for a moment, absorbing the information, but you couldn’t hold back your next question. "And… and what happens now?"

Your voice came out short, almost breaking, as if the answer was something you were afraid to hear. Wanda turned to you, and this time her eyes were steady, full of certainty.

"Now, we’ll find a way. Because this is bigger than the two of us," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

Before you could ask what she meant, Wanda extended her hand and placed it gently on your belly. You froze, holding your breath.

"This is..."

"Seline," she murmured, a small but tender smile forming on her lips. "Yes, my love. She’s here. Our Seline."

Tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. Your whole life, all you had ever wanted was this: a family to love, protect, and call your own. Now, against all odds, it was happening.

Wanda wiped away a tear that rolled down your cheek and held your face in her hands. "I know it feels impossible. I know it’s a lot. But you’re not alone. We’ll do this together."

You smiled through the tears, your hand covering hers. "No matter what happens, Wanda. I’ll protect them. I promise."

Wanda’s eyes softened, but there was a fire in them—a resolute determination. She leaned in and kissed you, gentle but with an intensity that said everything words couldn’t express.

Outside, the world was on the brink of a storm. But there, in that room, under the moonlight, there was a sliver of peace. It wasn’t just chaos—it was creation emerging from it. And both of you knew, with all certainty, that you would do whatever it took to protect this new life—this family you were building.

It was a blessing. It was a miracle. It was only the beginning.

The entirety of your life had felt adrift, rootless, homeless. The world seemed vast, empty, an infinite expanse where you were but a forgotten particle. But now, as you looked at Wanda—your light, your strength, your reason—and felt the warmth of the silent promise between you, something shifted within you.

That emptiness was filled. Not with magic, but with love. A love that pulsed in the walls of that house, in the laughter of the children you called your own, in the knowing glances exchanged in the quiet of the night. A love that turned chaos into purpose and destiny into a shared choice.

You had never understood what it meant to belong until this moment. Until you felt the weight of a mutual promise, of a future you would build together, of a family that was as imperfect as it was unbreakable. The infinite, which had always seemed so cold and distant, was now warm, embracing—and it was yours.

You looked at Wanda, at the soft curve of her smile, the strength she radiated. There lay the answer you had always sought. It wasn’t about being the Guardian of Infinity. It wasn’t about the powers you possessed or the battles you had fought. It was about the love that finally anchored you. With Wanda by your side, with Tommy and Billy in your life, with Seline growing within you, you felt alive for the first time. Not a life that chose you, but one you had chosen for yourself.

You were whole. Not because you had found a destiny, but because you had created a home. And that night, as the moonlight bathed the two of you in a silvery glow, you knew you would shine. Not just as the Guardian. Not just as a survivor. But as someone who had finally learned what it meant to be loved.

It was enough to realize that this thing called infinity had always been inside you. And now, it was brimming with love.

~*~

Tag list <3

I'm crying with a piece of bread in my mouth u.u

So good to see R building a safe home, and that's what I wish to for all of us.

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@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

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[mcflymemes]

INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE (1989) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

i hate these guys.

this is a new experience for me.

it happens to me all the time.

you lost today, [name]. but that doesn't mean you have to like it.

may we go home now, please?

i've got a lot of fond memories of that dog.

he sticks out like a sore thumb. we'll find him.

does anyone here speak english?

what are you hiding?

archaeology is the search for fact, not truth.

forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the world.

we do not follow maps to buried treasure, and "x" never... ever marks the spot.

70% of all archaeology is done in the library. researching. reading.

we cannot afford to take mythology at face value.

help me get us out of here.

are you kidding? i made all that up.

she talks in her sleep.

try not to talk.

give me your other hand. i can't hold on.

i can get it. i can almost reach it.

[name], let it go.

those people are trying to kill us.

i didn't know you could fly a plane.

our situation has not improved.

i'm as human as the next man.

i'm like a bad penny, i always turn up.

throw down the gun or the girl will die.

no! don't shoot!

please do what he says!

[name], what are you doing here?

head for the fireplace!

why are you sitting there resting when we're so near the end?

don't look at me like that.

i would have done anything to get it. you would have done the same.

i'm sorry you think so.

i'll never forgive myself.

thank god... it's fake.

look, can we discuss this later?

i came here to save you!

look what you did! i can't believe what you did!

i'll never forget how wonderful it was.

you have chosen wisely.

did you intend to leave us standing on the doorstep all day?

now look, i've gone and caught a sniffle.

don't take that tone with me!

this is the second time i've had to reclaim my property from you.

that belongs in a museum.

why are you trying to kill us?

my soul is prepared. how's yours?

what have you brought?

i'm sorry about your head. i thought that you were one of them.

you came back for the book?

is that what you think of me?

who gives a damn what you believe?

follow me. i know the way.

i find that if i just sit down to think... the solution presents itself.

in this sort of race, there's no silver medal for finishing second.

we didn't talk. we've never talked.

what are you complaining about?

you could go down in history.

you're going the wrong way.

the pen is mightier than the sword.

are you crazy? don't go between them!

my reputation preceeds me.

it would make me very happy.

shooting me won't get you anywhere.

we're well out of range.

you call this archaeology?

we are on the verge of completing a quest that began almost two thousand years ago.

we're just one step away.

since i've met you, i've nearly been incinerated, drowned, shot at, and chopped into fish bait.

we're caught in the middle of something sinister here.

you're a great deal like your father.

how dare you kiss me.

leave me alone. i don't like fast women.

you say this has been just another typical day for you, huh?

you're meddling with powers you can't possibly comprehend.

if only i could have been there with you.

[silvermoon424]

Eternal Erina

Left by @chommission, right by @linyu3u

An anon innocently asked me to talk about my OC Erina's final form, Eternal Erina. Unfortunately, it's impossible to actually explain her deal without also explaining the story of my story/paracosm. Which is, uh, LONG AND COMPLICATED.

For anyone who doesn't want to read the massive incoming infodump, the main plot of my story/paracosm revolves around Erina and her journey from a frightened, troubled child into the savior of her people (mages, aka magical girls and magical boys). That involves becoming a goddess, a concept, and a universal force. So like Ultimate Madoka, basically. If the design didn’t tip you off, my story is HEAVILY inspired by PMMM, lol. 

The details are hidden under this Read More. If you end up reading it, I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!!

Order and Chaos

So basically, magic and life (especially sapient life) is governed by the Rule of Cycles, a mostly benevolent being/law of nature. It is opposed by Chaos, who governs black/chaos magic but cannot create true life, only shadows of itself or People of the Cycle that have been corrupted. Chaos hates RoC because it's envious of RoC's creativity and ability to create life, not to mention that Chaos used to be a part of RoC at the beginning of the universe and wants to once again be one with everything. 

Mages have existed for billions of years, all across the universe. Where there is sapient life, there is magic. Mages are born when they resonate with the Rule of Cycles and are granted a wish/miracle. But if they fall into despair or fail to replenish their magic they will become Wraiths, beings of Chaos (again, like magical girls and Witches from PMMM).

Also, if you couldn't tell by the names, the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are basically Order vs Chaos personified. This is inspired by the Stars arc of Sailor Moon and the ultimate villain Chaos.

Also, RoC and Chaos can't fight directly without damaging the fabric of the universe and/or causing mass destruction, so they manipulate beings and create proxies to fight a proxy war. Erina, my main OC, is the RoC's chosen champion and can tap into it directly. Chaos doesn't have a champion (yet) and mostly just sends out powerful extensions of itself, although it does also have corrupted People of the Cycle at its beck and call.

Also, in my paracosm, the RoC was created by an even greater being that created the multiverse who's since basically fucked off and doesn't intervene at all. Soon after the creation of the universe, billions of years ago, Chaos split off from the RoC and they've opposed each other ever since.

The Philosophy of the Cycle and Unnecessary Suffering

However, even though the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are opposed, they are inextricably bound together. Just like as the darkness needs the light to create shadows, the light also needs the darkness to shine more brightly. 

In other words, without evil, we couldn’t truly comprehend good. Without sorrow in the world, there would be no compassion. If we never lost anything, we would never truly appreciate what we have. And so on. The Philosophy of the Cycle- the path that mages spend years walking- is making peace with the fact that sorrow/evil/suffering will not only always exist, but is in fact vital to the very foundation of the universe. 

With all that said, even though suffering and sorrow are inevitable, we must try to diminish it in any way we can. Making peace with the foundations of the universe does not mean totally accepting it the way it is and sitting by passively while bad things happen. Because not all suffering-or even most suffering, one could argue- is inevitable. A lot of suffering is due to unjust systems, systems that need to be torn down and replaced with something better. 

You know, unjust systems like the current mage system.

In my story, being a mage isn’t an immediate death sentence like in PMMM; many mages go on to live full adult lives. However, the death/corruption rate is still around 1/3 to 1/2 of all mages. So even if you don’t succumb to Chaos yourself, you are essentially guaranteed to know and love someone who will or already has.  

I haven’t sat down and figured out how the mage-Wraith system came about; all I know is that it wasn’t always there and is the result of  tampering. It’s been in place so long that there are only a scant few records talking about the before times, but there is evidence it didn’t always exist.

Also, Wraiths aren’t the only Chaos Beings around; mages also fight Demons. Unlike Wraiths, they are mere extensions and creations of Chaos and did not used to be sapient. There are enough Demons around to support the mage population’s need for purification, once again proving that Wraiths are unnecessary and cruel.  

 Some cycles need to be broken. Enter Daenerys.

The Oracle

Daenerys aka Dany (yes, named after that Daenerys!) comes from a noble family of oracles who once reigned as the monarchs of a country of mages before it was destroyed. Dany is the most talented far-seer ever born and, after seeing a vision of Erina as a goddess whose ascension broke the cycle that turns mages into monsters, has dedicated her life to ensuring that future becomes reality. Even the wish that turned her into a magical girl was in service of her goals: she wished to be the fount from which a true hero would be born.

(idk where else to put this, but another major plotline of my story is a government conspiracy. Countless children with psychic powers and/or the potential to become mages were kidnapped and raised in a top-secret research facility. Dany was one of the first victims of this program due to precognition being a very rare ability. Dany (not a mage yet) was deep in despair when she had her vision about Erina. It gave her a reason to live and keep going, which is why she’s so dedicated to Erina and her mission)

Twisting and weaving the threads of fate, Dany carefully manipulates things to ensure the future she saw. She does whatever she can to add onto Erina’s karma (which, like in PMMM, determines how powerful a mage is). Dany also became a mage years before Erina, so a lot of this happened when Erina was still completely ignorant of what fate had in store for her.

Erina’s Entrance

I truly cannot give as much background as I want on Erina herself because this is so fucking long already lol, but I’ll give the main points of her background:

Her mother died about a year after giving birth to her, and she was then raised by her grandmother until she was 5. After her grandmother suddenly died, she was put into the foster care system.

The main story starts when Erina is 12. I’m literally not even gonna try explaining all that goes on lol, but the important thing is that she comes under the care of a young man named Eric who becomes her adoptive father.

Again, due to reasons I won’t get into now, Erina was nearly driven to suicide due to despair (she has C-PTSD and was at a point where she thought the future was bleak). The love and care Eric showed her gave her hope and made her want to keep going, and she is left with the strong desire to inspire hope in others the way he did in her.

