#taking lie theory this term

[heirtocragflame]

I’m channeling her power

[starry-eyer]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[totheidiot]

one good thing about writing a very time-period accurate short story set in the 70s is that i can make a part of my character's backstory that he summoned the ghost of winston churchill and that was how he had realized that he just had the ability to summon ghosts.

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[mychapel-004]

I think the most interesting and under-explored part of gf canon is the formation of the blind eye and I'm tired of pretending it isn't: a long post

Because hear me out here, if we really take a look at the timing of the only concrete source we have (mcgucket's video diaries), it doesn't... line up at all?

The clear implication here is that he started making the diaries after the first portal incident on January 18th 1983, so this would be our "day one"

"For the past year I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher... But something went wrong. I decided to quit the project, but I lie awake each night, haunted by the thoughts of what I've done... Test subject one: Fiddleford."

But this makes no sense. We know from J3 that the memory gun was actually invented after a series of traumatic events with Ford, months before he left the project. Further, the timeline the video diaries set up of the blind eye show that he began to deteriorate and founded the blind eye on day 22, which would be February 9th, but in J3 the blind eye is already a full blown cult by then.

In addition, where is he in this video? we know from TBOB that he isn't on good terms with his wife after Christmas of 1982 and he likely didn't leave GF after the portal incident, but he was living with Ford up until this so where is this room? If he had somewhere else to stay, why only stay there now?

Now, realistically the answer here is that the lore was changed and slightly retconned between the writing of this episode and the publishing of the book (which alex discusses in some of the commentary for this episode when discussing fidd's character), but I think a more interesting theory to solve this contradiction can be found in the source material.

If we play this all completely straight, there are two options here, both involving Fiddleford lying in his diaries. this isn't entirely new to the series, unreliable narration is a big theme, especially in Journal 3 and TBOB. the only real explanations are that:

A) Fiddleford was lying about this being the first time he used the gun, meaning this video diary takes place after the portal incident.

B) Fiddleford was lying about leaving the project, and was filming these diaries while still working with Ford.

Now, either of them is plausible, but ultimately Fiddleford is a scientist. He has dedicated his life to engineering, and it seems to be his lifelong passion considering it's one of the only character traits that he continues to practice after losing his mind. Would a man who is this talented, this dedicated, really lie about testing results in a video diary he chose to make?

If he had used the gun before, any kind of result he is trying to observe would be ruined. It would be a pointless venture, since we know for a fact that by the time he leaves the project he has used the gun on himself, Ford and other civillians multiple times. It's a complete failure of the scientific method, and I don't think it makes sense for the character we know, the man who quadruple checks his own calculations just to be sure they're right.

However, the other explanation feels like something he might do. We know he invents the gun after the Gremloblin incident likely sometime in August, and seems to use it immediately as evidenced by J3, on both himself and Ford. We know from the audio commentary that for Fidd, the memory gun is very much an addiction, it's something that he uses to curb his anxiety and appear like a better partner, to try and keep himself together until the project is over. But ultimately, he's known something is wrong with the project for a long time, and Ford mentions his tendency towards self destructive anxiety when Fidd rips out his own hair after Ford reveals the tip of the weirdness iceberg to him.

All this to say, I think it's far more realistic for Fiddleford to lie about leaving the project rather than his results. He knows that something is wrong, that he should leave and be with his family, and on the other side of that we know that Bill is using this anxiety to whisper into Ford's ear that Fidd is unreliable and will leave. He's been through a severely traumatic event with the Gremloblin, trapped for days in his worst nightmares, to the point where he is prepared to cause himself potential brain damage to un-see it.

But despite all of it, he doesn't leave. He is determined to stay, maybe out of loyalty, maybe out of fear for Ford's safety, maybe he needs the money from the project for his family. He has a wife and son who need him and we know that he feels guilt for his treatment towards them, he even cites them as his sole reason for backing out of using the gun immediately before he does it anyway, and uses it on Ford to cover his mistakes up. Fiddleford is a man who is wracked by anxiety and shame and is such a bad way by this point that he is absolutely willing to self-destruct and lie to just get through this project.

I think he absolutely would start documenting his use of the memory gun, even if that meant lying that he had followed his instincts and left the project when he should have done. After all, he says himself that he wants to use this gun on a wider scale as a therapy tool, assuming the gun doesn't turn his brain to mush, surely the tapes of his initial testing will need to be peer-reviewed? He's presenting the reality he wishes was true, the one where he is brave and stands on his principles and doesn't fall into step beside Ford on his path to destruction.

So, where does this leave the timeline?

Finding exact dates is difficult, mostly because the only concrete numbers in J3 are few and far between, but we do have the dates of the tapes to go off as follows. This isn't concrete but it's a fun way to recontextualise the events of J3:

Day 1:

First usage of the gun, followed by it being used on Ford

Sometime after the Gremloblin incident, Fidd's arm is either healed or on the mend from the incident as his cast is gone, so likely towards the end of August.

Note on the cast: It could also be gone as a result of him removing it too early, he doesn't seem to take a lot of time to recover from the incident before he gets back to work in fear of disappointing Ford.

The room he is in is likely his bedroom in the Shack, or whatever location he initially uses to form the blind eye, maybe a room in the museum? The "probability of failure" graph in the back is the same one that he shows Ford the night before the Portal test, albeit a bigger version, meaning he has likely been tracking the output results for a while.

Day 5:

Still exhibiting postive results, no deterioration yet.

Day 22:

First signs of mental deterioration

First mention of the blind eye, Fidd draws the symbol onto a notebook but it is already scribbled in the background over a diagram of the portal. The blind eye symbol is first mentioned in J3, when Fidd hands it to the carny who becomes the eventual leader of the cult, so this diary likely takes place after he has begun using it on other people.

Official formation of the blind eye as a group to help people forget traumatic memories.

His room in the shack is in a state of disarray, his plants are dead and there are handprints in oil or ink on the walls. Notably, he seems to be connecting the idea of a single eye and the portal despite not being aware of Bill at this point, which I'll touch upon later.

The carnival is likely in September according to the timeline by @fordtato

Day 74:

Slight physical deterioration, more physical anxiety

It seems that Fidd has been regularly using the memory gun at this point, to erase even minorly distressing images from his head, and his anxiety has taken a nosedive. Likely explanation is that this diary is after the bunker, where he had another severely traumatic experience (kidnapped by a shapeshifter and reduced to mute from anxiety) and seemed to become obsessed with doomsday planning. During the bunker arc he also used the gun on multiple workmen and Ford once again.

Likely takes place in October/November

His room is a complete mess by now, with the walls covered in papers and "Help Me" scrawled on the walls.

At this point in J3, Ford has made his deal with Bill and is allowing him to possess his body whenever he pleases. Bill has also sucessfully driven a divide between the other two by making Ford doubt that Fidd will be able to make it to the end of the project, and Ford describes his frustration with him.

According to Ford, Fidd is just as agitated and nervous before the portal test as he was during the Gremloblin attack, and obsessively checks and rechecks his calculations, causing Ford to worry for his resolve.

In between this diary and the next are the stolen pages from J3 that are in TBOB, which give us slight insight into Fiddleford during this time but not much. We see that he tries multiple times to reach out to him the only way that Fidd knows how, through invention and creation, with the snowglobe and the six-fingered gloves. Ford, however, treats them carelessly as a result of his increased attention to his muse. At the same time, he tries to visit home but is kicked out by Emma-May after he forgets to get her a Christmas gift. This is played as an example of his connection with Ford, him remembering two gifts for the man and none for his wife, but if he really is suffering from his use of the gun at this time, the forgetfulness makes even more sense and his argument with his family means he doesn't have a support system outside of Ford who is paying all of his attention to the project. After this, Fiddleford is more reclusive than ever as he spends early January compiling a thesis for Ford to publish

Day 189

Physical deterioration is in full effect and he can't hide the result of his addiction any more, even just to keep up appearances.

His arm is broken, likely due to the car accident he mentions accidentally causing, but its the same arm he broke during the Gremloblin attack and could be a result of him taking his cast off too early for it to have healed right in the first place which could explain why he wears it for so long.

Significant mental decline as he has started exhibiting signs of brain damage or swelling (decreased vocabulary, forgetfulness, loss of motor functions) however, he is seemingly lucid enough to question if the memory gun is causing negative side effects.

There are actually bottles visible in the back of the room, possbly referencing the addiction metaphor being used here

This would take place after the portal test, likely late January. Ford is at the height of his paranoia, Fiddleford has left the shack and taken every trace of his research with him except his college picture with Ford, and the blind eye is a fully established and seemingly self-governing cult.

Day 273

At this point, Fidd has relocated to a motel and is seemingly completely mentally gone, ripping out his hair and developing his hunched posture. This likely takes place after the blind eye takes his memories, or he continues erasing them himself. It's possible that the blind eye continues visiting him and taking his memories even after he is ejected as a member, or at least until they forget who he is after using the gun on themselves too many times.

It appears to be snowing outside? Which doesn't line up with either the canon timeline or this timeline, so potentially the days on the video diaries could be incorrect assuming he isn't filming them every day, or has lost so much of his mind by this point that he isn't labelling them right and has lost track of time

The final two entries are a similar story, serving only to show us the end of his decline and him eventually becoming fully homeless, retreating to the junkyard he lives in for the next 28 years (jesus, he really deserved that mansion).

Ultimately though, this timeline asks a lot of interesting character questions.

Why did Ford not realise how bad Fiddleford's decline was becoming? Maybe a mix of circumstances, he was falling deeper into his worship of Bill at the time, to the extent that he was regularly being possessed and judging by the lack of journal entries at the time, very pre-occupied. We also know that Fidd used the gun on him at least twice in canon, and possibly used it more than we know in order to convince Ford he was okay.

If Fiddleford was erasing parts of Ford's memory, did Bill know? Personally, I feel that Bill was aware but knew that ultimately it would serve him. Fiddleford, without ever encountering Bill at this point, created the blind eye symbol which is eerily close to Bill's symbolism, how would he know that when we know Ford is possessive of his muse and doesn't share anything with Fidd about it? How does Ford have visions of Fidd in a red cloak without ever knowing that the cult and Fidd are directly connected? My thoughts are that Bill, who we know has erased Ford's memory himself before when he stole the journal pages we see in TBOB, was using most of this as fodder to drive a divide between the two, mentally creating associations in both of their minds so they stop trusting the other. Chess but with troubled gay men.

All in all I think Fiddleford's decline is such an interesting way to approach a theme of addiction, particularly a high-functioning addiction. If this really is how things played out, we know that throughout his use of the gun and even 30 years later when he is considered a write-off, the one thing he maintains is his engineering prowess and his smarts. It makes sense that even when actively using the gun and hiding it from Ford he would be able to keep up in terms of building the portal, especially when we know he secretly hired workers. It's also a great example of someone drawing others into their addiction, even if it was unintentional and he didn't believe they would be hurt in the long run.

I feel like sometimes there's a lil bit of a push to see Fidd as a naive or morally good character even through his mistakes and to demonise Ford in response, but ultimately both of them are very morally grey and have their own vices that they develop and grow from.

