#part of the wish fulfillment of this scenario would (and is) the idea of getting to enjoy food without bodily discomfort

[sexydreamgirl]

i got told by someone to get advice from people living the life i want so here i am! i'm not exactly looking for anything specific but if you do have any advice, general/loa, i would love it and so many others would too. love you so much hera!!!!! theres a reason you're sexy and hedonistic — elmo alien on twt

I always have so much to say when it comes to advice, but I’ll keep it simple for now.

Since the beginning, I have always geared my content towards confidence in and out of LOA discourse and how you should be putting yourself first because that mindset changed me long before I stumbled upon this community. I’ve told the story before about how my relationship with confidence helped me make sense out of LOA, it was always about choosing and being. I became confident by choosing to be confident and it’s how I remained unmoved by people disliking me and related interactions. I knew and chose myself before the world.

Your life is yours. You need to be the one to choose your life for you because if you don’t, something or somebody else will. When you make it about what another thinks about you or what you should be doing, you’re giving away your life to them and it will never truly be yours.

Have the courage to walk away from things that aren’t up to your standards because you know you deserve better. Don’t settle for what doesn’t make you happy. Whether it’s a person or a situation, don’t be afraid to leave it behind and seek better for yourself.

Have firm boundaries and set the example for the love and appreciation you deserve to receive. Love from others starts with love for self. Don’t accept what you don’t deserve.

I know at some point in our time navigating this new information, we all feel a small sense of fear that this is all fake. Even if that had been the case for me, I never would have returned to the person I used to be before discovering Neville because I love who I am now. I love being happy and optimistic. I love knowing things can get better and I don’t need to be miserable. I love not dwelling in self-made anxieties and hypothetical worst case scenarios. I love feeling inspired by other people to be as grand as them. I love going after what makes me happy without limitations.

A life full of fear is not a life, it’s a prison. Even though I was confident for the most part, there was a part of me that yearned for the confidence to make decisions about my life, LOA saved me from that. I used to be someone clouded with self doubt and pessimism, I felt nervous about taking “risks” because what if I didn’t work out then what? I always believed I had to have a pragmatic approach towards every decision I made and have a plan B, C and D just in case. I’m so grateful to have discovered the law of assumption that has liberated me from a cage I sculpted with my own hands. I write because want that for you guys as well. I’ve changed so much because of the law of assumption and not just from the actual practice of it, my entire mindset has skyrocketed.

The goal is not to live a life of perfection but to live a life of fulfillment, to be free from desire and self-made misery. I’m here because I became my own idol. I’m my dream self and I want you guys to become your dream selves too, I want to share that freedom with you all. At the center of all that I write, I will always stand by the idea that you need to put and love yourself first. Live by that and see how much your life changes. I hope you all have the courage to do it one day and I’m here to help you however I can. You guys have my best wishes forever and always.

[ro-is-struggling]

The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice || Geralt of Rivia x nymph!reader

REQUESTED

Summary: Life was good when Geralt was by her side. They were in love and happy... Until they weren't and she was left alone once again. After spending so much time under his protection, she had forgotten how dangerous the world was for creatures like her. Sad and heartbroken, she was unable to defend herself when the men came for her. Now locked up far away from her forest, she only hoped that her loved protector would come to her rescue.

Warnings: angst (with happy ending), major character death, reader gets imprisoned by a evil dude (I don't know how to tag this lol but I think it’s important to mention that she’s forced to serve him), fluff (it’s not all sad, I promise), forest nymph!reader, fem!reader, let me know if I missed anything!

English is not my first language

Word count: 12.700 (it's a long one)

Notes: A few things to have in mind while reading: It follows the timeline very loosely, and Geralt and Yen's relationship never got to that solid point in s3 cause it's not real love, just the product of Geralt binding their fates together with that wish

She never imagined that her story would end like this, locked in a cold and humid dungeon far away from her forest. Nymphs were not immortal beings —something she had come close to verifying several times in her long years on the continent—, so the idea of her inevitable end was something that she had thought about from time to time. It was not something that haunted her obsessively, but every once in a while her mind would wander to the imagining of the end of her days. 

She lived a quiet life, making sure to be cautious around any unwanted people who passed through her forest. She had no enemies, at least not ones powerful enough to present a real danger to her. So she always imagined that she would die a peaceful death, slowly fading away as her birth tree withered away after having completed its cycle on this earth. If not, she imagined she would die a heroic death as she fought the greedy humans to prevent the destruction of her forest. Both scenarios brought her a sense of comfort in a way, because they showed that she had fulfilled her life's mission, the purpose for which she had been placed on the continent.

She never imagined that the end of her days would actually be so dark and torturous, forced to live in captivity away from her home and everything she loved. She never thought she would miss the feel of the wind on her face, or the warmth of the early morning sun, or the sweet scent of flowers in the spring. She had never imagined herself living anywhere but her forest, but that was an option that had been taken away from her the moment King Elian's men set foot in her home. 

She had heard rumors of his infamous reputation from the mouths of other frightened nymphs. His name inspired terror among magical creatures, who chose to call him The Hunter as if the mere mention of his name was a sign of bad omens. He was known for his obsession with magical creatures and what he did with them after capturing them. Despite what his nickname implied, he did not always chase a magical creature to kill it and display some part of its body as a hunting trophy. No. There was a fate far more horrible and obscure than that, and that was to end up as a piece of his collection, just another exhibit, forced to smile in his presence and perform for his entertainment whenever he wanted it. It was the terrible fate that had unfortunately fallen upon her. 

In the past she had not seen King Elian as a threat. His kingdom was on the other side of the continent and while he used to go on hunting trips when he heard rumors of a creature in his vicinity, he had never ventured this far before. Besides, she was under the protection of one of the continent's fiercest witchers, so she knew no one would dare mess with her. No one who knew Geralt of Rivia would dare to challenge him, and the poor bastards who, out of ignorance or arrogance did, usually didn't live to tell the tale. The bond they had was strong, a love unlike any she had ever experienced in her many years of life, so she never thought there would be a day when she would wake up without him by her side.

"The king requires your presence." A guard announced from her cell door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet reluctantly, stepping up to the bars so he could put the handcuffs on her before unlocking her cell. The dimeritium on her wrists was engraved with the same symbols as the bars of the box in which she spent her days. It was a powerful incantation that weakened her magic so that she could not use her powers to escape. It was painful since the metal burned her skin, but she had learned the hard way not to complain.

The guard led her to the throne room, where the king was shouting directions to the group of servants working on decorating the place, changing the curtains and adding chairs and tables to the sides of the room. She had been there long enough to know that the castle was being prepared for a feast, though she did not know what the celebratory occasion was.

She forced herself to bow when the king's eyes fell upon her figure, though her expression showed how little respect she truly had for him. "Your majesty." She murmured as a learned response as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I hope you used your time in the dungeon to reflect on your attitude." His voice was firm, almost as if he was still angry with her for refusing to comply with his demands almost a week ago when he had wanted to use her to entertain the king of the neighboring kingdom who had come to visit. "You have to understand that you belong to me. You are here to serve me and the only reason you are not dead already is that I find you useful. But that can change and it depends entirely on how you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue to avoid causing a scene that would undoubtedly send her straight to the dungeon again. "Yes, my king." She wasn't able to look him in the eye as she spoke as she didn't want to see the satisfaction in his expression. 

"As a demonstration of my great generosity and compassion, I have decided to give you a second chance to prove your loyalty. But do not mistake my mercy for stupidity for this will be your last chance to prove your worth to me. If you say or do anything out of place you will know the sharp blade of my sword."

After she submissively assured him that she understood the seriousness of his words, he explained that he needed her to take care of some of the preparations for the feast in honor of his daughter. During the week the entire kingdom had participated in the celebrations for the girl's fifteenth birthday, an event that would culminate with a grand banquet in the evening. She would be in charge of preparing the floral arrangements that would decorate the entire palace as well as being responsible for the main entertainment since there was nothing to match the singing of a nymph. But in addition, the king put her on a special task. He wanted to give his daughter a beautiful garden with different types of flowers —one for each year of her life—, and she was the perfect person for the job. She accepted without question, not so much because she valued her life or feared reprisals if she refused, but rather because after being locked up for so long she missed being in contact with nature. 

"If it's alright with you, my lord, I would like to start with the garden." She said in the most respectful way possible, explaining that with her powers weakened it was the task that would take the most work.

She was escorted by a group of half a dozen guards, who grabbed her roughly by the arms and dragged her through the castle corridors to the garden. Normally she would have complained about their mistreatment, but it all stopped mattering to her when she felt the gentle breeze hit the skin of her face. It was a wonderful feeling smelling the wet dirt in the air and hearing the birds singing after having spent so much time locked up in the deepest part of the castle. It almost felt like freedom.

Working in the garden awakened a bittersweet feeling in her. On the one hand, it was the most comfortable she had been since she arrived at the castle. Walking barefoot on the grass, feeling the earth between her toes and the flowers growing under her hands was as close to home as she had ever been. It was liberating in a way, putting her powers to good use and connecting with the nature she missed so much. But, on the other hand, it was also a reminder of all that she had lost, the life she would never get back. As much as she loved being outside after so many days locked up, she couldn't help but notice that nothing felt like home. The flowers didn't smell the same, the grass under her feet wasn't as soft, and even the birds didn't sing the same. That wasn't her home. This was not her forest. 

As she buried her hands in the ground, she couldn't help but question what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it. Sure, avoiding further punishment for disobeying the king's orders was a valid motivation, but was it really worth it? Why was she trying to preserve her life when the only future she had was to live locked up there forever? Was dying such a terrible fate when the alternative was imprisonment and slavery? A life away from her home, forced to indulge the whims of a power-hungry monster was no life at all, so why was she there obeying the orders of that disgusting man? 

Then she realized that she still held out hope of escaping. Her spirit wasn't completely crushed and her love for Geralt wasn't entirely gone, so even if it was foolish, she still hoped he would show up to rescue her. They hadn't seen each other for over a year, since that sad day when their story had met an abrupt end after he confessed to her that there was another woman in his life, but she still held out hope of seeing him again. She dreamed of seeing his long white hair move in the air as he skillfully knocked down the guards that separated them and freed her from her confinement. How could she not when he had been her savior on more than one occasion? In fact, that was how they had met.

She was frightened and hurt the first time she saw him, trapped in a cage with symbols carved into the bars. It was a powerful spell that weakened her powers just like the shackles of dimeritium around her wrists. The cage was too small for her, a confined space where she could barely stretch her legs or sit up straight if she wanted to. A group of well-trained men had managed to capture her, taking advantage of her distraction and temporary weakness to lock her up and take her back to their master. She was so terrified that when she heard Geralt's sword clash with that of one of her attackers, she curled up in a corner, her body folding in on itself in an attempt to make herself small and invisible to the group of fighting men. 

She recognized immediately that he was a witcher and that brought her no relief. While his kind generally didn't tend to see nymphs as dangerous monsters —as long as they behaved and didn't do anything to end up on their list, of course— she didn't feel completely safe in the presence of a witcher. She tended to hide on the occasions when one passed through her forest, believing it was best to stay away from people like that just in case. After all, they were monster hunters, a concept that, in her experience, meant something different to each individual and there was no way of knowing for sure if she fell into that category or not. So, even though he had overpowered her captors, she still felt fear when he approached.

Geralt felt that fear as soon as he took a step towards her, it was almost as strong as the power and magic that flowed from her being. Her beauty alone was enough to let him know that she was a nymph of the forest. Behind the earth and blood, hidden in a grimace of terror, were the delicate features that the witcher had only seen in the creatures of her kind that he had encountered in the past. The nymphs had a certain look, a special glow that distinguished them from the rest of the magical beings on the continent. They were also one of the gentlest and most peaceful creatures on the continent, focused only on protecting their homes and turning to violence only as a last defense mechanism. That was why Geralt did not sense a drop of evil in her. And that was also why he set out to free her from her confinement.

Even though her captors lay dead on the ground, she still looked terrified, her eyes glassy with tears and her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a sob. When he approached her, the nymph snuggled further into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective manner. He raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show her that he was not going to hurt her, walking slowly toward the cage so he could release her. It was then that he noticed the symbols on the bars and the dimeritium shackles, which helped him understand how she had ended up there and why she was so scared. She was in a position of extreme vulnerability without her magic and, despite having saved her, he was a complete stranger who could very well cause her more trouble. So the witcher made an effort to appear friendly and non-threatening.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He told her to try to calm her down, though it wasn't much help. She curled further into the corner of the cage, hugging her legs to her chest and looking up at him with watchful eyes from between her knees.

"I know what you are." She answered him, the fear clear in her voice. "You are a witcher, you kill-"

"Monsters, yes." Geralt spoke for her. "But you are not one of them. You're safe with me." 

At that moment she had no way of knowing what kind of impact those words would have on her life and how genuine they were. She accepted his help because she had no other choice, but time would show her how fortunate she had been to cross paths with Geralt. At first he played hard to get, barely speaking as she nursed his wounds once her powers stabilized. She'd had to resort to using her charms a little to soften that hard exterior of his, but once Geralt began to open up to her, she discovered the man he truly was. 

Geralt tended to lean into rumors about himself and his kind, pretending to be emotionless and not caring about anything or anyone but himself. But that was all an act, a protective shield. In reality he cared. He was capable of feeling emotions as deeply as any other being on the continent. He hated and held grudges, but he also loved and cared for those close to him just as intensely. And once she discovered that, she found it very easy to love him back. 

She was truly safe with him, and in the long years that their love blossomed he did nothing but prove that to her. Geralt was her favorite person in the world. He was her home, her lover, her protector... A love like that was not easily forgotten and no one could blame her for holding out even the slightest hope that he would come for her, that he would somehow sense that she was in danger and rush to her rescue. It had happened in the past, their connection was that strong, so it wasn't an entirely far-fetched idea. It was just... naive of her.

Geralt had been traveling for days. He usually preferred to use alternative paths hidden behind forests or swamps, they were quieter and better for his business. Not many people used them so he didn't run into anyone that would bother him, and it was easy to run into the occasional monster roaming around, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. What he hated, however, was that most of the time it took him twice as long to get to some town where he could rest with minimal comforts and eat a hot meal. 

Had he taken the main road he would probably already be at his destination, drinking in the dark corner of some dingy bar or locked in the room of some cheap inn, and not wandering the forest in search of an animal big enough to satisfy his appetite. He didn't mind being outdoors or having to hunt for his food on the spot —-in fact he was so used to that he almost preferred it—, but this time he was tired and couldn't wait to be anywhere but there. Perhaps that was why when he came across a king and his hunting party he accepted his offer to return to his camp to eat with him without putting up much of a fight. 

Geralt hated royalty and King Elian was no exception. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, just like the vast majority of kings, but there was something else about him that rubbed the witcher the wrong way. He tried to decline his offer at first, but he was unwilling to take no for an answer.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. My camp is not far from here and my tent is big and warm. I have more than enough food and I would love to hear some of your stories while we eat." The king insisted, pressing Geralt to accept his offer. "My men don't make for good company and I'm bored. I'm sure a witcher like you has been involved in a good share of adventures that make for fascinating stories."

In any other circumstances, Geralt would have found a way to escape from there. The last thing he wanted was to be used as the personal entertainment of an arrogant king. But this time he decided not to resist too much. He attributed it to his tiredness, he had been traveling for a long time and at least it wouldn't be a sacrifice in vain since he could at least get food in exchange for entertaining him for a while. But perhaps there was something more than that playing a role there. Fate itself had crossed their paths for a reason, even though he didn't know it yet.

"It's not as interesting or glorious as one might think." Geralt said with honesty. 

In his experience there were two types of opinions regarding his people and what they did for a living. There were the people who despised them for what they were and believed they were no different than the monsters they killed and there were those who found them fascinating and longed to go on adventures like the ones they often experienced. To him both opinions were bullshit. He wasn't a monster, he didn't kill for pleasure or for fun as many people believed, but neither was he some kind of hero whose life was worthy of being immortalized in songs and poems. He was just a man who did what he knew best to survive, just like all witchers and all beings on the continent. He and his kind did not deserve hatred, but neither did they deserve to be crowned with laurels. They deserved to be left in peace, nothing more, nothing less.

