#she might know them from the fragments shes heard actually

[relto]

dokja saying that he and his mom are nothing alike still fascinates me. the more i see of her, the more i can see exactly where he got it from.

[fuk3d]

A Moment In Time

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (?)

Warning: Murder, Descriptions of blood, Major character death.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hey everyone. I really appreciate the support you guys gave on my last post, it was really overwhelming for me even though it might not seem a lot to most lol.

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday | Chapter 2: Distant Memories

Blood. 

Its smell is tang and metallic. Its colour is dangerous, fervent with connections of power, hatred, anger, and… death. 

Blood.

A fickle thing it is. In the way it stains, no matter the material. It stays, even when you try to get rid of it. But you already knew that didn’t you, [Name]?

“[Name] you must stay quiet, no matter what you hear and what you see, stay right here, please baby. Mama loves you” Your mother would say to you, the last thing she would ever say to you actually as she shoves you into the closet, shutting it with a harsh push before hurriedly walking away. Away from you. 

‘Don’t leave me’ you thought. 

Your small form had curled into itself in the dainty closet, small tremors compelling your whole body to quiver and shake. You were just a child back then, hiding away from the sounds of glass shattering, minute fragments of it scattering onto the hard-wood floors. Furniture could be heard crashing against the walls, multiple gruff voices penetrating through the sanctuary your mother had called your ‘safe space’. The sounds of her broken voice breaks through the closet barriers whilst she fights viciously, for the both of you. Still, all you could think about in that very moment was- 

When is mama coming back? How long has it been? Are they still here? Are they gonna hurt me too? Like how they’re hurting mama?

Your body couldn’t handle the stress, streams of whimpers and curt gasps escaping from your lips. You didn’t even know you were beginning to hyperventilate, your eyes blurred by the oval tears that had begun to collect. You couldn’t stop feeling, couldn’t stop hearing the sounds of struggling. You can’t breathe, can’t see, you can’t even hear what’s going outside beyond the closet. All you knew in that split second was that you needed to get out, smell the clean air before you went insane. 

And peculiar, how fate works in its twisted ways; it's almost like it could hear you, begging for a somewhat momentary release. The noise had died down, and everything had suddenly just come to a…. Stop.

Silence.  

No more were the sounds of screaming, yelling, and crying. Now, it was just you. 

You remember that night so clearly, every detail drilled through your head in a never-ending loop. 

And so, with much hesitation, you step out of the closet. Eye’s locked onto the horrific sight that had been laid in front of you. There lies your mother in a pool of her own blood, her eyes, like polished globes appeared lifeless, dead. You take a step, and then another one, then another, until you're standing in front of her. 

“Mama?” Your lips wobbled, legs buckling under the realisation that she was dead. You drop to your knees with a hard ‘thud!’, pain coursing through your little knees. Red starts to stain your clothing as the colour envelopes your tiny hands. Fluorescent red and blue gleam through the apartment. 

“Mama! Mama, wake up! The police are here, can you hear them? They’re coming to save you so you can stop pretending!!” You yell at her, attempting to pull at your mothers hand. Only to reel back from shock at how cold she felt. “Mama, why’re you so cold?” You put your soft hands on her own, feeling tears before it even registers in your mind that you’re crying. The transparent liquid sliding down your puffy cheeks, dripping at your chin before trickling onto the floorboards.   

The noises of your grieving reverberate off the worn down walls, the shuffling of heavy footsteps can be heard but you ignore it, too engrossed in your own mourning. When the police arrive at the designated area that you were in, they’re stunned by the sight. In the middle of all the broken glass and shattered furniture, was you and your mother.

You’re hastily carried away from her, a sick and uneasy feeling growing within your stomach when you see people gather her body and shove her into a body bag. 

What happens next is hazy. You fuzzily recall arriving at the police station and taken in immediately for questioning. They had asked if you knew who your dad was, to which you shook your head ‘no’, shaken by the awful tragedy that took place tonight. You think back to the two officers chatting to each other, just outside the room you were situated in. “Said they don’t know who their father is, poor thing. Must’ve been hard not having a dad.” A resounding slap could be heard as the officer scolds his friend with a coarse tone, “Keep your voice down will ya? You dickbag, they can hear us.” You remember their voices becoming distant, soft mutters of  ‘Alright! Alright!’  became nothing but background noise. 

After that, the police got you cleaned up before taking you down to a hospital lab, the people there extracting a sample of your DNA and swiftly sending it off for a paternity test. While they tossed you into an orphanage for a temporary stay. That's the system for you.  

It had been 6 weeks after that night, and during your abode at the orphanage, you had become entirely numb, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even attempt to make friends, too wrapped up within your own head about that night, about what went down. You completely shut down and refrained from opening up until one of the caregivers gave you a letter addressed to you. A black wax seal with a big, fancy W was engraved into. Curiosity akin to a cat, you unfurled the envelope, eyes lighting up with excitement when you realise that your father was Bruce Wayne. After all the traumatic shit you had gone through, you deserved to distract yourself from all the bad memories that had been plaguing you. 

Three days. 

 In three days, your dad (a word so foreign to you) will be taking you to your new home, where you’re safe, where you can sleep without any fear. 

Three days. 

Time seemed to feel prolonged, and it made you tense. You were so conscious of how skittish you had become over the course of three days. You just couldn’t sleep properly, couldn’t sit still at the thought of finally meeting Bruce Wayne, the man who was your father.

So, when the three day wait was up, you were dressed in your best attire (with what little clothes you own) and hurriedly made your way to the front of the orphanage, your cute suitcase in hand as a monochromatic  vehicle pulled up. You were basically jumping out of your shoes when you heard the car door open, only to realise that it wasn’t a man who looked to be your father. Actually, it was an elderly gentleman dressed in butler attire, with balding grey hair and a pale complexion. Huh, how disappointing.

You couldn’t help but frown, struggling to mask the disdain as he stepped towards you with an air of confidence. “You must be the child Bruce was talking about.” Huh? Why did he say it like that? Where was your dad? “My name is Alfred, I am your family butler.” 

Your lips stretched down into an impossibly deeper frown. “Okay… but, where’s my dad?” You questioned, awaiting his answer as Alfred cleared his throat. “Your father is… busy as of right now. He’s attending to matters regarding work. I hope you forgive him for his improper timing Young [Name].” Alfred dips his head, mimicking something similar to a bow while you poorly nodded at your family butler– Alfred. You stay silent as you step inside the car, Alfred shuts the door while he gets into the driver seat, the car's engine roaring thunderously as it shakes the vehicle. 

You look out the window, eyes reflecting off the glass whilst the people and buildings blend in together. Gotham was such a dull place, monochrome colours mixing into each other. It was the only region that was able to turn its own people into vile, foul, and disgusting human beings disguised in sheep's clothing. It was the only region that could turn its people into villains and monsters. And it certainly had a habit of making the people with the most potential suffer a fate worse than death. Just like you. 

Why didn’t my dad pick me up instead? What was so important that he couldn’t even meet me himself? What’s going to happen to m-

No. You shouldn’t think like that, you wouldn’t think like that. You’re sure it was just an accident, a slip up, a one time thing right? It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s your dad and as long as he cares right?

‘Right’ you affirm to yourself. Your confidence comes back, you're excited once again. 

If I can’t meet him at the orphanage, I can just meet him at my new home, right?

You really couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to meet your new family and you couldn’t wait to see your new home. 

“We’ve arrived Young [Name].”

@strwberryglass

End Note: Okay so I was contemplating if I should continue this further because I didn't want to start a piece of writing just to lose the motivation or interest. I want to do this for myself and not for the sake of writing for others (no offence). Anyway, thank you for reading!

Also, updates are going to be pretty slow since I'm starting school next week! So please hold on until then :)

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

so another crumb, might not be accurate to your idea of reader, so bear with me

imagine a reader, who likes to sing, but HATES doing it in front of people. there is no sign of it, no singing, no humming, nothing around people. she will only sing if she thinks she is alone.

and one of the days spirit goes off to get to find food, reader hums a lil tune, because its only her and the cubs around, and animals aren't people.

this develops into a habit whenever the cubs are alone with reader until one day, after many false starts, reader starts to sing. the cubs love it, a song/secret just for them that spirit doesn't get to see. perhaps reader will even sing them to sleep if they're lucky.

but, after the curse breaks, well.

they're people not cubs now.

and reader knows about shapeshifting, so now every animal might be a person in disguise.

and reader hates singing in front of people.

maybe it was because of a bad experience, perhaps she didn't want to make noise and take up space, maybe its a bad case of stage fright, maybe its just some sort of instinct, but whatever it is, reader wont budge.

no matter how much they beg, plead or threaten, reader wont sing for them. reader wont even sing when left alone in the forests of flower fruit mountain. they know of macaque after all, and his ears.

but every so often, when the mountain is quiet in the dead of the night, and not a single soul can be heard, fragments of a quiet humming voice can be heard. it never goes on for too long, but it makes the listener wonder what it would sound like.

its the only thing the monkey duo gets to listen to, after turning back. while they would never want to go back, they do miss those fragile moments sometimes.

macaque is a bit more lucky in this regard. not even the slightest sound will escape him, but reader explicitly avoids singing because of him. only fragments will remain

i hope this crumb is as good as the last?

Yes yes yes!! Let me have it!! I love this!! After having a long day this is just what I needed!

Omg! Yes, actually I love the idea of Reader liking to sing but is too afraid to share her singing with anyone else.

Wukong and Macaque knowing that they are the only ones to hear it? Oh now, everyone else better pray they don't hear her sing. They are possessive and depending on who hears it other than them? May very well end up dead.

Now, not cubs or a few specific people (such as Spirit. She's safe from most of their wrath because of her relation to Reader)

They would be desperate to get her to sing again. They would do anything... well almost anything.

___

"Freedom," you said calmly, your eyes shifting to the side.

"What?" Wukong was the first to speak his eyes widening at the word.

He had to let go of your arms, which he had been gently holding. He didn't want to hurt you, but the rage that swelled in his chest almost made him hurt your arms.

"I said... I'll sing if you give me my freedom," you were quiet, your voice timid as you made your 'demand.'

"Darling you do have freedom. You can travel anywhere on Flower Fruit Mountain that you want,” Macaque spoke up as he brushed your hair out of your face.

You looked at him, his face held a warm and soft smile. With a frown you shook your head. “Freedom, I want to go home.”

As soon as you said the word home both of the monkey demons in front of you growled harshly. You immediately took a step back only to be pulled back towards them as they held you like you were about to disappear. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked at them with fear.

“We are not letting you go, ever.”

Just like that their desperation for the simpler times when you would sing to them in private or sing them to sleep caused an argument. They didn’t want to let you go, they would never let you go. No matter how much you wanted your freedom. To them you had freedom to travel around the island, safe where the monkey demons of the mountain would watch over you.