[tiamathh]

DANCING ANGEL (37530)

Devotion

This asteroid was named after Ekaterina Pavlova, who was extremely talented in oriental dance and devoted her short life to the art. In my theory, wherever this asteroid is in your chart will show you where you're most devoted and talented.

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Houses

↑ 1st: Devoted to themselves, these individuals are big on self care and are really confident in their ability to complete and start new cycles at their pace. Their talents lie in being able to find their identity early on in life and also being a bit of a shape shifter, they can be whoever they want to be whenever they want to be whilst staying true to themselves and being authentic.

↑ 2nd: They're devoted to their family and may pursue careers that will provide them stability both emotional and financial, they are usually lucky with getting money through unconventional means too. Their talents lie in being able to make a safe and secure environment for the people around them as well as being extremely resourceful and helpful individuals.

↑ 3rd: Devoted to their ideas and usually their siblings if they have any, may admire them a lot and are also very devoted to learning about new topics. Their talents lie when it comes down to competing especially in regards to the mind and their communication styles are flexible, they can change their way of speech depending on the person they are talking to and are also very convincing.

↑ 4th: Devoted to their homes, especially the ones they make in the future for themselves and are extremely connected to their roots, may be close to maternal figures in their life. Their talents lie in building foundations for later generations, and are usually great in occupations such as therapy as they can help others decipher and understand their emotions.

↑ 5th: Devoted to individuality and self-expression, they are the ones who try to be as different as possible and rebel because it makes them stand out from the crowd. Their talents lie with the performing arts, people with these placements tend to have a commanding presence which makes leads to them naturally being in the spotlight, they're also great at working with children.

↑ 6th: Devoted to what they can do for others, usually workaholics because they simply like doing as much as they can and have high self discipline. Their talents lie in being able to stay in control and rational at their place of work, as well as making great leaders; due to their competence people are willing to follow them, extremely organised and healthy, they don't get sick easily.

↑ 7th: Devoted towards and in their relationships both romantic and platonic, they are big on mutual give and take but are more often givers. Their talents lie in being a mediator, they're a pretty good judge of character and have a natural ability to diffuse tense situations, they're also great at socialising with others and are quick to form lasting and important partnerships.

↑ 8th: Devoted in general, these natives never do something without complete devotion, are the kind of people to immerse themselves into all kinds of experiences. Their talents lie in being able to balance their energies and chakras easily, some may also be good at communicating with individuals from the afterlife or talented at astrology and divination as well due to their ability to sense energies around them.

↑ 9th: Devoted to understanding the depths of the world, questions like 'why?' and 'how?' come to mind, they're also devoted to their ideals and morals. Their talent lies in pursuing careers that are related to higher education as well as being able to learn languages quickly, they're also quick at picking up information about different cultures and they often bring others luck.

↑ 10th: Devoted to their vision and long term goals, they always look at the bigger picture and are often close to paternal figures in their life. Their talents lie in being authoritive and guide people through life, usually in a professional setting. They're great at being able to maintain a high reputation and can easily mask their true selves to exhibit the sort of public image they want.

↑ 11th: Devoted to the community, are also very concerned about giving back to nature and the community, usually extremely involved with social services especially volunteering at animal shelters. Their talents lie with being original, they may also be highly intuitive and be able to predict near future events, and are also great at getting people to start community service.

↑ 12th: Devoted to their subconscious and their intuition, they always listen to their gut and and usually go with the flow, believing that there is a plan even when they can't see it. Their talents lie with having psychic abilities such as bring clairvoyant, clairaudient, etc and they're also really good with shadow work, they can help bring closure to the people around them as well.

All Rights Reserved tiamathh on tumblr. Do not steal, repost, plagiarise or reword and claim as your own!

[yumecel]

But that is how the guilty speak 💙

yandere!neuvillette / f!reader | 6.1k words

summary: how does neuvillette go about getting your attention? by trapping you in a kafkaesque nightmare.

reader specifics: female, she/her woman terms whatever

tags: neuvillette SUFFERS, a little angsty, pining, ooc neuvillette for the purposes of yandere, oral, he’s a gentleman all the same

a/n: so this is basically a yandere version of “the trial” by franz kafka. happy birthday neuvillette!! happy neuvillette day!

tws: yandere, stalking, dubcon, manipulation

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i read the warnings, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know one thousand curses will karmically descend on me should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

——💙——

“Chief Justice Neuvillette would like to see you today.”

For the first time in days, you let out a sigh of relief. You barely feel like you’ve been given any room to breathe ever since you woke up to the Gardes outside your door, Gardemeks in tow, arresting you for a crime… that they had not yet revealed the nature of.

You’d been detained- first within your home, then at the Palais Mermonia, being taken care of to the highest standard both times. You didn’t have to cook- meals were delivered to you in a timely fashion. Come a certain point following lunch, a hot drink and small selection of cakes would be delivered. Afternoon tea. You were being given afternoon tea as a prisoner of the law.

Were all detainments this luxurious? you had wondered, opening your daily copy of The Steambird a few days in. When you had started your stay at the Palais Mermonia, it had felt like an all-inclusive resort. Which was a shame, since it really would have been more comforting had anyone actually explained to you what was going on. You’d tried to pry this answer from the Gardes many times, but were met with indifference. Did someone slander you? Did you sleepwalk your way into criminal activity? Day by day, the firm grasp you had on innocence started to waver. It never completely slipped- no, the deep confusion presided above all else- but there were moments of wondering what could have gone so, so wrong to warrant this. You had counted all your sins, listed all your inadequacies, and failed to come to any reasonable conclusion. Within the eyes of the Gardes, you were completely at the mercy of a higher authority.

Now, after three weeks of detainment, you’d finally meet that higher authority. The only authority that now mattered to you. Well aware that most meet Chief Justice Neuvillette within the context of court, you desperately hoped these circumstances meant that nothing serious had occurred. Your most recent theory involved being in witness protection, and perhaps he’d explain-

“Come on. He’s waiting.”

Shaking out of your racing thoughts, perhaps a little maddened by the persistent loneliness and alienation, you obediently followed the Gardes. When you finally entered the room, he stood up from his desk to greet you.

“(Y/N). Come, have a seat. I have prepared tea. I trust this beverage choice is acceptable?”

You nodded, sitting down on one of the sofas where a teacup sat on the table before it.

Neuvillette had sat down opposite you, a small chalice in front of him. Midday wine?

“You can have water instead, if desired.” He said, raising the chalice before taking a sip. So it was just water?

“No, no. This is lovely. Thank you, Chief Justice Neuvillette.”

“Neuvillette is fine.”

“I see. In that case, thank you Neuvillette.”

He nods. You nod. You can’t stand staring into his eyes anymore. You pick up your teacup with a soft clank against the saucer and look down into it after taking a small sip. You hope you didn’t accidentally slurp it too loud. The room is chillingly silent, so quiet that you can hear your blood pumping. He sets his chalice down on the table. You wonder if you should speak. You decide against it.

“How are you?” Neuvillette says suddenly, almost as if remembering he even intended to ask.

“Oh, I… well, I’m fine, but I am very confused.” You respond, a small laugh following. It does little to alleviate the tension.

“I see. That is understandable, given your circumstances.” The tone isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm. It is simply spoken gently, like a hesitant hand making its way onto your shoulder.

He pauses. You nod, still looking away from him. Desperate for him to explain without seeming too concerned with your state of affairs, you meet his eyes again and are thankful when he takes this as a cue to continue speaking.

“Speaking of which, your circumstances have been difficult to navigate indeed. It is a case I have been personally reviewing since the start of your detainment. My deepest apologies for the confusion.”

Sensing sincerity in his voice, you decide to tentatively prod a little. “May I please know more about the case itself?”

He takes in a breath before continuing, gaze dropping to the floor briefly. “It is so mountainous that I am unsure where to begin. I can, however, tell you that you must be protected in order to not disturb the crime scene or convene with any third parties.”

You try to still your hands as you reach for your teacup, hardly satiated by his answer. Ruling out neither being a suspect or being a witness, it was so vague and meaningless he may as well have not answered you at all.

“I see… I think. Are you unable to divulge any details about the case to me? I- I’m sorry to be rude, it’s just, these three weeks-“ You begin, trailing off at his palm steadily raising. You silence yourself before taking another sip of the tea, willing your eyes to meet his once again as you sit back.

“There is no need for apologies. It is I who should be apologising to you. Many things about the case are strictly confidential. Guilt or innocence do not matter at this stage. Only the necessity of the actions taken.”

Your body slumps in defeat as your mouth asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Will I need to be detained any longer?”

“Yes. Indefinitely, I’m afraid.”

Fists clenching and unclenching in your lap. A sharp intake of your breath. Eyes begin to water. A desperate attempt to hide the tears is made by slouching forward, staring intently at the ground.

“It’s just that I haven’t been permitted to see my family or friends all this time, they’re probably worried about me…”

Neuvillette rises from his seat and comes quickly to your side, placing a hand on your back. You jolt, but Neuvillette does not falter. As it rubs in small circles, strangely comforting, strangely- strangely warm- he says, “Please, do not fret. It may be slightly inconvenient, but there is an alternate arrangement that would give you more freedom, should you desire it.”

Of course you desire it, of course, whatever price, you’d be willing to pay it to make this extended stay in purgatory any less isolating.

“What is it?” You sniffle.

Neuvillette remains silent for almost too long. You swear his hand presses just a little firmer on your back, almost to prevent you from sitting back up.

“An arrest via supervision. My supervision, to be precise. So long as you are by my side, any danger- whether towards you or from you- is suitably negated. Unfortunately, this does mean that you must accompany me to various trials and affairs. Would you find this satisfactory?”

Actually, it almost sounded too good to be true. You found your body relaxing. The Iudex would be looking after you, offering you a privileged view of the inner workings of his life- a topic of much discussion in Fontaine. You’d continue to eat well, you could likely communicate with others freely-

“Yes,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “I just want to be able to see my loved ones again.”

His hand finally leaves your body, leaving a residual warmth. “Very well. You may make the necessary arrangements to see these people after completing the paperwork. And… it is best if you tell them you have taken on new work at the Palais Mermonia in the meantime.”

“Of course,” you say, finally drinking the rest of your tea. “Thank you, Neuvillette.”

When he sits down at his desk, there is an almost imperceptible smile on his face. Is this the unselfish joy of helping the common folk?

“The pleasure is all mine.”

——💙——

Being permanently by Neuvillette’s side could almost be considered pleasant. There is the confinement, the unwarranted surveillance, but there are plenty of amenities alongside those.

He is not much a conversationalist, but he will speak to make your experience more bearable. Your meals come at regular intervals, and there is no shortage of things to do around the Palais Mermonia. Most days. There is, unavoidably, occasional boredom, quelled by walks outside and the arrival of new books and trinkets. He takes you to all of Furina’s plays that you can possibly attend, which you rather appreciate. Backstage, she once brings up that she’s happy Neuvillette now has a personal assistant to lighten his workload. Neuvillette does not disagree, and you nod. Beyond the remnants of her previous facade, Furina is kind and thoughtful, but you often wonder if your presence provides a comfortable buffer between her and Neuvillette. Often she talks only to you as Neuvillette stands there, watching in silence. It does make you wonder though, how despite being the ex-archon of Fontaine, even she is not privy to your situation.