"I have to say I'm grateful for the work you and your kind does." The king continued speaking without acknowledging Geralt's words. It was as if he was not there, his words were of little value to the king when they did not say exactly what he wanted to hear from him. "These creatures are dangerous and can't be left alone to live amongst us. Although some are fascinating creatures if given proper care and purpose."

Geralt looked at the monarch with a frown, unsure of what he meant by that. He said nothing, however, just remained silent for most of their journey to the camp, while trying to get a better read on the man beyond the typical arrogance of all of his kind. There was something about him that he did not like, something that caused a feeling that other kings and nobles did not. It was something more than his simple unpleasant personality, but he could not figure out what it was.

"You should come to my kingdom sometime." King Elian offered as they finally reached what appeared to be the camp where he and his hunting party had set up their base. "I have a collection of creatures I'm sure you would love to see."

The witcher halted his walk, looking at the king with narrowed eyes. "A collection?"

"Oh yes! I have the biggest collection of magical creatures in the whole continent." He admitted as if it was something to be proud of. "I have some pretty rare ones I'm sure you and your people would love to study. You're more than welcome to come over anytime! After all, we are all on the same side."

Geralt did not like the way the king referred to magical creatures and hated that he equated himself with witchers and the work they did. They didn't lock up monsters to brag about their large collection to strangers. They didn't see them as objects that gave them some kind of prestige. They saw them as living creatures, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misunderstood. Witchers did not enslave or kill monsters for fun as he seemed to do and Geralt was disgusted that he would even try to imply such a thing.

However, before he could voice his opinion, the king shoved him into his luxurious tent and the servants set a plate of food in front of him. It was filled with meat and potatoes and vegetables so colorful that they must have been freshly picked. It might have been the hunger talking, but it was the most appetizing food he had tasted in a long time. It was indeed fit for a king and Geralt thought it was definitely worth chatting with his host for a while in exchange for a share, especially after tasting the wine.

"It's good, isn't it?" the king asked him, studying his reaction as he lifted the wine glass to his mouth. "I have someone special that takes care of all the plants in the castle so I only eat the best of the best. It's actually one of my creatures. You can meet her, if you want."

Geralt let go of the piece of meat between his fingers and looked at the king with a frown. There was a subtle change in the air that made him instinctively tense, wondering what his host was up to. The king gave him a small smile before gesturing to one of his men, who left the tent without saying a word. The monarch's menacing aura put the witcher on alert, carefully watching his every move while he ate as if trying to predict what he would do next. His attitude had changed in a matter of seconds. Geralt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something about the way he looked back at him that put him on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to happen —as if he knew something was going to happen—, the glow of anticipation clear in his eyes. 

He didn't understand his attitude, at least not until the guard returned to the tent. Only he wasn't alone, but was carrying a girl on his arm who was shuffling her bare feet across the ground hesitantly, as if she really didn't want to be there. Her eyes were downcast and her long hair was tangled over her face, so that Geralt could not see her features. Her dress, which seemed to have been a beautiful piece of art at one time, was now dirty and worn, with the fabric torn to shreds on some sides. Her hands were bound together at her wrists, trapped by shackles of dimeritium that marked her condition of slavery. It was a sad sight that became horrifying when Geralt smelled the scent of flowers in the air.

His heart stopped as his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet smell of cherry blossom that he knew and had come to love. The world around him stopped as he was struck with the horrible realization of what was happening. He did not need to see the face of the captured young woman to know it was her. It was enough to feel her energy in the tent as he breathed in her characteristic sweet scent. 

Geralt jumped to his feet, hand gripping his sword as he entered a state of desperation. He wasn't thinking, he couldn't, he had been reduced to his most primitive instincts by seeing her there in that condition. She was weak and injured in a way that Geralt had never seen, her glow and warm, positive energy almost completely extinguished after being tortured for who knows how long. However, when her eyes met his, he noticed a slight glimmer of joy and hope. That only further increased his desire to protect her, the murderous urge growing inside him and urging him to crush anyone who stood between them.

"Let her go!" Geralt demanded firmly, turning his eyes away from his former lover to look the king in the eyes. 

He was furious and desperate, it was evident in his voice and in the hard expression on his face. Anyone would have given in to his demands if he looked at them with those murderous eyes, but King Elian did not flinch. He didn't seem to care that Geralt was pointing his sword at him or that he looked ready to take on an army on his own, he continued to eat as if nothing was happening while the tent filled with guards ready to defend him.

"Please, sit down. You barely touched your food." The monarch spoke in a calm, casual tone. But Geralt did not move, he stood his ground, sword held high and hate-filled eyes fixed on him. "Fate is its a curious thing, don't you agree? This invisible force pushing us to the right path so we might fulfill our destiny, making every little interaction, every little decision, integral... Take this as an example. This morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was going to cross paths with you and yet here we are."

"Let. Her. Go." Geralt interrupted the king's unimportant ramblings, pausing slightly at each word to emphasize his anger. He didn't care what the man had to say, he would slice him through with his sword right there if it weren't for the fact that his sweet nymph was bound and surrounded by guards who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her before he could get to her. "I won't ask again. Next time it will be my sword doing the talking."

"I don't want to fight you, Geralt. If anything, I want to thank you for helping me fulfill my destiny, my purpose of becoming the biggest collector of magical creatures in the continent... You see, if it weren't for you, I could never have captured a forest nymph as powerful as her. I admit that you ruined my plans the first time when you attacked my men, but in the end it was thanks to you that I was able to get my hands on her."

"What are you talking about?" the witcher asked, confused. It could be the adrenaline coursing through his veins and drowning out his thoughts —or the fact that his heart was beating so fast that it was pounding in his ears muffling all other sounds—, but the king wasn't making much sense to him. They had never crossed paths before, and if they had, he would never have helped him in something so horrible.

"I could never have caught her while she was under your protection. But when you left... well, let's just say she was withering away little by little, weakening day by day until she got to the point where she couldn't defend herself when my men came for her."

Geralt froze in place as the king's words echoed in his head. It was a lot of information to process and he was in no condition to do so. If he wasn't so devastated he might have reacted to the implication that the king had been watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike after he had saved her from his men the day they had met. But at that moment he could only concentrate on the feelings of guilt and regret that came over him. 

When he left, he never thought about the consequences his decision might have. He never thought about how his departure would affect her or if she would be okay. He knew she would be sad and hurt, just as it hurt him to have to leave her, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. So he focused on moving on, hoping she would too, without stopping to consider the consequences. He thought about her a lot in the time they spent apart —when he lay awake at night, admiring the stars and the nocturnal sounds of the woods; or as he dressed quietly after spending a night with Yennefer—, but in his mind he always pictured her happy. She was strong and had lived many years alone on the continent before their paths crossed, so he was sure that their breakup would not destroy her. He was sure that she would find a way to get back on her feet and that it would be better for the both of them to stay apart. 

Now he realized that was just an excuse. He was being selfish, protecting himself and running away from reality so as not to face it because it hurted him. It hurted to know that he was hurting her. It hurted that he fell in love with another woman behind her back. It hurted to have to leave her after all they had been through together, the love they shared, the moments of vulnerability and intimacy that had brought them together. It hurted because he had failed her, because he couldn't keep his promise to be with her forever. So he completely disappeared from her life, making excuses to justify his behavior and convince himself that he was doing the right thing even though he knew deep down that he wasn't. He ran away like a coward and she ended up paying the price for it.

The witcher's eyes searched the nymph's, hoping to find in them the answers to the questions he had not asked, some indication that the king was not lying. She escaped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and extremely vulnerable. But eventually their gazes met and Geralt knew the mistake he had made. He should have been there for her. He should have helped her when they came for her. He should have searched for her all over the continent once he noticed her disappearance. He should have protected her, just as he always had. He had failed her twice, but he would not let there be a third.

Geralt carried out his threat without hesitation, lashing out at the nearest soldiers in an effort to reach her. The clinking sound of clashing swords and the groans of his opponents were all that echoed in his mind, focusing on his enemy to keep his head cool and ensure victory. They were no threat to him. They were well trained and knew how to move around very well, but he was a witcher with decades of experience and unmatched reflexes and skills. He had defeated them once in the past and he would do it again now without breaking a sweat.

At least that's what he thought before he heard the voice of the young nymph in the distance calling out for him.

“Geralt!” She exclaimed his name for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her sweet voice traveled through the air, piercing through the sound of metal and the grunts of pain until it reached his ears. She managed to get his attention immediately as he recognized the hint of fear in it. As he buried his sword in his opponent, his eyes snapped up to her, searching for her in the crowd following the sound of her voice. 

When he finally found her, Geralt's heart sank as he discovered the reason for the fear in her voice. The king had his hands around her, holding her tightly against his body. His left hand was wrapped around her torso, restricting her movement, while his right hand wielded a silver dagger against her neck. The metal gleamed in the dim light, revealing the sharp edge that burned the girl's skin. Desperate, Geralt tried to lunge at the monarch, but he stopped him with a click of his tongue.

"One more step and she dies." He assured, firmly. Geralt noticed the honesty in his voice, so he stayed in place and slowly lowered his sword —though he did not drop it—, a desperate attempt to buy time to think of a plan to get out of there with her by his side.

"You don't have to do this." Geralt tried to reason with him even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't see her as more than an object, just another piece in his long collection of creatures, so it was safe to assume he didn't value her life very much. But still, Geralt didn't have much choice so he tried anyway.

"She has been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived at the castle, isn't that right, darling?" The king grumbled, lowering his head just slightly so he could mutter the last question against the young nymph's ear. "Crying all day, disobeying my orders, upsetting the other creatures... and now your friend over here kills half my men after I feed him and show him my generosity."

"If we present so much trouble to you, why don't you let us go? I'll take her with me and I promise you won't hear from us ever again."

"You are ungrateful brats." The king continued speaking, completely ignoring Geralt's words. "You think you are special, important, and therefore above it all... but you are not. Your actions have consequences and I am the one who decides what they are... You do not deserve my generosity or my mercy."

Geralt didn't have time to think about the hypocrisy in the monarch's words because before he could process them his eyes watched in horror as he slid the blade of the dagger across his beloved's neck. Blood began to gush violently from the wound, the thick, sticky liquid sliding down the young woman's delicate skin, turning everything red. He screamed her name, his sword slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a muffled sound. He ran towards her, completely forgetting the guards he was fighting moments before. He only cared about her.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion, as if his feet were twice as heavy and dragging them along the ground was more difficult than usual. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, the men around him, the gentle breeze of the wind... everything but her. He watched her collapse to the ground, blood covering her chest as she struggled to keep breathing. But he couldn't reach her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms one more time, but it was as if an abyss was keeping them apart. It felt as if fate was mocking him, punishing him for his mistakes by allowing him to be there with her, but not letting him do anything to save her. 

He tried to stop the bleeding as he knelt beside her —placing his hands on her neck and feeling the blood gushing from the wound—, but it was too late. She was pale and weak, all the magic in the world could not have saved her at that moment. There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful green orbs that were fading with each passing second. She was scared, Geralt could see it in her expression. She didn't want to go, but she knew there was nothing else to do now.

"I'm here, I'm here." Geralt whispered in the calmest, most comforting tone he was capable of uttering at that moment. He swallowed his anger and pain, holding back tears so he could give her some peace. He cradled her face in his hands, fingers caressing the skin of her cheeks delicately as if he were afraid of breaking it. "It's going to be okay... you're going to be okay. I will fix this."

She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead of sound only blood came out. Geralt caressed her gently, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her hand around his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. She was begging him to understand her, to read in her eyes her thoughts as he had done so many times in the past. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand her, although in hindsight it should have been obvious to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to assure him that none of it was his fault and that no matter what had happened between them, he would own her heart forever. 

"I love you. I always will."

Geralt saw the reassurance in her face as the warmth of love enveloped her in her last moments. She gave him the faintest of smiles, an almost invisible sign of the peace his words had brought her. And then her grip on his arm weakened, her hand dropping to the floor as life left her body. Suddenly, that subtle smile, now permanently carved into her expression, was all he had left of her, of her life and the love they shared. 

Geralt did not fight when the soldiers dragged him and tied him to a tree to leave him there to die while they escaped, he did not have the strength to do so. He was numb to the world around him, consumed by grief. The sound of the king and his men preparing to leave sounded muffled and distant, as if they were far away from him. And in a way they were, for his mind was not one with his body, but far away. He was focused on the slowly withering body of his beloved, on the fear as she called his name and the terror in her eyes as the edge of the dagger sealed her fate. He could only think of her and all the time they had lost and could never get back, feeling the guilt slowly consuming him as her body transformed into a pile of pink petals.

Geralt admired her face in the dim glow of the candlelight, thinking about how beautiful she looked tangled in the sheets beside him. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo around her head and her smooth skin was covered with a light layer of sweat that gave her an almost ethereal glow. It felt like an illusion, a trick of his mind. He found it hard to believe he had someone like her lying next to him, looking at him with love in her eyes. 

It wasn't just her beauty. No. It was the peace her mere presence awakened in him and the void he felt in his chest when they were apart. It was the way he dreamed of her and her caresses every night he went to bed alone and how his longing disappeared when he felt her warmth against him as their bodies melted into one. It was the way her kisses made him feel like he was home, safe and away from the complications of the world outside the little paradise that was her forest. It was much more than physical attraction, more than the effects of her nymph charm, as he had initially thought. It was love. Pure, honest love, like he had never felt before. He was in love with her, and while he hadn't put it into words yet, he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Her fingers aroused a warm tingle as they caressed his cheek. Geralt leaned into it, closing his eyes for a second to appreciate the magic of the moment. It was amazing how such a subtle act, such a light touch, was able bring out so many emotions in him. It was something only she could do, a clear demonstration of how deep his feelings for her were.

However, when Geralt opened his eyes again, he didn't find the special glow he usually saw in them at intimate moments like this. She was looking straight at him, but it was as if she was looking right through him, as if her mind was lost in her thoughts. Something was bothering her, that much was clear in the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth would open slightly, almost in an imperceptible movement, only to close seconds later, as if there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn't quite bring herself to say. So he decided to ask her about it. 

"What's wrong?" Geralt voice was low and raspy with sleep, looking at her with a slight frown in confusion. There was a moment of silence before she answered. Her eyes never left his, but her hand slowly slid from his cheek to rest on his bare chest.

"I'm afraid of losing you." She eventually said, her voice almost a whisper. "You travel across the continent, meet all kinds of people... I'm afraid one day you will get bored of me... find someone better and leave me forever."

Geralt could not believe his ears. It was ridiculous to him that she could have such a fear of abandonment when he felt the way he did. If only she knew how happy being with her made him... If only he could somehow transfer his emotions to her so that she could feel his heart race when they kissed, or experience the peace that filled him inside every night when he lay down next to her... If only she knew, she wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. So, he took her hand in his and pressed it against the left side of his chest, right over where his heart was beating with love for her. She needed to know that she was the only one who had a permanent place there. She was the only one he loved and he doubted that would ever change.

"Believe me when I tell you that there is no force on this continent that can keep me away from you." He spoke in a soft voice and watched as her eyes lit up full of illusion. "I love you, forever and always."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, showing her with his lips how serious he was about it. He loved her and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to be with her for the rest of his life, sharing intimate moments like this one and protecting her from any evil that might come her way. He felt complete with her and could not imagine how miserable his life would be without her by his side.

Geralt allowed himself to get lost in the passion of the moment, fingers tracing trails over his beloved's bare skin as he melted into the kiss. It was different this time, more intimate and charged with all the emotions that were left unsaid —it was their special way of communicating, one kiss and they knew what was going through each other's minds. The comforting warmth of love filled his heart, leaving him in a state of total bliss as she whispered sweet nothings against his lips. He was happy in a way he could not remember ever being before, in a way he knew he could only be with her. 

But suddenly that comforting warmth that flooded his insides was replaced by a paralyzing cold, an emptiness that pressed against his chest and took his breath away. Geralt could no longer feel his beloved's lips against his. He could no longer smell the flowery scent her soft skin radiated or feel the warmth of her body. He was trapped in a black void, in emptiness itself, all alone. And in the distance he could hear his name being called.