Flash forward a bit and Erina becomes a magical girl, using her wish to save Eric’s life in a dangerous situation. She immediately and wholeheartedly embraces her role as a magical girl, seeing it as a way to help others and inspire hope like she so dearly wants to.

Erina finds herself in a found family with fellow mages Luna, Rhae, Iris, and Flora (the other main OCs of my story). She also formally meets Dany and becomes close with her. She also becomes friends with lots of other people (including many mages) and has a lot of fun experiences.

Doppelgangers: The Other “Me”

It’s soon revealed that Erina’s magic has created a purifying barrier around the city she and her friends live in; instead of becoming Wraiths, mages who exhaust their magic will instead summon Doppelgangers (YES I LOVE MAGIA RECORD AND IT’S OBVIOUS). I’ll try to explain the Doppelgangers and their relationship to the overall lore:

Doppelgangers are actually symbiotic organisms from another dimension that attach onto the souls of sapient beings because they themselves lack souls as well as self-awareness and consciousnesses (although they do have intelligence).

Doppelgangers are normally benign, but they respond to their hosts' emotions and can turn into Wraiths if overcome with despair. Again, this did not always used to be the case. It’s implied that Erina’s magic is shielding the city from the effects of Chaos, and therefore Doppelgangers cannot be corrupted.

All People of the Cycle (intelligent life) have Doppelgangers, but only mages have the power to manifest them in our dimension.

Doppelgangers are also manifestations of the host's soul. As such, the host might be self-conscious of their Doppelgangers or outright reject it if they don't like what they see. In turn, the Doppelganger might keep trying to force its user to confront their own demons or flaws in an attempt to help them (basically, sometimes a Doppelganger can be a really intense therapy session lol). 

A Doppelganger is a reflection of its user, and accepting one's Doppel is an act of self-love and self-acceptance. Doppelgangers themselves LOVE their hosts and are unquestioningly loyal to them. However, more than the host’s words, the Doppelganger obeys their heart.

If the host rejects their Doppelganger, the Doppelganger will still come out in the automatic purification field. The mage just won't be able to control it. Outside of the city, they'll turn into a Wraith unless they come to terms with the Doppel and are able to summon it. 

Dany hopes to expand the purification barrier across the entire universe. She plans on doing this by having Erina resonate with the Rule of Cycles once again and be granted a second wish.

The vast majority of mages are only given one miracle. However, mages who have accumulated exceptional amounts of karma and are judged to be worthy are capable of being granted a second wish. This is why Dany has been working so hard to build up Erina’s karma. To help her with this goal, Dany creates a group called the Weavers of Fate.

Oh... It’s a Cult

Yep, the Weavers of Fate are pretty much a mage-based cult based on their belief in Dany’s visions and Erina’s future as a goddess. But can you blame them for latching onto hope when their fate is so dicey? Dozens (and later thousands) of mages work to assist Dany in her goals.

The Weavers of Fate embrace and revere Erina as their messiah, sometimes making her uncomfortable because she just wants to live a normal life with her loved ones. But as the story goes on, Erina becomes more and more convinced that she needs to embrace the role if it means saving her fellow mages.

Side note: at a certain point in the timeline, the existence of mages becomes public knowledge. There’s a lot of sociopolitical drama that I won’t get into here.

Dany’s Changing Priorities

A few years into the timeline (after a LOT of things happen that aren’t relevant to this writeup), Erina shockingly and unexpectedly dies in a climatic battle against Chaos. Dany is utterly devastated and, in her grief, resonates with the Rule of Cycles and makes a second wish (by this point, Dany has wracked up TONS of karma herself). She wishes for a chance to redo things, and is given the ability to go back in time. She can only go back in time at the static rate of a few months, but this gives her enough time to plan ahead for the climatic battle.

Well, long story short, Dany goes through several time loops, failing each one, and gets more and more traumatized each time. Yes, she’s literally Homura but better off in a few ways. Anyway, Dany learns that Erina’s ascension to godhood is not guaranteed; with the more karma she accumulates, she is more and more likely to become a Wraith. And not just any Wraith, a Wraith that could easily destroy the entire world (and later, even the galaxy).

After years of single-mindedly pursuing her goal, Dany decides that all she wants to do now is protect Erina and her other friends. She’s done with being a pawn for cosmic forces greater than her. She feels immense guilt for putting Erina on a pedestal and putting her through all this, as she now deeply loves and cherishes Erina as a friend... or maybe something more than a friend.

Except oops, she’s already done so much at this point that she’s completely screwed over the chances of them all having a normal life. With every reset, things just get worse. But she refuses to give up, continuing to hold out hope even in the face of overwhelming odds.

How It All Ends

Dany finally reveals everything to Erina, expressing her regret and asking for Erina’s forgiveness. Erina says there’s nothing to forgive, as she wouldn’t change the life she’s lived and the experiences she’s had for anything.

The climatic final battle begins. Wraiths from all over the world descend on the city where the story takes place, overriding the purification barrier and causing mass death and havoc. Erina is forced to sit it out due to the dangers of her dying or becoming a world-destroying Wraith, like Dany has seen happen so many times. A lot of the main characters die fighting, and Erina is left devastated.

Despite all that, Erina affirms her belief in hope and her desire to give it to mages- her people. The way she sees it, mages are being punished for believing in hope and wanting a better life, and that is unacceptable. She remembers a dear friend who became a Wraith, along with all of the other people she’s known and cared about who suffered the same fate.

She knows what she has to do.

She has an emotional conversation with Eric, her adoptive father, and thanks him for setting her down this road. Despite his pain and reluctance to let her go, he gives her his blessing. Erina says goodbye to her remaining friends and loved ones, thanking them for showing her how beautiful the world is. There are a lot of awful, terrible things in the world, but the good things it has to offer are enough to make it worth fighting for. Erina knows this better than anyone.

Resonating with the Rule of Cycles once more, Erina makes her second wish: To have the power to grant the promise of “tomorrow” to mages. She ascends to godhood, and the purification barrier becomes a universal law of nature (much like Ultimate Madoka). Unlike Madoka, however, everyone remembers Erina and knows about her sacrifice.

Time restructures itself, and because the Wraiths that killed everyone no longer exist, the people who died in the final battle are resurrected. Erina’s friends and family- ESPECIALLY Dany, who is absolutely guilt-ridden- deeply mourn her loss, but vow to keep protecting the world she loved and cared so much about.

🩷 The End 🩷

I Lied, There’s More

Okay, so that’s the ending of the main paracosm. However, there’s a sequel! I have not spent nearly as much time on this as the main story so a lot is very sketchy. I’m just gonna list out my main ideas:

A little while after the ending of the main story, an alien union/federation/whatever makes first contact with Earth; they were also saved by Erina's actions and want to return the favor by helping humanity out.

Stuff Happens but I don’t know exactly what yet lol. I do know there’s a lot of space battles because that’s just cool.

Erina eventually comes back into her physical form because Dany is in danger (I imagine it's a situation similar to Rebellion; I haven't hammered out the details yet though). There are also Chaos machinations, which could be catastrophic for the universe.

She manages to save Dany and also connects with Chaos itself, making it realize it needs to chill out. Like it can still be Chaos but not so extra.

Erina with her loved ones, also getting to meet the new characters. She is sad about needing to leave them again, but knows her duty is more important.

However, the Rule of Cycles is very grateful for all of Erina’s help; after all, she ended Wraiths and managed to get Chaos to calm down just a bit. The RoC asks Erina if she wants to live out the rest of her natural lifespan in the mortal world. She says yes, because there's nothing she wants to do more than live her life with her friends and family, in the world she loves so much.

I imagine the system her wish made is still in place because, like Madokami, she's both Erina the individual and Erina the force of nature. It’s not great to have Erina the individual missing, but since it’ll only be for a few decades the universe can cope.

In the ACTUAL, FINAL ending, Erina becomes a teacher for young mages. Erina, Dany, and Iris (a main character whose relationship with Erina is also a major theme) officially become a polycule. LOVE FUCKING WINS!

If you made it this far: THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORY, both the story itself and your interest mean more to me than anything!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[theunyieldingsword]

I can’t lose you too

What if in the endgame where Steve decides to go back to Peggy, Bucky wasn’t the only one he was leaving behind.

Steve was peering out the window, the sound of her voice travelled through the room.

“Let me come with you, it will be quicker that way” still with his back turned to her. He said nothing.

Something was wrong, the air felt heavy and now she was growing restless. It wasn’t like Steve to tune her out like this ever. Millions of thoughts raced through her head.

Her hand found his back, she could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

“Steve?”

“I saw her again … when I was in the quantum”

Her steps faltered. It was like time stood still, his voice shivered, the words fell out of his mouth like it was the only thing he could think of right now.

Deep down She always knew Steve was never hers, not even when he whispered sweet nothings while they lay together in their bed. But she loved him like a moth loves the flame, knowing that it will destroy itself if it got to close. The thought of falling never scared her because he was the one breaking it, but right now she realised that there was no safety net, she was falling and will bite the concrete.

After what felt like eternity, she found her voice again,

“You not coming back are you?” The question came out more like a statement. She knew what was going to happen but she was not ready to accept it.

His body grew rigged, back turned like he was hiding from her. He was about to put himself first for once in his life and that was eating him from the inside. Steve closed his eyes hesitant but his voice cut through the thick silence in the room like a knife

“I have to take this chance” for the first time after she entered the room his eyes found her, reasoning came forward like he was trying to convince them both.

It started pouring, the sound of rain brought no comfort.

The world was okay, hard but breathable before this time heist they went on to bring everyone back. she was okay because at least she had him by her side.

But when the dust settled, they won, the great titan was defeated, the avengers once again saved the day, saved the universe this time but at what cost.

she had lost everything in the aftermath, her best friend, the man who was her mentor the people who made her feel human after everything she went through and now she’s about to lose the last string of peace she had left. She was about to lose the love of her life.

“Please don’t” A plea not rip her apart.

“Please” her voice barely a whisper like she can’t even comprehend him not being here.

“I can’t lose you” “please” she could see he has made up his mind

“Listen to me” his hands tried to find hers but she pushed him back, like his touch was burning her skin

“No you don’t understand, I’ve lost everything, I can’t lose you too”

Her words were tearing him into pieces.He loved her, she was the only one who made him feel like himself again. She was the one who ignited the fire that turned cold when he went into the ice trying to save New York. He found his second chance at love with her, But after seeing Peggy again after so many years, he could not take being away from her again. This was his chance, his chance to fulfil his promise, the promise he made to save a dance. A dance that was pending for a really long time. A chance to get everything back that he lost when he went into the artic 78 years ago. He cannot lose this again, he cannot lose her again.

“Shh” he brought her into his arms, trying to calm her down. But the arms that once felt sheltering now felt suffocating. The idea that trying to bring everyone back, trying to mend a broken world has destroyed her own. She lost Natasha, then Tony and now Steve

This revelation made breathing difficult.she wanted to run away, run away from the possible tomorrow that will leave her with ruins, run away till she could feel her lungs bleeding.

So she did exactly that.