Well, Furina may not be an official anymore, so perhaps there is really no need to know that you are technically Neuvillette’s prisoner rather than his assistant. Still, an accumulation of small things surrounding your circumstances grows, serving to both frighten and puzzle you.

The first is something you can never quite grow desensitised to, and it’s that… come nighttime, Neuvillette seems intent on checking if you are in bed, as if you were a child.

“I must apologise for reminding you, but it is standard practice in many prisons to ensure inmates are actually going to sleep at night.” He had told you one evening, when you tried to present your dismay as jokingly as possible. You personally feel him coming into your room (his guest room) to ensure you are adequately “tucked in” is not comparable, but you refrain from saying this.

You are also not allowed an alarm clock, so he wakes you up as part of his morning routine. The first face you see upon waking, the last face you see before sleeping.

There is also the fact that having constant access to the man in charge of your detainment should be useful in terms of information, but he doesn’t let on to anything at all.

You’re very careful not to upset Neuvillette. You are aware that your situation is a privilege, that the ease of being able to see people outside of him- simply telling him when you will be gone, where you’re going, and when you’ll be back- is a pretty good deal when compared to everyone you know finding out you’re under arrest and having to fill out paperwork to approve any actions.

Still, with every day that passes, your situation grows more nonsensical. There are never any updates on your case, though Neuvillette promises he’ll tell you as soon as he’s able to provide you with information. You continue to be in the presence of the most important authority in the entirety of Fontaine. You feel like you’re freeloading every time you eat, and end up helping Neuvillette with the simplest of tasks in his office to ease this. Your attendance to every trial, witnessing the necessary coldness of Neuvillette’s impartiality, makes the subtle way his face softens upon seeing you all the more obvious. You find yourself imagining him doing everything alone, perhaps with the occasional appearance of Furina, before your detainment. Eating most of his meals alone. Walking out after a particularly challenging trial and talking to only a few Gardes on the way. There is no such person that he approaches and asks, “Shall we depart?”- a formal question that really means Let’s go home. Nobody asks him what he’s thinking about afterwards, and there are no excuses to unwind upon reaching his residence. At the start of your detainment with him, he would comb through files immediately after removing his robes. Now he joins you on the sofa, spring water in hand as he either converses with you or listens to you flick through pages of a novel. And it’s strange to admit, but you’re starting to be able to taste the difference between each nation’s water, a symbol of your proximity to him.

You learn more about him than you thought you’d ever know. The tabloids would pay good money for any of it, but you’ve strangely started to consider him a friend rather than a jailor, and it wouldn’t feel right. Besides, you highly doubt Neuvillette would permit you to exit his supervision just to talk to disreputable reporters. You try your best to make the most of this strange existence, settling into his routine, and becoming part of his life.

One day, a melusine detective skips into his office, files in hand. It’s not one you’re unfamiliar with, having spoken to many of the melusines that enter, leave, and work in the Palais Mermonia.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, we must discuss this case a little further before proceeding.” She explains, brows furrowing, but when she looks up from the case files, you catch her eye.

“Ah, hello Miss (Y/N)! It’s lovely to see you. Monsieur Neuvillette, is Miss (Y/N) allowed to be in the room for this discussion? Or perhaps we should depart? My deepest apologies, Miss (Y/N).”

“I understand if not,” you pipe up, shuffling papers around on a table. “If it’s related to my case, or-“

“You have an active case, Miss (Y/N)?”

You’ve seen melusines forget things many times before, but this one, looks… positively puzzled.

“I… do.” You say tentatively, glancing to Neuvillette.

He looks rather stunned, but it’s only a deduction you could’ve made after weeks of seeing his face and neutral expression.

“Yes, but it has moved past the need for the Marechaussee Phantoms. It is perfectly fine for Miss (Y/N) to stay in the room.”

“Ah, I see! I hope everything resolves quickly, Miss (Y/N).”

“Thank you.” You say quietly.

You start to feel, more overwhelmingly, that there is something deeply wrong.

That night, he approaches your room for his regular checking-in of you. You’re sitting upright in bed, staring into space, thinking of how little you’ve seen of your own home in the past few months, thinking of how much of the world you now consume through a Neuvillette-vetted filter, thinking of how much gratitude you should actually feel about everything- until a gentle knock on the door stirs you.

When you tell him to come in, he wears only his slacks and dress shirt, robe abandoned, and downcast eyes.

“I regret that this is taking so long, (Y/N).”

The rain patters against your window.

You sigh quietly. “… It’s alright. You can’t help it, can you?”

A howl of wind.

“I can’t. I do wish I could.”

Lashes of rain now batter against the glass in quick succession.

“Then there’s no need to apologise.”

He stands in silence, still looking down , and you turn away from him, looking out to the dismal weather. There is such a profound sadness emanating off him that you’d do anything to take his mind off it.

“Hey, is the “hydro dragon, don’t cry” stuff real?”

You expect him to laugh and tell you no.

“Only some of the time . It’s true that I have quite a powerful connection to the waters of Fontaine.”

“What about this time?”

You look back to him, finding that he’s staring blankly ahead and out of the window.

“This time… cannot be helped.”

——💙——

“Thank you. I may just have to take you on as my real assistant when we escape our current circumstances.”

You laugh, trying to hide any sense of unease. The files you had just handed him were merely sorted by date, a task that a child could do. “There’s no need to flatter me. I know you managed perfectly fine before I was around.”

“Did I..?” He mumbles. It’s so unlike him that you do a double take.

“I mean, you sorted everything on your own, right?”

“Most of the time. Perhaps it’s more accurate to assume that I appreciate your company.”

Fighting off the surprise from the sudden compliment, you manage to say, “I appreciate yours too, Neuvillette.”

You’re unable to tell if it’s a lie. He’s more than just company. He’s your entire life, at this point.

But you see the corners of his lips twitch, and the way the sunlight seeps into his office fills the room with warmth. It’s hard not to be touched by a moment like this. It’s harder to refrain from asking about the status of your case. Something inside you, a primal form of fear and unease, steels you in the face of both challenges.

——💙——

Even though Neuvillette may be the Iudex, overseeing all legal proceedings in Fontaine, he seems to hold the nature of your case above you like some metaphysical higher power. Whilst your own autonomy belongs to the court, the Iudex acts based on his principles, and the intangible whisperings of your own proceedings. You are trapped in a state that possesses neither the luxuries of innocence nor the condemnation of guilt. You don’t often dare to proclaim innocence in front of Neuvillette- should you require to, it will be within the Opera Epiclese. In the face of the entire law, defending yourself without any knowledge of what laws have even been broken has an awful pointlessness to it.

You also don’t like bringing your case up because you swear it always rains.

Both you and Neuvillette are aware that every passing day is a test on your patience. It intensified a few weeks ago when he had turned down your request for a trip to Liyue in order to visit a friend.

“There is too much on my schedule for that week. Perhaps the following month, I will have the time to escort you.”

“Why not have someone else escort me? Surely it’s well within your power-“

He drops his pen, standing up, as if to remind you of his authority. “You would be too far away from me. Our agreement clearly states-“

“Our agreement? To protect me? To protect people from me?” You laugh bitterly. “It’s been months of this. Nothing has happened, and from my perspective, nothing has changed behind the scenes. And you’re telling me I can’t have the weekend to visit a friend on her birthday?”

He remains impassive, yet a stress in his voice betrays it. “Anything could happen, (Y/N). I ask you to respect my decision on this, and trust it is within your best interests. I am more than willing to make all the necessary arrangements to send her a gift for the meantime.”

There is nothing else to do but accept defeat. The apologies, the ordering of your favourite foods, the, “I understand you’re upset with me”, and the, “Please know I wouldn’t be doing this without reason”- all serve to put salt in the wound.

With all your free time, it was only natural that you would eventually end up picking up a law book.

You’re allowed to take any book you want so long as you return it to where you found it, but the sudden interest in Fontainian law may be… suspicious. So you slip the heavy law books between novels and case retellings, bringing them to your room where you would be away from his watchful eyes. It takes a while to ascertain the correct volume, but you eventually manage to borrow the one on Fontainian laws of arrest and detainment.

You slot a bookmark about two thirds of the way through the book.

Part Seven: Wrongful Detention.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. And he knows you take books often, so one missing volume shouldn’t be a cause for concern. Within the volume, you hoped to find anything that could prove your detainment was unlawful, present this to him, and… hope he agrees?

You could kick up a storm in the Palais Mermonia. Wayward comments about how the Iudex violated the law, that not all citizens of Fontaine are treated impartially. The plan would come into fruition later- for the meantime, you needed to read.

Thumbing through the pages and observing the tiny size of the text, you grimace.

——💙——

“I’m going upstairs to read.”

His gaze follows you from where you hang up your coat to where you shuffle out of your shoes.

This time, there is no, “I see. Enjoy yourself” for you to hum at before leaving the room.

“Have you been particularly immersed in a series as of late? It seems this is now the only activity you do when the workday finishes.”

“Yes,” You respond. “I’m quite into it. I need to see how it ends.”

“I understand. The detective novels of Fontaine can be quite enthralling.” He tells you, with a sense of finality. You were expecting him to ask you what the series was. You were prepared to make something up, but it appears there is no need.

You continue reading the law book, switching it out for a light novel when Neuvillette normally knocks on your door and tells you he’s getting ready to retire for the evening, and if you’d like to join him downstairs for tea. You do, bringing the novel with you so suspicion isn’t aroused.

When you return upstairs, you switch it out once more with the law book, hiding it when Neuvillette arrives to ensure you’re in bed, wait until you hear his own bedroom door close, and then take it out again.

Reading under the dim light of your portable lamp, you must’ve been so engrossed that you hardly noticed him approaching.

“Oh? Pray tell, what has kept you up so late?”

Because suddenly he’s in your doorway, no knocking, and swiftly stepping over to you and your small desk.

“I-“

“Ah, the missing volume. You know, when studying law, it is generally recommended to start from volume one, which I don’t recall you taking.”

Your eyes are frozen to the book in front of you, despite feeling Neuvillette’s imposing presence behind you.

“Part Seven…” He murmurs, a finger tracing the header on the page. He’s completely leaning over you now, and you swear you can feel hot breath tickling the top of your head. “… as I suspected.”

He swiftly closes the book before stepping back from you, telling you to get out of the chair. You’re expecting him to guide you back into bed, tell you he’ll deal with you in the morning, but he doesn’t. With a hand placed on the small of your back, he guides you out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs. He motions for you to sit on the sofa before he busies himself in the kitchen with making tea.

When the tea is placed in front of you, you look up. There is no anger in his eyes like you thought there would be. There is only a forlorn expression that portrays deep loneliness.

“I know I owe you an explanation.” He says, sitting down beside you. You can hardly stand to look him, but see his face turned towards you in your peripheral vision.

His arms are wrapped around you before you can stop him, and you’re hauled into his lap in a swift motion, much to your dismay. “Please relax,” he murmurs. “I won’t hurt you.”

And you stop struggling, if only out of fear, the implication that he could hurt you if he desperately wanted to. You feel his face bury itself in the crook of your neck, an intimacy so foreign that your body jolts involuntarily.

“I have failed you greatly,” He mutters into your neck, “Centuries of impartiality, and…”

His arms tighten around you, squeezing you like he’s afraid you’ll slip out and seep through the floorboards.