Geralt

Geralt

Geralt

It was a cry for help, the voice of terror of someone who had been confronted with their own mortality. The voice trembled with fear, certain of the fatal fate that awaited them. Geralt could not escape its shrieks, no matter how hard he tried. It was his own personal hell, a void where he was forced to confront his pain, his guilt, and to listen again and again to his beloved's voice filled with terror as she spoke his name for the last time.

Geralt woke up tangled in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and breathing fast due to his nightmare. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as he tried to pull himself together. His beloved's voice was still ringing in his ears, only that with every waking second it became more and more distant until it became an almost unintelligible whisper. Anguish and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he was used to that by now. The emptiness inside him had accompanied him every moment of his life since that unfortunate day. He could not escape the pain and regret he felt, it haunted him even when he closed his eyes at night. He could not even enjoy the peaceful ignorance in the mornings, when one's mind is too sleepy to process life's tragedies, because his nightmares would remind him of every painful detail of that day so that he could not rest.

At a time like this, when life had become so overwhelming that he was unable to sleep, he usually reached out to her. With her gentle touch and sweet voice she was always able to calm his tormented self, wash away the anger and frustration and replace it with love and calmness. But now she was gone and he didn't know how to go on. He missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss anyone. He missed the melodious sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she was happy. He missed waking up next to her in the mornings, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping him as she whispered good morning to him, her voice hoarse from sleep. He wished he could once again feel the soft caress of her lips on his and hear her say she loved him one more time. 

There was nothing Geralt wasn't willing to do to have her back with him, to be able to tell her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving her. He had been an idiot to have given in to his desires for Yennefer. He should never have gotten involved with her, he should have let her own greed and obsession destroy her that day. He should have saved Jaskier and moved on with his life, after all Yennefer's problems were of no concern to him. But he could not resist his need to intervene, acting like a knight in shining armor instead of what he really was: a witcher. He made an impulsive decision, binding their destinies with magic and unknowingly triggering the death of his beloved. For if only he had been with her, if only he had stayed by her side to protect her as he had promised, he was sure things would be very different. She would still be alive and he would not be so miserable.

But Geralt was determined to make things right. He refused to let her die because of his mistakes. And looking at the cherry blossom tree growing outside his window, he knew the time was getting closer.

"I will fix this." He spoke to the tree, stroking the trunk with his hand as he sucked in a long breath of air. It smelled like her, a sweet scent mixed with the aroma of wood and wet earth. It ached and comforted him in equal amounts. "I will bring you back to me and I will keep my promise to you this time."

Geralt knew she was gone, but her essence was still alive in that tree. Born from the pink petals in which her body had withered when she died, it grew stronger with each day, keeping a fragment of her alive. Of course it was not her, but for now he was happy to make promises to the wind that its branches generated, clinging to the sweet scent of its flowers as the only sign that his words were well received by her. It was all he had, all he had left of her, and for now that was enough. He still wasn't sure how he would fulfill his promises or even where to begin. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that his love for her was stronger than fate itself and there was no force on the continent that could stop him from keeping his promise this time.

The solution to his dilemma presented itself almost by accident. And it came from the place Geralt least expected. He had spent the last few months visiting every library he had access to, reading every book and consulting with every expert he knew in his desperate search to find a way to bring his beloved back to life. But in the end, it was Jaskier who presented him with a solution in the form of a song. 

They were traveling on a back road after a successful job. The bard had offered to accompany him under the excuse that he needed new inspirations, but Geralt knew he was doing it because he didn't want to leave him alone. Jaskier knew the pain he felt and being the good friend he was he wanted to accompany him in mourning. Geralt appreciated him even if he didn't have the strength to say it in words. His light-hearted comments and meaningless ramblings were exactly what he needed to distract his tormented mind. Even his spontaneous singing at the worst possible moment cheered him up instead of irritating him as usual. Anything to help him concentrate on something else was welcomed.

They had been walking for hours, hoping to reach the next town before dark and sleep in a comfortable bed in a warm room and not in the middle of the forest again. They were quiet, only the chirping of birds and the sound of leaves crunching under their feet echoed in the air. They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago and Jaskier was starting to get bored. So he did what he always did when he found himself in that situation, sing. Only this time Geralt didn't recognize the verses as one of his own original songs. It was one he had not heard him sing before, so he paid attention.

It told the story of a young man that had managed to win the heart of a forest nymph with his beautiful singing. The connection they shared was so strong that they married shortly after meeting, in the same place where they first saw each other. Happiness and love filled their days for a few long and joyful months. That was until fate, jealous and bitter, stood in the way of their happiness. So, one morning, after being bitten by a snake, the young nymph died. Her beloved fell into a state of despair when he heard the tragic news. Unable to accept that his wife had been taken from his life without warning, he descended into the depths of the underworld to plead for her soul. The song narrated the difficulties of his journey and the perseverance with which he had faced each difficulty until he reached the lord of the underworld himself, to whom he tearfully begged for the return of his wife. The emotion in his words was such that he managed to move Hades, who gave in to his prayers. Although he imposed a condition: that he would not turn around to see his wife's soul following his steps until he left the underworld.

The story did not end well since the young man had been too eager and had turned to see his beloved before she was completely above ground. But Geralt didn't care about that somber detail. His attention was focused on the young man and his journey to the underworld, not only because he felt somehow connected to the emotions of sadness and despair he felt, but also because he was fairly certain he could recreate his heroic efforts.

"Are you crazy?" was Jaskier's reaction to hearing Geralt's idea, his voice raised in a tone of surprise and concern. "Haven't you heard the end of the song? Things go wrong! He doesn't get his wife back!"

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“Geralt, the story it’s just a myth… a tragic love story that one could say is a cautionary tale! You’re not supposed to follow in his footsteps, you’re supposed to learn to live with the grief, process your emotions and eventually move on… Look, I know this is hard for you. I miss her too… What happened to her wasn’t fair, but it wasn't your fault either. Blindly following the words of a myth is not going to change anything.”

“But it’s not a myth, not all of it at least.” Geralt recognized that the love story of the young man and the forest nymph might be an invention, but he knew of the existence of a door to the underworld. It was hidden and required great power and extensive knowledge of magic to be opened, but it was real. And fortunately for him, he knew one of the most powerful and skilled mages on the continent. Though convincing her to help him would not be an easy task given how things had ended between them.

"Why should I help you?" Yennefer said with annoyance in her voice when he showed up unannounced to ask for her help. It was clear that she did not enjoy the witcher's surprise visit and was not shy about showing it. "And more importantly, why are you asking for my help with something like this? I thought you of all people would know how dangerous opening the doors of the underworld is."

"Why do you care?" Geralt answered her with another question. To be honest, he didn't think the difficulties in getting her help would come from a moral issue. Yennefer was not the type of mage who cared too much about such things. "Are you in this or not?"

"That depends... what's in it for me? I hope you know I'm not going to waste my energy in helping you out of the goodness of my heart, not after all the shit you did." Geralt smiled at her remark, surprised that it had taken her so long to once again blurt out her complaints about him saving her life. She was still angry at him for linking their destinies with the wish to the Djinn and at this point he doubted she would ever get over it. 

"You get the once in a lifetime chance to traverse the underworld and possibly get knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension." He simply stated.

Yennefer was silent for a moment, watching Geralt intently, violet eyes piercing his yellow orbs. It alerted him to strengthen his mental shield to keep her from entering his thoughts. 

"When you live as long as I have, once in a lifetime opportunities start losing power and meaning."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to explore the unexplored and that's your answer? This could have all the answers you've spent years looking for and you're not interested?"

"Oh I'm interested, I just can't understand why Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher who prides in his indifference and ability to not intervene, would be interested in opening the gates to the underworld?"

"I have my reasons and they are not of your concern. Are you going to help me or not?"

Yennfer was silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, she smiled at him, and he knew he could count on her help.

Preparing for such an adventure was difficult. It was the first time in his life that Geralt did not know what to expect. He had no idea what he was going to encounter once they crossed the gates to the world of the dead. He didn't know what kind of obstacles he would encounter on the journey or if he would even accomplish his task. But he had to try. Even if it was the last thing he did, he owed it to her. 

It was difficult to prepare for the uncertain, so he tried to imagine all possible scenarios and prepare accordingly. He tried to be as meticulous as possible, but he knew it was impossible to stay on top of everything. What he never imagined, however, was that trouble would come from Yennefer's end. He always saw her as such a powerful and determined individual that he did not take into consideration that her energy could wear out and her magic could be consumed. Geralt had no way of really knowing how demanding the spell to open the gates of the underworld would be. He knew it was not something that just anyone could do, but he thought Yennefer could handle it without much trouble. He had never seen magic like hers. And what she lacked in skill, she made up for in stubbornness, so he thought that with her by his side things would not be so difficult.

However, the moment they took a step into the world of the dead, Yennefer fell weakly into the witcher's arms. She muttered something about having spent her energy and how the nature of the place did not allow her to pull herself together. Geralt suggested that she stay outside, after all, this wasn't her fight and she didn't have to risk so much for him. And at that instant, as if the walls were listening to them, the doors closed, leaving only one possible path.

The place was cold and dark, like a cave hidden deep in a mountain. There was not so much as a ray of sunlight, the little light that illuminated their way came from torches distributed along the stone walls. The air was heavy, stale, and it was hard to breathe. It was clear that this was no place for the living, but Geralt continued on his way despite the difficulties. He took Yennefer by the waist, letting her wrap one arm around his shoulders so she could walk, and followed the straight path that the torches seemed to indicate. At the end of the tunnel he came to a large river, and on the shore rested a boat. Inside it stood a hooded figure, long black robes covered its entire body in a way that Geralt could not see its face when it turned to look at them, only a void lost inside the hood.

"He's been waiting for you." The figure spoke, stepping aside so they could board the boat. Geralt hesitated, thinking back to all the catastrophic scenarios he had imagined in preparation for this moment. Surely that had to be a trap, things couldn't be that simple, could they?

"He wants to speak to you, Geralt of Rivia." The figure spoke again as it noticed the hesitation in the witcher's attitude. "He sent me to find you and ensure your safe passage through these waters." He did not trust it, but Yennefer pushed him into the boat with what little strength she had, so he had no other choice.

The dark figure did not utter another word. It went about its task in complete silence, paddling in the waters of oblivion until it brought them close to shore. It did not help them down once they reached their destination, nor did it open its mouth to give them directions. Just pointed a long, skeletal finger toward the horizon and set off the same way it had come. 

A dark, dead forest loomed before them. Long, thin tree trunks, nearly leafless branches and shabby bushes decorated the path. Everything seemed to be in shades of black and gray, though that was probably due to the lack of sun. In the distance a structure could be seen, a castle whose colors matched the rest of the landscape. Although the neat and polished appearance of its exterior contrasted with the disheveled and dead environment around it. It was clear that that was where they should go, so Geralt took Yennefer in his arms once more and set off on his way. 

There was not much distance separating them from the castle, but the witcher felt as if he had spent an eternity walking. And yet, at the same time, when he reached the large wooden gates, he was amazed to have reached his destination so quickly.  His perception of time was totally altered, affected by the atmosphere of the place.  Time did not flow there in the same way as it did on the surface. It was as if it was both stopped and accelerated all at once, as if each step took hours and at the same time a couple of seconds. It was more than the absence of sunlight confusing his perception. It was the way things worked in that place, a world separate from the one lying on the surface that he was not supposed to access.

The man who appeared in front of them when the doors opened on their own was imposing, but far less frightening than Geralt expected. It was enough to look into his eyes to know that he was the person in charge of the place. Power shone in his eyes in the same way the witcher had seen it in the kings in the world of the living. And yet, there was something unique about them, something that made it clear that he was no mere mortal. Geralt knew better than to challenge him, though he wasn't sure his emotions would allow him to be cautious if things didn't go as he hoped.

"I've been waiting for you, witcher." the god said in a loud, clear voice. "I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

Geralt was not pleased to learn that he had been waiting for him. He had imagined it might be a possibility, but he thought the god would use that knowledge to stop him. The fact that he welcomed him without trials or difficulties, sending his people to look for him and opening the doors of his home to him without hesitation, made him suspicious.  For all he knew, it could all be a trap.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, witcher! I have far more important things to do than to set you up." The god spoke as if reading his thoughts. 

"You knew I was coming?" Geralt managed to say and the god nodded.

"And most importantly, I know why you are here. I knew you were going to find your way here the second she came in."

The mere mention of his beloved in the conversation had Geralt's heart racing, a gesture of both love and anxiety. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him, watching him with furrowed brows as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew of his former lover, the forest nymph he had abandoned after their destinies were linked, and he had no doubt that she would understand what was happening in just a second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to have her back.

"So, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I do, yes. And I will not be opposing to your wishes, Geralt of Rivia. I knew from the first moment that this was not her time and I am willing to give her another chance to live out her destiny without surprise interruptions from magic... However, I do have one condition."

"And you say it was not a trap..."

"It is not! It is just a simple... exchange."

"An exchange of what?"

The god paused, taking his moment to answer.

"Souls are complex things, Geralt. Very powerful, very strong... I can't just let one walk out of here."

"Why not? You have plenty here."

"It's a matter of balance, I don't expect you to understand that. But, if you want your dear nymph back, you'll have to give me a soul in return."

Geralt was silent for a moment, carefully analyzing his situation. After all the work it had taken him to get there, he didn't plan to leave empty-handed. But he also didn't want to condemn an innocent soul who had nothing to do with his mistakes. So he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Fine," the witcher agreed. "Take me then. My soul for hers, it's only fair."

Yennefer tugged on his arm, ready to argue with him —thinking he was acting like an idiot by offering his life as if it was nothing—, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth by the laughter of the god in front of them.

"It's a nice gesture, but your soul isn't nearly powerful enough. It's better than an ordinary human’s soul, I'll give you that, but she's a nymph. Do you have any idea how much energy her soul contains?"

"Then name your price." Geralt said. He wasn't necessarily going to give in to his demands, but he figured it didn't hurt to learn what the god's wishes were.

"To be honest, I don't think you can get a soul of such power... however, you do have access to one that is quite close." Geralt didn't like the suggestive tone in the god's voice. And he liked it even less when his eyes fell on Yennefer as he finished the sentence.

"No!" The witcher declared as he understood the intentions behind those words. He had brought Yennefer with him to help him open the portal and nothing else. He refused to sacrifice one more life. No one else had to suffer because of his stupid decisions.

"She wouldn't suffer." The god spoke after glancing at Geralt's thoughts. "She doesn't even have to be dead, she just has to stay here with me."

"I don’t care. We're not doing this."

"Why don't you let her decide?" The god said, resting his eyes on Yennefer's violet ones. "It is a good deal. You get your lover back and she gets-"

"She gets imprisoned here forever." Geralt interrupted and the god looked at him wearily.

"She gets to be the most powerful madge in history, sitting by my side ruling the underworld... isn't that what you always wanted, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to have power beyond imaginable? What's more powerful than deciding between life and death?"

Geralt snorted at such words, finding the god's tricks very ineffective. But when he looked back at Yennefer, she had a look in her eyes that made him doubt. "You're not seriously considering his proposal, aren't you?" he approached her, speaking in a lower tone of voice so as not to be heard by the god.

"If we leave now then we traveled this far for nothing. Don't you want to get her back?"

"No if it means hurting innocent people. You have nothing to do with this."

"Except I do since the moment you made that srupid wish."

"I didn't save your life then just to leave you here now."

"You're not leaving me, I'm choosing to stay."

"You don't have to do this, Yennefer." Geralt's voice became softer. She seemed quite sure of her decision and he knew it would not be easy to persuade her otherwise, but he had to try. He didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, of sacrificing her in favor of his own happiness. 

"Oh, please! I'm not doing this just for you. I usually don't like to waste my time and energy just to end up empty handed. I came here because, as you said, it was an opportunity to find the answers I've been looking for. So why don't you worry about you and let me worry about myself?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. And while she wasn't lying and really had interests of her own in that place, Geralt really was a big part of the reason she wanted to accept the god's offer. There was something in his eyes, the sparkle of true love, that shone every time he thought of his departed lover. It was something she had never noticed in his eyes when he looked at her. It was clear that what they had was real, it softened her hardened and withering heart, and gave her hope that love was real. Though of course, she would never admit that to Geralt. 