Steve watched her go, he wanted to follow her, console her, bring her back into his arms where he could shield her from everything, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to, because this time he was the one responsible for breaking her.

[flamedraco]

TNT Duo Halloween Bingo

I want to host a TNT Duo fic/art prompt event! Starting from today (October 1) to the end of October 31st!

The prompts are as follows: Shadows Vampires Costume Party Trick or Treat Ghost Demon Witch Folklore Scary Movie Possession Graveyard Zombie Werewolf Full Moon Blood Serial Killer Masquerade Haunted House Fae Haunted Forest Cursed Mirror Painting Familiar

And here are some BONUS PROMPTS (these are just for fun and a bit more detailed than the previous ones): Horror of a Popular Fandom AU: This prompt is when you take an AU that's popular in fandom culture, and you twist it into something horror based. For example, I plan on doing a horror version of a Hannhaki AU. But you can make horror versions of any AU if you try hard enough. Coffee Shop, Flower Shop, Canon Divergence. If the AU is popular and widespread across fandoms as a whole, it can count. Go wild with this one.

Sci-Fi Horror: This one is pretty simple, there is a lot of potential for horror stories when it comes to Sci-Fi elements. Whether you're going with something FNAF inspired or tackling the fear of the unknown with space, there are options.

The Deep Blue Sea: The ocean is a horrifying place and there's a lot of potential for scary spooky shit to happen miles under the surface of the water. This prompt can just be anything involving underwater horror, whether that be ancient eldritch magic and lost cities, or just something large and terrifying that a human can't possibly comprehend in its entirety.

Eldritch: Honestly surprised I didn't think of this when I was coming up with the prompts for the original Bingo sheet itself. This one is very simple, general eldritch horror in whatever form you as a writer or artist or whatever else sees fit. Admittedly there's a lot of room for eldritch shenanigans right there on the board, but consider this a little extra for any creatives who might want a bit more freedom on how and why something is eldritch.

This concludes the bonus prompts.

I meant to post about this event earlier but didn't have the bingo sheet ready until today (thank you Boo from my Discord server who put it together!)

I would like to stress that this is an event for c!TNT Duo, as I do not support William Gold in any way shape or form. I just love the characters and love Halloween so I figured it would be a fun project to work on throughout October.

There's no pressure to participate, nor any real rules other than it being strictly for the characters. Tag your fics and art with "TNT Duo Halloween Bingo". And that you, obviously, cannot have a fanwork count for multiple bingo squares. If it uses two or three of those concepts it can only count for one. Of course, keeping all of them together in a oneshot book or art book or whatever is acceptable, just don't use one fanwork to count for multiple prompts.

There is no prize, this is just meant to be a silly fun thing for anyone who might want some Halloween inspiration for the characters.

Please enjoy!

-Flame Draco

[toweroftunes]

csm 167 thoughts

Trying to come out of my posting hiatus after seeing some, let’s say, interesting reactions to the most recent CSM chapter. While it’s totally normal to be disappointed as a sympathetic or empathetic reaction to the protagonists being violated, it’s another for your take away to be that Fujimoto has “lost the plot” or that he was simply “horny,” which I’ve seen people say on Instagram (like, ???).

A non-consensual sex scene in Chainsaw Man, a manga with central themes revolving around sex and bodily autonomy, is not narratively out of line. And I would argue that being disappointed, feeling uncomfortable, is an expected reaction, maybe even an intended one. Of course we as the audience want Denji and Asa (Denji especially because we’ve followed him longer, know his trauma more intimately) to have happy relationships — to be able to find trust, love, and comfort in others. They deserve better. They always have. That’s what makes Chapter 167 so heartbreaking.

Idk. Seeing readers say that Fujimoto was simply “horny” is like hearing people say that Nabokov was a pervert for writing Lolita. The point of depicting these perspectives in media is often not for self-satisfaction, but to make us think critically about how we engage with these topics. It’s really worrying that there are readers who cannot comprehend this and do not realize that sex itself is a natural phenomenon that can be depicted as a neutral, negative, or positive depending on context and perspective.

Just because Denji had a physical reaction to being touched, does not make it “horny.” Things like hardness, wetness, and/or ejaculation are physical reactions to either stimuli or the expectation of sex. They are often involuntary reactions, not indicators of pleasure or consent.

Again, it’s what makes this heartbreaking. This is something that happened to Denji and Asa, not something that they were, either of them, active, consenting participants in. Yoru has no regard for consent, as War has no regard for consent. War takes. War leaves its victims to pick up the pieces in their trauma, confusion, and anger.

Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done any meta, CSM or otherwise, so I’m definitely not putting everything succinctly as I’d like. I just think it’s important to critically engage with the text, even when it makes us uncomfortable, and I’ve seen some piss-poor takes on this topic.

And, hey, I could be proven wrong depending on where the story actually ends up going! I think a lot of how I’ll end up reading this scene will also depend on the context that follows, not just the context that has preceded it.

[drabblesandimagines]

[400 requests] congrats btw!! i adore how you write for joshua so may i ask for a joshua rosfield x reader.. extremely tooth rooting fluff.. kinda domestic fluff as well.. just a soft morning with joshua.. literally can be anything! from in bed or a nice stroll around the hideway.. a picnic breakfast somewhere.. anything!

Thank you, anon! I hope you enjoy this one. I feel I can't help but write Joshua so suave. Please, please drop me an inbox to let me know what you think x

Lazy Mornings Joshua Rosfield x reader, fluff

You cannot pinpoint exactly when it had started – hazy memories of your eyes meeting his blue ones across the sanctum, followed by deliberated brushing touches, chance meetings in the library at late hours turning into deliberate meetings in the Phoenix's bed chambers. Joshua had been away for a few weeks, conducting research, and you’d been worried in his absence. As he and Jote had returned the previous evening, his eyes had only met yours for a moment but you didn’t need words to know what he was after, and so you had snuck into his chambers later that night with all intentions of slipping out before the morning had come…

You wake up, slowly at first. You’re warm, relaxed and content, but the feeling is swiftly lost when you clock that the sun is a little too high in the sky for your liking and you need to get moving. Preparing to roll out the bed, you find two arms determined to keep you held snugly in place. You tut, taking hold of one and tug in an attempt to move it, but the limb holds stubbornly firm, though you cannot miss the flicker of a smile on your captor’s face.

“Joshua…”

Silence – his blonde hair mussed up around him as he lays on the pillow, almost angelic.

“Joshua.”

Nothing – obviously determined to keep up his pretense.

“I know you are awake, Joshua.”

He nuzzles his head into your neck then, making you squirm a little as it tickles. “No, I am not.”

“You have never been one to talk in your sleep, so I disagree.” You tug again, but his arm remains heavy in place. “I need to go.”

“Mm. You do not.” His eyes remain closed, determinedly so.

“I do, though”, you stress again, trying to sit up to see if that will help you gain some leverage. “I’ve stayed too late.”

“Not late enough. Go back to sleep – you’re still tired too, sweet one.”

You’re glad his eyes are still closed as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks from his term of endearment and sigh – dramatically so - before dropping back against the many pillows that adorn the Phoenix’s bed. “You are being a little childish.”

Joshua opens his eyes then, looks up at you with a coy smile. “Mayhaps I would admit a little bit of selfishness, but why are you in such a rush to leave me?”

“That’s not fair,” you protest at his wording. “You know I wish to stay, but if Master Cyril were to catch me in here, he’d…” You trail off. You can’t comprehend what he might do, to be honest, but it wouldn’t be anything good. Of course, Cyril isn’t blind to the looks that you and Joshua share across chambers, but it was only mere speculation on his part – nothing that he could note down in his work of the Phoenix’s life and duties.

“Cyril would not dare to enter my private chambers without permission.” He sits up, though keeping his hold firm on you as he does – afraid you might vanish from his sight if he does not.

“But he will surely visit them to check on your hea-”

Warm lips cut you off mid-word. Your eyes meet Joshua’s blue ones, yours wide with surprise as he closes his, places a palm on your cheek to coax you to reciprocate his kiss. You close your eyes then, careful to exhale through your nose, and kiss back, matching his pace. Moments pass as you settle into a steady rhythm, but something pushes you forward, placing a hand on his thigh, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip and-

Three knocks at the door in a familiar pattern.

You jerk out of the kiss in alarm, almost toppling off the bed itself were it not for Joshua’s quick reflexes pulling you back towards him.

“Who is it?” He calls, smiling at you all the while.

“It is I, Cyril, Your Grace.”

“One moment.”

You look around the chambers in alarm – the window is too small to crawl through, the door is the only exit you have, but that’s right through the thoroughfare of the sanctum at this hour, not to mention the man standing at the other side of it. “Joshua, what do we do?”

“I will deal with it. You, however, should lie back, relax…” he whispers, pushing you down gently, kissing your forehead, “..and stay quiet.” He gets to his feet then, throwing the soft red knitted blanket over you, before you hear his soft footsteps head over to the door, the oak creaking as he opens it enough for him to pop his head out to greet the Bearer of the Burning Quill.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but as I had not seen you this morn I wanted to check everything was all right.”

“Fine, Cyril. I am just a little weary after the last few days of travel – I think I will take today to rest if matters can wait.”

“Very well, Your Grace.” Cyril nods, though steps to the side a little, trying to see behind the Phoenix. “Would you like me to send for Lady Jote to assist you?”

“No, no - that is quite unnecessary,” Joshua waves off, “I know she is tired from our travels also. If you could arrange for some sustenance to be sent up so I can break my fast, that would be appreciated.”

“At once, Your Grace. Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you, Cyril.”

Cyril bows, takes a step back and the door is swiftly shut behind him.

You feel the mattress dip besides you before the blanket is pulled down from over your face – a boyish grin on Joshua’s face. “See? The day is ours.”

You stare up at him, your heart pounding from your nerves – realizing what had scared you so. It wasn’t so much being caught by Cyril, but the idea of being caught and forbidden from seeing Joshua again.

“Have I lost you, sweet one?” The Phoenix questions, laying down besides you, tilting your chin to meet your gaze.

“I love you.”

The smile on Joshua’s face is as bright as the sun in the sky.

“I love you more.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

❒ warnings: descriptions of trauma; panic attacks; anxiety; effects of post-traumatic stress; fear; psychological distress; emotional vulnerability.

THE TRAUMA

Imagine waking up with your heart pounding so loudly it echoes in your ears, in a dense, oppressive silence. As soon as you open your eyes, the room is cloaked in shadow, and what should be your bedroom—a safe place—suddenly transforms into an alien space, filled with invisible threats. 

For Chaeri, this is the beginning of a crisis that traps her, a sensation that unfolds in mere moments as she wakes, when her mind is not yet fully conscious and fear takes shape as a tangible danger. These episodes stem from a profound trauma, an event that altered the way Chaeri perceives the world. To her, people, spaces, even the night itself, have lost their neutrality. 

It’s as if a part of her is always on high alert, constantly ready to defend against an invisible but persistent threat. Her mind and body treat every noise, every shadow, as though it were a lurking trap. During these nightmares—or more accurately, these moments of post-waking paranoia—Chaeri is convinced that someone could genuinely harm her. 