“One person, one person to myself… all I ask… one person I would not turn my back on for the sake of my principles, I… I am deeply sorry you had to be the unlucky individual, (Y/N).”

There is nowhere for you to run, unable to move, locked in his arms. So instead, you speak.

“From the top, we can fix this,” You whisper, knowing he’s paying earnest attention to every word. “I wouldn’t tell anyone if you let me go.”

And what good would it do anyway?

He inhales sharply, giving you another squeeze. “I cannot do that. But what can I do? Countless nights have been spent lying awake, trying to orchestrate a true, unselfish reason for you to remain by my side,”

You continue listening, not daring to speak a word through his shaking breaths.

“When the desire first arose, I thought it better to hold you between judgement and ambivalence. It went on for too long. I see that now.”

The rain outside is more intense than you’ve ever seen it. A gust of wind seems to rush through his residence, and a door slams. Desperation. It is as if the storm wishes to claw at the doors, to be let in, to wreak havoc.

“Was there ever a case?” You breathe.

“Yes. You were being framed for a theft, but it was such a baseless lie that bringing you to court would have been unnecessary. It was over before you were detained at the Palais Mermonia.”

You clench your fists so tightly that you can feel nails digging into your palms. “Why me?”

He sighs like the whole world is collapsing onto his shoulders.

“There was a certain power in keeping you prisoner. I indulged this idea, of a person that wouldn’t need to be judged, constantly in the throes of the law. Neither innocent nor guilty. I was so lonely, (Y/N). I wanted to be able to share feelings with someone. I originally brought you to the Palais Mermonia to apologise formally but the more I observed… the more I yearned for something I could not otherwise have.”

You let yourself be cradled by him, let him slowly rock you as if you’re the one in emotional turmoil. In truth, you are betrayed- and painfully bitter about it- and perhaps angry at everything, perhaps scared, but Neuvillette is the least composed you have ever seen him. Time enters becomes a trickling sludge as his grip on you loosens just enough to allow movement, and you sip tea that’s already starting to go cold.

“I can’t ask for forgiveness. But please, please stay.”

“I can’t be a prisoner forever.” You admit, hanging your head.

Because in spite of everything, all the wrongs, there is a sense of pity. A hand of yours has been involuntarily plunged deep into his heart, and now that your fingers are wrapped around the glass core, you’re afraid it may shatter. Gently, you will let him down gently, and you will be free.

“You’ve always been more than a prisoner. Promise yourself to me. Marry me. Please, don’t let me rot like this forever. I beg you.”

“M-Marry you?” You sputter.

“I know those proceedings are of great significance to humans, so perhaps for the meantime you could accept engagement. The timing of our mating doesn’t matter.”

You attempt to shuffle off his lap, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Time for a new strategy.

“Neuvillette… I’m flattered, but you know, I’m very much mortal-“

“An easily solved problem if you choose to become my mate.”

“- well, still-“

“Could you indulge me? Please, could you lend me the honour of experiencing union and understanding, even if merely once?”

His hand slides down to your thigh, not groping, not provocatively slipping upwards, but resting, slightly trembling.

As you manage to swivel around, and stare into his draconic eyes, you find yourself faced with centuries of near-imperceptible pain. His gaze doesn’t waver. You could drown in it.

Swimmers caught in rip currents shouldn’t waste their energy swimming against them. Rather, they should allow the current to take them so they can find a safe route back to shore.

You stop swimming against the current. An act of submission to the natural world. Finally, a whisper, barely recognisable as your own voice, speaks for you.

“Alright.”

And he pulls you beneath the surface, gently laying his lips on yours, slow, sweet, and soft.

——💙——

You follow him upstairs. He had offered to carry you, but you’d declined. You don’t think he takes offence, he only nods, coaxing you up every step like he fears one wrong move will send you fleeing.

He holds the door to his bedroom open for you. “Come in, now. Make yourself comfortable.”

You take a tentative seat on the side of his bed, watching as he unbuttons his shirt- most likely an old one, a few tears clumsily sewn up along a sleeve- and when he approaches you, undoubtedly catching how your eyes rake over his chest, his hands pause at the top of your silken pyjamas.

“May I?”

When you nod, it only takes a split second for his two hands to greedily yank the edges, sending every last button flying across the room. You gasp, nearly raising your arms to cover yourself but are beat by Neuvillette’s large but slender hands suddenly kneading at your breasts. Thumbs carefully circling around the buds, then pinching, squeezing, twisting. His hands find themselves under your arms, forcing you back onto the bed- you swear your body is practically lifted at some point, all of the strength he tends to keep subdued now on full display. Loose strands of his hair tickle your face as he leans down to kiss you, a far cry from the previous one. This is a kiss borne of starvation and avarice. He’s so warm against you, you can smell a light cologne, something resembling scented woods and the sea.

“We should get these off, too.” He says, not waiting for any input before two fingers hook the elastic of your pyjama bottoms and pull down. He guides them off your thighs, letting you wriggle out of them and discard them on the bedroom floor with a weak kick until you lie fully naked beneath him. He clambers off you for a moment, merely observing your form on his bedsheets as he kneels by your side. It’s hard not to admire his beautifully sculpted body, shining in the pale moonlight. His hands guide your legs open as he repositions himself and bows down ever closer to your core, where an embarrassing amount of heat has started to build. He’s between your legs, kissing all the way up your thigh as if it were you that was the deity, sucking and biting harder the closer he comes to your slit. His hand gropes your opposite thigh to balance himself, and his face pauses- so close you feel his breath fanning over your pussy, long enough for you to raise your head and see him staring right at you with draconic pupils blown wide.

“Now, please, allow me to prove my devotion.”

That’s when a finger prods at your entrance, slipping in all too easily, lips locking around your clit and sucking tenderly. Sensing the lack of resistance, another finger joins the first, curling slightly as you jolt upwards. The breath is knocked out of your lungs, something shameful and neglected coiling tighter at your core, growing stronger as his tongue flicks at you and fingers curl.

“Neuvillette!” You gasp. His intensity bears so much contrast to the usually composed man you see in front of you. Now, between your legs, he laps at you like a man possessed.

With two fingers continuing to pump against your clenching walls, his tongue continues to work at your clit, applying pressure in all right places. He’s exploring your body, fingers wavering, changing angles, figuring out what makes you jolt, what makes you whine, and best of all, what prompts you to whisper his name like a prayer. When his pace slows and his fingers are hardly moving inside of you, you beg so sweetly for him- little “Neuvillette”s and “Please, please”s- , and he delivers. You’d never have expected him to tease so much.

It’s really just that he’s doing anything to make you speak for him. Every whimper is an admission of guilt, you do want this, you want him, and it is beyond plausible deniability. That’s why he slows. That’s why he pauses. He needs to hear you say it for him. You deduce this fairly quickly, and embarrassingly, give in to every silent demand.

When his pressure loosens, when the fingers finally slip out, you twitch, crying out his name so he can finish you off.

“Patience, dear. You’ll be taken care of soon.”

He removes himself and you shuffle around on the bed, sitting up briefly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and resisting the temptation to finish the job yourself. He takes a handkerchief from his nightstand to wipe himself off, ever the meticulous one, refusing to look away. His gaze pins you in place, prevents a hand from slipping down to your neglected pussy. It’s only in full of view of you that he finally fully strips himself, hardly letting you get an eyeful of his shaft before he’s pushing your chest backwards, eyes full of adoration and slipping his warm hands under your thighs, moving your legs into the air, bent at the knee. His lips press down on yours so fondly as the head of his cock prods against you.

“Lift your head for me, beloved.”

And you obey as reaches over you, tip clumsily bumping against your slit. A pillow is placed beneath your head, feather stuffed, angling you perfectly to stare into his eyes.

He wants you to look at him.

“Perfect.” He breathes, positioning himself to slide into your cunt, a hand ghosting over your own and intertwining fingers.

Neuvillette moves so slowly, almost as if he’e being careful not to break you. You feel every inch of him sink into you, one by one. You close your eyes, fluttering them open every few seconds as he moves leisurely. His own gaze refuses to deviate from you, and a thumb strokes your cheek.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have this forever?” His voice rumbles. “Have each other… forever?”

You open your mouth to respond- that’s not what we agreed to, that’s not-

But he bottoms out, pushing against you, and all you can manage is a wanton moan as you throw your head back.

In the back of your mind, you know Neuvillette is far too scrupulous to allow you to part from him after this. This is all of him, in front of you, and every inch buried inside of you. This is more than a taste of union.

He starts rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, feeling your walls clench around him. You swear you hear a growl rise from his throat, and a hand slowly starts to palm at your clit. You can feel Neuvillette’s every breath shudder through his body, every human constriction forced on his form. You can feel how he tries to control himself and move with grace, but also how his fingers simultaneously start to rub more frantically at you. Every sensation across your body is all him, all Neuvillette, a presence so overwhelming you can barely think of anything else. As you come closer to the edge, you sink into this feeling. No longer caring and with all shame abandoned, you call for him desperately, the only person that can possibly give you what you need.

And he does.

With his cock hammering in and out of you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and fists tighten around bedsheets, alongside his fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area, you cum so hard you see stars. You moan out his name one final time, spasming around his length as your eyes roll to the ceiling. Neuvillette continues to indulge himself within you, letting you ride out your orgasm with his persistent thrusts. He quickens, almost bordering on overstimulating you, but eventually pulls out, streaking white across your chest as he leans down and steals one final kiss. Forceful and desperate, he kisses like it’s his last chance to prove his love for you.

Perhaps it is. You feel him mutter something against your lips.

I love you.

Your stomach turns as the reality of the situation comes crashing down.

Trembling slightly and stepping back, the first question from his lips is, “Are you alright?”

It takes a short delay before you force yourself to meet his eyes, now donning an expression of concern. “Mm, yeah, just let me-“

You start to rise but Neuvillette shakes his head. “Please, let me wipe you off first.”

You end up staring blankly at the ceiling as he runs a handkerchief over you, swiping gently at your skin.

“I shall prepare a bath for us. Wait here. Relax.”

That’s the last you remember before he leaves the room. Alone with your thoughts, nothing seems to make sense. You take in all four corners of the ceiling and don’t do much else. It’s as if you’re temporarily suspended in a dreamlike state until Neuvillette reenters the room. He scoops you up from the bed and cradles you against his chest as you make your way to the bathroom. You think he presses a kiss or two against your forehead. You’re not sure. Half your body is cold, half of it is pressed against him, and you shiver in his arms. The floor beneath you moves faster.

That’s how you end up beside him in the bathtub as his hands run across your body. He doesn’t say anything to you, but the tender kisses pressed along your jawline speak for themselves.

Tonight, you will sleep in his bed. Tomorrow, you will wake up entangled in his limbs. You are to be cherished. You are to be taken care of. Nothing will change in the eyes of the public, at least not for now. But he will now have every last part of you.

You wished you had proclaimed your innocence sooner. You wish you had fought him. You could have argued that you are no less guilty than any other citizen of Fontaine, and should be treated as such. At least, if nothing else, you should’ve made a demand for fairness.

But that is how the guilty speak.

——💙——

fin. with love from yumecel. happy birthday neuvillette!! i love you!