The witcher growled under his breath, clenching his jaw. Even though part of him didn't like the idea of leaving Yennefer behind, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to hear those words. If she wanted to stay there for her own selfish reasons, then accepting the god's proposal was much easier on his conscience. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her once more, giving her one last chance to back out. 

Yennefer shrugged. "I lived a long time among the living, had my good share of adventures... maybe it's time to try my luck in the underworld. "

That answer was good enough for Geralt. He accepted the god's proposal, exchanging Yennefer's soul for that of his beloved nymph. She would stay in the underworld with him and in return Geralt would get a second chance with his lover. The god instructed him to return home and assured him that when he arrived, her soul would already be back in her birth tree.

As he made his way back, the thought that the god was tricking him crossed his mind. He realized that he really had nothing to assure him that he would keep his word. For all he knew, this could have been a strange move by the god to get to Yennefer and her powers for some reason he did not know. Perhaps he was being used as a pawn in a larger chess game that he did not know he was part of. Perhaps he had unleashed a terrible evil upon the continent without realizing it.

But then he felt it. 

The sweet scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils the moment he set foot in the forest. It was strong, much stronger than it had been in a long time. He noticed then that everything looked greener and more alive, every flower, bush and plant glowing in the warm sunlight in a way that they didn't when he left. Even the birds seemed to sing louder and more cheerfully. 

Geralt ran to the cherry blossom tree he had been tending for what had felt like an eternity. His heart was racing with every step he took, not from the physical effort, but from the anticipation. The hope of seeing her again was what had kept him sane since that horrible day he had lost her. All this time he had thought it was impossible, an illusion that only served to keep him on his feet until the pain subsided. But now it was a reality, and he had so many emotions swirling inside him that he didn't know exactly what to feel.

Suddenly, his eyes came upon a figure on the horizon. It was partially blocked by the rays of sunlight that kept him from seeing clearly, so he picked up his pace to get closer. Little by little the figure revealed itself in front of him, until it became clear to him that the one who was walking around the forest, picking flowers and petting the animals, was her. 

She looked as beautiful as he remembered her, with her long hair blowing in the wind and a sweet smile on her face. It was as if time had never passed, as if that horrible day and the pain that her death had unleashed had been just a bad dream. It was as if he had never lost her.

Geralt stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on hers, paralyzed by the emotions coursing through him. All this time he had dreamed of this moment and now that he had her only a few feet away he didn't know how to react. His eyes blurred with tears, but he caught a glimpse of his beloved's figure running to him before he felt the warmth of her body in his arms. He held her tighter than he ever had, pulling her against his chest as a way of both making sure she was real and that she couldn't pull away from him.

"You came for me." She muttered, melting into the embrace. Her memory was somewhat fuzzy, but she remembered clearly the moment when the blade of the dagger had caressed her neck. She remembered how it had felt and the horror in Geralt's eyes as she fell into his arms, taking her last breaths. She remembered his words of comfort and his promise to make things right, as if he actually could. She still didn't understand how she was back there, but she knew it was Geralt she had to thank for her second chance at life. Somehow, he had found a way to bring her back, she was sure of that.

"I'll always come back for you." 

The kiss they shared was unlike any other. It was passionate and desperate, yet soft and tender. It was charged with all the emotions that had been left unsaid between them, sadness, regret, longing, but, above all, love. They felt that spark the moment their lips brushed, just like in the old days. Geralt hadn't realized how much he had missed feeling her soft lips on his until that moment. He allowed himself to get lost in the joy he felt, letting the warmth of her body against his slowly remove the traces of sadness and pain that had haunted him all this time.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, enjoying the moment they had both been longing for so long. It was just him, her and the chirping of birds in the trees. Breathing in the floral scent of her hair, Geralt knew that the gray days were behind him. Gone were the guilt and the pain, the sleepless nights and the cold mornings without his beloved. She was back by his side, just as she always should have been. And he was more than happy for the new beginning he had with her. A new chance to make things right, to honor his word and keep his promise, just as he should have done from the beginning. He was ashamed that he had had to lose her to realize how big his mistake had been, but now that he had her back he wasn't going to let her go. His love had proven to be stronger than everything, even death itself.

[krshitsuji]

why i firmly believe o!ciel's name shouldn't be revealed

i really wanted to make my pov in this topic public in a way, which is why i'm making this post.

i see a lot of people wishing his name would be revealed sooner, or creating theories over what it is - but i personally believe us finding it out would be poor writing and also inconvenient for pretty much everyone, even for kuroshitsuji's team marketing wise.

- plot weakening

he said it himself: "Earl Ciel Phantomhive is me".

O!Ciel might not truly be Ciel Phantomhive, but he is the man Ciel was supposed to become. At the very least, that was his goal. The Earl, the Queen's Watchdog, brave, strong, respected.

In the story, Ciel Phantomhive is not just a name - it is an identity, a concept, and more specially, a ROLE, in which R!Ciel did not live to take. Him being called that name is much more symbolic than one may think. In a storytelling point of view, his name being revealed would only make sense if he no longer fulfilled said role, but his win over R!Ciel is definitely implied.

To O!Ciel, his name is more like a deadname that represents the person he left behind the day he decided to become earl and live to get his vengeance.

To reveal his true identity would more to break a beautiful, poetic and philosophically background that has been created for almost two decades now. You know what's also been happening for two decades? People calling O!Ciel... Ciel.

- From a fan POV

Ciel is our main protagonist. We have been knowing him for quite a while now and we have always called him that name. Now, imagine what it would be like if 90% of kuro related media, posts and even art became outdated because now we found out his name is, like... Bobbert.

O!Ciel is Ciel. He has been Ciel. He should keep being Ciel. A name is obviously a big part of a brand, and losing the brand of the main protagonist is not acceptable. It would honestly just be confusing and overall inconvenient for everyone. Me, personally, I will keep calling him Ciel until I can't call him anything anymore because I am dead and buried.

Your post talking about your Ciel cosplay? No babe that's wrong. That's your Bobbert costume.

That would be okay with a side character, but he's our protagonist. As I've mentioned before, it's even bad for Yana and the series marketing in general, since merchandise and official products and campaigns would also become outdated. It's not a Ciel nendoroid, it's a Bobbert nendoroid. Like, what do you mean by that? And she can't say his name without expecting people to call him that. Most moderate case scenario we have a confusing situation of him having two different names.

But like... How can we even dodge that?

Problem is, I have NO IDEA how Yana could dodge having someone, especially his family, call him by his real identity. They know he's not Ciel - the world does. Why would they ever keep calling him that?

I honestly don't think she's going to reveal his name, but I also have no idea how she's escaping that. I fear it may need a plot twist or really big event in order to happen.

I don't even know how to finish this. I don't think anyone will read. get cieled i guess

[theweeklydiscourse]

I was thinking about Cassians mate reactions about Nesta or lack thereof. I think one must partly accept that some world building, like mate instincts, come into play only when it serves a purpose in the moment hence Cassian showing these instincts for Nesta when the threat of Bryallin is brought up but not when the most powerful High Lord goads her into a fight during the intervention. Or I can try to imagine that Cassian’s immense brotherly love for Rhysand surpasses these responses that are supposedly biological. If I put that same situation to other characters and imagine what the reaction would be, is it the same? Like if Feyre took up Cassian’s role and Nesta took up Rhysand’s. So let’s imagine, for the sake of the idea, that Nesta is threatening Rhysand with her immense power trying to make him cow down, would Feyre also look between Nesta and Rhysand simply ‘torn’?? Naturally one would say no because Nesta abused Feyre etc etc but just the imagery itself would be off putting for some. I feel like it speaks that fandom already has a positive association for Rhysand so therefore what he does is explained whereas Nestas is always dismissed but I feel like just in imagining this scenerio it would seem improbable that Feyre wouldn’t put a stop to Nesta doing that and quick where as with Cassian it is okay for him to behave this way because Rhysand is his brother, after all. It just sort of speaks for how men always get reasoned with when women in the same scenerio would not. I know some would say it depend’s on what Rhysand had done to garner Nesta doing that, aka like Nesta drinking and splurging, then maybe Feyre’s (Cassian’s) lack of reaction in this make believe scenerio would be okay as well but then the argument should be that Cassian has a right to be torn between Nesta and Rhysand because she was taking advantage of their immense wealth and not that Rhysand is simply his brother. Which would then just revert back to the lack of supposedly visceral biological reaction to protect Nesta, being his mate, over petty spendings. Which is why I just accept the lack of world building mentioned at the beginning to conserve my inner peace lol

But disclaimer, sometimes I feel like I’m just losing my mind so I’m curious what your wonderful thoughts are!

The logic of Sarah J Maas’s writing will follow whatever scenario is is most pleasurable, regardless of how much sense it makes.

In this case, part of the pleasure derived from her books is due to their extremely heteronormative nature. This is part of what gives her books so much mass appeal. We live in a patriarchal society, so stories that play to those norms and expectations will usually experience some form success since most readers are so comfortable with them. The bioessentialist logic of ACOTAR’s “omegaverse-esque” worldbuilding ensures that there is very little accountability for Maas’s male characters. The idea of a “mating instinct” allows boundaries to be pushed in a positive sense, in the way that the resulting scenario is one that is pleasurable for the intended audience of Maas’s writing.

It’s plainly obvious that Cassian’s mating instincts are overridden for the sake of Feyre/the reader-insert. The way he gravitates to Rhysand (at times, in a homoerotic manner) is evidence of his fealty to the ultimate protector of the Y/N. In some ways, he is merely an extension of Rhysand’s authority. However, Cassian’s contradictions are also a good demonstration of the conflict inherent to combining a wish-fulfillment narrative with one that no longer centres the reader-insert. I’ve said this before, but such a dynamic is doomed to skew the new narrative in favour of the old one.

What’s also clear is Maas’s lack of interest in sibling bonds. She prioritizes heterosexual relationships above all other bonds (hence the mating bond being geared towards reproduction). Familial relationships do not operate on “mate” logic because they don’t offer the kind of pleasure that is central to Maas’s writing. Rather, family matters are used a site of enhancement for romantic relationships and in Nesta’s case, are used as a thinly veiled revenge fantasy. I think that this is the reason why Cassian seems to see Rhysand as his lord first, and a brother second. He must uphold Rhysand’s authority first because that power is the crux of the wish-fulfillment fantasy.

To your point about Feyre’s lack of objection to Rhysand’s menacing of Nesta, I completely agree. Given the circumstances, it’s very strange that Feyre hardly thinks to intervene in cases where it is clear that her sister is being intimidated and mistreated by her friends and husband. But the intended message is that it’s not mistreatment that Nesta is subjected to, rather, it’s “justice”.

A rather long post, but I’m always glad to hear your thoughts on this! Hopefully I’m not too much of a broken record.

[fairestwriting]

Hello, if you don't mind, I want to request a sceanrio or headcanons (which one you more prefer is fine by me) with Jade insist to take care of his crush after a long day of dishwashing duty in Monstro Lounge despite his crush doubt that he might wanted to get them in his debt and does not realize that he did that because he has a crush on them? Feel free to skip this req if it's makes you uncomfortable though <3 Thank you!

oldie but one that i thought of a bit even when i was on hiatus... scenario format because maybe i want jade to take care of mw after a long workday too. What the hell

word count: 1345

pairing: jade x gn!reader

content warnings: wish fulfillment none:)

You exhale heavily, your shoulders slumping even without you willing them to, as the very last plate is cleaned to perfection, setting it down with all the others...

It's not that you expected a night of dishwashing to be the easiest thing in the world — but luck really wasn't on your side that day, and it turned out it was the third years' last day of exam week.

Which meant, the Lounge would be crowded. Which meant, you'd have a lot of dishes to wash. Which meant, as you just now discovered, your upper back, forearms, and feet would start to actively try to kill you.

At least it's all just over, you think. You pull off your apron and the rubber gloves that did nothing to keep your hands from going wrinkly from exaggerated humidity, then you turn around, ready to report to Azul that your shift was over—

Then, in your tired haze, you bump into something, someone, and it doesn't even register who it is until a firm grip on your upper arm keeps you from embarrassingly stumbling for a good moment.

"J...Jade? What are you doing here?"

He looks at you. His hand is still gripping your arm, though... it's done really softly, especially for an attempt at keeping someone from tripping.

And he smiles softly, politely at you. Like he always does.

"I could perhaps ask you the same question." He says, a lilt to his voice, releasing your arm as you step back into a balanced stance. "It's rather late, you know? Azul was even looking for you."

"Oh, was he?" You cringe at the way it comes out a little more bitter than you'd intended, but... you're tired, and Jade was... strange, but definitely not a tyrant. "Well, I was about to go look for him and say I'm done with the dishes. There was just..." You glance behind yourself, seeing the piles of plates and glasses, the dish soap bubbles that got everywhere. "There was a lot."

Jade's gaze follow yours, and his smile softens, even more when he looks back at you.

"In that case, why don't you let me inform him instead, and I could... get you something to eat in the meantime? You must be hungry."

Alarm bells ring inside your head. The offer is tempting, of course it's tempting, but this is still Octavinelle, and Jade is still Azul's... henchman, or something. You grimace while you try to get your tired brain to think of a response.

"Um... no, thanks, I'd rather not be indebted to—"

"Ah. You're worried about that?" He asks, and the look on his face, while hardly different from his usual poised smile, has a hint of... something different that you couldn't quite place. "In that case, we could arrange a way for you to... give me something in return?"

"Uh..." Again, the alarm bells continue. If they weren't mental, the noise would probably be intense enough to give you a headache— "I don't... think I have anything you'd..."

"Your company, in exchange for any menu item free of charge. How does that sound?"

What.

You blink, genuinely dumbfounded. Jade still smiles. Always does. You're not sure if it's a joke, a part of you says it's a bad idea, but...

"You want my company in return for the favor." You echo to him, and he nods.

"Yes. I'll tell Azul you're done with your work, and fetch you whatever you wish. Then we can get a sit while you eat. Does that work for you?"

"That..." You really wish you could protest, but at the worst moment possible, your own hunger makes itself known. "...okay."

"Lovely. You can wait at the Lounge. What would you like to have?"

You mumble out your usual order, still a bit confused, and he gives you a nod as you part ways. Out of the kitchen, you don't waste too much time in taking one of the seats with cushy chairs, sighing in relief when you feel your body sinking into them just slightly, supporting those overworked limbs.

The Lounge really was empty. You have a few minutes to stare at it, all by yourself — it really must be late — and even dare to bask in the comfy, yet classy lighting of the environment.

It felt so much different like this. No music, no people to serve. It was... relaxing, surprisingly. Even though it was your workplace, and the source of quite a lot of stress in your life...

"The boss is notified. Here's your food." Jade chimes in with a playful tone after what feels like way too little time, setting a plate of your very favorite Mostro Lounge special in front of you. You can't help the way your eyes widen at it a bit, still not fully grasping the situation.

"And Azul is okay with this?" You grab the fork, but look up at Jade first, watching as he takes a seat in front of you.

"Of course. I wouldn't do that otherwise."

He chuckles, and despite your cautiousness, you can't resist the urge to dig into your food. It tastes even better after all that work.

And for some reason, it makes Jade's smile just a touch brighter when he watches you eat.

"It's important to eat well, you know. I hope you've been getting enough meals lately. Exam weeks are never kind."

"Yeah, I... I mean, I'm doing fine. If I want to keep up with all the work, I have to eat."

You take a larger bite, and he continues to watch you. With one more sprinkle of energy in your system, you start to try to understand what got to him all of a sudden. You look through his features, usually so unreadable and static, and you search for... something. Anything.

A sign this was a strange prank, maybe.

"That's good to hear. In any case, though, I'll discuss with Azul to have better planning for evenings like these... Friday nights and such. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again."

You stop chewing for a split second when you catch on to his wording. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again. Maybe you're just too tired, and making this all up, but...

What's different in Jade's face now is that there's a hint of sincere softness. One that doesn't even look all that unfamiliar— that you swear had been there when you had brief chats during work hours, even.

Your face flushes. Is he...?

You lift your gaze away from the food, and meet Jade's eyes. He's still smiling, hands folded politely on the table, though it's small enough that when you set your fork down, you swear you feel your hand brush against his glove.