“Leave me alone,” You muttered looking downcast.

“But-,” Wukong started before storming out of the room.

Macaque looked at you sadly before nodding and following, “We’ll be here if you need anything.”

At least you could depend on that. If you wanted privacy they’d leave you alone. If you wanted food, they’d give you anything. They spared no expense to get you anything you wanted, except for your freedom. Looking down you wiped a tear away from your eyes. This was one of the few times that you’d completely closed them out.

It was over an hour later before you managed to force yourself to leave the room. You slowly opened the dark, oak wood door way that was carved with delicate roses, something that Wukong thought you would like. You couldn’t help the weak smile at that, before pushing the thought away. These monkey demons your Peaches and Plums were the ones who kidnapped you and forced you to live on their island. But they were kind to you, they gave you everything you could ask for except for your freedom.

“Your Majesty,” A sweet and small voice spoke up, one of the island cubs.

“Oh… hello there sweety,” You couldn’t help the smile at the small and very cute cub. A dark brown cub with blue eyes, and wore a pink hanfu.

“The Monkey King and His Warrior would like you to eat with them. If that would be alright, they said they’ll send your food to your room if not,” The cub said smiling, blissfully unaware of the reasons behind this encounter.

Your heart squeezed at the thought. Even while they constantly craved for your attention, for your touch they would keep their distance until you came to them or called out to them. You smiled, kneeling down to pick up the cub who chirped happily as you did so. Even though many of the monkey demons seemed to hate you when you first arrived they had all calmed down when not only their Kings adored you but the four generals had also watched over you. You were now adored by the island and none of them wanted you to leave.

“I’ll attend,” You smiled, knowing that the cub would likely not like it if you rejected the invitation. No doubt she was sent because the two Kings knew of your ever bleeding heart.

As much as you wanted to not talk to them just for the foul play as you thought it was, you couldn’t help but cuddle the small cub in your arms. You received happy chirps and chitters from it before you let her go to run off to tell the kings. They would meet you before you even made it to the dining hall within the stone palace. With a sigh you walked on through the large stone palace. Your hanfu (a gift from the monkey demons) slightly dragging on the floor behind you. A gorgeous gown made of red silk with golden thread embroidered throughout the fabric in rose patterns.

“Darling,” Macaque muttered as he stepped out of your shadow.

You barely glanced at him as he wrapped a hand around your waist and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. He nuzzled his cheek against yours afterwards which you didn’t fight. As much as you hated to admit it you didn’t mind the kisses and nuzzles that the two monkey king’s gave you. Even if they still terrified you with their nature at times.

“Macaque,” You responded calmly.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked with a small smile, his tail wrapping around your waist protectively too. He acted as though you may disappear but there wasn’t much pressure that would make it painful.

You didn’t get the chance to respond when Wukong suddenly came around the corner sitting atop his golden colored cloud. “Darling!~ You’re feeling better!”

You were pulled into a hug by the monkey king, a kiss on the opposite cheek that Macaque kissed. They loved showering you with affection, especially after you three got into an argument. They wouldn’t change. At least not now.

So this ended up sadder than I planned… oops. But you gave me the angst to work with, can I blame you anon? Nah, I’m the one who wrote this part. Anyways thank you for the noms!! I really do love reading these. Sorry for slow replies but I do love writing these extra little scenes.

Now that I look at it, it kinda went off topic of the singing… Eh oh well. I’d like opinions if possible! Plus kudos to this anon I loved reading this!! I love these crumbs, the tasty noms!!

Be careful, I might start calling you Crumb or Cookie Anon hehe~

[amongussexgif]

Howdy folks. I’ve said I’d make a rant about this for a while. It’s time.

Let’s start with the basics. Mesopomatia is the earliest known human civilization. Humans existed before them, but this was the first “city”. They also made the first writing. This rant also kinda covers Sumerian tuff, because the two groups had a bit of a merging.

You know what transgenderism is. You’re on tumblr dot com. Chances are you are a transgenderist yourself

Transphobes often say that transgenderism is a “new concept” and that “nobody was trans 20 years ago”. For the record, you don’t have to go as far back as Mesopotamia. There’s Greece, Egypt, Hawaii, and tons of others I fail to remember. But yeah, we date back to The First City.

The First People believed in many gods, one of which you’ve likely heard of. Today’s subject: Inanna/Ishtar, The Queen of Heaven (I’ll be calling her Inanna, as it’s her original name). She was the goddess of Sex, War, and Justice. The most notable things she was believed to do were changing people’s genders and being an absolute queen. Like fr she slayed-

Anyways, the “transgender power” as I’m gonna call it because it's funny, is well documented in poetry fragments, with the direct quote “To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.” This was written by Enheduanna, Inanna’s High Priestess from Ur (Ur is a city).

Speaking of Inanna’s Priests and Priestesses, they were actually known for their androgyny. Poems and Dedications to Inanna often included them, with the direct depiction of the goddess transfer-ify-ing them. It’s unknown if these and the Gala are the same priests, so I’ll add a little space and talk about them for a bit.

The Gala were priestesses for Inanna created by the god Enki (who is really fuckign cool for non-trans reasons (might talk about him sometime)) to sing for her. Mourning Rites previously sung by women got taken over by the Gala, and as men joined, they adopted ALL societal roles and expectations of women, switching to female names and singing in the Sumerian eme-sal dialect, which was reserved for women trying to render the speech of female gods. The Gala looked after the sick and poor, and were highly respected by the rest of the Mesopotamian peoples.

Time to talk about the Pilipili! They were a group of cultic performers who worshiped Inanna, with the name coming from a person named Pilipili. They were raised as a woman (according to Mesopotamia’s gender roles), and were blessed by Inanna and given the name Pilipili. Inanna gave them a spear, an item associated very heavily with masculinity “as if she were a man” and they are only referred to as “The Transformed Pilipili” from that point on. “Spear'' is also thought to have phallic meaning here, which is even more directly saying that Inanna trans’ed Pilipili’s gender.

How about we move beyond the cult on Inanna now? A statue (or technically statuette but honestly whatever) found in the city of Mari depicts a singing woman. But wait! The name of the depicted person is “Ur-Nanshe”, a masculine name! This might mean nothing, but honestly, you’d assume transgenderism too if you met a woman named Steven. The statue has a soft face with traces of makeup, and it’s got tiddies!

A statue in the British museum (which for the record should not be in there. give it back) has a label translated as “Hermaphrodite of Inanna”. Hermaphrodite has a different meaning now, which a different translator, Cheryl Morgan, recognized, stating that “person-man-woman” would be more accurate. We don’t know specifics about their gender, but clearly this was a person outside of the gender binary who was not only significant enough to have a statue of them made, but also assumedly well-liked!

So, to summarize, Ancient Mesopotamia viewed genderqueer individuals as:

often blessed by the Queen of Heaven

transgender-ify-ed by said Queen of Heaven

well respected enough to be priests

said cult of trans priests was also said to be made by another god in devotion to Inanna

significant and well-liked enough to have statues of them

sounds like we should take some notes from our ancestors, huh?

[tovesaiko]

what's in a name

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet

They’re eating dinner when Osha asks the question. She’s sitting on the stone steps in their cave, cradling a bowl of soup in her hands. She looks relaxed, one leg propped on the step, the other curled under her.

“I still can't believe I never heard of you back at the temple. You're not that old,” there's mischief in her eyes as she adds that last part. Surprised, Qimir drops his spoon into his soup.

He wonders if she minds, if she would prefer they were closer in age. Imagines how it would be if he knew her before. What it would be like to train together as padawans and share their first experiences. Imagines sneaking out of the Jedi temple with her to lie in a meadow, young and innocent. Kissing for the first time, surrounded by flowers and sunlight and life.

It makes him think about his time as Vernestra's padawan. The years he spent training under her were nothing like the vision he just conjured. He had a different name then, already half-forgotten and alien to him. It belonged to a different person – a person he hasn't been for a long time. Even if she heard of him, she wouldn't know it, she wouldn’t recognise that other name. And who's to say what lies Vernestra spun when she returned to Coruscant without her padawan? He knows her well enough to know she would never let the story of his fall to the dark side see the light of day. Would never let the world learn how she maimed him and left him half-dead for the local predators to finish the job for her. No, she would make sure to control the narrative. He has a feeling even he wouldn’t recognise the version of the story she presented to the Jedi.

Would he still be the boy he used to be if he knew Osha back then? Would having her by his side keep him in the light? He thinks it’s more likely it would make him fall sooner. Because try as he might, he can’t imagine having Osha in his life and not loving her with a burning passion. Having her in his life and meekly adhering to the ridiculously strict tenets of the Jedi code.

Qimir may not be the name given to him by his parents, but he only spent a few years with them, barely remembers life before he was taken by the Jedi anyway, so does it even matter? This is the name he chose for himself. As a cover at first, yes, but then – then it was the name Osha knew him by. Just like his bumbling alter ego, it holds fragments of his true self. Even if the name wasn't his originally, he wants to be Qimir. Osha's Qimir.

This is now also on ao3 along with my other fic!

what's in a name

walking away from all you know

By popular demand, and by 'popular demand' I mean literally one person, I'm sharing my writing for the first time in years😅 Please be gentle.

I've been turning the issue of Qimir's name in my head over and over again. Pondering the significance of name vs. identity, and whether his real name is actually important when he must have changed so much ever since he became the Stranger, like a magical orb. Last night I couldn't sleep until I got this out of my head and on paper (well, on a google doc but, you know). I have two notebook pages of bullet points of things I'd like to see explored in a continuation of Osha and Qimir's story and the name reveal, or lack thereof, is one of them. Who knows, maybe now that I got this one out I'll latch onto another and cook something up to be read by me and exactly one other person.

@septemberlikeastorm thanks for being an excellent hypeman and getting my rusty writing gears going again by inspiring me with your lovely fic. Everyone go read cascade ocean wave blues come on ao3, it's the best thing since sliced bread 👌

[superawesome40]

Wayne Children Timeline Update

Okay, so I’ve hit a standstill on the timeline. I’ve got (most) significant not-hero-related details worked out (I think???) and I’m working on education/jobs right now, but there is SO MUCH from canon that I could pick from, and I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed. Anyone want to help me out?

Enjoy me spiraling into madness as I attempt to introduce the events that I’m probably going to include:

Dick

The Slade/Deathstroke story line, probably heavily warped to fit the storyline.

Talon/The Court of Owls. I love those funky dudes, but I admit I only really know them ‘cause of the rhyme.

Spyral? Maybe? Honestly I have NO IDEA what Spyral is at all, and I’ll need to investigate more.

I’m on the fence about including the whole Catalina Flores storyline. I’ve heard about it in passing, but I haven’t actually done any research into it yet. It’s a VERY sensitive topic, and I don’t want to mishandle anything, especially if I ever get around to writing stories set within this universe.