[loveririska]

Steb Vastaya is an amphibian, not a fish.

And so, I decided to write an article where I will try to explain my theory that the peacemaker Steb, as well as some Zaunites, are amphibian vastayas. I will refer to ent LoL and anatomy.

1. Confirmation of the theory that they are Vastaya.

And so, what do we know about Vastaya.

" The vast is a group of races with sexual dimorphism, differing in shape and size. Their animal appearance depends on the place in which they have adapted, and on their animal spirit. However, if you do not take into account the differences between land, sea and air tribes, there are three types of Vastaya:

·The "bestial" Vastaya resemble other animals, but are bipedal or slightly humanoid.

· "Human-like" Vastaya are very similar to humans, especially in terms of facial features, but still retain a modest level of animalistic elements: for example, cat or fox ears, tails or feathers.

· Werewolves retain the appearance of a human or animal of their choice, but they are able to take on any form and come out of it."

As we can see, Steb and Jericho (this is the cook in Zaun) and the rest, they fit the Humanoid type. The Vastaya are heavily dependent on magic. Where does magic come from? It's simple - there is an The Void under the Zaun.(Actually, the Arcane is the brainchild of the The Void.)

" The Void - is a boundless space beyond existence. Born together with the universe itself, the The Void is the embodiment of incomprehensible nothingness from the depths of the earth. It is believed that in the bottomless darkness, deep underground, lie the first great creatures of the The Void who set foot on the surface of Runterra, dormant and invisible. After the fall of Ikatia, the abyssalborn spread throughout Shurima."

What does another Runter region have to do with it? Everything is simple. Zaun - used to be a part of Shurima. Plus, there is an artifact from Shurima hidden in the caves of the Zauna River, which Ezreal is looking for.

From all this, we conclude that the The Void is in the territory of Zaun. Vastaya needs magic. The Void = Arcane = Magic. This means that the conditions for living in Zauna and Piltover of Vastaya are suitable. Here I will give an example of another sea vastaya.

+The presence of another species of Vastaya - bats.

2. Amphibian?

I've seen many places that Stab is considered a fish... But anatomically, he is an amphibian. I would say one of the relatives of Triton and Salamanders.

And so, why isn't he a fish.

· Lack of scales. The same vasthaya on top, the mermaid, has scales. · Lack of fins? The Peacemakers' uniform is pretty tight, and I think if it had fins (except the dorsal one) they would be visible, or there would be changes in the shape itself. · The NICTITATING MEMBRANE, also known as the third eyelid. Fish, except Sharks, have no membrane...They just don't need it. The membrane should moisturize the eye, the fish are always in the water, they do not need it. (Sharks come to the surface to breathe.)

· Fish cannot live without water. As funny as it may sound, fish don't have lungs. Even lung bags. Just the gills. And their skin will not be able to stay on land without hydration. They lack sebaceous glands.

And yes, we can say that the Vastai are half-humans and they could have it all, but ... Why do Nami and her tribe live in water?

Why do I think he's an amphibian

· The third eyelid. All amphibians have it because of their habitat conditions in water and on LAND.

·Skin. It has sebaceous glands for hydration. I don't think Piltover has a maritime climate.

·Triton have a dorsal fin, but lack webbing on their paws and fins.

· Lungs. Some amphibians have lungs and gills. Plus, they breathe through their skin.

The presence of a tail is questionable. I don't think they have it.It's hard to hide a tail under your pants, unless it's thin, but then it's useless underwater.

Ears... Underwater inhabitants do not need an auricle. It will even get in the way. I think this is the human thing.

Also, human, it's warm-blooded. Fish, amphibians are cold-blooded creatures, which means that in the absence of a heat source (the sun) or in the low temperature season, they cannot function normally and go into hibernation before the onset of heat.

That's just my theory.

[misskitxx]

Necromancer Jayce who brings Viktor back to life AU

Necromancer Jayce x Zombie Viktor, heavily inspired by this work

Viktor is dead.

Jayce does not know how to exist in a world where that is true.

The words are a blade lodged in his ribs, twisting deeper every time he breathed. Dead. A clinical term, sterile, a word for dissections and autopsy reports. It doesn’t belong here, in the oily lamplight of their shared lab, where Viktor’s shadow still lingers in the smudges of equations on chalkboards, in the half-drunk cup of tea gone moldy by the sink.

Jayce had refused to let them take the body.

He’d barred the door, roared at the councilors, the enforcers, even Heimerdinger’s mournful whimpers. “You don’t get to bury him,” he’d snarled, hammer sparking in his grip . “You didn’t know him. You didn’t love him.”

Dead. A lie. A mistake. A joke in wretched taste. The lab reeks of formaldehyde and copper, of lilies left to wilt beside the lab table—their petals browned, stems slumped like broken necks.

Now, Viktor lays on their workbench, bathed in the cold glow of alchemical lamps. Jayce had washed him himself—slowly, reverently—scrubbing the blood from his lips, the soot from his hands. But death was not kind.

Jayce spends days watching him rot.

By the first night, Viktor’s skin is still warm, his lashes casting delicate shadows as if he might wake any moment. He kisses Viktor’s knuckles, his throat, his eyelids—begging the universe for a flinch, a sigh, a miracle. Presses his ear to Viktor’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing comes. “You’d hate this,” Jayce mutters, voice raw. “The theatrics. The… the waste of time.”

Viktor at his desk, sleeves rolled up, scars silvered by lamplight—a lattice of old burns, surgical incisions, the jagged kiss of shrapnel. Jayce traces them with his thumb, teasing. “You’re a walking disaster.” Viktor doesn’t look up from his schematics. “And you’re a distraction. But here we are.”

The second night, tries shaking him awake. By the third one, rigor mortis turns Viktor’s limbs to stone. Jayce pries them open anyway, intertwining their fingers together. “You’re being sentimental,” Viktor’s ghost seems to chide. “Sentiment is inefficient.” Jayce laughs, sharp and broken. Presses his lips to Viktor’s, desperate, hoping that somehow, somehow— and vomits into the sink.

Midnight in the lab, Viktor’s mouth hot against Jayce’s collarbone, teeth nipping, breath hitching. “You’re insufferable,” Viktor murmurs, but his hands are already fumbling with Jayce’s belt. “Insufferably brilliant,” Jayce corrects, pinning him to the desk. Papers scatter. Viktor laughs—a rare, unguarded sound—before silencing him with a kiss.

By the fifth, rot arrives in blooms. A violet stain spreads beneath Viktor’s collarbone, the skin splitting like overripe fruit. His lips shrivel, browning at the edges, and Jayce catches himself leaning in—still, still—hoping to taste the iron-sharp wit on his tongue. Instead, his mouth fills with the cloying sweetness of decay. By the sixth, Jayce can’t bear it.

Viktor’s finger tapping a petri dish, alive with microbial swirls. “Decay is just another form of energy,” he says, grinning. “We could harness it. Redirect it.” Jayce leans against him, cheek to his temple. “You’re mad.” “And you’re staring at my mouth.”

By the seventh, he breaks.

Viktor’s hands rest on his chest, fingers curled inward like withered petals. His lips are cracked, his throat shadowed with the bruises of rot. He is still, so horribly still. He has never been still. Viktor, his lovely Viktor, could have seemed so to a stranger. Not to Jayce—never to Jayce. Because Jayce has been reveling in his every microexpression: the pout of his lips when he thought, the subtle lean on his cane in extortion, the hands—those hands that he would catch, mid-air, and pepper with kisses as Viktor was busy explaining his new theories. Animated. Expressive. Alive.

He reaches out, almost expecting warmth, but Viktor’s skin is cold. It should not be cold. Sure, Viktor has— had certain issues with his blood circulation, and Jayce would always curse at him when he’d press his ice-cold feet against his own warm thighs. Viktor would grin, a beautiful, mischievous sight.

He swallows back bile and presses his thumb against Viktor’s palm. He remembers this hand, remembers tracing the scars along his knuckles in the late hours of the night, murmuring half-formed apologies into the space between them.

"You work too much," Jayce whispers, pressing lazy kisses to the ridges of old burns, of past failures. "You’re going to wear yourself down to nothing."

Viktor huffs a laugh, curling his fingers around Jayce’s own, squeezing just once. "And yet, here I am.”

Here he is. But not really.

Jayce clenches his jaw and forces himself back to his feet.

The book is waiting.

He does not remember finding it, only that it was there when he needed it, slick leather beneath trembling fingers, pages thick with time. The words slither into his mind, curling around his desperation like a vice. Necromancy is not magic—it is defiance, an affront to the natural order. The price is steep.

He does not care.

This is heresy, the kind that got men burned in Piltover’s history books. But Viktor’s corpse stares at the ceiling with milky, clouded eyes, and Jayce thinks, What is heresy to a man who’s already damned?

It is a cruel thing, ancient and hungry. The words crawl beneath his skin, curling into the raw spaces between grief and madness. He should not listen. He does not care.

Sacrifice the living. Mend the dead.

The ritual calls for blood.

His own.

Jayce strips to the waist, the lab’s chill biting his skin. The dagger glins—Viktor’s dagger, the one he used to pry open Hextech casings. Its edge still bears flecks of his fingerprints, still nicked from the day Viktor sliced his thumb and swore in two languages.

Blood wells from Viktor’s thumb. Jayce grabs his hand, sucking the cut clean. “You’re ridiculous,” Viktor mutters, ears reddening. “And you’re bleeding on the blueprints.” Jayce grins. “Call it a collaboration.”

The first cut is a confession.

He drags the blade down his sternum, hissing as blood wells. ”Vertical incision… to bridge the veil,” he recites, voice steadier than his hands. The next cuts are symbols: jagged glyphs over his heart, spirals down his ribs. His blood drips onto Viktor’s body, sizzling where it strikes rot, knitting muscle where it meets bone.

The dagger bites deep. Flesh splits. Blood spills in thick, sluggish rivers down his arms, over his ribs, staining the floor beneath him in crimson offering. His hands shake, his breath comes in gasps, but he does not stop. The sigils must be carved deep, must be perfect.

The final cut is a vow.

Jayce slices his palm open, presses it to Viktor’s. Their blood mingles, black and crimson. The room thrums, pressure building until the windows shatter. Glass rains down. Viktor’s chest jerks, and Jayce stumbles forward, pressing his shaking hands to Viktor’s face. The cold is worse now. It leeches into his fingertips, seeps into his bones. His throat is raw. His skin burns.

“Come back to me,” he breathes, voice breaking.

Continue reading on AO3!

[cjrae]

Tragedy of the Jade Nightingale. Or: My thoughts on Vol. 11 of the Apothecary Diaries.

Given that this volume just came out in English a few days ago, spoilers under the cut!

I usually think of the Apothecary Diaries volumes as pairs - usually two volumes make up an arc. If so, Volume 11 will be the first half of the arc with 12, but it also functions beautifully as a tragedy in it's own right.

** I will be only discussing information appearing officially through Vol. 11. Yes, I have read the fan translations of the web novels, but given that details can change, until it appears in official English translation, I won't yet be including it here.