"Thank you... for this, Jade." You mumble out, unsure of what to say. He gives you a smile like he always does, but in this empty, silent Lounge where you're not even sure if you're seeing things right, it makes your heart flutter.

"Thank you for the company. It really was a busy night." He gets up, taking your plate. Only now, you notice you're done eating. "I'll take care of these, don't worry. Just head back to your dorm and rest up. Unless..."

You blink at him again, now unsure of how your brain could even withstand so much confusion. "U...Unless...?"

"...Unless you'd like me to escort you?" He says, and his eyes narrow slyly, glinting— now, wait a minute...

Floyd and Azul were still supposed to be there, weren't they? They always were during closing time. Which meant...

Of course. Of course Jade would only go about something like this as deliberately as possible.

He chuckles. Your face is hot all over and his smile is wide. Skillfully, he carries the plate in one hand as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Just wait for me if you do. We can make another deal if you want."

And then, he's out of signt, and you're left with a dizzying feeling.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[regency-monster-love]

Monster fucker ask game

I adapted this monster fucker ask game with some different questions.

Werewolves 🐺🌕

1. Lone Wolf or Pack Leader?

2. Do you like werewolf A/B/O fiction?

3. Sexiest thing about werewolves/werewolf fucking?

4. What type of shifting do you find hottest? (wolfman, full wolf, full moon only, on demand, etc.)

5. How feral do you like your werewolves?

6. What do you like best about the idea of knotting?

7. Would you like to get knotted in real life?

8. Hottest pop culture werewolf/take on werewolves?

9. Possessive territorial werewolf partner or “in the pack we share everything” werewolf partner?

10. Best thing about being mated to a werewolf?

Vampires 🩸🦇

1. Would you rather be: a. vampire hunter in a dangerous game of cat and mouse b. the helpless victim/thrall the vampire stalks c. the newly turned vampire hunting together with their sire

2. Do you like biting/being bitten in real life?

3. Do you have a blood kink? Have you ever engaged in it in real life or is it only hot in fantasy?

4. Hottest pop culture vampire/take on vampirism?

5. Would you be a vampire sugar baby (blood baby?) i.e. be paid to let them drink non-lethal doses of your blood on the regular? Would you prefer living in their castle/estate or having them randomly swoop in to visit you in the night?

6. What’s the hottest place a vampire could drink from?

7. What's hotter: the victim letting themselves be bitten and loving it or fighting against it and being scared?

Ghosts 👻

1. Ghost you can’t see or ghost you can’t hear?

2. Hottest time period for a ghost to be from?

3. Haunted workplace or haunted home?

4. You win a free historic house yay! It is haunted by a ghost though. The ghost def wants to fuck you and does annoying but harmless ghost things like cause cold spots, slam the occasional door, and make strange noises. Are you taking the house?

5. You and your partner discover your place is haunted and ghosts might be watching you at any time. Y’all still fucking?

6. You can summon willing ghosts to fulfill any task. What are your first three orders?

Sea Creatures & Reptiles 🪸🐍🌊

1. Sea or land?

2. Magically being able to breathe underwater or is holding your breath part of the appeal?

3. Thoughts on hemipenes? (For the uninitiated, double penises based on reptile anatomy, usually inside the body until erect.)

4. Any other non-human inspired genitalia you find hot?

5. Tentacles! Yes or no? a. If yes: what's better, tentacles as bondage or tentacles for penetration? b. If yes: what types/characteristics?

6. Lizard-people: smash or pass?

7. Dragons: smash or pass?

8. Merpeople / sea monsters inspired by strange deep ocean creatures: smash or pass?

9. Nagas: smash or pass?

10. Oviposition and/or egg laying: yes or no?

Demons 😈🔥

1. Do you use the traditional definition of incubus/succubus (male/female) or a more interpretive definition (top/bottom or something else)?

2. Do you prefer demons as a creature or as a part of a religious kink?

3. Were you raised to believe in literal demons? Does that make you more or less horny about them?

4. What kind of horns are sexiest?

5. Pick one: a claws, hooves, horns, tail kinda demon or a hot, sinister, dangerous, mostly human-appearing demon?

6. If a demon offered you a deal: one wish with no tricky consequences in exchange for a year serving them sexually a. Would you take the deal? b. What would you ask for? c. What do you hope they ask for as part of your service?

7. Wings on demons: yes or no?

8. Sexiest thing about demons/demon fucking?

9. Getting fucked with the demon's tail: yes or no?

Aliens 🛸

1. Assuming they are equally intelligent/capable of consent, which is hotter: an alien that can speak your language or one that can’t and you have to rely on non-verbal cues?

2. Is the classic alien abduction/experimentation/probing scenario hot to you? What aspects of it?

3. Aliens that see you as adorable and treat you like a pet or aliens that see you as sexy and a potential mate?

4. Due to a cultural misunderstanding you just accidentally married an alien by their traditions. They are very happy to be married to you. What do you do?

5. An egg-laying species needs help repopulating and humans are the perfect incubators; are you volunteering? Science-y medical implantation or the old-fashioned way?

6. Aliens want you and your partner to be part of a study/demonstration on human mating rituals. Yes or no?

7. Hottest alien feature?

8. Living with your alien mate on earth, in their spaceship, or on their home planet?

Cryptids

1. Does your area/culture have a local cryptid? Would you fuck it? Why/why not?

2. Fuck, marry, kill (ask 3 cryptids)

3. Favorite cryptid?

4. You collect undeniable proof that your favorite cryptid exists, but it includes undeniable proof of you having sex with them! Keep it a secret or share the news with the world?

5. What aspects of cryptids are hottest?

Hybrids & Humanoids 🪽🧚‍♂️🧝‍♀️

1. Do you find nymphs, fairies, fae, or elves hot? Do you prefer mostly human looking or significantly inhuman looking?

2. Tiny pixies or giants?

3. Minotaur, satyr, or centaur?

4. Sphinx or griffin?

5. Dainty, gentle bird person or bird-of-prey bird person?

6. Orc, troll, goblin, or ogre?

7. Brutal warrior orc or gentle giant orc?

8. Hottest feature of an orc?

9. Best thing about being mated to an orc?

10. If you could give yourself one non-human body part/set of parts, what would it be?

Misc

1. Your favorite monster feature

2. Feature you think is underrated

3. Monster you think is underrated

4. Being the monster or being with the monster (or both)?

5. Do you get turned on by “scary” activities (horror movies, haunted houses etc.)?

6. If you celebrate Halloween, do you use it as an opportunity to indulge your monster kinks?

7. Have/would/do you ask partners to role play your monster kinks with you?

8. Do you want to dominate or be dominated by your choice of monster? Is that the same role you usually take in sex irl?

9. Do you want to top or be topped by a monster? Is that the same role you usually take in sex irl?

10. Your favorite monster fucker/romance author

Send me some of these asks and reblog if you want to get asks too!

[nynyhaha]

Spider Themes: Phantom Troupe and fate (plus Chrollo character song analysis)

THIS is the moment that lead tons of fans to believe that Chrollo is a determinist,or at least a fatalist,believing that certain things cannot be avoided and that people lack the free will to act otherwise.

I haven’t seen any other proof of Chrollo being a determinist and I think it’s not that relevant to his character so this idea being so popular annoys me,and yet,there are lots of time where Chrollo is confronted with the idea of fate.

Why doesn’t he blame Judas?

There are multiple ideas

-his betrayal was bound to happen and he had no free will

-regardless of will,his actions were justified because it resulted in the greater goal being achieved(and Chrollo sees Jesus’ death as as important as his own death in a scenario where the Spiders have to chose.Chrollo would want them to sacrifice him for the Spider,and this scene hints at that)

-anyone willing to betray the organisation for money or fame was never a true member

-Chrollo doesn’t take anything personally and he doesn’t judge other people for their actions because he expects very little of them (we know this isn’t true for his Spiders,but it seems to be that way with Hisoka. He doesn’t blame Hisoka for being what he is)

This point is also illustrated in the flashback chapters where young Chrollo doesn’t get angry at his bullies even once. He’s not mad at Uvo,Phinks or Feitan,he outsmarts them or outruns them,but still sees them as part of his circle and never acts aggressively.

He doesn’t even appear to hate Kurapika or care much for his motives,since he accepted the fact that people will come after him for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t care how good those reasons are.

The prophecy

Neon’s prophetic ability is meant to help people see the potential future,it’s not presented as being self fulfilling,in which case it would be a scam. The idea is that you can gain knowledge of your potential fate,and chose the course of action accordingly.

Chrollo trusts the ability since he uses it to make important decisions,like whether to stay in yorknew.

If he can use it to his advantage and cheat fate,how could he be a fatalist??

Our will above all else

The phantom troupe is incredibly strong as a group,yet they retain qualities of underdogs. They were born in the most marginalised community possible,in a place that doesn’t officially exist,and yet they’re now feared and infamous.

They won’t allow the world to take from them

They will impose their will on others.

Uvo’s requiem

I will never shut up about it.

It perfectly represents the nature of the Phantom Troupe and Chrollo’s philosophy.

We know Chrollo believes in souls,but does a man who sits in a broken Church and wears upside down crosses believe in any just god? There’s no way Chrollo isn’t a nihilist when it comes to ultimate justice. He expressed those doubts even as a child,and it seems that while he now thinks souls exist,he doesn’t rely on any afterlife.

He never relied on justice from above,he always took matters in his own hands. Believing in souls may mean that he sees death as a change of state,and sees murder as more forgivable since “everyone ends up in the same place anyways”but this is just speculation.

Only he can improve Uvo’s situation.

Uvogin’s soul soon will be gone,who knows where. Chrollo can’t change that,he doesn’t even know if Uvo hears him. But he will fulfil his wish. He will send other souls off in Uvo’s honour. He will show that his life and death mattered. It’s an attempt to reclaim agency,however futile it may be,it seems Chrollo wants to prove something to the universe.

People are the ones who sever ties

Doesn’t this run contrary to his ideas about traitors? It sounds here like he expects loyalty from those close to him. Or does he mean that he himself won’t forget things unless he cuts them off?

He can’t feel less responsible for the deaths of his friends and he can’t forget his place in the world,can’t detach himself from it.

Hi identity is still tied to external things. And it means all of the things he has lost,all of the humanity he has shed were deliberate sacrifices. Like he resigned himself to give up his life for his goals.

It’s very much a show of will.

The coin

It’s a practical way to resolve conflicts. While it’s thrown by a person,and the outcome can be random, therefore unbiased,it could also be them calling to fate to decide who gets his way.

“May happen what is meant to happen”

This leads to no conclusion,but it’s absolutely related to fate so I’ll mention it here.

1/13 analysis

I have no idea how canon this song is,but it’s a great interpretation of the information we have in canon. It touches on many themes crucial to Chrollo and his Troupe. I’m using the translation from the wiki,I don’t know Japanese and honestly I prefer the translation from the YouTube lyric video

This song mentions almost everything I’ve talked about in this post,and even more.

“..From the beginning”

They were doomed from the beginning. Even if they wanted something innocent and simple as dubbing anime,finding purpose in entertaining the masses.

First Chrollo rejects the notion of life,then he goes on to deny fate.

But he also approves them. “As if” The Troupe doesn’t act in accordance with reality and what it has in store for them,they act as if none of those things were real.

Life not existing means it’s meaningless and because of the horrible conditions Chrollo grew up in,he and the others were never given a chance of any life worth living. Life is real,but not for them. It’s something they deny themselves,something they abandon in favour of their duty and goal.

Fate might refer to both,inaction,staying anonymous nobodies,and doing something,surpassing themselves,and then dying a horrible death.

If there is a fate,can they know what it is?

Is Chrollo following his destiny,or acting in spite of it? If only he knew,haha. Maybe it’s not his choice to become a murder,maybe it was meant to be from the beginning. Or maybe he was meant to do nothing and be nothing,yet he refused.

”When we’ve obtained everything,we will disappear without a trace”

Went from actors to phantoms,got it? ;) This line brings in a sense of finality,of inevitability. So he knows they won’t live forever,that there is a limit. Sure,it could be referring to them being impossible to track,but I chose to believe there is more,since Chrollo touches on the possibility of them actually dying.

In that case,should they “separate and face eternity” the Spider’s Soul will live on. Or it must live on! Pretty spiritual, huh.

I love that while everything hints at his views being nihilistic,Chrollo’s spirituality is almost hopeful.

So is his song.It talks both to the enemy (you can’t run from us) and his fellow Spiders. He tells them to just steal,to consult the coin if needed,to trust that the Spider will live on and everything will be fine.

“What is there to fear?” I’m gonna cry,I swear.

This song also has this notion that whatever happens,happens.

“Que sera,sera” and shit. It shows acceptance of things that shouldn’t be accepted. Even his own feelings at the loss of his friends Chrollo acknowledges,and then ignores.

“Can’t be blamed.” He can’t blame himself for still feeling those things,but he just dismisses them. “You will want to sneeze at dust,it’s normal,but hold it in.” = “You will cry at deaths,feel grief and anger. Those reactions are normal,but don’t let it affect you”🗿🧍

What has pride to do with this? I’m genuinely confused. If this mf telling us to be humble? Is it prideful to expect no one to die? Or is this the typical “detach yourself from your feelings”?

Conclusion: Chrollo is seen as a fatalist because of his stoic attitude. The only way (according to HxH fans) to deal with what he goes through,is to tell himself it’s meant to be. I propose that no,he doesn’t think so. He thinks that regardless of fate,he can outsmart it and come out on top. Even if he loses people in the process,in the end it will be worth it. And even if he feels grief at their deaths,that’s just what happens. It didn’t stop him until now. All that just to steal? No,Ofc not. He just doesn’t know how to express his motives.

DO YOU EVEN HAVE CLEAR MOTIVES,CHROLLO? Your journey leads you to nowhere,and we don’t even know where it all went wrong

[velvetbrainhaze]

My little ramble I copy and pasted from Notes that I typed out less than 20 minutes ago about why the Mox and Hangman build up is so close yet far to being perfect in my opinion

With the men’s world title, you have the advantage of a much longer history between the two. Before I get into my actual gripe, I do appreciate the choices of

1. the last month not being entirely centered around Hangman and Swerve constantly being paired together to fight off the DR, and their direct interactions are more spread thin, noting that longstanding disdain and tension are still very much there

2. Mox immediately addresses how Hangman has let his quest for vengeance and habits of self-isolation hold him back from success previously in the last 1 and a half years

Jon calling Hangman emotional isn’t entirely off, and it’s not hard to get inside his head, but I hate the idea that Hangman is too weak or doesn’t have what it takes for TEXAS DEATH. He easily does. Questionably Bisexual Magnum TA put belt to ass to Mox at Revolution 2023 and not just knocked him out but made him TAP. He has won almost every single TD match he’s been a part of in this company, except for one, and the one loss ended a whole mini-streak. He almost ran over Burberry Dough Boy with his car earlier this year, hung Juice Robinson by his belt TWICE, and spiked Swerve so hard over the head with a chair I thought that mf died for like 2 minutes. I call bs on the concept of him saying he doesn’t hav ethe endurance for Texas Death.

My theory is that Jon could be talking about when Hangman brought up the Lights Out Unsanctioned Match at All Out with Swerve, and thought it would fulfill the long-overdue justice he was seeking. Hangman admitted it left him feeling numb instead. And, the void wasn’t filled, since he was still self-isolating and went on an angry war path with Bullet Club Gold, OC, etc. And it’s very evident the remorse and guilt he has even now, for not just All Out, but knowing his Texas Death Match from earlier this year caused the end of the in-ring career of his mentor and friend, Christopher Daniels.

Hanger can easily survive Texas Death physically. Maybe Jon means emotionally survive because he thinks Hangman may have a sliver of self-consciousness and a fear that he could go too far again, and he’ll have to live with another moment of guilt? Another moment that may have him fear how his family sees him? That could be what he meant, and not only would make sense, be more interesting in my opinion. And if it is that’s what he meant, it could’ve been worded better during Dynamite.