I think Dick being a cop at some point is really, really funny, so I might have him join the Bludhaven (Blüdhaven?) PD for a bit? So he can take them down from the inside or something. He quits after like. Two years.

Jason

The Catherine Todd/Sheila Haywood/Willis Todd… situation.

Whacking the scary man with a tire iron (was that one ever even a question? Of course I’m including it)

League bodyguard for baby Damian (I’m pretty sure this one is fanon, but it’s my AU, I do what I want!!!)

Heads in a duffle bag

Titans Tower attack.

I’ve heard something about magic fire swords maybe, but I’m not sure.

This is making me realize I know… very little about what Jason got up to after his revival.

Cass

Huh. I don’t really have anything to put here? I know next to nothing about Cass outside of her involvement in the Batfam. Send help.

No like actually. What does she do? I love her character, but this post is making me realize that I don’t actually KNOW them.

Tim

Stalker baby stalker baby stalker baby stalker baby

Joker Jr.! I dunno, I really like the idea of JJ being like a completely different entity who lies dormant in Tim’s head and pops up from time to time? It inspired a story where Tim has several versions of himself living up in his head. I invented an entire disorder for it: Fragmented Personality Disorder. Probably won’t be a thing in this AU, but either way. JJ is DEFINITELY happening.

Young Justice is morally gray at best and they try very hard to pretend like they aren’t. (Young Justice is actually the only comics I’ve read, and I’ve only read up to like. Issue # 6 so far. I love my little dudes so much.)

Off topic, but will someone explain coffee Tim vs. energy drink Tim? Can’t he just combine the two with an ass load of sugar and call it a day?

Spleen.

Highest kill count. Don’t care if it’s canon. He has the highest kill count, he’s not sorry, and he WILL do it again.

I don’t know why the idea of Conner, Cassie, Tim, and Bart running around space completely unsupervised is so funny to me, but it is. Is it canon? Don’t ask me, I have no idea. Is it in this AU? Absolutely.

Again. What does he get up to? Robin era, Red Robin era, anywhere? Anything significant happen? At all???

Duke

Uhhhhhhhh.

I know about his parents. That’s definitely happening.

We Are Robin? What is We Are Robin? Is it pre-Batfam? Post-Batfam?

Wait was he Signal before or after he was a Bat?

Is he a Bat?

I COULD do my research. Or I could do the lazy thing and make you all do it for me :)

Damian

This is the little bastard that dragged me kicking and screaming into the DCU. This is all his fault.

Fun fact! I hated anything and everything to do with DC purely because I was introduced to Marvel first. I thought it was dumb, and poorly written, and a cheap knock off of Marvel. This was back when I only knew about like, Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. I didn’t even know that the Flash was DC at this point. Then I found out about Damian and… well, it all spiraled from there.

So anyways, let’s see.

Killed by the Heretic? Yup.

Metal spine? Absolutely.

Dick Grayson’s Robin? Without a doubt.

Hmmm what else…

What happened in Super Sons?

Uh

What did he get up to with the Titans (?) That was a thing, right?

Wasn’t there a murder island story arc? Maybe? And he died for like, a minute but then he came back?

Also Damian and Tim attempt to murder each other as a ✨bonding activity✨

Bruce

Don’t even get me started on freaking Bruce. I dread the day I finally get up the courage to start looking into Bruce.

So yeah. Send help? Suggest your favorite fight/monster/comic for me to research? Please, I’m begging you. Doesn’t matter the universe, or the era, or whether it’s pre-Crisis or Earth 1 or whatever other million ways there are to break them down (I still have to look into those, too.), anything you think should be on the timeline, let me know and I’ll look into it.

[chaoticgoodthief]

Slay The Princess Ramble

Ok I have been having Thoughts about the Voice of the Contrarian and am not afraid to share them. Will start under read more link because this might get a little long.

Ok, one of the Main Things about the Contrarian is that he doesn't follow the narrative, and I accept this, but I cannot emphasize enough just how Different he is from the other voices.

Ok, let's start at the tip of the iceberg here. Change. Born as counterparts to the Shifting Mound's Princesses, it makes sense that the Voices remain static in their personalities. Broken is submissive. Cold is apathetic. Hunted is animalistic. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. But Contrarian actually changes over the course of The Stranger path. He sees what he's done to the Princess, recognises that it has hurt her, and just ... drops the jester act immediately. The only other Voice that really changes at all is Hero, and that's because he's literally always by your side. And that's not even getting to how you find him Strange Beginnings.

Strange Beginnings. Oh, do I have Feelings about this ending, but I'll focus on just the Contrarian (for now). Out of all the Voices, all the cabins, the Contrarian is the only Voice other than the Hero himself that can join you in the finale. Maybe it's because his change has made him closer to the Shifting Mound than any of the other potential voices. Maybe it's because inside of The Stranger's cabin was the first you saw, rather than the Princess'. Maybe it's something else altogether, I don't know. However, what I do know is that once again, he's changed. He's ... honestly more downtrodden than even the Moment of Clarity version of himself. Only making jokes when he notices Hero's concern, accepting the knife without a second thought, (even calling himself the worst part of the Long Quiet in the most recent update, I've heard). But that's still not the end of things.

I think what interests me the most about Contrarian, though, is his relationship with the princess. He. Does. Not. Have. One. She is a literal stranger to him. He is not the Stranger's true counterpart, not really. Nothing about him contradicts her, unlike how all the other Voices have been named after their actions relative to their Part I Princesses. Instead, he is the Contrarian because he contradicts the Narrator. I can not emphasise enough how wild that makes my brain go. Because it explains SO MUCH about why he's Different from the others. Long Quiet is a foil for the Shifting Mound, his Voices are foils for her Princesses. Everything about them is static, unchanging. Because they are a single being, spiralling further into itself with every decision you make, only ever changing if you refuse to follow the path set out for you. And then there's him, the reflection of an echo of a mortal. (If he was there in the Spectre route, would she see him as something Other as well, something that once belonged but has been fragmented off of its given path).

Gah I'm obsessed with him. I want to dissect him for science. I want to tear and rip and pull him apart until I can understand what mysteries still hide behind the facade he shows the world. What are you hiding, you smiling little freak of nature?

[talulajones-stories]

For Now

She turns the knobs to the shower, steam immediately gathering in the clawfoot tub. And she slips the thin straps off her shoulders, peeling the dress downward over her lace bra, commencing to rolling it over her curves when her phone dings, pulling her focus.

‘Punta Cana?’

She bites down on her lip, but the smile finds its way through. Damon is nothing if not persistent.

She thumbs back, ‘Close.’

Damon has been texting her daily, taking shots as to where she might have run off to.

“How am I supposed to stay out of trouble with you gone.”

“Try your best.” She texts back, though she is not attached how he behaves anymore, not like how she used to in the past, the encouragement is rote. 

She watches the text bubble appear and then disappear, and then reappear with his response. “Are you saying I’m on my own?”

She then wonders if he’s okay, if home is okay, biting at her nails, instead of making any effort to ask him that.

He double texts, probably just as nervous of her response and she was to answer it. “Send me a pic. I’m beginning to forget what you look like.”

She swishes her mouth to the side, staring at his request.

The last time they saw each other was at that biker bar, when he found her after her running into his brother.  There are holes in her memory of what all happened between them, some of them lost to that bottle of Jack Daniels they finished, and some she does remember, but doesn’t know what to make of them.

Like the way she felt when he straddled the stool next to her, his legs open, blocking her in, letting everyone in the bar know she was with him. He had leaned into her, drinking from her glass, placing his mouth on the imprint of her lip gloss, his eyes locked on hers. She had asked him why he was there, frustrated that he had tracked her down, only for him to simply smile and say, “Haven’t you heard the saying, Bonnie? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

She swipes at the steam on the bathroom mirror, leaving a clear streak for her to see herself and approve.  She thinks she will send him something to throw him off. Send him a selfie, with the angle just right, undoing her braids and tousling her dark strands, letting the light shine on her bare shoulders, giving the semblance of not only being naked, but that wherever she is, that he doesn’t know about, she’s having a lot of fun.

She snaps the pic and lowers the phone, finger poised over the button, wishing she could be a fly on the wall to see his reaction—when it hits her. The rest of the fragments of that night. Hearing herself, distant, arguing with him in the gravel lot outside the bar, him holding her keys out of reach, and her shoving him. “You treated Enzo like he stole something from you the entire time we were together.” And then him grabbing her, the keys digging into her skin so deeply she can feel it now, his mouth so close to hers as he spat, “Because he did.”

With a decisive flick, she locks the screen, the image unsent, and finishes undressing to take her shower.

+++

Bonnie scrubs her skin raw with the loofah, butterscotch skin smarting red and irritated as she is as she stands under the hot spray of water.

She wasn’t even angry with Damon anymore. She had been, at first—violently so. But she’d had years to get through that. Enzo helped. And she’d come to accept the fact that Damon was always going to be, well, Damon.

He had gone on and on about how she should have read his letter when they were being civil in the bar, when she was actually happy he had found her. He said if she had read it then it would have changed everything. She told him she didn’t want to hear another fucking word about that damn letter.

She still has it, though. The letter. It’s packed up with the rest of the things she hid in boxes out in her Gram’s garage.

She pulls down the shower head, sets it to massage, and angles it between her legs, trying to find release. Closing her eyes, she pictures a stranger, maybe that biker, maybe someone else with dark hair.

Her mind drifts, uncooperative. It clings to Damon and his apologies. “I shouldn’t have said that about Enzo,” he’d said, blocking her from leaving him alone in that parking lot. Gravel had crunched beneath their feet, her vision blurred with hot tears as his leather jacket had blocked her view of the car. He had lifted her braid over her shoulder, tucking it behind her so he could cradle the side of her neck, holding her still to get her to hear him out, his voice a broken whisper when he said, “Don’t go, Bon.”

She focuses on the water pressure and the pounding sensation, longing for it to bring her to the present moment. But it doesn’t. Her body refuses to respond.

Her phone dings again. Of course, it does.

She slams the shower head into place, and reaches for a towel.

There was a time when Damon was who she wanted—like when her life was tethered and traded away in a spell that put her best friend into a coma, or when a militarized faction of hunters was trying to track her down to use her in their twisted experiments. But he made a choice, and he left her to sleep in box.

She ends her conversation with Damon, texting back that he didn’t have to keep checking up on her; she was good.

[antares-8]

Yo, Antares (cool name). Gotta say, I'm loving your beast wirt fic. A lot.

I looked up the symbolisms of the flowers that appear in your stories, and you are a clever fellow.

Here are some things that have been rattling around my brain. Some of them are questions. I don't expect you to answer them, I am only putting them here so you know you have me thinking about your story and the possibilities.