Rationally, she knows she’s alone and safe, but it’s as if her body refuses to accept it. Her mind knows there’s no one in the room, but her body reacts as if there is, as if every shadow is a threat.

This is a typical effect of trauma, and for those who experience it, it’s exhausting: it breaks your sense of control and makes you feel as though you’re always at the mercy of a danger you can’t see. When she experiences these moments, her breathing becomes shallow and labored. 

You might picture her curled up, wide-eyed, as if desperately trying to see something in the darkness. She tries to tell herself that no one is there, repeating it like a mantra: “It’s just in my head.” But that awareness isn’t enough. It’s as if her mind can’t command her body. 

Even though she knows there’s no real danger, her body continues to respond as if there is. It’s a paradox, a mental trap that’s nearly impossible to escape from easily. There’s a term for this kind of fear that manifests even when we’re awake: body memory. Trauma is like a poison that doesn’t dissolve; it continues to course through her body in the form of instincts, of reactions. 

Even after opening her eyes, after realizing it’s all an illusion, Chaeri remains trapped in that feeling of danger, as if every fiber of her being refuses to forget. Even when her mind is clear, her body cannot let go of the terror that reminds her of the past experience.

It is difficult to explain what it is like to wake up in an empty room and, at the same instant, feel as if there is someone next to your bed, ready to do harm. For those who have not experienced it, it is almost impossible to comprehend the feeling of being hostage to your body, of feeling that your own mind is against you, trapped in a series of fears that you cannot rationalize.

If Chaeri could speak openly about her problem, she would admit that she hadn't been the same for years. She would admit that she had been living with the sensation of wearing glasses with the wrong lenses, distorting everything around her. She would admit that the transition from girl to teenager scared her more than it does most girls, because she feared that the impact of her past experience would shape her into a person she didn't want to become.

The early days with the rest of the members were scary and problematic for Chaeri, when she realized that from then on she would share everything with those seven boys for a long time. There were different reasons for this, but the main ones were that she would have to live with strangers, all men, and that she wouldn't be able to hide her vulnerability for long, given the dormitory conditions that included a shared bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen.

Once she overcame the initial hurdle and realized they were all extremely kind and reliable, and that they had no intention of harming her, the challenge remained to build relationships with all of them and try not to let them notice her problem.

At first, it seemed like a good idea to force her eyes to stay open and her mind alert until everyone else had fallen asleep. This way, she could sneak out of the bedroom and sit as comfortably as possible on a lounge chair in the kitchen/living room, and fall asleep there. She didn't want to offend the others or make them think she was hiding something.

And at first, it worked: no one noticed she wasn't sleeping in her bed, and when the episodes began, she faced them alone, waiting for them to pass. However, the routine of being a trainee and soon-to-be idol became increasingly tough, and staying awake to carry out her little escape became more difficult. Plus, as she got to know the boys better and felt more comfortable with them, falling asleep as soon as her back touched the mattress became inevitable.

It wasn’t long before she realized that her attempts to mask her episodes, to keep them hidden from the others, would be a futile effort. There would always be nights when the fear overtook her, when the echoes of her past crept into her present, leaving her trembling and panicked. And there was no way the others wouldn’t notice. There was no place to hide. No way to conceal the nights she woke up gasping for air, clutching her chest as if to hold her heart together.

At first, she was terrified of their reactions. What would they think of her? Would they pity her? Would they think she was broken? These thoughts swirled in her head constantly in the early weeks, amplifying her anxiety and making it harder to connect with the others on a deeper level.

The first time it happened, she wished the earth would swallow her whole. One night, Taehyung had found her sitting on the floor of the bathroom, her knees pulled to her chest, her breathing shallow and erratic. She had been convinced that she heard someone moving in the apartment, despite knowing all the doors were locked. Taehyung, groggy but concerned, had crouched down beside her, his voice soft and hesitant as he asked what was wrong. She couldn’t answer him; words were stuck in her throat. All she could do was shake her head, hoping he’d leave. He didn’t. Instead, he fetched Namjoon, who knelt beside her, speaking soothing words that barely registered through the fog of her panic.

The morning after, they didn’t press her. They gave her space, but their kindness only made her feel worse. She hated that they’d seen her like that, hated that they were now burdened with the knowledge of her weakness.

It was inevitable that the more time they spent together, the more frequent the nights became when she was seized by that post-nightmare terror. Eventually, every member of the group, some more aware of the details than others, came to know what Chaeri had experienced and how she couldn’t free herself from the pain it had caused her.

It wasn’t as though she wanted them to know—each revelation felt like a tiny fracture in the armor she had so carefully constructed—but the dorm left little room for secrets.

Jin was the next to find her during an episode. It had been a particularly grueling day of training, and she had gone to bed more exhausted than usual. Sleep came quickly, but so did the nightmare. This time, the suffocating fear was so overwhelming that she had stumbled out of her bed, trying to shake the sensation of hands gripping her wrists, of whispered threats echoing in her ears.

She had collapsed onto the kitchen floor, knees pressed to the cold tiles, her breath coming in rapid gasps. That’s where Jin found her, his sleepy confusion quickly giving way to concern. He didn’t say much—just crouched beside her, his large hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

She couldn’t look at him, tears streaming down her face. He stayed there with her for what felt like an eternity, quietly humming a tune she recognized from one of their early practices. It wasn’t until her breathing evened out that he spoke.

“Do you want me to stay, or should I give you some space?”

The choice made her stomach twist; both options felt unbearable. Finally, she whispered “Space, please.” Jin nodded, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving. The next morning, he made her favorite breakfast, wordlessly sliding the plate in front of her at the table.

Slowly but surely, the boys began to understand that whatever Chaeri was going through was far bigger than anything they could fix on their own. It was Yoongi who first broached the idea of professional help, after watching her struggle through another restless night. “Sometimes, we need help to untangle the things we can’t face alone. You can’t keep carrying this by yourself. It’s eating you alive.”

She didn’t want to disappoint them. She agreed to try, hoping that maybe they were right, that maybe someone out there could fix her. But stepping into that small, sterile room with its overstuffed armchair and soft lighting felt wrong from the start.

The therapist had kind eyes and a soothing voice, but none of it mattered. Chaeri couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She sat there, stiff and guarded, giving vague answers to every question, terrified of being truly seen. Each session became a battlefield between her need to heal and her unwillingness to face the monster lurking in her past.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get better. She did. But something about talking felt like peeling off a scab that hadn’t even begun to heal. Every word felt like it might split her open, leaving her vulnerable and raw. And so, after a few weeks, she stopped going, telling them that it “just wasn’t helping.” She could see the sadness in their eyes, though they tried to hide it. That made it worse.

Since therapy didn’t work, Chaeri began to lean into small, self-made rituals to regain some control over her nights.

Her rituals started out simple, born out of desperation. They were little routines meant to anchor her, to remind her that she was safe. Before bed, she would triple-check every lock in the dorm—front door, balcony door, and even the windows. She would glance under the beds and inside the closets, even though she knew rationally that there was nothing there.

As the years went by, the episodes came less frequently, though they never disappeared entirely. At their peak, the episodes had occurred nearly every night, leaving her physically and emotionally drained. But slowly, as time passed, they began to fade.

Now, months or even years might pass without a single one. She didn’t know whether this was because time had dulled the sharp edges of her fear or because she was learning to cope. Maybe it was both.

What she was sure of, however, was that the constant help from the members had significantly affected her gradual recovery of her sleep, happiness and peace. Even when the shadows in her mind came back to visit her, there was always someone ready to support her in getting the light back. It was a realization that allowed her to look at the future with new eyes, without the burden of a past she could never erase, but could learn to live with it.

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[lhuxlux]

You know what? I absolutely LOVE the way Fionna & Cake (the show) told us how important Simon Petrikov (the one we know) was. Let's check out the most important universes. As expected, there will be spoilers:

Farmworld is pretty obvious itself. Simon was able to prevent the bomb that would have brought the Lich, which is pretty impressive itself, but that didn't stop the Lich forever and Simon wasn't able to take care of Marceline or even contact Hunson Abadeer. Because of this, Marceline dedicated her whole life (literal centuries) to guard the crown knowing it was too dangerous. Eventually, she dies after Farmworld Finn accidentally activates the bomb. Simon's sacrifice was noble, but it only delayed something that was inevitable and Marceline didn't have the best life guarding her friend and father figure's corpse for centuries due to the crown

Simon doesn't have the purpose of sacrificing his own life in order to save Marceline and other people. Becoming Ice King again for Fionna and Cake was a way to abandon and sacrifice the life he regained thanks to Betty. No one has such purpose, it was just Farmworld Simon's choice and we can see the consequences of his absence even years after those events occurred and our boy Prismo had to fix things a bit

After that, the show presents us Winterworld and a version of Simon that managed to "conquer" the crown and seemed like the perfect outcome for everyone involved: Simon keeping his sanity without facing the consequences of not only using the crown but also being a magic user again to bring magic back to Fionna's world. Thing is MMS (Magic, Madness, and Sadness) applies to all magic users and it is unavoidable, all of them will show different degrees of those three characteristics. Winter King is no exception, he is still mad despite projecting most of his madness on PB. We can see this because he made an ice version of Marceline despite saying it would be unethical to do the same with Betty

Simon cannot be a magic user because otherwise he won't be the Simon we know (Remember the Tiny Manticore mentioning how Betty changed as well after becoming a magic user?). He knew this every time he needed to use the crown in order to protect Marceline and survive. He acknowledged it was the only way to do it despite knowing the long-term effects and being aware he also hurt Marcy. Simon was no coward, he probably was scared and knew no one could save him from the crown's madness, and still tried to be himself when he could

Probably the reason why Winter King lost his Marceline was because he wanted to have the crown's power to survive without facing the consequences of using it, maybe he overused the crown itself until Simon was completely gone, making him unable or too dangerous to take care of Marcy. Winter king lived in a bubble in which he thought he was completely sane (which is not even possible if you are a magic user) and everything, including himself, was perfect. He wants to believe he's Simon but that's not the case, Simon is far gone and deep down he knows it when he took the name "Winter King" and decided to make his kingdom instead of using his own name and trying to live as Simon Petrikov, not some king

And, of course... Vampworld

The perfect answer to the question "How important is our Simon Petrikov?"