The Hero

Gyoku-ou. Talk about someone who thinks he's smarter than he actually is. We knew this guy was a threat all the way back in Vol. 8, with how Gyokuyou reacted to her brother's letter and his veiled insult of sending a younger version of herself to catch either her husband's attention or the Imperial Brother's. Now we get to see him in action and he's scary - right up until he's not.

This man is charismatic as anything - he understands what makes people tick on both an individual level as well as a social level. His ability to wield a mob effectively makes him extremely dangerous, but I'm oddly put in mind of Lakan's initial impression of Fengxian. "This woman is strong, but she only knows how to fight in her own, small world."

The world Gyoku-ou inhabits is a very small, petty one. You can see it in his conspiracy theory about Jinshi's birth.

Jinshi is one of two people Gyoku-ou fails to read. When he brings Lakan and Jinshi to his puppet council to gauge support for attacking Shaoh, he thinks he's got a young malcontent in his hands, someone who wants power and is prone to the flashes of temper and insult that often drive young men. Someone who is easily manipulated. Instead, Jinshi mops the floor with him in that meeting, cutting Lakan's support out from under Gyoku-ou and making it clear that his priority is peace above war.

This doesn't take away from Gyoku-ou's political genius - this meeting teaches him that Jinshi has to be maneuvered around, rather than maneuvered directly. If the Imperial Brother doesn't want to play his part, then too bad. Gyoku-ou will see to it that Jinshi is hedged in all directions except where he wants him to go - which is to war. And even then, he's got a fight on his hands as Jinshi fully takes advantage of Empress Gyokuyou's information to undercut Gyoku-ou's support within his own family.

It's a mark of Jinshi's political skill that Gyoku-ou's move in that family council is to flirt with treason. If he can't maneuver the Imperial family through Jinshi, then he shifts tactics to turn Jinshi (and the rest of the Imperial Family) into the villain of his piece - a prince born and raised into utter depravity.

Let's just sit with what Gyoku-ou suggests to the rest of his siblings (minus the Empress) in that meeting. He implies that the Emperor impregnated his own mother in order to produce an heir. A son that he loves so dearly (and unnaturally) that he would willingly look the other way while Jinshi murders his other children in order to make sure that his brother-son-lover succeeds the throne.

This is a brilliant examination of how the bare facts of the situation can be construed by people with very different motivations to fit whatever worldview is most convenient for them. I'm a fan of the palace politics in this series because they feel very real.

Gyoku-ou doesn't lie once. But boy does he create a narrative that suits his purposes and dares anyone (namely Rikuson) to tell Jinshi. He is escalating the situation and he's doing it fast, while also challenging the legitimacy of the Imperial Family. A fact which, if it does get back to Jinshi (or the Emperor), could get the entire new You Clan wiped out just as fast as the Yi Clan was. This scene functions as a microcosm of Gyoku-ou's two fundamental character flaws; his short term thinking and his utter self-absorption.

Becoming The Wind

Since Rikuson was introduced in Vol. 5, he's been a mirror for Jinshi. He's a "pretty boy," calm under pressure, fundamentally kind and decent to other people while also being extremely competent at his job. Unlike Jinshi, he's also a bit older and more mature. He also clearly admires Maomao and sees the qualities that make her exceptional, despite her various masks.

As it turns out, Rikuson mirrors Jinshi in another important sense too - he also has a secret identity. The Yi Clan were the de facto royalty of the Western Capital and Rikuson is one of the direct survivors of the clan. He was never in the line of succession given the Yi Clan's matrilineal structure. But they were quick enough to save some of the children, namely Rikuson and Empress Gyokuyou's three ladies in waiting, Haku'u, Koku'u and Seki'u.

Rikuson, who was Gyoku-ou's excuse to trick His Former Majesty into giving him the authorization to destroy the Yi Clan. Rather than truly being an bastard Imperial prince, he's a young pawn in Gyoku-ou's hands to whip up an armed mob to hunt Rikuson down - and his mother and sister give their lives to ensure his survival - not for vengeance, but so that the Yi Clan's mission of protecting the west will live on even if the named clan itself dies. So, like Jinshi, he is dedicated to the welfare of the people above all else.

The trouble with relying on an unruly mob is that it's sloppy. Gyoku-ou left multiple survivors and they have absolutely no love for him. He's left weapons at his back.

Rikuson is the other person Gyoku-ou utterly fails to read. He spends well over a year back in his homeland, working for Gyoku-ou as an aide ostensibly from the central region, patiently waiting for an opening - even as Gyoku-ou, who knows that Rikuson has to be assigned to the west with some kind of ulterior motive, is so blind that he thinks he must be a secret member of the La Clan, rather than the Yi boy he tried to kill seventeen years earlier.

Rikuson represents the culmination Gyoku-ou's short term thinking in that he doesn't bother to think about the threat of any surviving Yi clan might pose to him.

He will not insult his mother's memory, or his sister's. But if his mission of protecting the west coincides with vengeance for his family? Sure enough, Gyoku-ou's insistence on going to war (and dragging the Imperial family's legitimacy into his motivations) gives Rikuson his opening; especially because he isn't a vigilante.

He is acting under orders.

The New You

Rikuson's point about Gyoku-ou's life being a tragedy hits home when you consider Gyokuyou's thoughts of how she knows her father loves her - but would also abandon her in a heartbeat if she is no longer valuable to him. Unlike her older brother, she has a very clear-eyed view of how their father operates and focuses on making sure that her value never drops in his eyes.

Gyoku-ou's value to Gyoku'en plummeted the day he destroyed the Yi Clan - Gyoku'en's family. He was given a second chance to show that he could still perform the single function of the men of the Yi Clan - to protect the west. When he endangered it instead, Gyoku'en sent the weapon he'd spent seventeen years preparing (Rikuson) with an execution order.

By first destroying the Yi Clan and then following it up with a proposed invasion of Shaoh, Gyoku-ou proved to Gyoku'en that he was no son of his. Given how desperate he was to be his father's son, this whole book is a tragedy in the classic sense. The Jade Nightingale was so desperate to reinvent himself as a Jade Eagle that he destroyed himself in pursuit of the one thing he never lost - his father's love. But, to be his father's heir, what he needed was Gyoku'en's trust and respect, not his love.

And he killed that seventeen years ago along with the Yi Clan.

Ironically, the foreign born girl that he despised and attempted to undermine at every opportunity, emerges as their father's true heir and mother of the nation, with the rest of the surviving Yi clan as part of her loyal retinue.

In her triumph, the Yi Clan is reborn as the You Clan as Gyoku'en, a Yi man, is given a clan name on the strength of Gyokuyou's role as Empress. So much of their history has been lost, down to the matrilineal succession and family records, but their mission lives on through the Yi men who will continue to protect the west, no matter the personal cost to themselves. There is no room for self-absorption here, therefore Gyoku-ou has no place in their new clan.

Also, a parallel to pay attention to is how the destruction of the Yi Clan and the Shi Clan are mirroring each other with the children being saved. The Yi Clan is reborn with a new name, which leads one to wonder what the consequences of saving those Shi children will be long term.

A Dagger In The Dark

Gyoku-ou sucks up a lot of air in Vol. 11 because he is driving the action - Jinshi, Maomao and their party are all stuck reacting to him, except for one character; Chue.

We see Chue attach herself to Maomao starting with the ship and it's not difficult to guess that just as Lihaku is serving as a discreet bodyguard for Maomao on Jinshi's orders, Chue is also there as protection. Chue doesn't try to conceal that she is clearly trained in espionage either.

Rikuson's proposal to Maomao is not a serious bid for her hand, but nor is it a joke - it's a message to Chue that Jinshi needs to tighten security around Maomao. As he puts it, he knows the "hyper protective" elements around her will close ranks. Because he's foreseen a strategy that may not have yet occurred to Gyoku-ou (who tends not to pay attention to the bit parts of the play), but if it does would almost certainly push the country into war.

Maomao is the lever that could move both Lakan and Jinshi.

All he has to do is kill her and make it look like a foreign attack. Lakan's instinctive ability to read a situation and Jinshi's formidable investigative skills would likely be dulled in the face of their rage and grief. Especially since they are technically Gyoku-ou's guests and don't have freedom of movement to push the issue.

Rikuson seizes his opportunity before Gyoku-ou can continue to escalate, but he realizes quickly that Chue arranged the stage and was there as both spy and backup assassin. (I think it's safe to say that Gyoku-ou's conspiracy theory AND that Yi family ledger will be reported, given that we know there were ladies-in-waiting at the meeting and that's how Chue was disguised - and she didn't actually promise to dispose of it).

Gyoku-ou doesn't bother to think that while the Emperor may be far away and the Imperial Brother is a manageable threat, that the people surrounding Jinshi may not be bound by his strictures. Hence, Chue was on standby. No matter what, Gyoku-ou was never going to make it to that ritual. He was never smart enough to realize that his crossing the line would be never be forgiven.

While Jinshi would order an execution if necessary (and has in the past), he would never order an assassination. Therefore, it's evident that Chue reports to someone else. Who that someone is, we don't know, but there's only one person further up the Imperial tree than Jinshi, so it would be reasonable for Rikuson to assume that the Emperor has placed additional protection around not just Jinshi, but Maomao.

Exclusive: Baby Swap!

Jinshi's birth is not a secret to the audience and while Maomao doesn't have confirmation, she's pretty certain of her suspicion. This volume made it patently obvious that there are others out there who are perfectly capable of putting the pieces together, even if the details are twisted.

Let's return to Gyoku-ou's conspiracy theory.

He's put together all the correct pieces. The Emperor's attitude toward Jinshi makes no sense in a traditional palace setting - a much younger, handsome, charismatic and competent brother? That's a threat to the Emperor and his direct line. But Jinshi is never treated that way - instead he's indulged on many fronts.

He's allowed to duck most of his official duties as Ka Zuigetsu (except for a few he can't, where he appears masked).

He's allowed to pretend to be a eunuch for six years and run the Rear Palace.

When he finally reveals himself to the court to put down the Shi Rebellion, he's described as "hale" and "just as proficient in the military arts as the administrative." (More proof that Jinshi is NOT the best judge of his own abilities). He emerges fully formed into court politics - a perfectly trained Crown Prince - only to have a newborn given the title instead.

Gyoku-ou deliberately put the worst possible spin on these facts. I suspect the rest of the You siblings are going to keep their mouths shut about Gyoku-ou's ugly theory, but if he could think of it, if Maomao could think of it with just seeing Jinshi standing next to Lady Ah-Duo, then so can others.

Maomao can be mad about Jinshi branding himself all she wants, but it's currently looking like an absolutely BRILLIANT move on Jinshi's part. Whatever doubts Gyoku-ou managed to plant about Jinshi and the Emperor's motives with the rest of the You clan siblings, Empress Gyokuyou is not likely to entertain it.

Also, it got the Emperor to essentially "banish" Jinshi to the edges of the Empire shortly after his new Crown Prince was born, which makes it look to other members of the court like the Emperor is taking steps to rein in his younger brother and balances the factions that have to be forming back in the capital.

This is not a secret that can be kept forever. No matter how careful Ah-Duo and Anshi were, the information is starting to leak out around the edges, as we see that the Empress' ladies in waiting that were dismissed clearly had eyes and ears - and in at least one case, a loose tongue.