Is Wirt going to get posessed by the Beast? I don't think so. He overpowered the whole Beast soul to interrogate him at the grave-grove/corpse-copse, and then there's the whole "wait that's dumb" thing. He can outwit and overpower the Beast any day of the week. However, the Beast has almost won in the past when Wirt fails the vibe check and doesn't think he can win. So is Wirt's mounting panic about the possibility of being overtaken actually rendering him more vulnerable?

If pulling the curse out of a headless horseman brings it back to life, would un-cursing a vrykolakas make it into a friendly undead like a pottsfielder, bring it back to life, or would it turn into an ordinary corpse?

The Sea Wardens seem like a cool bunch. But what if they betray him, or what if when they publicize the information about working with the Pilgrim, people turn against the sea wardens instead of warming up to Wirt?

Is Lord of Currents actually sleepy, or doing something important in Cloud City?

It occurs to me that Wirt has the means to eradicate a whole civilization without killing anyone. Just get the turtles to scatter tree seeds across the roads and plains, especially surrounding towns. Then, encourage growth. People are scared out of their minds of the forest, so he'd be cutting off basically all trade, travel, and communication without spilling a single drop of blood.

Wirt and Felicity have a lot in common. Both are willing to go up against the Beast for their brother's sake.

Loving your version of Beatrice. Wirt's lucky to have her on his side. I believe one comment called her "the only force of nature he can't control" and I'd like to second that notion.

Greg has a magic item. Pretty sure it belongs in the Cave of Wonders once he's done with it. You said that "no one will ever try to bully greg when he's wearing it." So, how do the bullies know to leave him alone? Is it mind control magic? Do they just instinctively know that hurting the teapot kid might be the last thing they do?

Polly. She is fun. Maybe a bit too okay with underage drinking. But she doesn't know he's underage. He's just a weird forest critter that's asking for directions. Wonder how she'll react to the news that the quadrangle isn't doomy anymore?

Fell Guard. Seems like if he cleaned that up and uncursed the flesh-eaters, there'd be a lot of land folk who had been saved by him. Good PR if nothing else. Unless they pretend to be normal, like Lorna, and people would just think he was attacking totally ordinary people? Although, as soon as Whispers' task was compleed, Lorna's facade dropped and she went all "more bones to sort, I'm sorry my turtles," so maybe the other people-eaters are obvious when not under a spell.

The Queen of the Clouds 100% knows about the Beast Fragment. Dreams are her thing. She was in the dream with the Beast in it. Maybe she told Enoch. That and she's spying on him sometimes, so she probably heard him mention it at one point.

Tome of the Unknown being like the Magic Conch crossed with the computer in the Lego Movie. "Can you tell me something about the Beast Fragment?" "No~"

How Beatrice reacted to the news about the sea wardens. (Wirt appears from the shadows, eyes filled with tears. Beatrice runs over to comfort and/or scold him, depending on what kind of trouble he stepped in this time. "Wirt? Are you okay? Why are you crying?" "The ocean is full of friends." "What?" "The ocean is full of friends.")

What is Wirt going to do about the altar? It sounds like they're going to keep making offerings, even after his explanation as to why it's unneccessary. If he ignores it, they'll think he's "rejecting" it, and that makes them scared that he's angry. If he accepts it, then they'll think they have to make sacrifices or else. Like he's an angry dragon or something. If he tears it down, that would make them think he'd been angered. It's an albatross. The only thing I could think of doing would be to swap out the offerings with giftss of his own, and change it from appeasment/worship to bartering and trade. Say, antlers for a flower crown, a wine bottle for a fruit basket, that kind of thing. Or maybe he just gives them back "slightly" enchanted. Whatever he does with it, he needs to make his goodwill obvious, and the optional nature of the offerings heavily implied.

I've had an idea worming through my brain, a brain worm if you will, about a distant future where the Pilgrim's not only accepted, but severely underestimated. They think of him as a friendly harmless forest nerd with no actual combat power. Then one guy finds an account of what the Beast was like in his heyday, and thinks that the Pilgrim is hiding something. The other idea I had was that someone from this future would either end up inan illusion of the pst made from Wirt's memories, and decide that the only one who could help them find the way home would be the Pilgrim! Maybe he knows why all these trees have faces...? And they wind up meeting something that is very much Not The Pilgrim. Not The Pilgrim at all.

I love getting long comments like this. Thank you for helping to make my day.

I have no intention of letting Wirt get possessed. At least not at the moment. The thing is that I'm making most of this series up as I go along and might change my mind one day, so I can't guarantee that it will never happen. Let's go with 90%.

I always imagined that killing a vrykolakas would just kill it, but as I said above, a lot of this fic is pretty slapdash. I add something, like vrykolakas, because it's cool, but I don't think through all the implications. Then somebody makes an insightful comment, and suddenly I'm wondering what would happen if un-cursing the vrykolakas didn't just kill them but created a friendly undead from the distant past....

There will definitely be mixed reactions to the SW alliance. It's another of those things I need to hash out. Spotting a pattern yet?

The LoC is indeed sleeping, though not exactly in the way you and I understand sleep. His dreams influence and are influenced by the world, though I'm fuzzy on the details still. (See above. Again.) The fic installment I'm working on actually has Wirt asking the Queen if she can help him get in contact with the LoC for more information on the Beast (and on the possibility of making Tree Wardens).

It has not occurred to Wirt that he can destroy entire trade networks. Certain citizens realize, and I don't doubt that the Beast pulled something like that at least once when he was more powerful because he's a jerk, but Wirt is an innocent flower who would never deliberately stifle the lifeblood of nations that is a trade network.

Love that parallel between Wirt and Felicity. I've had a vague idea of a future fic after Felicity's confinement ends and she meets Greg, but I haven't figured out if I can work it in or how that would go. I just know it would be really interesting.

Beatrice is the best. No further comments needed.

If someone/thing wants to harm/bully Greg while he's wearing his green cloak, they will be seized by a terrible sense of doom. The shadows will seem to claw at them and stare at them with narrowed luminous eyes, silently vowing revenge. Their lizard brain will scream that this child is protected by something truly awful, something whose wrath they must not provoke.

The cloak is also enchanted to grow with Greg and keep him at a perfect temperature. Wirt crafted it out of the essence of summer. You know how he casually does stuff that would knock an entire coven of professional witches flat on their collective ass? That's what he did just getting the material to make the cloak.

I have a couple ideas for bringing back Peg-Leg Polly for another installment. Beatrice deserves to meet her hero. As for the underage drinking, those laws don't exist in the Unknown.

I tried to look up the Magic Conch and the computer. Yeah, the Tome's not that useful until it feels like cooperating. It's starting to like Wirt, though--it gave him headache remedies that one time!

Beatrice is glad that Wirt has sort of allies, but she has strong opinions about how the Sea Wardens are basically paying him in exposure when he is basically saving their collective bacon. There's a reason she insisted on going with him for the sting operation.

Wirt is currently ignoring that altar. Is this sustainable long-term? No. But he's busy with other stuff at the moment, and Risorgimento is still debating if they need to escalate to a bigger, fancier altar with more offerings or perhaps he'd like a full-fledged temple? (He would not like a full-fledged temple.)

I love that story idea. What a nasty shock for whoever ends up in Wirt's memoryland thing. But then the harmless forest nerd shows up for a dramatic rescue, and the lost person in memoryland gets a comprehensive demonstration of EXACTLY what the Pilgrim can do when he puts his mind to it.

[lil-melody-moon]

Okay so I thought and thought and thought about writing a chapter by chapter "Tommy" fic and I gotta say I've decided to write it.

I wrote the base for the plot, it still seems solid to me, I wrote a "test" fragment to see if the third narration fits, if the setting is weird enough, if a certain bond is strong enough to make changes and I dare to say I probably worked so hard on it, that it is - I have this idea since November 2023 so a lot of time.

So, without further ado, what I wanna write is this: "Tommy" fic that focuses on an uncle x niece trope (so basically Uncle Ernie x Me fic - yes, that will be a self-insert), but in a way that there will be a bond between them. I have this whole idea of me being the unwanted daughter of Nora and Frank (giving Tommy a loving sister in the process) who finds the parental love in Uncle Ernie's arms, but the bond I'll create with him as a child will actually have a side effect that will resolve in Uncle Ernie falling in love with me at a very young age and with me falling in love with Uncle Ernie once I grow up enough to realize that perhaps I see him more than a parental figure.

Can't say much more, but this is what the whole idea is based off. I also want to see if there will be any interest in reading this kind of fic so that's why this post exists and that's why I've decided to share the "test" fragment I wrote. It generally shows what atmosphere this fic will have, how I see the situation unfolding. It might appear in the fic in a changed form. It's down below, under "read more" so if you're interest, go ahead and read it and I hope you enjoy it <3

Tagging the ones who were interested from the get go and the ones who were liking the posts where I've mentioned this fic - I read it as in that you're interested, don't feel forced to read what's in the "read more" section:

@jimmysdragonsuit13 @radioroger @ennals @burn-on-the-flame @fiammee @minty-playhouse @dzdndcnfsd @littlemissheavenonearth

The frustration was getting to him, his beloved alcohol not helping much anymore, the image of his niece burned into his mind without any way to erase it. She's looking at him with that sweet smile on her face, so happy to see him, calling him uncle in that innocent and full of adoration voice of hers that is driving him insane… The empty pint hit the hard table at the bar, Uncle Ernie muttering curses under his breath, while Frank was observing him cautiously.

"Ernie" Frank mumbled, more drunk than his friend, but that was normal. He could never outdrink him. "What's going on?"

"A woman is stuck in my mind." He didn't look at Frank, he didn't have to. "It's starting to piss me off…"

Frank's grin was as big as never before. "Did you, perhaps, fall in love, you old fool?" The idea of that was laughable to Frank, but what he heard next made him change his mind.

"I fucking did." The silence after that was heavy. Frank cleared his throat, not believing in what he was hearing.

"You're too drunk" he concluded, drinking the rest of his beer. "You've never treated a woman like she's deserving to be treated, I doubt you even know what love is. As far as I can tell, I would call it lust not love-"

"I couldn't even bring myself to touch her." Uncle Ernie spat out, hitting the table with his dirty fingers. Frank blinked in disbelief. "If it was lust, I would fuck her years ago. And now as it is…" A short, high laugh escaped his throat. He didn't finish the sentence, but he knew exactly what would happen if he had a chance. My tiny sweet wouldn't survive it, he thought, creepy smile appearing on his face at the thought of his niece crying and whimpering beneath him as his cock is buried deep inside her. Shivers run down his spine, not to mention that he got hard at the idea, a visible bump forming on his pants.

"That woman has to be a witch" Frank commented, shaking his head, to which Uncle Ernie laughed. He suddenly turned to Frank with insanity in his eyes.

"She's a beautiful angel!" he announced as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. "Curly, light green eyed, chubby beauty who you've handed to me since she was a little girl!"