A world in which Marceline was never raised by Simon, and Hunson was absent or didn't mind that his daughter was raised by the Vampire King. Marcy didn't become a vampire hunter and didn't help humans survive. This is because she was educated in a different way since she was very little, and keep in mind that Marceline was already thinking she was a monster because she couldn't comprehend why her mother couldn't be with her anymore. Vampire King just encouraged her to behave like an actual monster

Simon cared about Marcy and her education, seeing her as a scared little girl living in the end of the world, not a monster despite knowing she was different. Again, he admitted he was Marceline's father figure and raised her as his own. This is why Simon is scared and maybe even a bit sad when he watches Marcy acting in such a cruel way, and that's why he loses his shit and calls the Vampire King a bad dad, he couldn't stand seeing someone else encourage that behavior on Marceline

Simon's education wasn't the best, he had his own struggles due to the crown, but he did his best and that made a difference on Marceline's life, he even bothered to contact Hunson so she wouldn't be all by herself. It was a pity he didn't know that Hunson himself wasn't that good as a father but leaving Marcy all by herself would have been cruel

And yet, Simon himself couldn't see this despite living it. He was still trying to save Fionna's universe by becoming Ice King again. Why? He thought his purpose was to help others by sacrificing himself, that's what he learned with Marceline when he took care of her, this made him think that Simon Petrikov didn't matter, only Ice King because he's able to make Fionna's world magic again and could stop Scarab, fueling his identity loss

Most people cannot realize how important they are, even if they didn't lose their identity. Sometimes it is too hard to know how important we actually are or we tend to forget and re-learn it, and this is something the show remarks despite Simon helped Fionna save her universe. He didn't need Ice King, but that doesn't mean it is over and he learnt his lesson

It is a longer process because there are ideas or thoughts about ourselves that are hard to abandon or not to pay attention to in order to avoid repeating the same mistakes

[moonynaturesethetic]

LETS TALK ABOUT THE NEW SAM AND COLBY VIDEO-SPOILERS!!!

Okay, so this is my first rant on Tumblr and sometimes I can say things I don't mean or have WAYY different opinions than others, so before continuing or commenting, PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND!!! I am only sharing my opinion on things, and feel free to share yours!!! (not proofread, I got school tmr)

The dolls eyes:

So, I've seen a lot of things about how they shouldn't have shown the dolls or added more warnings, and yes I do think more warnings could have been added, but think for their sake and others sake they showed the eyes because many others out there would have wanted to see. I think that either way, showing the eyes or not showing the eyes, no one is going to be happy. Because its either one side gets frustrated that they show the eyes so much, or the other gets mad because they didn't show the eyes.

The video in of itself:

Generally, it wasn't a bad video if we ignore all the stuff that went down, because it was a good video idea. You could tell that both boys were excited to be there and have been given the opportunity to do so.

Some side opinions:

Okay, just some small things which might bleed into the next topic but I really understand Sam's perspective, but my personal opinion on it is why would you chase something like that? I get it, you want the world to see it and prove to yourself that the paranormal is real, but IN MY PERSONAL OPINION, why would you chase it? If anything, let it come to you because the paranormal especially doing something as dangerous as that, is going to send something coming back to bite you and tear you down. It's so painfully obvious that doing something as severe as that is not 'cool' but dangerous. You have no idea what gate that'll open, and chances are, you wouldn't be able to close it. I think that whatever world is on the other side should not be opened by any means because you don't know what's going to come out, and you don't know how big that could be. It could be the biggest paranormal entity that he could've opened up, and I don't think he should've done that without understanding what really could have happened.

Now, as for the entire Annabelle thing and the other dolls (Sorry, I know some are still uncomfortable. Heck, I am) is also another thing. I firmly believe that everything Sam encountered was trying to warn him on what he was planning on doing, especially the entities with Annabelle. It was trying to warn him to not do it or follow through with it, and I think it kept saying things such as 'unholy' because it knew that whatever Sam was planning on doing could have potentially been one of the biggest unholy spirits to exist. I don't mean to disrespect in any way, but I also think that the spirits that were there with Sam and Colby while visiting the Annabelle doll were slightly nervous because they didn't know (or maybe they did) if whatever was on the other side was much bigger than them.

Sam and Colby splitting up:

Now, this is the biggest elephant in the room. In fact, in ALL of Sam and Colby history. Something this big hasn't happened since the Trap House and the original four broke off from each other. I hear both sides, although I am leaning towards a little more of Colby's side.

Sam's side:

Now, I completely understand wanting to put proof out there and prove to yourself that what you think is real is actually real, but if you cannot psychically comprehend the idea of health before doing something you think could be awesome, then you are not ready to do it. ESPECIALLY if you have not consulted anyone else, because that's when it becomes selfish. Now, as fan we don't know what's going on in Sam's personal life, especially after breaking up with Kat and the whole conjuring house incident, but it was blatantly obvious that when they were talking to each other, Sam was dealing with some mental health issues. I think that in recent videos, it's unfortunate to see Sam get lost in the idea of paranormal investigating and slowly lose himself and lose who he was before, and during this video, putting others in danger just because he was so desperate to prove to himself. Clearly, and once again I don't mean this in a disrespectful manner, but as someone who lost multiple family members, I think that possibly(POSSIBLY DARE I SAY) hearing from his grandma was a major thing for him and I think we've all noticed that since that experience, he has not been the same. I really hope that he learns from this experience, and receives professional help from therapists and others as such.

Colby's side:

Like I said before, I am more lenient towards Colby's side because of his connection with Robert(once again, sorry). And because Sam really shouldn't have done that without consulting Colby, especially with the chance that perhaps Robert caused Colby's cancer. You could tell that Colby's apology was genuine and from the heart, and when he heard and saw that Sam disrespected Robert after Colby had already apologized, it was like you could tell that he saw his own friendship flash before him. Not to mention, Both the boys have dealt with a lot over these past couple years, but you could tell that apologizing to Robert was a major thing for Colby. Sam failing to let him know and notify Colby about what he was planning to do was not something that a best friend, almost brother should do, because it could have put both of them in serious danger. You could tell that Colby was more concerned about getting in danger or getting hurt, and as harsh as some of his words might have been, Sam did need that reality check from him. I felt bad for both of them, but knowing that Colby thought this was just another milestone they were going to hit before finding out that Sam had a completely different plan, was hard to watch.

Overall:

Both boys are in a rough place right now, but honestly, both of their sides are completely understandable. This is my opinion, please don't judge me for it. THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT!!!<333

[fanficwritingcentral]

Flower Prince (AO3 link)

Summary: When Hyacinthus died in Apollo's arms, he never thought he'd ever wake up.