Also, how has Jon not addressed the idea that this version of Hangman may not be the best rep for the men’s world title in terms of how he’s seen by the rest of the roster? How has he not questioned what Hangman has done to deserve this title? I and many other people in the audience know why he deserves it. But even if it would technically be a “pot calling the kettle black” scenario, Jon could talk about how Hangman has not apologized at all to anyone he’s terrorized in the last year. How his friends like the Dark Order can’t even look at him the same anymore. He could talk about how he wouldn’t be a much better fit, calling him just as violent, if not worse. That Jon’s violence at least had a more practical end goal and ended up successful. Maybe they’ll address that on Wednesday, but I do wish they explored the moral hypocrisy more.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Dark question, What if in 13, upon hearing that there was no successful curing of hijacking, Peeta tried to off himself only to be stopped by a guard, or Delly, how would Katniss feel towards the person who saved Hijacked Peeta? How would her reaction to hearing about this vary if she was told after the cafeteria scene when she gave up on him, or even in D2, or Peeta told her while in squad 451?

Hmmm... go with me on this... the thing about hijacked Peeta in D13 is that he still doesn't fully believe that something is wrong with him. Even in the Capitol, he still says things that hint at a deep seated belief/fear that Katniss wants him dead. During their late night conversation when Katniss is on guard duty, and right before the Real or Not Real game is conceived:

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.”

Here, Peeta has placed himself as Katniss's eternal victim and problem. She wants him dead. He's the only one truly suffering or being used in this viewpoint. It's only after this conversation, when Katniss finally makes an effort to help him and tells him intimate things about himself that only someone who truly cares about him would notice, and after he sees himself onscreen killing Mitchell that Peeta starts to see for himself what kind of violence the hijacking brings to the surface in himself.

So unless 13 does something drastically different in his therapy, I don't think he'd see an irreversible hijacking as a bad thing. To his tortured brain, Katniss is the real enemy. It's only once he starts seeing how false that is that he begs to die.

While I don't see it happening this way, I'll still answer the last part of your question... how would Katniss feel towards someone who saves him from trying to commit suicide? At the point in the story you're talking about, I think she'd have incredibly mixed feelings about it.

At first, she would probably tell herself that it would have been better if Peeta had succeeded. In her mind, the "real Peeta" is gone and lost forever. Death would be a relief for him, and also from him -- at least then maybe she can try to "move on." She's already basically planning to commit suicide/die once she gets rid of Snow, and she'd probably see Peeta wanting to kill himself as a long delayed fulfillment of their trick with the berries. The manifestation of "wear a necklace of rope side by side with me."

But I also think she'd remember what Peeta said before their first games, about wanting to die as himself. That wish, she would know, still stands two books later... and so she'd be incredibly conflicted about whether or not she even wants him dead at that point. It would be cruel to keep him alive in the futile hope that he might get better, but it's also cruel to let him go without any hope at all, to let him die as "the evil mutt version" of himself. In this regard, Gale is right about Katniss not being able to ever let Peeta go if he doesn't get better.

Which would then lead to an incredibly complicated view of the person who stopped Peeta from killing himself. There would be guilt, begrudging gratitude, but also anger and frustration and "why couldn't you just let him go?" That's the thing about Katniss and why I love her so much as a character. She is an adolescent who feels so many complex and layered emotions, but she is desperate to find the one simple answer, the one word that describes her motivations and feelings, because that's what we tend to do as children or with our children. We tend to try and distill it down to the simplest thing, when the truth is, like most of our human emotions and motivations, there IS NO SIMPLE ANSWER. It's all a mess, and this scenario would be no different.

I have no idea if I made sense of my answer or just rambled on for way too long, lol. Thanks for the ask!

<3 kdnfb

[astrxlfinale]

HC; Media tastes.

So what exactly does Lighter wind down to after a long day's work? What could possibly be on the TV or the (newly repaired VCR/Dvd players) that can capture his attention?

Truthfully? A life like his is often rich enough in high action. While he can certainly appreciate an action movie in itself, they wouldn't be the first option. One of the bigger things he's always been into was game shows, and not just the questionnaire types either. Silly contest like finding all items 'made of chocolate' in a room in a set amount of time. Shows where 'punishment' games, having to do some crazy task if some hilarious rule is broken.

Its just leagues of good fun for him. It also scratches that itch of just being thrust into peculiar situations on top of that. The bizarre intrigues him as it causes people to have to think outside the box. Discoveries like that, and a willingness to get a touch silly does wonder in warming his heart. Behind that would be a certain brand of sitcoms too. Those always had a magic of making any place or pad he frequents feel considerably more homely. Who is he to question where they get such magic from?

Leaning into movies is where you'd find his range expand. That main thread of discovery/decisiveness however still plays a key part. Originally, this was a 'guilt helper' as the idea of making right decisions had become an obsessive quality in his mind. Where his lot of life caused him to lose lives of the cherished, naturally he wanted a touch of wish fulfillment that he can do the same, that people wouldn't merely be doomed in his company.

Over time it became a realm of intrigue in a different way. Intense scenarios require more than just someone who 'knows it all', it requires the foundational support to help the people in question be leveled. Movies actually inspired him to dive deeper into how he can be the proverbial rock to help make harrowing situations look a lot more manageable. Beyond that metric? He's also a fan of documentaries of Eridu's history, 'some' comedies, and also holds an interest in romance films and unique mystery movies. (Not about solving a murder, rather a fantastical situation they need to get to the bottom of.)

However, the internet as of late has been getting him increasing intrigued in some bits of anime. He doesn't go to actively search for it however.

[gabessquishytum]

Hello Again Friend,

I wanted to thank you for your kind response to my last submission - it has given me the encouragement to actually start this outrageously large fic that I have going on in my head. We shall see if at least part of it will be ready for AO3 by the end of the year😅

I have been considering sending you a snippet I was working on but it’s not nearly as flushed out as the first scenario (emotional Dream kneeling fic idea, just to confirm) I submitted to you. (read: I haven’t had a 2am anxiety-induced writing frenzy over it lol). But seeing your reblog of deviantly-inspired’s post made me feel like I could share it with you no matter how unfinished. The concept in my mind is similar and is also inspired by multiple fandom headcanons/fic readings so here goes nothing~

*****

Before Dream begs Hob not to love him, before he kneels at the power Hob’s love has over him, and even before he allowed their relationship to slip unacknowledged past “just friends” into “what are we?,” territory, Dream had ignored his growing feelings for Hob. They had been friends seeing each other quite regularly for the better part of a year when Hob invited him upstairs to get away from the rambunctious new college graduates swarming the inn. Dream blamed their drunkenly hopeful and untamed dreams for the excitement he felt at following Hob to his private quarters. Of course, it was just a friendly invite considering Dream’s dislike for crowds and it was just a regular apartment for all intents and purposes. Except that it wasn’t. It was Hob’s apartment filled with Hob’s things and it was cozy and welcoming just like The New Inn. So how could Dream resist when Hob suggested they move future meetings there. “For the convenience, ya know? Less bothering the staff and saving money eating out ya know?” Hob is only rational so why disagree. “Not that you ever were an expensive date, ha! Seeing as I don’t think you ever ate at one of our meetings when I think about it. Hmm, do you even eat?”

Dream meets his eyes from where he sits across the couch: “If you mean do I need to consume sustenance for energy than no I don’t need to eat. But I usually abstain because like all things I consume I can sense the dreams of their creators which is unsatisfying in most cases.”

Hob’s eyes widen, “Unsatisfying because the dreams are bad or…?”

“Some. Often, the wishes are for riches or fame in cooking and sometimes they are dreams of being delicious or fulfilling which I find gratifying. But usually they are simply wishes to go home and rest which I believe you could see my hesitance for eating them in your company.” Dream smiles that tiny one-sided smile of his and Hob brightens up because he has a new goal based on what Dream said. He’s going to cook him a meal to enjoy just for him.

*Spongebob meme voice: Three Weeks Later”

Dream smells everything before he even knocks on the door of Hob’s flat. Hob has a bright smile despite the sweat on his face and he bows mockingly to say: “Your highness, dinner is served.”

Dream arches an eyebrow ready to decline the invite but even he knows it would be rude to deny as a guest. Especially when he can see Hob put a substantial amount of effort into the steaming pot he is currently scooping from. The drone of the oven fan fills the silent camaraderie of the moment as Dream sits at the small table set with two spoons and two glasses of wine. ‘How intimate,’ he thinks and is glad his embarrassed flush is covered up by Hob placing a gently steaming bowl in front of him and sitting across the table. “It’s just some beef stew but I hope you’ll like it. And it’s a totally odd companion dessert but I made some chocolate chip cookies to go with it. I’m just preheating the oven now.” Hob gives Dream a blindingly kind smile before he starts to eat and launches into a story about his Tuesday class.

The lack of pressure to eat or even talk is one of the things Dream appreciates about his friend. But to return this kindness he chooses to at least politely take a few bites before outright denying the cookies. On sight the stew is nothing more than dark gravy with hefty chunks of tender beef, soft carrots, fluffy potatoes, and translucent onions. A good hearty stew to be sure but nothing crazy for the palette and definitely not anything worth writing home about.

Dream scoops a single spoonful into his mouth and freezes. His natural stillness allows the moment to go unnoticed by Hob but the entire collective unconsciousness comes to a halt. The simple stew resonates with a multitude of wishes that coalesce into one overarching dream. The single most important dream of its creator imbued into every molecule and Dream can more than taste it. Run his human tongue over it, crush it between his teeth, and swallow it into the empty cavern of hunger too large for this human form to possess. The oven beeps so Hob excuses himself to quickly shape some cookies and get them into the oven. In the meantime, Dream is allowed to continue being overwhelmed in private.

He stares at where his spoon disappears into the comforting brown stew until his vision starts to blur. Tears are starting to well up in his eyes and though he has not been breathing this entire time his hands begin to shake. Shake with want, he wants to eat the entire bowl stew and all. The dream buried within that bowl begins to call to him and the intense fervor with which he wants to consume it all almost scares him. He wants to grab the still simmering cast iron pot and absorb it’s entirety into his being. Is it rude to eat Hob’s remainder? Could he lick the remaining flavor from within Hob’s lips so that he may always know it’s flavors? Is it too much to feel this way for a friend’s kindness? Is it too much for him to beg Hob for more sustenance? Is it too much to admit to Hob he is starving and only this will nourish him? What taste will his longing tears add to the broth? What more would Hob give him when he had nothing to offer in return?

The oven door shuts and suddenly the thought of an even sweeter food causes Dream to take in a lungful of air in fear. It would be too much to bear. It would be too much because he is too much.

“Are you okay, Dream? You look a little shaken.” Shaken? Yes, he is shaken to his core. The stinging tears threaten to fall but Dream blinks them back with immeasureable control because he cannot lose control. Not here.

“It is of no matter. My apologies for your efforts but I do not believe I could partake in your dessert. Thank you however, for the stew.” Dream carefully says only the truth. He does not say that it was ambrosia and the only reason he does not gorge himself on it is fear that there will be no more left. That’s not true, he fears acknowledging it would mean no more would come. Better to take this single bite now and have many singular bites in meetings to follow than to choke it all down now and never be able to feast again. He returns the spoon carefully to where it was initially set and puts his hands into his lap to hide their trembling.

“Of course, it’s totally fine, Dream! I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want. Besides, I’ll eat all of this myself eventually,” Hob smiles and tries not to let it be strained. He had hoped pouring all of his emotions into this meal would show Dream that he wanted to have more than just friendship with him but he must have misunderstood. It’s just plain soup after all and the cookies are the Tollhouse recipe so what was he expecting? A dramatic and mutual love confession? Was he thinking Dream would fall to his knees and rejoice in Hob’s regard? No! Of course, he would only stare at the soup with his starry eyes and take a singular bite before denying more. Maybe eating was painful and that’s why he had a pained expression on his face. Maybe Dream did know what feelings Hob put into the stew and was kindly ignoring them to allow Hob to save face and for that he was grateful. For that, he could continue their friendship without shame and choke down his soup and two cookies while still trying to play that he wasn’t bothered. He knew once Dream left the food would be thrown away.

Dream waited patiently for Hob to finish his stew and eat his warm cookies a little too soon after pulling them from the oven. Hob barely avoided choking on the burning dough through a series of undignified swearing about the temperature and blowing puffs of hot air from his open mouth. If Dream weren’t so caught up in his mind he would have done more than laugh his braying laugh. When Hob finishes they retire back to the perfectly worn out couch and Dream takes a last glimpse at the pot on the stove.

In that pot was a stew filled with unfathomable care and gentle regard for Dream. Every morsel flavored with warm feelings of positivity and each piece a wish for nourishment. The time taken imbued every spoonful with a wish for happiness. The mixture of textures and wishes gave the stew a singular flavor, a singular dream that Dream could not ignore. The stew, because its creator created it so, dreamed of comfort for Dream. A dream so beautiful and heartfelt it filled him with tears to be so cared for. It would be torture then to taste the cookies and know he could never have Hob. To know that he should not have Hob.

They said their goodnights and Hob packed away the stew because he couldn’t really bear to waste a perfectly good few meals. He did however, throw away the remaining cookie dough because it felt wrong to eat them or give them away when he made it for Dream. When he imagined Dream’s laugh with every scoop of flour, when he imagined the stars in Dream’s dark eyes for every grain of salt, the baking soda his smirk, the egg yolks his sunny small smiles, the white sugar his pale human skin, the brown sugar his dark unruly hair, the vanilla extract his unique scent, when every stir was a loving caress he longed to give and with every chocolate chip a sweet kiss. He would throw this declaration of love away if only to keep their friendship.

Dream returned to the Dreaming in a sweep of sand and he was glad to be away from Hob. From his flat’s intoxicating warmth and his easy smiles if only so he could think. He had to stop this from going further. He could not love Hob. It would ruin him. He would not let himself do that to his dearest friend…his only friend. He would not love Hob and it would be okay. Because they could be friends! Because it would be enough.

It will be okay because Hob does not love him.

****

You know, I am so sorry for coming to you a second time and just dropping my long ass scenarios on you lol. I just can’t get the imagine of Hob making Dream something yummy and it being so full of care that it makes Dream well up with tears. He has never been loved so quietly before, so patiently, so unobtrusively and I just want that for him. Hopefully, this will get worked into the same fic and hopefully one day we’ll all be able to read it lol. Once again, my apologies for dropping this on you but I hope you have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️

Sincerely,

🧶Anon

Oh beloved 🧶 anon!!! I'm so glad to hear that you felt encouraged by my last response, I'm absolutely thrilled and so excited by the prospect of reading what you create! Even if it takes some time, I promise that the effort will be worth it.

I'm absolutely obsessed with what you've done with Dream and food and love here. It's so beautiful and it's one of my favourite things to think about. How does Dream interpret love, as an Endless being with access to the entire collective unconsciousness of humanity? He seems very much to feel emotions in the same way that we do - perhaps even in a more heightened way. I'm so interested in the way a home cooked meal imbued with all of Hob’s thoughts and good intentions and love would make him feel. How overwhelming would it be to have those things directed at him specifically for once? Hob’s love is not overwhelming, in itself. It's an ember that's burned softly for many years, and nothing can put it out. But even though it is so gentle, Dream just can't... hold it. Not without coming apart.

And Hob, oh bless him. I'm totally in the "food is Hob’s love language" camp. I'm so emotional about the idea of him sadly throwing out the cookie dough, respectful of Dream’s wishes but still feeling a little bruised that his love doesn't seem to be enough. I think that he won't stop trying, though. That little ember isn't going anywhere.

So, once again: thank you for sharing this. You are wonderful and you're going to make a wonderful fic. I hope you have a great day, my friend!