Frank needed a while to connect dots, when he did, he suddenly felt sober again. "Are you…" Frank's voice ceased to exist when the person Uncle Ernie described appeared in his mind. "Are you talking about my Caroline?"

"She's not yours" Uncle Ernie corrected him. "She never was, you've never loved her." He pointed an accusatory finger at Frank. "She only calls you her dad because she has to, because she's your offspring."

Any father would get mad upon hearing this revelation, upon knowing that his own friend fell in love with his daughter, but not Frank. He actually smirked. "You are right about that. Caroline was always a bother to me."

Uncle Ernie laughed upon hearing it, he knew he was right. He was the one Caroline called dad when she was little and who she still treated like one. "She feels that, you know?"

"She told you?" Frank asked out of sheer curiosity. A plan was slowly forming in his mind.

Uncle Ernie nodded. "Plenty of times."

"How can you know it didn't change?" Frank put another question out. Uncle Ernie lifted an eyebrow. "Caroline's been avoiding you and here you are, thirsting for her like a dog."

"She called me two days ago" Uncle Ernie explained, calming down a little bit. Back at his home, he almost fell while hearing her voice on the other side. "She was crying, apologizing to me, asking if we could meet."

"Did you decline the offer?" Frank had to hold himself to not burst out laughing at the way Uncle Ernie glared at him, offended.

"I accepted. There was a reason why I was at your house yesterday" he explained, still regretting that nothing had happened. That one kiss wasn't enough.

"Then I'll have good news for you!" Frank exclaimed, taking Uncle Ernie aback. "You might have a chance to visit her and live with her for a few days." Upon seeing Uncle Ernie's confused expression, Frank started explaining: "I'm planning to go on holidays with Nora. I was about to leave Tommy with Caroline, she can take care of him well, but we can take him with us, just to leave her to you."

Uncle Ernie quickly caught up with Frank's way of thinking. "Are you giving her to me?"

Frank smiled widely. "If she's so eager to go to you then I can allow that."

I might finally get rid of her, Frank thought.

I might finally get her for myself, Uncle Ernie thought, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "When are you planning to go?" Was his next question.

"In a month" Frank answered.

"Enough to get close to her" Uncle Ernie mumbled, laughing to himself, already feeling excited. The only question left was if he was able to hold himself for another month.

[hivemind-fantasy]

So, this would be my first time posting an actual fanfic here, it's on ao3 also. I made this with one hand only because I just underwent surgery but nothing can stop me to write nevertheless!

Enjoy!

----------

Fading Wings

Summary: An amnesiac fallen archangel holds the key to balancing the celestial and demonic realms through a divine artifact concealed within. Betrayed by a former ally but protected by a demon devoted to her. Angel/Demon Fantasy AU. A Sabo x Reader x Coby work, multiple chapters.

-

Chapter 1: Shattered Wings

The cold air bites at her skin as she stumbles through the dense fog, her bare feet scraping against the jagged stones of an unfamiliar forest. The world around her is a blur of muted colors, as if everything exists behind a veil. The sky is an endless expanse of gray, swallowing any light that tries to break through.

‘Where am I? ‘

The question echoes in her mind, but the answer slips away like water through her fingers. She tries to remember—anything—but all that greets her is a hollow void where memories should be. The only sensation is a dull ache in her chest, as if something vital has been ripped from her, leaving her empty and exposed.

‘Who... am I?’

She presses her hands to her temples, hoping to force some recollection, but it's as if her past has been erased, leaving her with nothing but fragments of sensations—a fleeting warmth, the sound of distant laughter, a faint scent of rain-soaked earth. None of it makes sense. The harder she tries to grasp these wisps of memories, the faster they dissolve.

Her knees buckle beneath her, and she collapses to the damp ground, gasping for breath. She feels the sting of tears but doesn't know why she's crying. It’s not just the confusion, the loss of direction—there’s something deeper, a sorrow that claws at her heart. It’s as if she’s grieving for something she’s forgotten, a pain she cannot name.

‘What happened to me?’

Her fingers brush against her back, where she feels jagged remnants of what once might have been wings. The skin is raw, the wounds too fresh. There’s a strange sense of absence, a sensation that something sacred has been ripped away.

‘Wings... I had wings?’

The thought comes unbidden, startling her. She winces as if struck, her body instinctively curling in on itself. But she can’t remember the feel of them, can’t recall what it was like to soar through open skies. Only the ghost of that feeling remains, a faint echo that taunts her with what she has lost.

As she sits there, shivering in the shadows of the forest, she becomes aware of whispers in the distance. Voices, sharp and cold, seem to slice through the fog like blades. She doesn’t know nor recognize the owner of the voices.

“They say she fell from the heavens,” one voice hisses, carried by the wind.

“An angel cast down,” murmurs another, closer now. “But why? What did she do to deserve it?”

Fear claws at her throat. Fell from the heavens? The words strike her like a bolt of lightning, filling her with an inexplicable dread. If she truly was an angel, why can she not remember? What crime did she commit to be cast out? And why does the very thought of angels—her own kind—fill her with a sense of betrayal and terror?

‘I need to hide... ‘

The instinct to flee is overwhelming. She stumbles back to her feet, driven by a primal urge to survive, though she doesn’t understand why. She only knows that she can trust nothing and no one—not even herself.

(y/n)’s breath comes in ragged gasps as she forces herself to move through the dense underbrush. Every muscle in her body aches as if she’s been running for days, yet she knows she cannot stop. The whispers she heard earlier have grown louder, accompanied now by the faint, rhythmic sound of wings cutting through the air. Not the gentle flutter of bird wings, but something heavier, something more menacing—predatory.

She stumbles over a gnarled root, her fingers clutching desperately at the damp earth to keep herself upright. Every nerve in her body screams that she is being hunted, though she doesn’t know why. She is terrified, confused, and utterly alone.

Ahead, the forest grows denser, the twisted branches weaving together like skeletal fingers, blotting out what little light filters through the clouded sky. The air here feels colder, heavy with the scent of decay. In her mind, fragments of emotions surface—desperation, regret, fear—but they have no context, no meaning. It’s as if they belong to someone else, yet they weigh on her heart as if they are her own.

Suddenly, the ground trembles beneath her feet, and she hears the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Spread out! She cannot have gone far.”

The voice is deep, authoritative, and carries an edge of impatience. (y/n)’s pulse quickens. Without thinking, she presses herself against the trunk of a thick, ancient tree, trying to disappear into the shadows. She doesn't know who is after her, but the instinct to hide is all-consuming.

Peering cautiously around the trunk, she sees them: figures clad in silver armor that gleams even in the dim light, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly radiance. Angels—Luminara Knights. Their armor bears the golden sigil of Luminara, the celestial realm, though (y/n) does not recognize it consciously. All she knows is that the sight of them fills her with a deep, instinctive terror.

At the head of the group is a figure with blazing fern green wings, his expression stern and unyielding. This is Coby, one of the Virtue Lieutenants of the Luminara’s army, who once stood by her side, though (y/n) no longer recognizes the rosy haired man. His eyes sweep the area with ruthless efficiency, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. There’s a fire in his gaze, a desperation driven by duty. He does not want to do this, but he believes he must.

Coby pauses, a flicker of hesitation breaking through his disciplined composure. This is not how he imagined seeing her again. (y/n), the archangel he once admired—no, loved—is now nothing more than a shadow of her former self. She looks wild, broken, her once-brilliant amber golden wings reduced to ragged stumps. A pang of guilt twists in his chest, but he steels himself. The Seraphic Council has decreed that she must be brought back to Luminara, and Coby has never disobeyed an order in his life.

“Find her,” he commands, his voice unwavering. “She’s close.”

But in his heart, he wonders if capturing her is truly the right thing to do. If only he could reach her, make her understand. But that is a dangerous thought—one that could cost him everything.

(y/n)’s heart races as she hears their approach, their voices getting closer with each passing moment. She doesn’t understand why, but the sight of those angelic figures fills her with dread. A faint, broken whisper in her mind tells her that she cannot let them find her. There is something important she must protect, something she cannot allow them to take. But what is it?

As she tries to slink deeper into the forest, her foot snaps a branch beneath her. The sound echoes through the silence, drawing the attention of the Luminara Knights.

“There!” one of them shouts.

Before she can react, a flash of white light surges toward her, and she is blinded. She raises her hands instinctively to shield herself, but she’s too slow. The impact of divine energy slams into her, knocking her off her feet. Her back hits the ground hard, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Coby is the first to reach her. His eyes widen at the sight of her up close—this broken creature, covered in dirt and blood, is hardly the radiant being he once knew. But there’s no time for pity. He steps forward, extending his hand toward her, his voice strained with urgency.

“(y/n)... come back with us. I promise we can help you.”

But (y/n) does not hear the words; she only sees the glowing sigil on his chest and the glint of his drawn sword. Her instincts scream that she is in danger. Without thinking, she lashes out. A burst of raw energy, wild and uncontrolled, erupts from her hand, sending Coby staggering back. The force of it shocks them both—(y/n) because she did not know she was capable of such power, and Coby because the energy that struck him feels familiar, almost divine, yet tainted with something darker.

The other Luminara Knights spring into action, surrounding her in a tight circle. They move as one, blades raised, wings flared. (y/n)’s vision swims as panic consumes her. She has no control over her powers, but her fear acts as a catalyst. With a scream, she releases another wave of energy, scattering the knights like leaves caught in a storm.

Just as the knights begin to recover, a swirl of black smoke erupts between them and (y/n), and a figure steps through the shadowy portal. His eyes gleam like molten gold, his presence a stark contrast to the radiant knights.

It’s Sabo.

“Stay back,” he growls, his voice carrying a dark authority. His wings, now blackened and tattered, azure colored, flare wide as he stands protectively in front of (y/n). The sight of him draws gasps from the knights, who recognize him as the fallen angel turned demon general.

(y/n) stares at him, confused. She doesn’t know who this man is, but something in his eyes feels achingly familiar, like the whisper of a forgotten dream.

“(y/n), we need to leave,” Sabo says softly, not taking his gaze off the advancing knights. There’s a desperate plea in his voice, but also a fierce determination. “I promise, I’m here to help you.”

But (y/n)’s mind is a tangled mess of fear and distrust. She doesn’t know who to trust, who to believe. She hesitates, and that moment of indecision is all the Luminara Knights need to renew their attack.

Sabo grits his teeth and, with a flick of his hand, conjures a barrier of shadow to shield them. He turns to (y/n), his eyes burning with urgency. “Please, (y/n). Trust me.”

For reasons she cannot comprehend, something in her heart tells her to follow him. She nods shakily, and together they step into the swirling darkness, vanishing before the knights can strike.

As the shadows swallow them, (y/n) can’t shake the feeling that she’s made a choice that will change the fate of all three realms.