But, looking at his mother all these years later, hopefully she can give him some answers.

~~~~~~~

It wasn't meant to end like this.

His head pounded with sharp pain and blood blurred his vision. Divine golden eyes tinted red dripped tears over his face and he raised a weak shaking hand to wipe them away.

Notes: So I've been kinda thinking about what it would be like for Hyacinthus to wake up after Gaia brought him back and how that would look and came up with this. Hopefully you guys like it, it's pretty much a prequel to There Once was Prince of Sparta that I wrote a month ago but I just finished it now

Hope you enjoy 😘✌️

It wasn't meant to end like this.

His head pounded with sharp pain and blood blurred his vision. Divine golden eyes tinted red dripped tears over his face and he raised a weak shaking hand to wipe them away.

"It wasn't your fault," he forced out, words had suddenly become harder to say, "I do not blame you, 'pollo."

The God above him sobbed, "oh Hyacinthus, my Hyacinthus, I cannot heal you, I cannot help you." The God bowed his head to rest his forehead against his.

Hyacinthus closed his eyes, sight had become to painful. "I forgive you," he whispered.

Apollo screamed and a bright light burned through his eyelids. Suddenly, the pain began to disappear as did the feeling in his arms and legs. The loss of feeling traveled up his limbs and over his body and with it came an odd mash of thoughts: the sun is harsh, when will it rain, I need water, let me spread let me sprout let me grow and grow and grow.

Just before he lost his head, he gave one last prayer to Apollo, please, 'pollo, do not let the west wind carry me.

And then he was lost.

.

... He grew.

.

And the world turned and turned.

.

.

... He spread, far and wide.

.

.

.

"Little prince." An earthly voice called out.

... He grew.

.

.

"Little prince." An earthly voice called again, louder.

Hmm? he stirred but quickly became lost again.

.

He drank.

.

"Time to return, Little Prince."

.

.

.

... Hyacinthus opened his eyes to the bright blue sky and the burning sun right above him. He quickly closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. The scent of nature quickly filled his nose, the trees, grass and flowers so strong that he began to cough harshly. He turned to his side, trying to raise himself with weak shaking arms while his chest racked itself with coughing.

He then took notice of the sound, the leaves and branches swaying gently with the breeze, the incects buzzing in the air and a stream burbling near by.

His arms collapsed underneath him, and he began to groan in pain as all his senses were assaulted with the world around him. He curled up and covered his ears with his hands and keened.

And keened.

Hands then began touching him and a voice was saying words he couldn't understand. He cried, it hurt, he tried pushing them away, couldn't they understand it hurt?

It hurt so much.

He felt drops of water falling above him, landing on his cheak and trailing across his nose.

A snap.

His surroundings instantly changed, the noise and smells stopped and he laid on something soft.

His cried and cried.

And hand gently laid on his head and lightly touched his hair making him whine and shake his head. The hand quickly retreated and a voice spoke quietly but he could not comprehend them.

A finger then touched his forehead and he fell into darkness.

...

...

Hyacinthus woke up.

He opened his eyes and looked around the small room he was in, the walls and ceiling were made of wood. Light streamed in from the windows, it seemed to be the only thing coming from them. How odd. And they seemed to shine, like they had a clear cover. Glass?

The scent in the room felt light, as did the noise. It was... bearable.

Two chairs and a small table were by the end of the room close by the door and there was a little bowl filled with flowers that he knew intimately in the centre of the table.

He then focused on himself and the mattress and pillow he laid on. He felt around himself, the mattress was covered in some kind of cloth and he could not even say what the mattress was made of, though it did feel better than anything he had lain on before. The pillow felt familiar, like the feathered filled ones he was used to as a prince, though it too was covered in cloth similar to the mattress.

He himself was bare, no clothes nor blanket covered him.

This did not bother him as it may have in the past.

A rattling sound came from the door and his eyes shot towards it. The door opened and in came someone he would know anywhere.

Someone he'd known his entire life and loved completely even with her distance. His mother.

"Mama." He called out with a soft weak voice and slightly lifted a hand in her direction.

His mother's eyes snapped to him and dropped what she was holding. Without a care to the items, she quickly went over to him and he watched as tears soon began to fall down her face.

"My baby," she cried, "my sweet prince," she carefully placed her arms around him and hugged him. The touch felt uncomfortable, but for his mother he could endure it. He had no strength to hug her back, he could only lean his head against hers.

They hugged for as long as Hyacinthus could bare it, and then he could not more. He leaned back and felt his mother's arms withdraw. He looked into her purple eyes, an even more intense colour than his own, and wondered at the gift he been given, just how had it happened?

"Mama?" He said quietly, he still had no energy to raise it any more than slightly above a whisper, "how am I here? How was I brought back?"

His mother gave a tight smile and lightly brushed a small lock of his hair out of his face, "the Earth Mother brought you back, love."

"The Earth Mother?" He said slowly, "why would she bring me back? I may not have been very aware of things as a flower but I do know that it has been a very long time since I was alive, what would be the point?"

"There is a war," his mother answered and brought his blanket up to cover him a bit more-

"A war?" He interrupted.

"Yes," she nodded and brushed her hands across the blanket, making it neat like she had the few times she visited as a child, "a war, the Earth Mother is waking up and wants to take back control. She's already brought back warriors of old to make it harder for the young demigods to fight against her, so I can only assume she done the same for you."

Hyacinthus' mind raced, a war and the Earth Mother herself bringing old warriors back from the dead, but still, what would be the point of him? He's never had issues with other demigods, he would never want any harm to come to them, their lives were already hard enough. The only issue he might have is with the-

"Gods," he said simply, as a statement, "I was brought back for the Gods, yes?"

His mother's eyes welled up in tears and she nodded, "Yes, love, you were brought back for the Gods. She's doing whatever she can to ensure she would win, and what better way to ensure that than taking out one of the most powerful? An Olympian."

"She would use me against Apollo."

"She would," his mother nodded again, "and it would work so easily, Apollo, if he knew, would be distracted completely, his mind would be on nothing else other than you. Us Gods are obsessive afterall, as you know."

Hyacinthus' mind went back to that fateful day, how the wind changed so quickly, a powerful blow from the west in one second and a painful crack in his head the next. Yes. He understands their obsessiveness intimately.

"I would never want to hurt him for it," he said, "I hate how I was caught between them but not him. Never him."

His mother sat on the side of his bed, "I know, love. But we are very lucky that the Earth Mother miscalculated on one thing."

His scrunched his forehead in thought, "what one thing?"

Smiling brightly, his mother replied, "Me. She never counted on me to notice first."

Hyacinthus gave a small relived smile in response, "and how lucky we are for that, mama."

[oldxenomorph]

climbs up the side of ur building spidey-style and stares at u thru the window...... 🌻 (sunflower) and ✨ (sparkles) for zarya'th blease

yellow emoji oc asks 🌟

average city moments. haven't we all seen someone try to climb up the side of a building? takes the offered emojis ☺️

🌻 What’s something your character has grown out of? Did it happen gradually or was it a drastic change? What caused this shift?

i mean the real answer to this is elvhenhood. the condition of being elvhen.

zarya'th always felt like the her body was always meant to be temporary. the more she perfected her ancestor's magic, the more distant she felt from other elvhen. her transformation during tresspasser was the final step to finally being rid of the trappings of elvhenhood.

the eating of other elvhen has further separate herself from the people she once called her kind. the amount of agents of fen'harel infitrating the inquisition keeps her well fed. she traps them in her panopticon, she hunts them, she eats them. she has no qualms eating other elvhen, other elves, city or dalish. eating the people that were once her kind is enough to satiate her unending hunger until she can devour solas.

her disconnection from elvhen has even resulted in her eating the remaining fragments of mythal. her vallaslin -- mythal's branches being dragged into the sign of extinction on her forehead, the line splitting down her face a timeline of the end -- is no longer just a pictogram of the reaper emperor's power, but of the elvhen all-mother being annihilated.

(nova'ra eats ghilan'nain because became yhoundeh commands her to, a transference of power, granddaughter devouring grandmother. ghilan'nain lost favor with yhoundeh. zarya'th eats mythal because she must be obliterated to ensure the world is ready for the reapers. whether there is a veil or not does not matter. there is no war, there is only the harvest.)

✨ What gives your oc confidence? Is it something physical or more emotional? Do they inspire confidence in others? Why or why not?

no longer having to pretend that she's dalish was a big confidence booster. mostly because that charade was starting to wear on her nerves. (also by the end of inquisition, people were slowly beginning to realize she may not be dalish.)

her power has always been her biggest source of confidence. her magic is anceint, yes, but it is terrifying, its effects on the world are horrific. and perhaps that is what disturbed solas, is that strange and wide smile she wore during the first detonation against corypheus. she also knows exactly what she is doing with her magic. and while her ancestor, lavellan, was paranoid about the vanuris finding out about his power, zarya'th is perfectly content being in her panopticon within the white spire existing as a threat to the chantry while also making them rely on her as inquisitor.

of course her biggest source of confidence is what she is: a xenomorph-hybrid, chosen of extinction, chosen as the herald to usher the end of thedas. her xenomorph body is beautiful and perfect. she loves her acidic blood. she veils her entire body when she has to go outside the panopticon because the world cannot comprehend her new state. and when thedas is finally harvested, she hopes that the reaper emperor, extinction itself, will finally finish her transformation. the prospect of shedding all of her elvhenhood and become a daughter of the emperor fills her with happiness.

one day, she will be a xenomorph that will glow like uranium glass, sleeping amongst sisters, loved by the emperor-mother and night-mother.

[alex-of-the-eye]

[bee walks in. she looks far less human than usual. well… maybe not— inhuman. moreso… less alive.]

you do realize it’s worthless, right?

[her voice echoes with all of the ones who did not make it. the ones who met their end. all who had come before, all who had came and went. all who had died.]

there will never be enough for you to be forever.

[she touches alex’s forehead. her palm feels like death.]

bodies run out. the ones that came before us did not make it. mesozoic, paleozoic, everything. they came and went. and now they are nothing more than pieces of the landscape that surrounds us. what makes you think that we’ll be exempt from that?

[it is not a vision in the same way the eye presents it. however, it still gets the point across. the hand, cold and nonliving, but still moving, puts pressure onto alex’s forehead. he sees the deaths of a thousand species, the ends of all that have been before. he sees all of their lifespans at once, crumbling to dust. they are alive, and then they are dead. the visions stop, and bee speaks again, in the echoes of all of those he has seen.]

no one reproduces in an eternal fear hellscape. they all survive off of only the fears that the victims produce, and you only survive off of them. they will stop feeding, and thus, you will stop feeding as well. you will starve, and terminus will claim you as it has the others.

[the visions of all that does not live rise again. this time, it is the fears. there is desperation, an attempt to cling at the last victims that have not passed. some human, some not. some even avatars, lost in the scuffle of the fears desperately trying to sustain themselves. all victims run out eventually, and they die. the fears all eventually fade, claimed by terminus. it is barely comprehensible— alex is only one person. but it gets the point across. there seems to be more after, but it is paused. bee speaks again.]

even the end shall not last. it needs to feed. and what fear would there be to feed on, o watcher, when all is gone and dead? corpses do not feel. the end will eventually surrender to itself.

[the vision continues. it is the end, once again. vast and all consuming, but it seems that it cannot even handle the weight of itself. it collapses, leaving nothing. lifeless.]

do you truly think it would even be worth it? jonah magnus has only been alive for 200 years, and that is barely enough for you or i or anyone else who has ever lived to comprehend. humans have existed for a thousand years times that. would you be able to keep up with the changing world? what about when humans go extinct? will the bodyhopping still work with the organisms you call animals? would you be able to stand those changes? would you be able to keep up with the fears reforming? even if you kept your body, would the new beings even let you exist peacefully?

[bee’s— well, whatever mass of skulls and dead plants and all that was not alive could be considered a head, lean toward alex. she whispers in his ear.]

you would never be fully living. you would only be existing. you would be existing for a very long, very boring while, and then you would die.

terminus comes for all, watcher. denial is futile.

the only choice is to use your time while you can.

[the air— alex hadn’t even noticed the setting had changed— stops smelling like corpses rotting. the empty landscape turns back into where they were before. the echoes of the dead quiet. bee turns back to normal. a simple child, who looked a little more dead than she should. she breathes. it is strange to imagine something so dead breathing.]

goodbye, alex. please consider this.

[she leaves.]

- bee / @a-thousand-little-things

*He continued to walk to Elias's office, trying to block this out, but it still lingered in his mind like a tumor.*

[Was this all worth it?

The logical part of his brain asked.

It didn't like this, casting it out.]

[springfallendeer]

The RPG Experience (An Isekai AU) - 01 - An End, and a Beginning

Finally got around to writing the first segment of this AU. Which isn't really PLANNED to be a FNAF AU of any sort, but, who can say.

This Isekai AU is heavily inspired by a mix of other Isekai stories and by traditional RPG games, with a few fun twists being added to make worldbuilding more more tasty for me. Have a read if you're interested.

It is a reader insert featuring a female reader. This section is just over 5k words in length, so it may be a little bit of a read. This chapter does feature death but it is by no means graphic and is merely glanced over.

Just a day. Like any other.

One full of chores. One in which obligations must be met.

Not so much for the sake of survival, but for the sake of maintaining the status quo.