[zannolin]

fic author q&a

tagged by @beautyofsorrow <3

why do you write fanfic?

short answer, because i love it and it makes me happy. longer answer, still that. but it makes other people happy too, sometimes, and especially as i am often writing for nicher series/pairings/dynamics/etc, i love knowing that someday if anyone else likes this obscure silly thing, they can go looking for fic about it and mine will be there waiting for them. also i am immensely unhappy when i'm not writing. i don't think i could live without it. and writing fanfic is fulfilling to me in a way that original work often is not, largely because of the community aspect and the low pressure for it to be marketable or revised or support me as a person or an artist tbh.

which of your posted stories do you think of the most even though the story is "finished"?

mmm tough call. the fey au in the sense that it's the world and plot i am proudest of craft-wise. i worked really hard and i think you can see that it paid off. but other than that i think... i think it might have to be please don't hold me to it right now. because i did it just how i wanted. in a way it's like what my boys in bars series was trying to be but didn't quite reach on the friendship level i think.

if you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

just let yourself write what you want, how you want. you can have flowery prose. you can be weird and vague and metaphorical. you can just write about friends, i promise. and stop looking at your fucking stats.

what's your relationship to fic stats?

well. i think above answers that one lol. i've blocked my ao3 stats. i cannot see hit or kudos or bookmark counts on ANY fics. + i've gotten much better about not expecting anything especially by writing highly niche stuff.

is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if so, why? if not, why not?

ehhh. the shazamily, to an extent. the shazam fandom is lovely because so many of us are writing family/friendship centric works and that's if not the norm, at least MUCH more common than in other fandoms that i've been in, and i miss that because at heart, i'm a genficcer. i'm a friendshipper. i love platonic and ambiguous relationships so much. so i miss that, but for the most part, i'm actually okay with not writing anything i used to write. that's okay.

what motivates you to write?

i WILL lose my mind if i don't. i can't even elaborate past that like i'll just go bonkers.

why do you write for the fandom(s) you write for?

because i am sick and ill and dying from brainrot and nobody is writing the highly specific content that i crave in the way that i crave it. sometimes there's nothing for the fandom at all, and SOMEBODY's gotta be the change. mostly i'm just like hyperfixated and losing it.

if you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

take a break. do other things like jigsaw puzzles and taking walks and reading books. listening to phoebe bridgers on my floor. the usual. it'll pass. the ideas will come when they're ready.

what do you wish people knew about comments?

a genuine comment is never a bother. NEVER. no author that i have ever met is going to be upset at you for commenting on a fic and saying hey i really loved this!!! or something like that. no matter how old that fic is. no matter if the author has moved on, or put it on anon, or hasn't written fanfiction in years. it is never, ever a bother. when i get a comment on a fic that i didn't JUST post, i rejoice. i lie on my floor and i think about how incredible it is that people are still finding, reading, and loving something that i wrote, no matter how bad i think it is now that i've grown into a different person. i have coasted for WEEKS on the fact that someone left me a comment saying i loved this and here's my favorite part. here's why. this made me cry. this made me smile. this reminded me of my best friend. this is how it feels, really, you got it. any of that. all of it. sometimes a fic is me going "is this crazy??" and a comment is someone saying "no, no, it's not, i see it". a comment that takes like two minutes to type can matter for two years just by being like, hey, this mattered to me. plus like 90% of my friendships online have been founded on the basis of commenting on fanfic so you know, rave reviews from me.

maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. what's that question (and answer)? -> is there a fic and/or author who is doing what you want to be doing with your own writing? who/what?

i can yap all day about inspirations but lately, i am haunted by love me on purpose by smoosnoom in terms of themes, emotions, and pure aching; @thcscus in sheer technicality and prose; the pacing, metaphor, and tone in there's daggers in men's smiles, @beautyofsorrow's sensory work in literally Every fic ever + her fic for the barbie zine none of you losers get to read yet; and @blusandbirds' ability to capture visceral emotion so damn vividly and succinctly.

tagging @blusandbirds @transjlawrence @lordgrimwing @pinkgrapefloyd!

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Hihi!

Hey, I was just wondering. What if it turned out that it wasn't as simple as having all 3 pieces of the Triforce? What if there was more to it? What if, even after having gotten them all, the DorfMisers were unable to use the pieces of Wisdom & Courage until they exemplified those qualities to the same degree that he did Power naturally?

Heck, what if the same was true of the wish they were supposed to get from it? Like, they can't because they're imbalanced.

Meaning that the very thing they were so obsessed with obtaining was barred from them specifically because of that very obsession.

A bit like how the Mirror of Erised hid the Philosopher Stone from Voldemort. But Harry just outright got it because he didn't actually care about the Philosopher's Stone. He just wanted it to keep it out of Voldemort's hands.

So, the Husbanditos don't even really get the extra power boosts that Zelda & Link might've from their parts.

Oooo I like this take! Explains very much why everything goes fuckin' wonky when he gets the Triforce, even if the wish doesn't necessarily require any mayhem or destruction (Like controlling Hyrule in HW. Why does the land become corrupt when he wishes for dominion over Hyrule? just make it so he's king and be done. The fact that his chakras are not in alignment would explain this.)

***********************************************************************

This scenario would present a deeply ironic and philosophical twist on the Ganondorfs’ pursuit of the Triforce. Each incarnation of Ganondorf seeks to obtain all three pieces of the Triforce to gain ultimate power and fulfill their ambitions, yet their obsession with power becomes the very thing that bars them from unlocking the full potential of Wisdom and Courage. This imbalance forces them to face their shortcomings and confront the truth: raw power alone is not enough.

Here’s how each Ganondorf and Demise might react to this revelation:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf is already a more introspective version of his character. He speaks of past regret and lost opportunities, and while he still seeks to conquer, his motivations are tempered with the bitter lessons of failure. Upon learning that the Triforce’s full power is locked from him because he lacks the balance of Wisdom and Courage, this would likely strike a deep chord of irony and self-reflection.

He might brood over it, realizing that his obsession with power is the very thing preventing him from fulfilling his ultimate goal. This would be incredibly frustrating, yet it would also be a moment of clarity. He’s already shown the capacity for regret, and this revelation might push him toward acknowledging his flaws.

Scene: Ganondorf stands in the ruined hall where the Triforce hovers above him. His eyes narrow as he extends his hand toward it. But nothing happens.

"Why? Why will you not bend to me?" His voice rises in frustration as he pounds his fist into the ground. The pieces of Wisdom and Courage glow faintly but remain distant, out of his grasp.

Realization dawns as he understands the cruel truth. The Triforce won’t bow to him because he lacks balance. A grim smile spreads across his face, bitter with irony.

"The gods mock me," he mutters. "Even now, they withhold what is rightfully mine. Not for lack of strength, but for lack of their so-called virtues. Wisdom… Courage. Two things I never needed to take what I wanted."

But in the quiet of the broken hall, his words feel hollow. For a moment, the weariness of his endless struggle overtakes him. He would likely spend time in deep reflection after this, wondering if he has pursued the wrong path all along.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf is arrogant, domineering, and entirely consumed by his desire for power. The idea that the Triforce is beyond his reach because he lacks qualities like Wisdom and Courage would fill him with rage. He would see this as an insult, a cruel trick of fate, and likely lash out violently at the idea that the gods would put such limitations on something he has fought so hard to obtain.

His obsession would likely lead him to redouble his efforts, perhaps even going to dangerous lengths to try and force his way into unlocking the full Triforce, ignoring the lesson it’s trying to teach him. His pride would blind him to any form of introspection.

Scene: Ganondorf stands before the Triforce, his lips twisted in a snarl as he grips the piece of Power tightly. He stretches out his hand to claim the other two pieces, but nothing happens.

"What?!" he bellows, his fury echoing through the Sacred Realm. The pieces of Wisdom and Courage shimmer mockingly in front of him, just out of reach.

"I have them all!" he screams, slamming his fist into the ground, the very earth trembling beneath his rage. "Why do they not obey me?"

He tries again and again, but no matter how much power he exerts, the pieces refuse to align. His frustration mounts, and his body crackles with dark energy as he lashes out, destroying everything around him in a fit of uncontrollable anger.

In his rage, he would refuse to accept the truth. To him, this would be a cruel joke, a betrayal by the gods, and he would stop at nothing to break the Triforce’s will, unable to comprehend that the barrier is not one of force but of balance.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf is cold, calculating, and deeply cunning. Upon realizing that the Triforce remains locked from him because of his obsession with power, his reaction would be more measured than others. He wouldn’t lash out in blind rage, but rather, he would seethe internally, trying to understand how to work around this limitation.

His pride would be wounded, but he would immediately begin plotting. He wouldn’t see this as a personal failing, but rather as another challenge to overcome. He would try to find a way to exemplify Wisdom and Courage without fully understanding them—perhaps manipulating others to embody those traits for him.

Scene: Ganondorf stands before the assembled Triforce, his eyes narrowed in thought. He extends his hand toward it, but nothing happens. The pieces of Wisdom and Courage hover, just out of his reach, glowing faintly.

He lowers his hand, staring at the pieces with cold calculation. "So this is how it is," he murmurs, his voice laced with icy disdain. "The gods believe me unworthy."

He turns away from the Triforce, his cape swirling behind him as he begins to pace. "Wisdom… Courage… These are the keys to unlocking you?" He smirks darkly, his mind already turning. "If that is what it takes, then I will find a way to gain them. One does not need to possess such things to use them."

He would begin a methodical search for a way to exploit Wisdom and Courage, perhaps trying to manipulate others who hold those qualities, intending to twist them to his own advantage.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf is charismatic and brimming with bravado, but underneath that confidence lies the same hunger for power as his other incarnations. Upon learning that the Triforce cannot be used because he lacks balance, he would likely be frustrated but intrigued. He’s cunning enough to realize this as a puzzle, a challenge to be solved.

He would approach it with a sense of determination rather than anger, convinced that there’s a way for him to gain the necessary qualities or at least fake them enough to unlock the full Triforce. However, his arrogance might blind him to the real meaning behind the balance required.

Scene: Ganondorf’s hand hovers over the Triforce. He expects its power to surge into him, but when it doesn’t, his eyes narrow. The pieces of Wisdom and Courage remain separate, their glow taunting him.

"Ah," he mutters, a smirk creeping across his face. "So it’s not just strength that you seek."

He lowers his hand, folding his arms across his chest as he gazes at the Triforce with a new sense of respect. "You demand balance, do you?" His smile widens, but it’s filled with dark amusement. "Very well. I shall play your game. You think I lack Wisdom and Courage? I will show you otherwise."

Unlike his other incarnations, Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would approach this as a puzzle, confident that he can either develop or fake the necessary qualities. He wouldn’t see it as a personal failing, but as a new challenge to conquer.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would likely be enraged at the discovery that the Triforce is locked from him due to his imbalance. However, he’s also cunning and understands manipulation. While his immediate reaction would be anger, he would quickly shift to trying to manipulate or force Wisdom and Courage, either within himself or from others, to gain the full power he seeks.

He might even contemplate whether he could take those traits from others, perhaps eyeing Zelda and Link as means to his ends.

Scene: Ganondorf’s hand hovers above the Triforce, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. But the pieces remain separate, shimmering with a quiet defiance.

His lips curl into a snarl as he lowers his hand, a surge of anger coursing through him. "Why do you resist me?" he growls, his voice reverberating through the chamber.

The realization dawns slowly, and his fury is palpable. "Wisdom… Courage… You mock me with your petty requirements!" His fist clenches as dark energy crackles around him.

But then, his anger shifts, his mind already working. "Very well," he mutters, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "If that is what you demand, I will find a way to take it. Wisdom… Courage… These are just tools like any other. And tools can be bent to my will."

He would likely begin a new plot, aiming to acquire Wisdom and Courage, not through personal growth, but by taking them from others—seeing Zelda and Link as obstacles that he could overcome.

Demise

Reaction: Demise, as the embodiment of power and hatred, would react with pure fury. To him, the idea that something as intangible as Wisdom or Courage could prevent him from achieving his goal would be infuriating. His immediate response would be violence and rage, striking out at anything and everything around him.

Unlike the others, Demise would not seek to learn or manipulate these qualities. He would see the very idea of Wisdom and Courage as weaknesses, refusing to accept that they have any value.

Scene: Demise stands before the Triforce, his burning eyes locked onto the glowing pieces. He reaches out, expecting to feel their power flow into him. But they do not move.

His face twists into a snarl, and with a bellow of rage, he slams his fist into the ground, the very earth cracking beneath his fury. "You DARE deny me?!" His voice is thunderous, filled with wrath.

But no matter how much rage he unleashes, the Triforce remains out of his reach. He howls in fury, refusing to accept that something as “weak” as Wisdom or Courage could be the cause.

[mambo-by-a-mile]

Storytime idea: an alternate universe where Frieda won / succeeded in taking over the kingdom...from Mambo's POV.

'Cozy Enough? Need a blankie? A snack?'

Mambo just shot a pitiful glare back, a hot, single tear forming in the corner of his eye to as a harsh and unfortunate completion of said pitifulness-it wasn't as if he could do anything else in his given situation. For once, he had no wisecrack, quip, or smart retort full of his classic snark in response to the wolves' taunts. Nothing but the feeling of sheer smallness. He kept himself scrunched up in his attempt at a defiant stance from where he was shackled to the wall as he watched the vicious canids march away in howls of cruel laughter after slamming the caged door to his small cell.

Once he could no longer hear their cackles through the dungeon's stone walls, he loosened out of his former stance, and slowly walked towards the left corner of the cell he was being held in. He wiped a couple more tears from the corner of his eyes with his sleeve, defeatedly kicking a small stone on the floor towards the cell bars. He then slid himself down against the wall to sit down on the cold, hard floor, the chain locked around his torso rattling as he did so. The cuff seemed like it was initially meant to fasten around an ankle, though given the cat creature's small size it was more opted to fit around the former part of his body-not that it was any more comfortable there.

Mambo hugged his knees to his chest in a fetal position, feeling the chill of the dungeon air seep through his clothing fabric and fur. It only further served as a reminder of the situation he had gotten himself as well as his friends into in just a couple days. For all the times Munk and The Wizard had told him his troublemaking schemes would one day get him in real hot water, he had brushed it off as another typical scolding he had long been accustomed to, having never thought of it beyond that. With a kingdom now taken over by a madwoman, the phrase 'too little too late' in regards to putting the though in a serious light had never been more appropriate. Furthermore, he hadn't though it had ever meant him screwing up this badly.

Just a day or so ago he and Munk had been arguing over who had been to blame for Frieda getting her hands on the staff in the first place, though given his current position, even he didn't know how much of the blame he could deflect from himself and onto the pig creature anymore-now there was something he would never admit to his co-assistant under any other circumstance. Looking around his dark, lonely cell in the current circumstance-as much as he hated to admit it-he would give anything to hear the short pig's nagging voice from within the same room now. Anything to be back in the top tower room bored out of his skull, slopping away at the chores he despised so much if it was the alternative to this. All those times he just wanted the older small creature to let him have a little fun, his wishing for things to be 'edgier' or more interesting for him to be constantly denied, he never thought what was happening now would be the result of getting his wish fulfilled.

His thoughts drifted to Ella. Getting to know her over the past two days since Frieda's takeover as more than the classic 'Cinderella' or another fairy tale maiden but rather an optimistic, kind, determined, girl with her own thoughts, goals, and dreams had gotten the smart Alec cat creature to consider the lives of other fairy tale land residents within the stories of the book. If there was ever an incident that had proven to him that nobody's lives should be pre-determined by fate it was meeting and knowing her as a person rather than a character. Had he initially just thought of all the residents as mere characters or tools for him to put into 'interesting' scenarios for selfish amusement before his and Munk's talk with her over her story? Like Frieda had been doing? The thought was enough to make him wince. He couldn't imagine how scared she must be feeling now, whatever Frieda was doing to her. 'Yeah, because of you ya stupid, useless excuse for a wizard assistant.' His guilty conscious chewed him out.

And Rick, the young man who truly loved her and was ready to put himself in harm's way for her. Perhaps he had found a way to save her and was making things right somehow? For her and everyone else's sakes he hoped so.

Mambo felt another warm tear building up in the corner of his eye yet again. If only he had listened to Munk when he told him to get off the crystal ball, if he had just been content with sitting around keeping an eye on the Cinderella tale as The Wizard had told him and Munk to. Then again, he supposed he wouldn't have met Rick or Ella personally if he had...

Regardless, the usually devil-may-care, fun-loving, rebellious, mischievous cat creature had never felt so helpless before in his life. Had he been able to see Munk right now would the pig creature blame him just as much as he was blaming himself right now? Most likely. Worst of all, Mambo still didn't know whether or not he would be able to properly apologize to his co-assistant and-yes, he was sure-friend over causing all of this with his childish antics. What good would it do either way? The only thing he could do was sit silently in darkness and hope this nightmare would end somehow.

[theobsessedcookiefan]

hey can I Request a headcannon of how the dragons would react to a Kratos like reader who is also the child of Longan?