The shadows fold around (y/n) and Sabo like a shroud, whisking them away from the reach of the Luminara Knights. When they reappear, they’re in a secluded glade deep within the heart of the forest. The air is cooler here, the trees towering protectively above them, their branches swaying gently as if to offer solace. (y/n) collapses to her knees, exhausted, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Sabo watches her cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her confusion and fear. She’s a far cry from the powerful, confident archangel he once knew. But he quickly masks his emotions, knowing he cannot reveal too much. Not yet. She is fragile now, like a bird with broken wings, and if he wants to protect her, he needs her to trust him.

“Easy,” Sabo says softly, crouching down beside her. His once-golden wings are now darkened azure, but he keeps them hidden beneath his cloak. He knows that if she sees him for what he truly is now—a demon—she would likely flee, perhaps even turn against him. “You’re safe now... for the moment.”

As the swirling darkness clears, the chill of the forest night greets (y/n) once more, but this time, she is no longer alone. Sabo’s presence beside her feels both foreign and oddly comforting. He gently releases his grip on her arm, stepping back to give her space. They’ve teleported to a secluded grove, hidden deep within the heart of the forest. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the only sound is (y/n)’s labored breathing as she struggles to regain her composure.

(y/n)’s mind is still reeling. One moment, she had been surrounded by armored angels, their eyes cold and judgmental, and now, she is with a stranger who had saved her with powers that felt… different. There was something both celestial and infernal about the energy he wielded, though she lacks the knowledge to identify it.

“Who... who are you?” she manages to ask, her voice weak but laced with suspicion.

Sabo’s expression softens as he looks at her, his golden eyes flickering with something like pain. He had prepared himself for this moment, but nothing could dull the ache of seeing the confusion in her eyes. The way she looks at him—like he is nothing more than a stranger—cuts deeper than any blade.

“I’m... a friend,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully.

“I was once your ally, your protector.”

He hesitates, taking in the sight of her, the once-brilliant archangel now reduced to a shadow of her former self. “We fought side by side, (y/n). Before... before you lost your memories.”

(y/n)’s brows furrow as she tries to process his words. “I... I don’t remember you,” she whispers, the admission like a weight pressing on her chest.

“I don’t remember anything.” Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, as if ashamed of her own confusion.

The pain in Sabo’s eyes deepens, but he forces a reassuring smile. “That’s okay. I understand,” he says gently, though his heart feels like it’s being torn apart. The memories they once shared—of laughter, battles, trust—are now gone, scattered like ashes on the wind. But he can’t let her see his pain. Not now. Not when she’s so fragile, so lost.

“Listen,” he continues, trying to sound calm and reassuring, “I don’t expect you to remember me. But you need to trust me. Those angels... they won’t stop hunting you. They believe you’re dangerous. I don’t know why, but I promise you, I’m here to protect you.”

(y/n) studies him, her (e/c) eyes narrowing. She can’t sense any deception, but her heart is still guarded. She’s been betrayed once, of that she is sure, even if the memory itself remains elusive. For now, she nods, exhaustion and fear winning out over her doubts. “Okay,” she says softly.

“I’ll trust you… for now.”

Sabo nods, relief flooding through him. He doesn’t dare reveal that he is no longer an angel, but rather, a demon—an enemy by the standards of both their realms. It’s a truth that would shatter any fragile trust he’s managed to build. For now, he is simply a rogue warrior, a lone protector trying to keep her safe. That is the only way to keep her by his side long enough to ensure her safety—and perhaps, to help her remember the bond they once shared.

Far above in the celestial spires of Luminara, the Seraphic Council convenes under the shimmering arches of their grand hall. The air hums with divine power as the High Seraphs (the Arc-Seraph Akainu and his three Seraph Knights) stand in a circle, their forms glowing with ethereal light. Coby kneels before them, his head bowed, his heart heavy. He can still see the terror in (y/n)’s eyes as she unleashed that wild burst of energy. It had taken every ounce of his will to convince himself that she needed to be captured.

“Virtue Lieutenant Coby,” intones Arch-Seraph Akainu, voice as cold and precise as the edge of a blade. “You were tasked with retrieving the fallen Archangel (y/n), and yet, she eludes you, her memories were stripped down already.”

Coby raises his head, meeting the council’s gaze with a mix of determination and reluctance. “She is confused and disoriented, my Lords,” he explains.

A murmur ripples through the council as the High Seraphs exchange glances. One, with dark sunglasses, Seraph Knight Ryokugyo, steps forward. “The Soulstone of Eternity has bonded with her soul,” he says, his voice low and ominous. “If it remains within her, it could tip the balance of our realms into chaos. You must retrieve her, Virtue Lieutenant Coby, by any means necessary.”

Coby’s heart clenches at the command. He clenches his fists at his sides, fighting to keep his voice steady. “She... she is not the enemy. She is simply lost. If I can reach her, I can bring her back willingly.”

The Arch-Seraph shakes his head, his expression unyielding. “We cannot afford to take that risk. If she refuses to return, you are authorized to use force.” His eyes narrow. “And if she resists beyond reason, you are to eliminate her and extract the Soulstone.”

The words hit Coby like a physical blow. Eliminate her? How could they ask him to kill the Archangel, the one chosen by God to protect the balance between the realms, and also woman he once loved, the one who had been his closest friend? But he swallows his objections. To defy the council is to risk his own wings, his very existence. He convinces himself that he is doing this for the greater good, that capturing (y/n) is the only way to protect the celestial realm from the encroaching darkness of Abyssus.

But as he turns to leave, doubt gnaws at his resolve.

‘Am I truly doing this for the heavens, or is it because I can’t bear the thought of letting her go?’

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 8 Matsuribayashi pt. 21

Okay, so new rule for me, no declarative statements about how I’ll be doing these chapters. I almost always wind up doing the opposite of what I said I wouldn’t do.

Depression of a Shinto priest, continued

Man, who hasn’t been put in that incredibly awkward situation where you’re forced to defend a friend against a group of people shit talking them? Earlier chapters didn’t really dive in to what sort of character the Furude priest was, but I think these sections do a good job of showing that despite being labeled an opportunist centrist fuck he’s a pretty reasonable guy. Of course the problem with him saying everybody should take a chill pill is he can’t exactly advertise he knows these secret government plans.

One of the things that I find interesting about the connecting fragments is the earlier claim that these are all viewed from Hanyuu’s perspective. It’s interesting to me because despite that claim they are very clearly told from the perspective of one of the other cast members. There’s a lot of internal discussion, and monologue that there’s really no way Hanyuu could possibly know. It’s a little inconsistency, but I don’t mind it.

Mion Sonozaki

Another peek behind my screenshotting curtain here is that with each of these fragments I’m actually cutting out the title cards at the very end of the fragment. Mainly it’s in an effort to cut down on the length of this playthrough, and also because I feel you don’t need your hand held that the section is over. The menu title screens however, I just like them being there. Although thinking about it I could have cut out 104 or so additional screenshots if I didn't include the title cards like the Mion Sonozaki there. But hell, I've already accounted for them in the screenshot budget, so there here to stay.

I love that despite being a horrible shrew of a woman Oryou engages in the seemingly universal trend of old people giving young children candy. I don’t know if people still do that sort of thing these days, but I remember as a child an old neighbor gave kids little candies when he was out and about. Always a lemon candy from what I remember. Maybe people stopped doing that because of how dangerous society is these days, I don’t know. It’s a fairly humanizing moment for the woman who pretends to act like this terrible vile creature publicly.

I didn’t put much thought towards it at the time going from the Depression of a Shinto Priest, to Mion Sonozaki here, but thinking about it this was a rather fitting pair of fragments to go back to back. They both exemplify rather well how the idea of trying to wait and see for the situation to improve very rarely ever works out. Especially for those who are being victimized by an unfair situation they have no control over.

It’s actually kind of remarkable that despite every adult hating the Houjou family for the sake of keeping up appearance that none of that ever trickled down to the children. I’m sure you were a child at some point, and I’m also positive that at some point you probably heard a family talk trash over some other kid’s family situation. Even if it never happened to you, I’m sure you might be vaguely aware of your parents at some point saying they don’t want you hanging out with so and so because their dad’s a sketchy individual. Maybe it’s a cultural thing? But I’m just surprised there isn’t some faint learned prejudice against Satoko and Satoshi. Maybe that’s why she only hangs out with the gaming club?

I don’t quite understand why the series has decided recently that Keiichi is the chosen one, but there it is I guess.

[woodsfae]

B5 s04e04 Falling Towards Apotheosis previous episode - table of contents 

I had to look up what Apotheosis meant, having only been able to draw up the vague idea of one of itstwo definitions: the highest point smething can reach. And the other, glorifying something, or someone, to the point of godhood. 

Hm, god Sheridan or god Valen?? Surely Valen became a sort of demi-god to the Minbari. Probably Sheridan? But it would be cool to see Sinclair one more time. 

Ivanova updates us on the situation via an emergency broadcast to B5. That's clever, I like that as a method of exposition/don't forget where the plot is. 

Wow, Sheridan parting the stampeding masses just by walking through. Also lol at the 90s fear of trampling. Looks like some early stage apotheosis alright. 

the credits: "The year is 2261 [...]" Partner: "If this doesn't actually happen in 2261 I'm going to be so pissed." 

Personally, I would not.

Garibaldi is suspicious of and investigating a god. Lorien is pretty strange and a very random, new element without much explanation. 

And he's having a weird time. As he says, the captain disappeared for even longer, and just says he's back from the dead and everyone's fine with him running things. But Garibaldi comes back and gets closely monitored and not allowed to return to work without multiple medical examinations despite being seemingly fine.

Well. He's wrong because he is compromised, but yeah, they also have no way of knowing that the captain isn't. More of that being venerated by the people, clearly. 

Sheridan better not get a swelled head over it, is all I'm saying. If he doesn't take his ascension with an aw shucks then is he really a wholesome side of corn-fed Iowa beef? 

Morden's still fucked up. And he's dictating defense policy on Centauri, while Cartagia blithely agrees. 

Cartagia has another secret room which I assume witll be as fucked up as his secret torture-murder chamber.  

Aaaand it is. He has a secret council where he sits in a room with the corpses of deceased members of court. Lovely. A very sane sort of thing to do, to keep oneself grounded. 

A very sane plan, Cartagia. I commend you on the whole "become a god by being the person who caused the end of Centauri while dying too" is a normal thing to want and possible to achieve.  Very unfortunately possible to achieve. And lowkey destined. 

Living the trainwreck he willfully set into motion would be satisfying if it wasn't so horrible and tragic and wide-reaching in scope and loss of life. 

Garibaldi is most likely clean of Vorlon technology impanted in him. But sadly he cannot, or does not, test if he has a secret personality implanted in him by psicorps. 

The Vorlons are going fucking murder-serious, wiping out planets, colonies, and ships. 