Get up. Go to work. Earn money. Use money to pay for basic needs, and if you’re lucky, basic wants. Finish work. Go home. Spend any remaining time doing as you please, if you can be bothered to pull your mind off of your responsibilities for long enough to try.

Sleep. Eat. Work. Repeat.

Relentless. Endless. Mind numbing and boring.

But such is life. And it is the lift that anyone in such a prosperous country must endure, if they wish to continue to benefit off of the system.

No war. No famine. No pestilence.

Death, while inescapable, is little more than the inevitable inconvenience of having lived. Treated more as another means of sending or receiving money than as the tragic loss of existence than it is in reality.

Tring-Tring

Tring-Tring

Tragic indeed.

Tragic how life can be here one moment and then gone the next. Erased through happenstance.

An intentional destruction.

The passage of time.

Or an accident, unforeseen and yet impossible to escape.

Tring-Tring

Tring-Tring

Just a day. Like any other.

Tring-Tring

Tring-Tring

Until it is not.

An unexpected change to the routine. Something unaccounted for and impossible to predict.

An accident. Unforeseen. Impossible to escape. And yet inevitable.

A sudden collision.

The inevitable loss of balance that comes with being knocked off of your feet. Then the inescapable pull of gravity once your body has lost connection to the ground.

Shock.

Surprise.

Confusion.

Darkness.

Perpetual and all consuming darkness. Stretching into eternity on all sides. Perceivable only because, for whatever reason, your mind cannot seem to settle. Even in death, it seems that you cannot escape the continual mental buzz that is thought.

Abstract thought, mind you. Distorted and near impossible to describe. Like trying to translate the dazzling display of the aurora borealis into biblical scripture.

Wordless.

Descriptionless.

Yet what buzzes through your consciousness can be described as thoughts, nonetheless.

You have no means of grasping just how long you remain in this state.

Time in and of itself has become a paradox. Something that exists and yet does not. Something that is tangible yet exists well beyond your reach.

Infinity becomes an experience that is had in what may translate to an instant.

You are limitless. Yet you are bound.

You are unending. And still, you are nothing. Inconsequential and forgotten.

You are everything that ever was, and everything that could ever be.

Here in the darkness, vast and unending, you have become reality in and of itself. And when the light suddenly finds you, you become stripped of your limitless infinity to be made into what is next expected of you.

The intangible is made tangible.

That which was once limitless becomes strictly bound by law, unwritten or otherwise.

The corporeal is given form.

You are alive again.

And yet somehow, you are not entirely so.

Lungs ache to take a breath. But no matter how your chest might distort itself, the air refuses to find its way into you.

Eyes blink and dart about in search of perception. And though you are capable of seeing, everything that you lay your eyes upon feels impossible to fully comprehend.

You walk. And though you do so effortlessly, as if unrestricted by gravity, every part of you remains innately aware of this world's gravitational pull.

You exist. But somehow… Somehow you feel as though you are incomplete. Like you are not all here, despite every obviously having moved beyond the limitless void that is infinity.

“What   Are   You?”

Is that thought yours, or a question being asked to you by some invisible force.

A response is there, dancing on the tip of your tongue. And yet even as you attempt to force the words from your lips, you discover yet another anomaly about whatever it is that you have become.

You have no lips with which to speak.

No tongue with which to talk.

You reach up towards your face to confirm as much. Only to find that your fingers feel nothing. No ridges. No lumps. No signs of any essential blemish or addition to your face that might prove vital in actually creating a face.

No ears. No nose. No mouth.

The only proof that you have eyes at all is the fact that you can poke them. And even then, the lack of pain that comes about as a result makes that observation feel less… Sincere.

It is as though your eyes do not fully exist, and are there purely to give you the illusion of sight. Which might explain why it is that nothing that you’re looking at feels… Real.

“What   Are   You?”

The thought; or voice, whatever it may be; pops into your head once more. And though the answer is there, you cannot yet fathom how it is that you will reply when you lack the utilities that are required if you wish to speak.

It is confusing. Distressing, even, to so desperately want to speak but to lack the facilities to make it happen.

“Hey there, handsome.” An unfamiliar voice unexpectedly calls out to you, pulling you from your personal spiral as you turn towards the source. “Or beautiful. Whichever you prefer.” It then adds, offering a casual wave of the hand once the owner of the voice comes into your line of sight. “Welcome to the world.” She then states, speaking to you as calmly and casually as she would any other person.

Which is confusing, considering the fact that you definitely do not resemble any regular person. Given the whole lack of facial features and… Lack of other general human traits.

You have only just noticed that your skin isn’t really skin. And the only reason that you notice is because you’ve suddenly become aware of the state of your hands. Which are closer to vaguely hand shaped blobs than they are to well… Hands.

Five distinct extensions but your fingers almost appear as though they are webbed. And your skin is not only gray, but distorted; like television static.

You find yourself so distracted by the weird state of your body that you almost immediately forget about the fact that there’s a random woman here who has spoken to you. At least until she walks up and casually lifts your arm so that she can peek under it to look at you.

“Hello? Anyone in there~?” She calls, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she talks to you. “Having trouble figuring out words~?” She then asks, before she ducks back under your arm to step away from you. “You talk with your mind. Not with your mouth. At least while you’re like this.” She hums, quickly giving you some instructions on how to go about responding to her.

Though her instructions are probably as straightforward as they can get, you still struggle to actually make use of them.

You are thinking. You have been thinking this entire time. And yet at no point has your voice ever become loud enough to somehow bypass the limitations of your current form.

“Come on now. If you can’t at least do that, then you won’t fare well in this world.” She comments while watching you.

She is clearly waiting for you to say; or think something. Something loud enough for her to be capable of hearing.

Though you try to think of something; anything; that she might be able to hear, you still struggle to find your voice.

It is hard to make your inner monologue take on any form of volume. And unsurprisingly so. The average person could never hope to make their inner voice scream or shout. The internal volume of your mind, even when constant and unrelenting, has always been the same.

You are telling your thoughts to yell. But your thoughts have never had enough of a voice to them to muster more than a clear and coherent mutter.

“Really? Nothing?” The woman asks.

She steps closer to you again. Not close enough to try and grab you and move you around of her own accord, but close enough that she could touch you if she wanted. Or vice versa.

“Start simple.” She states. “Say your name.”

That is the advice that you are given. To just… Tell her your name. Which should be simple enough, in theory.

You still struggle, though. Considering that the bulk of the issue comes from your attempts at making your inner voice come across as loud as your outer voice once was.

She waits.

You focus.

You focus and she waits.

Your name is there and you know it. She is simply here, standing by in hopes that you can at least muster up the strength needed to relay that name to her.

She does not speak. Not again. She remains silent so as to keep from interrupting you as you go through the arduous task of forming the syllables within the wrinkled confines of your brain.

Eventually, and inevitably, the word forms. But only after the constant glow of the mid-afternoon sun fades away into soft radiance of the evening sunset; when the stars begin to first make their appearance in the sky.

Even then, though, your voice estables you as dull and inaudible mumbling. A syllable woven in every so often as the strangest of guttural noises emulate from your vaguely humanoid form.

You know your name. And under normal circumstances, you would be more than capable of speaking it.

You just… You just need some time to figure out exactly how you’re meant to utter it now. When you do not have lips or tongue with which to speak, you must instead attempt to make your mind loud enough for others to hear.

Little by little though, the barely audible syllables that find themselves echoing from the depths of your mind begin to grow in volume.

They become louder. More coherent. Until, with the apex of the moon, your first proper word manages to sound loud and clear from the innermost depths of your mind.

“...”

… No.

That did not sound right.

That is most definitely your name, or at least it was the name that you once had. But here in this world, in the language that is most definitely not your own, that name comes across as nothing but a mismatched mess of sounds. Incoherent, despite being said with the correct pronunciation.

“... I couldn’t even hope to pronounce that.” The woman replies after a long and uncomfortable moment of silence. One which makes it clear that she could not understand the garbled mess of sounds that just escaped you. “A new name is in order, I’d say.” She then adds.

There then follows another moment of silence as she ponders a possible name option.

“... How about Seedling?” She suggests.

“Seedling?” You immediately and effortlessly repeat, stating the name as clearly as she just did. Though you do so with a tone that obviously gives away your negative opinion of the suggestion.

“Temporarily, of course~” She chuckles, seemingly content with the fact that she has gotten you to say something as clearly as you have. “New world. Limitless possibilities and all. You’re like a seedling. Capable of growing into just about anything, and I haven’t a clue what you might become~” She muses, proudly describing why it is that she’s elected to give you such an absurd name.

More absurd is the fact that you cannot think of a more appropriate name, despite staunchly disagreeing with the one that she has given you.

Apparently, she takes your silence as compliance. Which… Well she isn’t entirely wrong.

“That settles it, then~ Until you can find a better name for yourself, we’ll call you Seedling.” She states, her voice lighter and her overall demeanor being a triumphant one.

Though you are far from amused, you do not argue.

Speaking is difficult as is. And you’re in a very confusing situation. Best to just… Let this woman go about her business, if it means potentially getting some sort of explanation behind all of this.

She already seems to be aware of the weird situation that you have found yourself in. Which might mean that she’s come along with the express intent of helping you along so that you aren’t left out here alone to try and figure things out.

She then clears her throat.

“Anyways-” She hums as she shifts once more to look at you. “My name is Ayala. You can think of me as your personal guide, at least until I get bored and decide to leave you on your own.” She states, giving herself an introduction as well as blatantly telling you that you’re more or less just some form of amusement.

“Guide?” You repeat, and sort of… Ask. Speaking is still difficult and at the moment it would seem that the best that you can muster in response is one or two words, at most. Which is unsurprising, considering that it took you literal hours just to figure out how to say a name that apparently doesn’t have a proper sound in this world.

“Yes, a guide.” She replies. “Y’know. Someone to walk you through all of the confusing and disorienting things that come with suddenly finding yourself in a new world. One where the rules that you’re more accustomed to either don’t apply or have been entirely changed, because everything is different.” She comments, seemingly under the impression that you do not even know what a guide is.

She is wrong, but you can appreciate her rambling regardless. Seeing as it gives you some much needed insight on your situation.

“New world?” You repeat.

May as well attempt to fish for as much information as you can, while this stranger is feeling talkative.

She’s already said that she’ll just leave when she gets bored. You don’t know when that will be, so it would be in your best interest to make the most of her while she is around.

“Correct~” She replies, offering a coy smile as she does. “You are what those of us call here, an Immigrant. Also known as an Outsider or a Settler. Someone from an entirely different world, who rather than being sent here as a spirit to be reborn as one of us, is sent here as you were to make the most of this world. Untethered by our limitations, yet bound to many of our rules all the same.” She explains, describing your circumstances casually and effortlessly, as though she has done so many times in the past. “You have been Eesekeyed, as some would call it!” She then adds, confidently uttering the weird word with the same amount of confidence as she has said everything else. Though she does so in a way that makes it clear that the word is unfamiliar to her.

“... Eesekeyed?” You repeat, your tone one of obvious confusion.

Her demeanor immediately shifts. She seems both confused and disappointed as she looks at you.

“Did I not say it right?” She asks with a little sigh as her shoulders slump. “Someone who came before you once described the meaning of the word. She said that there was a form of entertainment in your world, focused on the idea of dying and being reborn in another world.” She explains.

In doing so, she makes it clear what she is trying to describe.

An Isekai. As in the popular manga and anime genre in which a character suddenly finds themselves in an entirely new world. Usually after dying suddenly and in brutal fashion.

… You aren’t sure what is more surprising. The fact that this woman seems to be aware of what an Isekai is, or the fact that being Isekaied is an actual thing.

You should be more surprised knowing that you died, but… Well. You’re not.

Even though you don’t fully remember what happened, you do remember that you died. And that it was an accident.

Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter how it happened.

You died.

Someone killed you, albeit unintentionally, and it happened so quickly that you weren’t even given the opportunity to be afraid of what came next. You just found your consciousness trapped within the confines of infinity.

Which on its own sounds like an experience that has to have been terrifying, but you do not recall it as such.

You recall it as a pleasant and almost peaceful experience, actually.

Not that it matters.

Infinity spat you out and now you’re here. In an entirely new world, in a strange body that somehow is neither alive nor dead. And this strange woman has come along to walk you through the confusing process that you’ve found yourself in. Albeit as a means of alleviating her boredom, rather than out of any desire to be a good samaritan.

“Isekai.” You calmly repeat, giving Ayala a verbal example of the word that she has been mispronouncing.

“Yes. That.” Ayala replies in turn, not even bothering to try and repeat the word herself. “You have been brought to this world after having your life cut short in the world you came from. Here, your options are virtually unlimited.” She states, before pausing and letting out a sigh. “… But not really. There are a lot of rules in this world, and you are bound by them. As is everyone else that inhabits this place. The only difference is that your rules can be different, in a lot of ways.” She explains, correcting her language so as to not misrepresent the situation that you have found yourself in.