The next arc is being seeded and Jinshi is inching closer and closer to that throne. He ran the Rear Palace for years (essentially managing the nation in microcosm) and as of the end of Vol. 11, he's now stepping up to govern a province and gain actual ruling experience while also having suppressed a war.

I've said before that Jinshi ascending the throne is the bad ending - if there is a single person who is more trapped by the palace than the prince, it's the emperor. We'll see what happens!

[6okuto]

Hi, I really love your headcanons for Touchstarved, they’re so great!! If it hasn’t been requested yet, may I please request Leander falling in love headcanons?

LEANDER FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | thank u!!!! \o/ es leander time :-]

don't know how to describe this. for ais + vere + kuras, romantic feelings develop somewhere in the process (ais and vere generally love being little shits so they could've liked you from the start.) but for leander, it's clear he's kinda into you from the beginning. LOL

this doesn't necessarily mean the relationship will develop super fast! leander pays attention and keeps a pace you're comfortable with, though he doesn't shy away from your flirtations (might be surprised, but then he'll smile/laugh and flirt back) or physical touch if you go for it. he loves it even!

one moment is him wooing you with magic...again... another flower! multiple, even! little fireworks! stars! a trail of flickering lights where you find him waiting for you at the end! you can show you're genuinely touched or tease him about it (is a lot of your job doing little magic shows? / is a flower the best you can do?) and he says he'll do something even bigger next time

another moment might be you taking charge in some way. telling him to back down/up, defending him, asking to take the lead for one of your adventures. it isn't often that leander's offered the option to be anything but a leader, much less told not to be. he offers advice but generally follows your lead, and is it weird for him to say that it was really attractive when you told that guy to pay attention to you, not him?

it all just seems too good to be true, he's too good to be true. so you're wary, even if you do really really want to get close or kiss him etc etc. and leander can tell, of course, so he'll just keep trying to prove himself to you

there has to be a moment where you find out how and why he does things for free—why he's the renowned leader of the Bloodhounds. that's not for me to figure out though! i am not a theorist [heart emoji]

But :3 I will offer :3 leander protecting his people above ground isn't a rare sight. leander getting super ticked off or cold is. he's all but mastered his charm and negotiations, until you're involved, and the bloodhound leader might resemble his rumors more in that moment :3c

he doesn't really run from his feelings? he knows he likes you, and that you like him too, so he doesn't see a reason to beat around the bush there. the problems lie with his gang business and possible necromancy if the theories are true, so we'll have to see about. That because there could definitely be some kind of fight or confrontation between you two depending on what he's doing

but anyway. when the time finally comes, he tells you being with him will put a target on your back, but he promises to protect you, even more so than he has been.

plus! he hasn't taken you on a proper date yet! you didn't think hanging out at the bar or looking for books or sneaking into buildings was the best he could do, did you?

! having a hard time choosing how everyone finds out he has a partner now. he could make an announcement at the wet wick if you're comfortable with it, making your spot in the gang official. it could be that people were already gossiping/betting on when it happens, and when he kisses your temple at the bar someone sees and cheers. it's really up to you! i think he's happy with whatever you'd like :3

so! leander's into you. when does he realize he's In Love with you

because i don't think he really had a Serious Relationship in his plans LOL. and that's nothing against you!! he regrets nothing!! it's just... there's things to figure out, priorities to be made, long term plans that have to be accounted for

i'm kind of imagining like. an oh shit moment. he may not say that but the emotional impact is that level

yes he was always interested in you, but it's obviously getting more serious, because he's thinking of the mundane? if that makes sense. like it isn't just that he likes holding your hand or kissing you, it's that he imagines it when he's tired and uses the thought of seeing you again as comfort. it isn't just that he'd love to wow you and take you on a date, it's that he's wondering if you'd mind going on some errands with him. he's fitting you into every area of his life in his head rather than trying to keep you separate

and at some point it just clicks in leander's head.

he can be the one to say it first! might even be the same day he realizes. you're taking a nap and he says "i love you," just to try it out. it feels a little weird but not unwelcome, and now he has to figure out when to say it while you're conscious LOL

if you say it he [ ! ] [ :) ]. maybe sighs and makes a joke about you beating him to it, but says it back sincerely :3

[cryingpariah]

I would like to introduce to you a head canon or theory (really it’s a crackpot idea)

What if Koby is Rock’s Grandson?

That sounds incredibly stupid but hear me out. Koby has been rapidly growing in power since he started training with Garp, of course anyone who trains under Garp is going to be strong but Koby is different.

Koby is advancing in power fairly quickly, he knows some of the 6 powers, has great observation Haki, and he’s got enough Armament Haki control to pull of one of these

Koby is special, both for the fact that he trains harder than others and also seems to gain power better than others. Helmeppo had the same training from Garp (though Bogard probably taught him more of the sword skills) and he can pull off a small version of this move.

Helmeppo is strong yes and I’d say he’s most above most other marines, but he’s not near Koby’s level. Sure we can say this is because of Koby’s extra training and determination (and I fully support that too) but there’s something about Koby that feels important.

Now let’s take a look at Rocks

Rocks and Koby share a pretty similar facial shape don’t you think? Flat chin, and a similar nose, even their hair right now looks kinda similar.

If you think it’s just cause of the intense look on Koby’s face here’s another picture for comparison

Heck we could even call Koby the Rocks. D Xebec of the marines cause of how much he’s definitely going to stir things up for the organization. He (along with many others) will tear down the organization and remake it in a bold and powerful move. Just like how Rocks shook the world when he was alive.

Narratively this would also be an amazing parallel too, The Grandson of Rocks being taught by one of his greatest foes and Luffy becoming the Rocks (only in influence) of the new era.

As for Koby’s parents, well One Piece is full of orphans. Odds are he never met them or he was very young when he lost them.

(Thoughts? I like this Little Theory of mine but I have nothing to base it on)

Rocks D Koby has got quite the ring to it can’t lie. Plus Koby being a member of D clan would make sense, they are known for making history and shaking things up…

Also the idea of Koby and Luffy both embodying different aspects of the major players of the previous is just chefs kiss I love it very much!

I’m pretty sure it was recently revealed that Koby, just like a bunch of powerhouses in the world of One Piece, comes from the East Blue. The only downside to this theory is this could potentially mean Koby is related to Blackbeard which…ew. If we go by the Rocks D Crocodile theory and add the Crocodad on top of that would make Luffy and Koby half siblings !! (RIP to LuKoby nation if it’s real 🫡🫡) (also omg siblings on opposites sides of the war trope 😭😭😭)

In terms of actual canon potential this is (objectively) on the lower side of the spectrum but if we follow the rule of cool and kinda silly that One Piece often does…I say this could very well happen!

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

In light of Charlie and Morfydd’s recent interviews, I start to get the feeling “Rings of Power” might actually go the “Reylo route” for Season 3, as in Kylo Ren/Ben and Sauron/Mairon, if “blood binding theory” proves correct.

Season 2 was about revealing Galadriel’s true feelings for Halbrand/Sauron to the audience.

Miv confirmed this is how Galadriel sees Halbrand: we, the audience, saw “Scruffy Dirty Hot Halbrand”, Galadriel saw “Prince Charming Botticelli Halbrand”. It doesn’t get more romantic-coded than this.

Antis can hate it all they want, can chose to ignore diretor and executive producer Charlotte Brändström confirmation that Galadriel is very much in love with Halbrand, how Amazon marketed Halbrand as “Galadriel’s love interest” for Emmy Magazine, or how Miv speak about Galadriel and Halbrand relationship in such romantic terms. Being in denial doesn’t erase any of this.

Maybe Season 3 will be about revealing Sauron’s feelings for Galadriel?

Anyway, back to the “Reylo route”: a running theme in these interviews is the difference between Halbrand’s warmth, and Annatar coldness and how Galadriel was repulsed by it.

In Season 2, Galadriel spent the entire season believing she was deceived by Sauron, and their connection in Season 1 was a lie and a deception from his part. This was confirmed in 2x08:

Only it wasn’t, it was real from his part too.

Galadriel has yet to deal with the fact that Halbrand was, in fact, “repentant Mairon”, aka Mairon seeking redemption from his past crimes under Morgoth, like Tolkien talks about in “The Silmarillion” and on his letters, in “Rings of Power” adapted in a different way.

This might happen in Season 3. Especially when we take into consideration the Gollum inspiration in Sauron’s character in the show, and the “I have many names” plot. Maybe, like Gollum, Sauron also forgot his real name? This plot coming into play/resolution with Galadriel would also make sense with the Frodo parallel the showrunners confirmed they are doing in “Rings of Power” with these two characters.

Sauron‘s character breaking point will be Season 3, too: this is when he’ll abandoned his good intentions in rebuilding and healing Middle-earth and start to embrace his plot as “Morgoth representative” in Númenor. The show needs to give him a plot to turn away from the light for good and end his “repentance era”. Fellow fans have said they would like this to be connected with Galadriel, and I think it will.

I have to say: I’m not a fan of any of this, by the way. I have nothing against Reylo as a ship, but I think Sauron x Galadriel had potential to go a different way. And I might be wrong here, but I get the feeling this is the route “Rings of Power” will take with these two characters.

The impression I have is that the difference between Halbrand/Mairon and Annatar/Sauron might continue in the show, when Galadriel is concerned. “Haladriel” and not “Saurondriel”.

After all, it’s the safest way to deal with Sauron and Galadriel’s connection and the romantic subtext: it’s Mairon the Admirable (“Halbrand”) she wants/fell in love with, not Sauron the Abhorred. By going with this route, the show wouldn’t “taint” Galadriel goodness nor her heroine journey by having her being in love with the villain and the future second incarnation of evil. This is pretty much the “Reylo route”: Rey wanted Ben, not Kylo Ren = Galadriel wants Mairon, not Sauron.

But unlike Kylo Ren, Sauron is not in a redemption journey, and so Mairon/Halbrand will not return, nor Galadriel will accept “Sauron”. Which might be the breaking point he needs to step away from the light for good. And, again, this would make sense with the Morgoth/Silmaril parallel, too: “They say that Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that after he'd stolen them, for weeks, he could do nothing but stare into their depths. It was only after one of his tears fell upon the jewels and he was faced with the evil of his own reflection that the reverie was finally broken. From that moment, he... he looked upon their light no more.” (Celebrimbor to Elrond, 1x02).

This would mean Season 3 would be peak Haladriel but everything would fall apart after that. Galadriel realizes Halbrand was repentant Mairon, might try to bring him back, and will fail. Mairon embraces his Sauron persona. Depending how this goes, Galadriel might truly close the door in Season 3 or early Season 4.

One question is: does Amazon have the rights to “Mairon”? Unclear, because this is from one of Tolkien’s notes in a linguistic journal from the 1950s (Parma Eldalamberon XVII). But the “I have many names” Gollum inspired plot might indicate the show will eventually use it. Or they’ll stick with Halbrand and be done with it.

As for Teleporno, I still maintain he won’t return in Season 3. The last time I said this there was a witch hunt on my blog, but I really don’t care. Your outrage changes nothing. He wasn’t even mentioned in Season 2. His return either has to be prepared by the narrative or they’ll use the time jump between Season 4 and Season 5 (Sauron needs time to rebuild his physical form after the Fall of Númenor), with him already being there at the start of the season.