I suddenly wish I paid more attention to the types of clothes and colors of clothes that Delenn wears. Her red and blue outfit is vivid, and I feel like I recognize it, and she's worn it before. 

Cute Delenn and John. The sweeping romance feels well earned, and solidly set up, and the actors have really good chemistry. 

Ah! They finally mentions not-Kosh. He's still here. Sheridan wants him gone. 

Lyta! And she's here to help carry out Sheridan's plan to kill not-Kosh! Presumably while Garibaldi is off trying to kick him out without knowing about his plan as not to betray it telepathically. 

Another planet down. With all this destruction the Shadows have certainly won ideologically already. 

Y'know, I don't remember Sheridan saying "force him to leave," but Garibaldi apparently heard "fire guns at him a lot till he kicks your asses." Like, I didn't get the sense that was Sheridan's order. Luckily, no-Kosh didn't kill any of them. 

Sheridan shares information about when the Vorlons might arrive at Centauri Prime freely when Londo asks. 

Operation: Kill A God is underway. Lyta lures him out, with the fragment of Kosh that is/was in Sheridan. I don't know if the fragment of Kosh passed on when Sheridan died or not. 

not-Kosh walks into a trap of an electrical field and a couple dozen soldiers firing plasma guns. 

Although they succeed in discorporating the Vorlon, it still isn't down! 

Ah, it seems that the Kosh fragment survived! It, and a bit of Lorien, join the discorporated Vorlon, and reverberate outwards like ripples on water till they joined the Vorlon ship and exploded. Wow, Kosh literally turning on the Vorlons that are massacring in his name. At least we know Kosh didn't approve of it! Not all Vorlons :P

Londo's assassination plan is to lure Cartagia out to Narn, to have a trial for and "execute" G'Kar on his homeworld. 

John Sheridan is going to die young becase he died already, and Lorien could only give him so much biochemical energy, Yeah, younger death, but like the mildest of death sentences. That would be pretty rough as a member of a long-lived species! Counting on sixty years or more with John and already knowing you'll outlive him by a lot would make the loss of that sixty years pretty heartbreaking. 

Awwww they're being cute again. Sheridan and Delenn are engaged. I wonder what the Minbari custom is - or was that the three nights of sleeping that was interupted by puppet!Anna?

Cartagia is having G'Kar's eye "plucked out" fuck man. That's so augh. C'mon. If he must lose an eye have it be in a fight, it's just overwhelmingly negative. No one else is getting this. 

Also a bummer point to have the episode end on! It does build a sort of dread fascination though. What horrible thing is going to happen to G'Kar next episode. 

onwards!

[lee-hakhyun]

from an outside perspective it’s really feeling like they’re emphasising kim dokja’s status as an eldritch god. like,,, you don’t feel it through orv because kim dokja himself has just enough knowledge from reading twsa to navigate, and on his own you can really tell how human he actually is, but. take things from a distanced perspective, and suddenly. suddenly, it’s azathoth and the outer gods of lovecraftian lore, played completely straight. i’ve heard enough people compare azathoth and kdj that i think i can say this much

you wanna know something i’ve thought about a lot regarding kdj and the oldest dream? about yjh becoming a terrorist, and how kimcom willingly went back into the fray, how they returned to the previous timeline - and how some people couldn’t comprehend their choices at first? it makes me think of that old trope of ‘going mad from the revelation’, how some people say that gazing upon this otherworldly being’s true form or ‘learning the truth of the world’ would surely make someone go mad.

go mad with what, though? insanity? or grief? because so, so often, one’s pain is incomprehensible to outsiders, and fail to understand how or why you lash out or break down. it’s a depressing pattern in real life, too. kdj goes mad with grief and self-hatred, learning the truth; kimcom take on the insane route of going through the apocalypse again just to reach the end; yjh is unable to heal, to cope with a world without the scenarios and without his companion to bear through it, and so he fights over the replica of the arc. from an outsider’s perspective, without the understanding that the people involved are all brokenhearted over truths only they know, it might come off as insanity. but it’s all just grief.

with that said, however, to have someone jung heewon KNEW, cruel as he was, replaced by someone from a world beyond - and to start singing the praise of someone else’s name? to say ‘i need to find them?’ how all of them look to one name that outsiders simply DO NOT KNOW, to hail this unknown person as important, as an idol, as… as a god…

the 41st turn before their version of shin yoosung travelled to the other worldlines is a forgotten story, and by orv logic forgotten stories are outer gods. in lovecraftian lore, the outer gods sought to wake the blind idiot god azathoth, who in orv is represented by kdj dreaming for ‘eternity’. also, the Outer Gods of orv (the one actually being called as such right now) see the side story - which is the ‘forgotten’ 41st turn, now being written in where once it was not - as their chance to finally be written on the wall. so it’s. it’s. this is just singshong taking their lovecraftian elements to their logical extreme

interestingly, however, kdj isn’t the only reader anymore, is he? orv places a lot of emphasis on communication and writing on the wall, but in the side story it could perhaps be interpreted as ‘trying to be read by one person in particular’. and then the readers that die are labelled as ‘kdj33’ or ‘kdj47’, reducing them to being ‘just a part’, but… they’re all different people. they’re all people who took in kdj’s story, thus his story becomes a part of their own - but only a part. i’ve said that before, but.

well, you can’t force your own narrative on to someone else.

han sooyoung tried that, actually, didn’t she? tried to get kdj back through ending the story early only to realize the hurt she was causing and backing off. you can’t always reach people in the way you want. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop trying, but there’s also a point where you need to recede, to compromise. am i making sense? i have no idea where singnshong is taking this story, but i’m looking at hsy with lee hakhyun and ceokdj with the readers turned kdj fragments and the outer gods wanting their story written on the wall and. i feel like i’m starting to see a pattern. i could also be hallucinating, but i could also not be. i offer this for your consideration

okay i put this aside for a bit but yes. oh my god. eldritch kdj.. i had not heard about this before, but that's so interesting thinking about it through that lens. and in the side story, hsy forcing the memories of orv on jhw to try to break her.. the explict mentioning of han sooyoung being seen as a 'god' in that moment...

--

fun fact, if you don't remember! lovecraftian horrors are also mentioned as outer gods in orv

chapter 179. when talking with the devourer of dreams, kdj mentioned these modifiers

the fear of sarnath - bokrug

horror from the hills - chaugnar faugn

master of r'lyeh - cthulhu

--

now, adding my own thoughts - the pattern is identity. stories.

there's something wrong with everything in this turn.

the kkomas were cute. until it was revealed that they were dead readers. though.. is that not also kind of what the yoo joonghyuk kkomas are? they may have all been yoo joonghyuk, but their lives in that turn were their own. <- however. the difference here is that while the yjh kkomas were all 'yoo joonghyuk' these kdj kkomas were NOT. they all had their own lives before being brought to wos, and upon being killed and placed in the theater.. they lost themselves.. which is terrifying to think about. you die, and you're brought back to watch your companions go on without you, but you're not yourself anymore. you're kim dokja, who wants to continue watching the stories on the screen.

the transmigrated readers. until the latest chapters, we hadn't been shown the real effect of the readers possessing characters in this world (honestly, we were led to believe that most people transmigrated into 'extras' without their own story. but that's not true, is it?). cheon inho has no one close to him as far as we know (lol), but that's not the same for others. what about the people who knew the possessed characters? lee hakhyun realizes this in the latest chapter, that maybe him and the readers coming here were an additional disaster for the people that lived here.

lee hakhyun's problems,, he's constantly going back and forth on 'lee hakhyun' and 'cheon inho', and there's clearly something wrong with the way he sees himself... we know more about him that he does currently, and if he does find out. i don't think things are going to end well.

and of course. everything about kim dokja. his name is in everyone's minds, the readers are desperate for a source of hope and he has become that to them. kim dokja is being idolized. even before the scenarios, there were those using kim dokja's story in the same way he used yjh. it's not framed as a negative, if that's what you need to do survive, then you should always do what you can to survive, no matter what. but even when you borrow stories, you need to stay yourself. you are your own person.

there's a clear connection with all of these, and it's identity. who someone is, the way they're seen, their stories. what makes you yourself? stories make up who you are, and these outer gods want their own stories written down on the wall to define themselves. rep kdj wanting the readers to forge a new story, lee hakhyun discovering stories that were never told in orv.

right now, nobody's happy. time is running out for the outer gods, the readers have unwittingly destroyed others by taking over these 'extras', kimcom are still desperately searching for their star, our dear protagonist is continuing to doubt himself. and kim dokja is still watching.

...this is orv. not everyone will get their happy ending. their goals oppose each other. we can hope for the best, but that isn't going to happen.

[innerpalaces]

The Life of a Cannon Fodder Mother-in-Law - 4

Chapter 4: The Deceived Mother-in-Law 4

Zhao Zhenyan ignored the fragments on the ground and said resolutely: "Impossible." Liu Chanchan's face was pale and she didn't dare to look at her. Instead she turned to Liu Yuniang: "Madam, Hechen really said that."

"It doesn't matter what he said!" Zhao Zhenyan said, "I am his wife. He has to ask me first before taking a concubine. I will never agree to a woman like you who has an unknown origin and comes to the door on her own initiative." Liu Yuniang cleared her throat and said: "Zhenyan, Hechen mentioned her to me." Zhao Zhenyan looked over with a glare, as if to say, whose side are you on!? Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law meet almost every day. She knows that her mother-in-law is very protective of her and they usually get along well. But after seeing this woman today, her mother-in-law violated her wishes several times, and Zhao Zhenyan had already guessed in her heart that this time their thoughts were not aligned. But when she actually heard her mother-in-law's words which seemed to imply the intention to keep this woman, she still couldn't accept it. At the same time, Liu Chanchan's eyes lit up and she was moved: "Hechen really didn't lie to me." "He didn't mention it to me!" Zhao Zhenyan almost screamed. After she finished her sentence, she realized that she was too excited and took two deep breaths. Her tone slowed down: "Even if he brought it up, I won't agree. " Liu Chanchan lowered her head: "But we...we have..." Zhao Zhenyan couldn't listen any more, and she knew that she would feel uncomfortable hearing the next words, so she immediately raised her voice and ordered: "Someone, send her away." "I won't leave!" Liu Chanchan's voice became louder and she knelt down directly in front of Liu Yuniang: "Madam, I truly love Hechen. I will be Hechen's person for the rest of my life. I don't ask for status, I just want to be able to stay by his side. I'll be satisfied if I can just look at him every so often. I beg Madam to help me." Liu Yuniang knew from Liu Huixin's memory that she was a smart woman. As expected, seeing that Liu Yuniang was not so resistant to her, she stopped arguing with Zhao Zhenyan and came to beg her instead.