Scenario: It's taking place near end of the age of dragons story like around the part Snake fruit is getting their crumbs handed to them. but then Longan gets tangled by chaineds and slammed into the island. everybody look at who did that and it was the cookie wearing a old cloak then the cloak cookie says"Longan" As they take off their cloak revealing who they are. "your child has returned. I bring the destruction of your reign!!"

Hi !!! Thx for the suggestion !! Srry I've been kinda dead, I'm becoming obsessed with a jester.. (Yes. Shadow Milk Cookie)

DC/N is your name okay? And also I wanted to give you a little idea to what you could look like!

The bot is gonna take a bit more longer to do so I'll just make a bunch and put them on a post!

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

The dragon's legacy.

"Ugh.. Thiss cannot be.." Snake Fruit Cookie said, once the power seemed to fade away from them; the snake tried to end the Longan Dragon by absorbing the power of the orb in the palace, it had the life source of all petrified cookies by the other orbs, once they got the other dragons and main crew to destroy it Snake Fruit Cookie absorbed the power and managed to fulfill their plan; Becoming a dragon themselves. Sadly for the Cookie it did not seem to be enough since it was no challenge to the Ivory Dragon to defeat them.

"You are not worthy of receiving a true battle" The dragon said to their once servant. "Begone and do not appear in front of me again... Unless you wish to be crushed into crumbs." Once the snake ran away their attention was back to the other dragons, Pitaya Dragon Cookie being the first talk- or well.. Yell.

"I knew that sssnake would lose right away! Now it'sss our turn." They said, seemingly wanting nothing more than to fight Longan Dragon Cookie as quick as possible, but the mentioned didn't seem to be bothered by it.

"My brethren, it's been a while." Longan said before turning their head to look at the main crew, its expression no longer having that peculiar light it had when talking to the cookie with seeds in their hair. "But before we... Catch up, there seems to be some tiny meddlers to deal with." Even the smallest glance of Longan Dragon Cookie seemed enough to make the cookies shake in fear, the weight of that look was horrible. The dragon then turned their attention to other figure none of them noticed before and before someone could react chains emerged from the floating island, chaining the Ivory Dragon and slamming them to the ground.

"Longan Dragon! I've returned to put and end to your reign" Every other cookie in the place looked around, trying to spot the (probably) next dead cookie. You revealed yourself, taking off your cloak and showing your similarity to the Ivory Dragon itself. "The strong are supposed to protect the weak, not destroy them! And if you can't do that then your child is going to do it. Even if that means fighting you too."

"Wait.. Longan had a child?!" You heard Pitaya Dragon ask to the others; the cookies shrugged but Lotus Dragon nodded. "I've heard of them, never seen them though." Ananas Dragon grumbled in annoyance at that. "You could've just tell us you know Lotus?"

Before anything else could be said a big thunder almost hit you but you managed to block it with your scythe, deflecting it to the sea below. "It's saddening seeing you align with these.. Pests, I taught you better, to be the one who would help with the reconstruction of this world. What a shame." At the sight of the pale dragon getting up the smaller cookies ran away, letting the work of defeat the threat to the other dragons and you. "Of course-" You thought to yourself, sighing a bit. "I'm trying to defend your race and you just leave.." It didn't matter anymore, you prepared yourself and saw the others do that as well.

"The small cookies are escaping... Such insignificant struggles. See my child? That's their nature as the weak species they are. I would not forgive this transgression so easily but it's the first time in a millennium we're together again." They seemed to be calm once more, that was not a good signal "Shall we move to our introductions?"

Before you could even open your mouth the red dragon yelled. "What introductionsss are you taking about?! Sssince when do we need all that?!" Of course Longan, not bothered by Pitaya's behavior continued to speak, even if that made the said dragon fumble under their breath. "The Lychee Dragon seems more quiet than usual.. I assume you're the reason of that." You tried to speak again but was interrupted by Lotus this time, the only thing you did then was crossing your arms and joining Pitaya in the 'Why is everyone ignoring me?' angry club. "That dragon got in our way. Surely that fact shouldn't surprise you, given what happened in the days of old." At that simple mention happy memories started to flood your mind, so much you had to shake your head. "See? That's exactly the reason of this problem, you all just see for yourselves! We're strong and the strong should protect the weak!" To be honest all four seemed to disagree with that, specially Longan and Lychee. "To see our great kin stand side-by-side with those insignificant specks of grain called cookies.. You disappoint me DC/N." Your full name, oh that was no good either.

"Well we had to align with cookies to survive! We would-" You were interrupted AGAIN this time by Ananas who pointed a finger at your direction. "Talk for you! I never allied with those cookies, my only goal it's go return my island to what it once was."

"Where'sss the fun of removing all the cookiesss?! At least leassst leave the ssstrong onesss for me!" Well.. They didn't say yes to a total genocide, maybe you could work with that.

"I do not care if we are dragons alike. I cannot forgive the destruction of my palace." A bit egocentric as well but maybe you could work with that too! Or not, seeing all three fly towards Longan. Pitaya (as usual) being the most exited to do so. "At leasst! We get to fight! I wasss growing tired of waiting!" "Why are you like this?" You asked, following the three of them.

"There is so much to reconstruct on my island. Let's get this over with." The golden one said and you just tried to see the positive side of all this.. Until Lotus talked too. "I did not expect to come fight you here." You resist the urge to facepalm you. "It's truly a shame to see you merely chasing what is right in front of your eyes. You must learn to show restraint.. And sacrifice what you have for a brighter future, isn't that right DC/N?" They were talking about.. No, they wouldn't be so cruel.. Would they? "Nevermind.. You all are the same.. I'll show you how wrong you are Longan." You gripped your scythe as thight as you can before the Ivory one talked again. "Alright then. Show me the extent of your determination.. It will not matter, my plans are infallible."

[sebbyisland]

I wanted to take some time to do a mini-celebration for the one-year anniversary of my hgsn animatic + breaching 10K views :D Below is some creator commentary on what went into my process. I hope it's entertaining for some of you!!!

Part 1: The Summer 'Hikaru' Died

I based the whole animatic on the idea that the title "The Summer Hikaru Died" goes two ways--both the accepting the death of Hikaru, as well as the death of 'Hikaru.' This would explain why the series climax is in the summer while we know Hikaru died in the winter--his town and family won't actually consider him dead until the summer because 'Hikaru' won't be there to stand-in for him anymore!

However, the death of 'Hikaru' should not be an exorcism like Ms. Kurebayashi suggested, or simply going back to the spirit world/mountain , but rather akin to a natural end of a stage in life. Coming of age, if you will. It should allow Unuki to be attuned to all parts of himself, to remember his entire existence as a weird primordial being, and to appreciate those parts good and bad. To know he is loved and he will always have a home no matter what form he takes on.

I want this for three reasons:

1) I am a hoe for bittersweet tragedies. I want tears and blood spilling out the pages and The Summer Hikaru Died is perfectly primed to deliver on just that. I intend to fully embrace the tragic aspects of the story. Everything I say from here on out is with the explicit intention to interpret this story as a tragedy first and foremost lol in case that wasn’t clear from the animatic itself.

2) Yoshiki’s grief does not define who he is as a person. Yoshiki has evolved from someone who doesn’t want to lose the memory Hikaru to someone who doesn’t want to lose the person ‘Hikaru.’ His self esteem and resilience has risen because he finally has a friend he can be honest with unlike before. However, that still means he is mentally reliant on one person and doesn’t feel attached to really any other part of his life. That’s not…good. I don’t think Yoshiki can truly grow up unless he lets Hikaru truly die, body and soul. I get that might sound conflicting, since won't he just grieve over 'Hikaru' like he once did for Hikaru? But remember their relationships are so fundamentally different from each other. Loss is part of life, and in order to live, Yoshiki needs to fully let himself take in the tragedy of loss and understand that experiencing loss does not mean the end of his own life. Because of 'Hikaru,' he's able to start dreaming of actually leaving the town. It's just a tragedy he will likely have to fulfill that dream for the both of them.

3) 'Hikaru' deserves to have full autonomy over his fate, which he can't do by possessing a corpse. As 'Unuki' he is compelled to grant wishes. As 'Hikaru' he is forced to live in hiding, unable to freely express his true self unless it's to Yoshiki. On top of this, he is a being who has “lived” for a very long time. He does not even remember his past. He does not know where he came from. 'Hikaru' needs to embrace both his love for Yoshiki, and who he is as a spiritual being, in order to know true peace. Living his life under the alias of Hikaru, who no one even realizes is dead, is not living life honestly or to the fullest. I think ‘Hikaru’ needs to let go of the idea he can only find happiness by being with Yoshiki similar to how Yoshiki thinks he can only find happiness by being with ‘Hikaru.’ Honestly? This wish is what ultimately pushes me to think “Hikaru’s” time with Yoshiki is going to reach it's inevitable end. Though, admittedly, I’m not 100% sure what that “natural end” would look like, I just know we miss the point if it's just a sacrifice for Yoshiki’s sake. I wouldn't be surprised if it becomes a scenario like "I'll always be withou you Yoshiki in the trees and the summer heat and the water we played in and the taste of my favorite snacks" god just thinking abt it makes me sad lol

I'm taking a lot of inspiration for this interpretation of 'Hikaru' and Hikaru from the god in Hiraeth: End of a Journey, where the god is dying bc they r no longer part of the modern world and goes to the resting place they want. On the way, they find their long-lost lover who was waiting for them. Reunited with this loved one, and filled with loving memories of people they met along the way, they pass on into the spiritual realm. I want a similar type of closure for ‘Hikaru’ and Yoshiki. ‘Hikaru’ dies but with dignity and autonomy, he’s not truly gone but he is gone in ways that matter to those who knew him. Similarly, Yoshiki finally leaves his town and “kills” that part of his childhood without truly abandoning his inner child, but rather growing around it. I hope I was able to articulate this well…

Part 2: <3 LOVEY DOVEY <3

The biggest motif I hope people were able to pick up on is light/sparkles = warmth and love. I'm referring to what yoshiki and 'hikaru' have as love because it's stupid not to just because it's not romantic..or 'Hikaru' cannot grasp human concepts like love..there is no better term for it! It's love. They love each other.

THERE WAS HALO IMAGERY...going from Hikaru as a mysterious martyr to Hikaru as just a boy who died, in a photo frame with the traditional lil black ribbon/sash, was very important to me. He's being remembered as he is. That's why you get to see his eyes in the frame on the right.

The halo, too, ties in to the idea of light = love. Yoshiki loves the memory of Hikaru, but his grief hurts him deeply, like there is a hole in his chest. In this way, the halo around Hikaru is also the emptiness Yoshiki feels without him. In this idealized memory of Hikaru, Yoshiki avoids his cruel reality that Hikaru is not here anymore<- but only in the early stages of the story! As we know, he slowly comes to make progress with processing his grief as the story goes on. Anyways, I'm very happy with the first frame and the way it matches with the lyrics.

One of the most important instances of this symbolism is in this scene, where 'Hikaru' dies. It is so important to understand that when they are together, the light surrounds both of them, and when 'Hikaru' leaves, the sparkles OCCUPIES THE SPACE WHERE 'HIKARU' WAS! This is NOT meant to be framed as a sacrifice I hope that is clear it's not!!! He's just gone!! He is still full of the love and warmth that they were able to share together!!

Another parallel I want to draw your attention to is Hikaru's hand reaching out towards the light. On the left, we have Hikaru right when he's about to interact with Unuki. His hand reaches out to the sky, to the light, and this is supposed to call back to how we know Hikaru's last thoughts were that his friend, Yoshiki, wouldn't be alone when he was gone. Yoshiki was Hikaru's light/hope for the future. On the right, we have the frame of 'Hikaru' reaching towards the spiritual light coming out from Yoshiki. As a non-human, he is attracted to this literally, but Sakai hr is attracted to life he experiences by being around Yoshiki. The warmth he lacks. His desires as a spiritual entity and as a "human" living on Earth work together--both feelings are essential to understanding why he wants Yoshiki in his life independent of the Hikaru's memories (also. The queer coding go crazy). Here, too, Yoshiki is the light/hope that 'Hikaru' reaches out for. One Hikaru doesn’t want to leave Yoshiki, the other Hikaru doesn't want Yoshiki to leave. They both want to be together with him. Don't ever let go of what's beloved.

ok so yall r probably aware the classic "white flower on student desk to pay respect to their death" and this is at the end in the hypothetical scenario where 'hikaru' is gone and so the town's hikaru is also dead. however, I specifically had TWO white flowers to reflect BOTH hikaru indou and "hikaru" the unuki as they were both members of the class/town. in reality i think you'd usually give a student a bouquet so there should actually be TWO WHOLE bouquets but I didn't want to draw all that.

Also, l like the subtle symbolism in both instances of "curry with no meat" depicting a pair of two white symbol of mourning. The flowers on the desk and the makeshift gravestone. This change was very deliverate. The stones are at the start of the animatic, they are located in a secret spot only Yoshiki, Hikaru, and 'Hikaru' know about. Yoshiki is the only one who knew to make a gravestone for Hikaru, and he placed it next to his old gravestone for a bird they both took care of as kids. Interestingly, during a previous arc we know that the story of the lost bird parallels Yoshiki's own guilt over losing Hikaru and not stopping 'Hikaru.' In the "epilogue" on the left, the flowers are placed in the classroom on Hikaru's desk. The grief is publicly known and given space to breathe--no longer trapped inside of Yoshiki to carry alone. In this context, I tried to interpret "curry with no meat" as a metaphor to mean that something vital was missing from Yoshiki's life,but more specifically from his relationship to Hikaru, and making it tasteless. By the end of the animatic, Yoshiki continues to carry his grief with him, but tbe grief is only only one part of his whole. He is motivated to seek out what he wants in life.

bringing us back to this frame. yoshiki is embracing his love(grief)while having the hope to keep moving forward--he's finally leaving his town! He's letting them go!!!! He's glowing look at all those sparkles!!!!!!!! I'M HAPPY FOR YOSHIKI!!!!

Part 3: Ghosts

Sometimes you lose people you love and need in your life and there's no rhyme or reason for it. Tragedy tells us it's ok to carry that loss with us. This is why I love Mokumokuren's depiction of Yoshiki's grief and I'm looking forward to how they handle his development on as we enter the final stages of the story.

personally i think his head should explode. idk. I hope I shocked a few people with this scene! Yeah I don’t think Yoshiki would cope well with Unuki "dying" at first. I had fun making this frame a visual parallel to Yoshiki at the beginning of the animatic(pictured on the right), when he still views ‘Hikaru’ as a strange foreign monster. Now, he embraces the monstrous.

Surprisingly, letting the spirit realm explode your head is not a good thing. This Yoshiki is basically regressing. He's trying to sacrifice himself because he's given up, still wants to feel like he actually belongs to the town, wants to connect with Hikaru and 'Hikaru,’ and most of all is willing to accept death instead of being alone again.....but he doesn't actually die. How does he survive? I'll leave that up to interpretation (personally I imagine that Unuki tries to protect him in a last ditch effort maybe bc he gave a piece of his soul to Yoshiki)

This part is sooo important to me...they find comfort in understanding each other, they are together, they are both foreign "monsters" to the other, they are both each other's lights, each other's souls, they're everything to each other despite being so different and literally made of different stuff...at the core they are the same "ghosts" haunted by their flaws/social isolation and trying their best to pursue their own happiness, even though the world is telling them not to

we're all ghosts/very selfish ghosts

Yoshiki and 'Hikaru' learn to love themselves through their love for each other. The grief Yoshiki experiences from losing 'Hikaru' is proof he was able to be loved as he is, whereas his initial grief for Hikaru only made him more alone/wonder if he was truly unloved. Love is what will carry him into hopes for tomorrow.

Overall, I wanted the animatic to convey themes of self-acceptance, growth, and grief without glorifying sacrifice/martyrdom. Similar to Yoshiki's grief for his friend(s), sometimes growing up means accepting there are parts of you that you are never getting back, and while that loss can be devastating, it doesn't mean you are a broken person. Just a different one. I know I'm just an amateur, but I hope I was able to convey this even a little in my animatic...? thank you all for reading and watching <3

I leave yall with this quote <3

"How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into something else, before it's some kind of murder?"

- Richard Siken, Portrait of Frderyk in Shifting Light