She paces around absently as she talks, glancing at you every so often without ever stopping to properly look at you full on. All the while you awkwardly stand there as you attempt to soak in all of this information.

“Anyways-” She exclaims, turning abruptly to face you fully “Your first step lies the creation of the self. You begin more or less as you ended. At least in terms of the body. But if you found yourself dissatisfied with aspects of what you once were, you do have the opportunity to change that.” She explains, not that you can fully understand what it is that she is talking about.

When you merely stand there and stare at her in dead silence, for a while, she sighs.

“Look. This world is a lot like something that you call a video-game. Whatever that is. And apparently, in a lot of those games, the first thing that you get to do is create your body.” She states, seemingly attempting to better describe what you’re supposed to do next. “You won’t have as much control, I’d guess. You will resemble yourself, as you were before you died. Just younger if you were old, or a bit older if you died before reaching your peak. You just have the option to change certain things. Like your sex. Or the amount of body hair that you get to have.” She explains, even going so far as to give you some additional examples of what you may or may not have control over in terms of creating your new body. “... I guess depending on the state of your body when you die, you get to have new limbs or make broken limbs work. I’ve had people come through that died after living lives where they didn’t have an arm or a leg, or where they had both legs but those legs didn’t work. None of that carries over. So…” She pauses after trying to further explain how this whole “character creation” system goes.

She reaches up to grasp at her chin, seemingly in thought.

“Able-bodied, is the right description, I’d think. You’ll have everything that you’re supposed to have, and everything will work the way that it is supposed to. There won’t be any pain that you shouldn’t have, and you won’t have any odd handicaps that made your old life difficult. You will be a fresh slate, so to speak. With a body that is fully intact and waiting for you to make the most of it.” She finally concludes. “If that doesn’t explain it then I can’t help you there. You’ll just have to answer the question to get started, if you don’t want to spend forever as… That.” She finally states, before stepping back to motion towards the weird state of your body.

You take a moment to glance yourself over, as best as you can. And… Yeah. That is an adequate means of describing what you are.

Not human. But close. You’re just a big, vaguely human shaped entity that could be better described as an incomplete render than anything else.

You stare at your weird shaped hands for a moment as you ponder her explanation.

“... What question?” You then ask.

“What   Are   You?”

Ayala repeats the very question that has echoed in the depths of your mind numerous times since finding yourself here. And as she does, her voice somehow distorts to the point where it melds with the disembodied voice that has been asking you the question.

The sudden shift is incredibly disorienting. To the point that you find yourself suddenly feeling dizzy enough to stumble where you stand.

You do not fall over. But for a moment, it feels as though you might.

Ayala just watches as you sway in place for a moment. Then, when it seems as though you’re steady, she opens her mouth again.

“Are   you   a   Boy,   or   a   Girl?”

She asks, her voice distorting again to meld with the voice that keeps echoing within the depths of your mind.

“Once you’ve decided on that, you’ll be human again. And you’ll be free to start towards the next step of starting your new life.” She hums as she settles down to sit calmly on the grass in front of you.

“If you can’t even do that, then you’ll remain as you are. A formless ghost of what you might become. Incapable of doing anything that makes a human, human. Never eating. Never sleeping. Never breathing. Incapable of feeling either pain or pleasure, while being able to remember what all of that once meant to you.” She explains, doing what she can to make it very clear that this question that you’re being asked is not an optional one.

You must either pick, or you remain trapped as this thing that you have been brought into this world as. An incomplete render of a human that lacks the means to do pretty much anything that a human would be able to do. At least where it counts towards things that would make you alive.

“... For the record, being neither is not a valid option. Not here.” She then adds. “I’ve had people argue with me about it in the past. And I tell you now as I’ve told them. The rules of your world might have allowed for more than two. There might have been three. Or five. Or ten options, for what you get to be. But this world is not like that.” She explains as she casually shrugs off a heavy looking traveling pack that she has been carrying with her this whole time. Presumably so that she can start to set up camp for the night, while the moon is still bright.

Why she waited until now to do so, you have no idea. But she has been focusing on trying to get you sorted this whole time, so… That might be the reason, actually.

“What you are. Male or female. Man or woman. That dictates a lot about what you can become, as a person.” She hums as she pulls out what appears to be a tea kettle.

Seems she intends on making herself a warm drink.

It must be cold out. Not that you can tell, seeing as you cannot feel it.

“Men are stronger. Built to be more durable, and harder to wound. Women have higher constitution and recover faster than men. We have our own traits, unique to us, and tied to our sex. This world is built upon that as a foundation, among other things relating to race. Now that you are here, you are tied to that foundation. And so you must decide. Sooner, rather than later. Whether you wish to live this world as a man, or as a woman.” She explains, all the while she pours water from a leather pouch into the metal kettle that she has pulled out.

You sigh in response.

She is not wrong for explaining this.

The world that you came from had more options, than just the two. Though the two were of importance, since most other options could tie back to it in some way.

Not that it matters now.

She has made it clear how things work here. And seeing as you cannot reject or resist the notion, outside of condemning yourself to a very unpleasant sounding existence… You have little choice but to comply.

“... Can I change it? If I make the wrong choice.” You ask, finding yourself capable of speaking in longer sentences after having spent a short while communicating with your mind.

“Yes.” She replies. “Not right away, mind you. The choice that you make now will stick with you until you can attain the resources needed to change it.” She explains. “Rare as it may be, we have people born in the wrong body. A man trapped inside of a woman. Or a woman trapped inside of a man. Forced to live in a body that does not align with the mind and soul. There are ways to correct it. It just takes time and resources. So whatever you pick, be prepared to live that way for a while. Just know that it is no more permanent than life itself.” She states.

You watch as she starts a small fire beneath the kettle that she has placed upon the ground. And much to your surprise, she starts it not with kindling, but with a simple snap of her fingers.

Ah.

Magic.

There is magic in this world.

How wonderful it is to know that.

“... I already know what I am.” You eventually reply. Which prompts the woman to offer a curious hum in response as she continues to go about the process of preparing her drink.

“And what might that be?” She asks, seemingly to keep the conversation going. Though she is now paying more attention to her tea, or whatever it is that she is making, than she is to you.

“I am a woman.” You reply.

And suddenly, without question, that is exactly what you are.

The incomplete render of your form fades away, and you are left as what you have claimed yourself to be.

A woman. Plain and simple.

You stand now as what you once were. A woman in her prime years. Fresh and new to the world and having been given a new lease on life, after having spent your former one trapped in a perpetual cycle that brought you nothing but emptiness.

Plain or beautiful. Tall or short. Fat or thin. Your perception of yourself won’t make much of a difference now, all things considered.

The rules here are different and confusing as everything is, you’re here now. So you’ll just have to adapt in hopes of making the most of this strange new situation that you have found yourself in.

“Congratulations, Seedling.” Ayala hums as she reaches back into her traveling pack to pull out two cups, both of which lack handles and appear to be made of clay. “You have completed the first step towards becoming a part of this world. Welcome to Arata, as we call it. Though I suppose you could call it Earth, if you wanted.” She states, giving you a calm but honest welcome to this strange new world that you’ll be calling home from here on out.

“... Thank you.” You reply after a moment, having found yourself briefly overwhelmed by the sudden return of sensation to your body.

Everything works now.

You hear clearly. See things clearly, and as they are.

When you touch your face, it is reassuring to find all of the familiar bumps and grooves that make up the various details of your face. You can feel your lips, your nose, your ears. Even your eyebrows.

Just as Ayala said. You exist now as you once were. Just in your prime. And had you been a man in your old life, you suspect that you would just be the female depiction of that.

“... Can I interest you in some tea?” Ayala then asks.

As soon as you do, you become innately aware of the chill in the air. Not to mention the sluggishness of your muscles as your body seems to decide that you have spent far too long awake.

“... Sure.” You reply, after a short pause.

Yeah. Some tea sounds nice. Something to warm you up.

And then after, maybe she’s got a blanket or something in that bag so that you can at least take a nap before any other choices or responsibilities get dropped on your shoulders.

You settle down atop the grass across from Ayala and watch as she pours some hot water into each cup.

Then you watch as she reaches into her bag to fish out a small metal container, which she opens to reveal that it is full of little tablets.

They sort of resemble pills, but you can also tell that they have a weird texture to them. Like compressed grass or coffee grounds.

She throws one into each cup, and you watch as the clear water takes on a murkish brown hue within a few seconds.

“Sugar?” She asks.

“Sure.” You reply.

She puts her tea pods away before fishing out another metal tin, which is apparently full of sugar cubes.

She tosses two into each cup, before putting the tin away.

Then she offers one of the cups to you as she claims her own. And once you have hold of it, she holds her cup up.

“To new beginnings.” She states, before she takes a long drink of her tea.

“... To new beginnings.” You quietly repeat, before taking a drink in turn.

[grislyintentions]

|Personal Depiction: Yaoshi (HC)|

Romanticised Perspective

For all their love of life’s creations, Yaoshi is an Aeon that is far removed from humanity and their suffering.

They do love them and wish them a life free from the torment of death or pains of illness. Hence they are always drawn to those who fervently wish for another chance at life and those who are lost, lonely or struggling to offer assistance (and because these people are often desperate enough to view them as a symbol of hope, they accept most of the time).

Yet more often than not, the cost & consequence of Yaoshi’s blessings often result in subjecting people to fates worse than death even if they themselves have never physically taken a life with their own hands.

In this regard, their disconnect with humanity is comparable to someone over-watering their plants (resulting in rot), a child roughly handling others, feeding animals human food, drowning insects with an overflow of honey and spoiling to a lethal extent. For an Aeon like them, the lines between kindness and cruelty are often blurred; Arguably, they are one and the same.

Even if they were to be confronted with the devastation/aftermath of their blessings someday, the Aeon would only further weep at their pain, and further romanticise their suffering and breathe their forms into ‘new life’. They care, they really do, just not in the way one could comprehend (or accept).

Ancient Beliefs

When it comes to the subject of medicine, ancient chinese beliefs center heavily around the nature of its uses and applications. According to the belief 《是药三分毒》, the correct usage/application of medicine will aid in recovery and healing from sickness. However, take it where it’s not needed and it very well becomes a form of poison to the body.

This is in part why there is a common theme of 《以毒攻毒》(combating poison with poison) depicted in Wuxia literary works and chinese drama centered around the olden times, especially when the character sustained a mortal injury.

The simplest explanation of ‘traditional chinese medicine’ is the belief that the human body can recover/heal itself through the aid of herbal remedies and adjustments (anything apart from that which requires surgery). Most practitioners are required to have an intimate knowledge on herbs, brewing/concocting methods and what functions they all have along with what can and cannot be mixed. The base idea of it all is to prepare ingredients to brew medicinal soup, however in later ages, they can come in the form of a ‘pill’ as well.

In Yaoshi, these elements are present in their form closely representing nature as well as the adverse effects of their ‘blessings’ that come to be. There is always a risk when one craves something badly enough to take ‘poison’. There is always a cost to be paid. That is why people continue to try and seek Yaoshi’s Elixirs out despite there being countless tragedies born from the Aeon’s enlightenment of their world.

Yaoshi, in their own essence, is simply not an Aeon that can be classed as good or evil. They simply exist as them: it is up to humanity to make that opinion for themselves. And just as well, it is humanity’s own desire that would shape their interactions.

Longevity & Emanators

While it is commonly agreed that Yaoshi’s form consists of multiple red slitted eyes with black sclera, they serve another purpose. Borrowing the above example of a ‘pill’, these ‘eyes’ contain the Aeon’s essence. By ingesting them, one will gain knowledge from the path of Abundance and forever bind themselves to the Aeon.

Through their Emanators, Yaoshi’s eternal gaze spreads across the universe. Nature finds a way to survive and even thrive in the unlikeliest of places, much like fungi or dandelions growing from cracks in concrete. As long as their Emanators live, so will Yaoshi.

Thanks to this, Yaoshi remains currently one of the hardest Aeons to kill/replace. Should another Aeon think to join forces with the Plagues Author, they could very well possess the capabilities to decimate part of the vast universe unless they are stopped.

Another point to note:

The forbidden secrets behind the undefinable and remote connection between those of the Hunt and Yaoshi has been described as a ‘connection that cannot be explained by physics’. Attempts at divining the fate of Aeons have been said to be forbidden, though they can be forgiven. But it is the predicting/divining of Yaoshi’s fate that is specifically banned by the Ten-Lords Commission, with the crime being tantamount to the Ten Unpardonable Sins.

It is implied that diviners who have attempted to divine Yaoshi’s fate have all met a tragic demise before punishment could even be sentenced and truly it is up to us to imagine the horrors they must have witnessed.