"I heard him mention you, but he asked me to give your parents some money..." At this point, she paused: "The intention seemed to be to add to your trousseau." Liu Chanchan's eyes widened in surprise. These words seemed to make it clear that Qi Hechen was fed up with her entanglement and wanted to send her away with money. At the same time, Zhao Zhenyan's heart relaxed. "He only mentioned the girl's surname was Liu, but he didn't say that the girl was you. I can't believe just your words alone." Liu Yuniang turned her head and looked at the maid by the door: "Go and invite the young master over."

"No!" The two women said almost in unison. Zhao Zhenyan believed that since this girl dared to come here, there must be an affair between the them. When the two people confront each other, they must find a way to resolve it. She was actually a bit evasive. Whether she brought this woman in or sent her away with money, Qi Hechen had betrayed her. Some things if they happened once would happen again, so it's best not to open this up. She didn't want to know the truth at all, she just wanted to send this girl away. After being sent away, it can be said that this girl came to blackmail them, and they could still be a loving couple. As for Liu Chanchan's unwillingness to meet Qi Hechen, it was because of a guilty conscience. He said that he had told his family what was going on between them, and he would choose an auspicious day to come to propose marriage. He asked her to wait obediently, but despite this, she couldn't wait and ran over. He might get angry if he found out. After the two of them finished yelling, they both looked away. "The matter has already happened, and I must get to the bottom of it." Liu Yuniang was in a very happy mood at this time. Liu Chanchan was a very difficult woman to handle. In her previous life, Liu Huixin had to deal with it alone, which made her physically and mentally exhausted, but she still couldn't stop her from entering the Qi household. After that, she was hated by everyone; a typical thankless job. Liu Chanchan hated her for trying to break up the couple, Zhao Zhenyan hated her for hiding Qi Hechen's cheating, Qi Hechen blamed her for not handling things well... Now, Liu Yuniang no longer allowed them to take advantage of her and let them handle it on their own. She urged again: "Quickly send someone to invite the young master." Hearing her instructions just now, the servant was about to leave, but was stopped by Zhao Zhenyan and stood hesitantly at the door. When the servant heard this, he didn't dare to stop anymore and ran away quickly. She smiled inwardly, raising the corners of her lips slightly, but quickly suppressed it, and turned around to meet Zhao Zhenyan's angry gaze. "Why are you looking at me like this?" Zhao Zhenyan's eyes were red with anger and she looked away. Qi Hechen came quickly. He really wanted to handle the matter quietly, but when an incident happened, hiding was not an option. As soon as he entered the door, he saw two beautiful women sitting and standing with tears in their eyes. His mother next to them, eating melon seeds happily with one hand, and holding tea in the other hand, looking particularly leisurely. At first glance, an uninformed outsider would think she was watching a show. Qi Hechen felt something strange. Before he could think about it, he heard his wife ask: "Who is this woman? Why does she want to give you something?" As for being a concubine, she did not mention it. She was also afraid that if she said anything, Qi Hechen or her mother-in-law would respond... Wouldn't she just be shooting herself in the foot?

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Zhao Zhenyan's tears fell uncontrollably. She stretched out her hand to wipe her face, her movements rough and without the elegance of the past. Seeing this, Qi Hechen felt pity in his heart and took out a silk handkerchief to wipe her tears: "Don't cry, I'm here." Zhao Zhenyan was comforted and glared at him angrily: "It's all your fault! You're so gentle to others for no reason. It's so easy for people to misunderstand."

"Yes, yes..." Qi Hechen coaxed patiently: "I will change it going forward." He actually did this on purpose, just to make Liu Chanchan give up. Liu Yuniang looked at Liu Chanchan expectantly, and saw that she was biting her lip with tears in her eyes, looking extremely sad. Just as she was about to look away, she saw her wiping away her tears, her eyes full of resentment, and her tone was leisurely: "Hechen, is the handkerchief I gave you useful?" Hearing this, Qi Hechen stiffened while wiping away tears. Zhao Zhenyan was stunned and subconsciously avoided his movement. Immediately, her tears fell even more fiercely. Although she said that Qi Hechen was too gentle and the girl fell in love with him and came to her door on her own based on wishful thinking, she knew deep down in her heart that if Liu Chanchan was really just dreaming, she would never dare to come alone. All her confidence was given by the man in front of her. Therefore, this handkerchief was definitely not bought. It was given by Liu Chanchan, and he accepted it. "Hechen used it so smoothly, which shows the usefulness of this handkerchief." Liu Chanchan stretched out her hand to wipe her tears again: "It's not in vain that I worked so hard to embroider it. Seeing you and your wife getting along today... I really feel..." She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eyes, and said decisively: "I hope you will have many children and grandchildren in the future, and that your life will be smooth and worry-free from now on." After saying this, she looked at Liu Yuniang and said, "Madam, just pretend that I have never been here. You don't have to worry when you hear about the funeral at the Liu family in the future." From her tone to her expression, she looked lifeless. Everyone could see that she was determined to die. Qi Hechen's expressions immediately changed: "Chanchan, don't do anything foolish." Liu Chanchan's eyes were full of tears, but she had a smile on her face: "Hechen, I have never been willing to embarrass you. Since I can't stay with you no matter what, then I can only die. I once said that in life I am your person, and in death... I am your ghost. I want to keep my promise." She smiled sadly, like a flower that is about to wither. "You don't have to feel guilty. This is all my own wish. There's no need to persuade me, I've already made up my mind. I'd rather die than marry someone else." Ever since Qi Hechen was a child, someone would give him what he wanted, and he had never been burdened with a human life. Especially when this woman was not in the wrong, and was willing to die for him. Zhao Zhenyan beside him also started to panic "Girl, it's so good to live, why think of dying for a man? "No need to persuade me." Liu Chanchan's face became more and more sad: "This is probably my ill fate, but I don't want to hide. " She turned around and walked out dejectedly. When she was about to cross the threshold, she was probably so lost that she couldn't see the way clearly. She tripped on the threshold and fell forward. Liu Yuniang was about to get snacks, thinking that she didn't need to eat dinner, when she saw a green figure running towards the door and taking the slender woman into his arms. The man was handsome and the woman was beautiful. The two looked at each other affectionately. The scene was as beautiful as a painting. Liu Yuniang turned to look at her daughter-in-law. At this time, Zhao Zhenyan's clenched hands and face turned pale. She had already guessed that there was affection between the two, but when she saw this scene, she still couldn't accept it. She stood up suddenly. She lost her voice and asked: "Husband, what are you doing? " Qi Hechen closed his eyes, feeling torn. He turned back to look at Liu Yuniang: "Mother, I want to take a concubine. Liu Yuniang nodded: "Have you thought carefully about it? "

"I have made up my mind. " His words were very serious. He was telling Liu Yuniang his determination, and he was also telling Zhao Zhenyan. Zhao Zhenyan felt her whole body go cold, and she slowly sank to the floor as if she had lost all strength: "Husband, you promised me." Qi Hechen had already made up his mind and slowed down his tone: "Yan'er, you once said that as long as it makes me happy, you are willing to do anything" Zhao Zhenyan was so angry that she was shaking: "Qi Hechen, you are such a scoundrel." She slapped her hand on the table. Her anger did not subside. On the contrary, it hurt her hand. The pain made her even more furious. She turned to look at her mother-in-law beside her. Seeing that she was watching silently as if it had nothing to do with her, she immediately clenched her teeth in anger. Realizing that there was nothing she could do to this mother and son, she stood up suddenly and said, "I don't agree to this." Qi Hechen said in a deep voice: "It's normal for a family to have three wives and four concubines. I promise you, except for Chanchan, I will never make things difficult for you again." When he said this, Zhao Zhenyan became even more angry. If a man really wants to have concubines, it would be better to have more rather than a few and let him treat them as a distraction. But he only wanted this one person, and she really didn't dare to think about what that meant. Seeing that she couldn't stop him, the only way was to bring in reinforcements, so she walked away with a flick of her sleeves: "I want to go back to my parents' house to stay for a few days." After her words fell, she disappeared out the door. Qi Hechen stretched out his hand to grab her, but only caught a corner of her clothes. He said in a panic: "Mom, quickly bring her back ." Liu Yuniang waved her hand: "I've been tired for the past two days and can't catch up. Besides, what can I say if I do catch up?" Qi Hechen's face was full of disbelief: "Mother, what should I do if the Zhao family comes to demand an explanation?" "Hechen, you are a married person. You should be sensible and learn to deal with all kinds of situations. I can't stay with you forever." Liu Yuniang stood up. "This time, you have to figure it out yourself." Qi Hechen: "..."

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[freydis-freydat]

who: @xdeimosx where: tbd when: present in the timeline notes: I figure we can determine a setting when you're back from your trip and actually integrate it so they can interact with the setting. Didn't feel like it was worth bugging you about on your trip though.

The journey in the Feywilds centered on the standing stones had illuminated far more than Freydis had initially bargained for. It was only now, a handful of weeks after the events in the cultists’ temple,  that the initial shock of what had been revealed about the pair of Vanguards had worn off. Or at least Freydis tried to fool herself into thinking her shock had worn off; she wasn’t sure it ever would. Regardless, with the majority of her anxieties surrounding the newly revealed truth of the Vanguards assuaged and the conflict in Haven tempered from the fanned flames of Aventia to mere dying embers, the veil maiden was trying to recenter her focus on why she had answered the call the summoned her to the standing stones in the Feywilds in the first place: the future goal of reviving the Iskaran arches. 

Freydis felt lucky that her connection to the veil had lent her to be able to hear the call the druid Deimos had put out for the quest to restore the Feywilds standing stones, and luckier still that he lent her ear again as she sought answers of her own. Though she wasn’t sure how much he could truly help her in the moment, every fragment and detail of information would propel her closer to what the version of herself in the veil had suggested was her ultimate destiny. The real trouble was how much there was to demystify. A life in Iskaldrik had led her to be as blind as she was ignorant to all things arcane and beyond human making it borderline impossible for her to know where exactly a starting point was. By now, however, this was hardly a deterrent for Freydis to try. 

“I was wondering if you might be willing to tell me how you initially… felt or heard the standing stones in the Feywilds?” Freydis questioned, not sure what the appropriate language would be for such a thing. The questions that registered in the back of her mind seemed endless, she would have to prioritize, ask the ones that truly mattered. She had now idea if he might have any meaningful connection to the Arches of Iskaldrik, or if their guardian and palantír were too far gone. And would he be able to tell from one look at her alone that she herself had navigated that Arches and come out different than what she had been before but not the same as him, the way Sakkara had been able to intuit by a single look at her. If he couldn’t, should she disclose this? The Dúnedain, she had learned, were tasked with neutrality, but did that make them trustworthy? Freydis realized her faith in The Keeper and The Sphere–but was Deimos as safe to follow? “Or if you’d ever seen a palantír and guardian before? Whether they were…. Active or… lost?” Her words felt so stupid and simple, but they were the ones she knew.