Amazon will want to “milk” Haladriel as long as they can; this is a business, after all. Season 4 will be the last time we’ll see Charlie’s face in the show, too. In Season 5, Sauron no longer will have a physical form, so they’ll either CGI Charlie and/or he’ll be in armour at all time.

[merbear25]

Easing his worries (Sanji x reader)

With such talk of the disowned child of the Vinsmoke family being spread, saying you’re anything less than intrigued would be a lie. He's finding it hard to come to terms with being forced into marriage. His heart is breaking at the thought of being betrothed to someone he does not know. You, however, help ease his heartache, even if it is for a moment.

A/n: I know Sanji would stay true to whomever he was with (arranged marriage or not), so this is just for fun. Also @escenariosinfumables I know I mentioned this idea to you weeks ago, but I remember you wanted to be tagged!

CW: NSFW! MDNI! gn!reader, spoilers for Whole Cake, angst, ooc, oral sex (male receiving)

With so much of your life having been devoted to serving the Vinsmokes, you’d unfortunately grown accustomed to their ruthlessness. No matter how devoted you were or how careful, there were times that you caught strays of their misplaced anger. There were times you sought out ways to distract yourself from reality, although such moments were scarcely found.

When talk of the black sheep of the family being dragged here spread among the help, your curiosity got the better of you. The other servants spoke in hushed voices behind closed doors about how he escaped his wretched family. Such theories of who he had become only flamed your own interest in him, leading you to be rather careless once Sanji came through those towering doors.

The wanted poster didn’t do him the slightest bit of justice; this man was far more attractive. Observing him from the sidelines, the resentment in the room was suffocating. With tensions running high, you were unable to look away. Rubbernecking at the eventual collision in personalities made you sloppy, spilling tea on the satin table cloth.

Being a temporary distraction from their berating, your lax behavior made you easy pickings. A cup was slingshot across the room, giving you no time to react and leaving you open to the full force of fine china shattering against your delicate face. Your breath was caught in your throat, as the cup stopped inches from your nose.

Despite your gratitude towards Sanji, the shock of events left you speechless. He pulled their attention back onto himself but not without suffering the consequences. Slinking back from the brutality that had been targeted towards you mere moments ago, an immense weight of guilt placed itself on your shoulders.

Knowing you were helpless to do anything, you could only watch this kind-hearted man take the full force of his family's malice. When they had their fill, they left him battered on the floor. As soon as they left, you went to him. Helping him stand up, he clenched at his torso which had been the main focal point of assault. Offering your aid to soothe his wounds, you led him to a room a few halls down in an attempt to find a shred of solitude.

With your tender care, he felt a rush of emotions flooding his torn soul and couldn’t help but let some of his heartache trickle out. The kindness and sympathy you held in your gaze felt like a warm embrace; he was in need of such compassion more than anything right now.

Voicing his fears that his future was being stripped away, you lent an understanding ear, allowing him to say as much as he needed in hopes of alleviating some of his stress.

“I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but you deserve better—a better family and a better future.” Each word held affection, and as his hand gently found its way on top of yours, he graced you with a thankful smile.

Moments such as these were a rarity—a gem that hid amongst this lackluster world. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had towards him nor the pull of his gentlemanly charm. Lowering your gaze, you could feel a heat on your cheeks intensifying.

“We both deserve better,” his words were soft as he carefully tilted your head back towards him. His thumb rubbed your cheek, coercing you to lean into his display of affection.

Hesitating at first, as if to allow you ample time to deny him, he stole a kiss from you. The softness of his lips meeting yours brought on new waves of desire that you’d been deprived of. With you having been kneeling down to tend to his injuries, your hands were allowed access to his toned thighs.

As if on instinct, your hands caressed him, trailing up his thighs and lightly pressing your fingers into them while your tongues entwined. The heat you shared was burning with intensity, having you wanting more.

Running your fingers over his arousal, a sharp inhale sounded from him. When you unzipped his pants, seeing him at his full length further fanned the lust building within you. Peering up at him with your loving eyes, the reddened cheeks and biting of his lower lip only whetted your appetite.

“Such a kind soul should be treated with the utmost affection,” your words passed your lips, feeling hot on his exposed attraction and leaving him spellbound.

Swirling your tongue around his tip, you then tilted your head to coat the underside with your slick tongue, being sure to pucker your lips around his pulsating flesh.

He clung to the sides of the chair in a feeble attempt at restraining himself, but the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him was making it impossible. While you filled your mouth with as much of him as you could, his hand found its way to the back of your head, feverishly gripping your hair. 

With the euphoric finish just within reach, he gently pushed your head down and thrusted into temptation. The slight force caused you to gag and grip his thighs more tightly, yet this only heightened his desperation for release.

His moans sounded throughout the room while he reached the peak of desire, pumping his pent up emotions into your intoxicating mouth. Coming down from his high, he wiped a strand of hair from your forehead. Seeing how breathtaking you were in the afterglow of this sinful deed made you all too endearing, enticing him to lean down and kiss your alluring lips. 

With a few moments to regain your composure, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be successful at leading the life he was meant for. If he was, you hoped you’d have the chance to see him again. Leaving the room together, you knew it’d be for the best not to mention this to anyone. It’d be kept between the two of you and remain a secret within those four walls.

[gogandmagog]

Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery feat: Death of a Butterfly by Evelyn De Morgan

Anne of the Island, Chapter Fourteen!

Fearfully behind again, and shouldn’t jump ahead this way, but the significance of this chapter makes me froth at the mouth, so here I am, cheating! 

Some threads (the kind you can pull at an unravel a whole sweater) that I find particularly interesting in “the Summons.”  

For starters, the language of “poor butterfly Ruby,” because what are butterflies if not gorgeous creatures of grace with tragically short lifespans? It makes my heart squeeze itself. I’m reminded here of that passage in Anne of Ingleside where Walter spills a packet of poppy seeds, and Anne says (of the poppies), “They have only a day to live, but how imperially, how gorgeous they live it!”

Meanwhile, Ruby’s death scenes are a little bit of the ole copy/paste trick, wherein Maud liked to utilise/cannibalise her own short stories or lesser-known works to repurpose them into newer ones, and are therefore not especially specific or meant for Ruby in their origin. Some of Ruby’s coffin bits, and descriptions of her deathly handsomeness are ‘borrowed’ from a short in Further Chronicles of Avonlea (“There was a certain insolent quality in her beauty, as if it flaunted itself somewhat too defiantly in the beholder's eye.” - The Son of His Mother) for sure, but other larger parts come from somewhere else too iirc, only I can’t immediately remember from where... maybe the same collection of shorts, but I’ll try to hunt this up asap.

Ruby’s fear of death makes me wince, it’s so depressing, and not a little haunting... and we can even track it backward to Anne of Green Gables, specifically in the Unfortunate Lily Maid, and find clues of its existing when Ruby was much younger. In that scene/chapter where the girls are setting up to send ‘Elaine’ down to ‘Camelot’, Ruby refuses to act the part of Elaine, saying, “But to lie down and pretend I was dead—I just couldn’t. I’d die really of fright.” 🥹 When Anne ‘yielding reluctantly’ takes the role, Ruby still exhibits death anxiety, even just in pretense, and she says, “Oh, she does look really dead. […] It makes me feel frightened, girls.” It’s unlikely that Maud knew then what Ruby’s fate would be… right? 👀

Something to crunch on, semi-related, in terms of “why”... is that there’s a scholarly faction that believes that Maud liked to use supporting character death as a precursory rite-of-passage of sorts, to proper adulthood and in turn, all the things that come with adult relationships (basically, as they imply, sexuality). It’s a thing for Anne, that Matthew’s passing gives way to the first step of allowing Gilbert into her life (without Matthew going, there would have been no need for Gilbert to give up the school for Anne, or to receive the forgiveness that followed), and similarly in Emily of New Moon, after Emily “looked into death and read the riddle of a buried thing” (that Ilse’s mother had not in fact run off with a sneaky link but had fell down a well and died), Dean concludes that Emily has “left the childhood of her soul behind,” and the narrative firmly reiterates that, “one cannot go down to the depths of hidden things and escape the penalty.” This is an interesting theory (picture me stroking my imaginary beard) to tie to Ruby (who stirs Anne’s deeps into further seeking a meaningful life), the impact of her early death acting as a middle reinforcer of this transition for Anne. Later, of course, Gilbert’s brush with death serves as the final push to Anne’s Ultimate Growing Up, and the understanding of her own mortality when she realises Gilbert is vital to her very existence: “She knew that she could no more cast him out of her life without agony than she could have cut off her right hand and cast it from her … If Gilbert went away from her, without one word or sign or message, she could not live.”

Where previously “Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply” is demonstrative of Maud’s strong ability to maintain core characterisation, in his relationship (or lack of understanding) to Walter, I have always felt that Anne’s disconnect from Ruby’s way to life, in this chapter, is also upheld in her later relationship with Rilla, whose Ruby-and-Phil-ish brand of frivolity and unserious nature sometimes dismays Anne (the same way Walter and Gilbert have a bit of a gap). Obviously it’s not a very admirable attitude in Anne, and she can and does come across to some reader as judgmental and haughty, but when Anne’s whole worth prior to and even well into her Green Gables adoption was based on her performance value and ability to ‘earn her keep’, imo it becomes a less-surprising reason (though notably not an excuse) for this ingrained viewpoint.

[calitsnow]

Let's talk about why Hong Lu’s left eye (his jade) is getting dimmer and what are the powers and characteristics of Jia Baoyu's jade in Dream of the Red Chamber.

Today, I would like to discuss Dante’s mysterious phrase about Hong Lu, taking the opportunity to explore the jade of Jia Baoyu in more detail, especially its powers and the influence it exerts over Jia Baoyu. Here is the structure of the discussion:

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

Brief conclusion

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

In Canto VII, a phrase from Dante naturally captured the attention of all Hong Lu theorists. Dante observes the following thing about Hong Lu’s eye:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

But what does this mean? To answer that, we must first determine what this light signifies before interpreting its disappearance. For that, we need to consider the dialogue preceding Dante’s remark—the words of Hong Lu himself when he speaks about the sparkling in Don Quixote’s eyes:

"Isn't Don Quixote the most lucid one out of all of us?" "Her eyes, Dante. Always twinkling like two bright stars. They're so fascinating."

To Hong Lu, the glow in the eyes seems to be linked to clarity of mind and awareness. To him, Don Quixote is the most lucid of all because her eyes twinkle like two bright stars. Yet we know this is inaccurate, as Don Quixote is immersed in the illusion she created by erasing her memory at this point. So, it’s reasonable to suspect that Hong Lu's interpretation might be flawed.

This is also consistent with what we know about Hong Lu. Despite his frequent insightful observations and quick understanding of reality, his judgment can sometimes be clouded by his upbringing. After all, one of the first things we learn about him is that his view of the world and his interpretations can be distorted by his sheltered life.

Are we, therefore, dealing with a case where Hong Lu’s upbringing prevents him from perceiving the truth?

Don Quixote’s reality is an illusion, much like Hong Lu’s appears to be. But because he sees his form of reality reflected in Don Quixote’s, he can only conclude that Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes are an expression of clarity when it might actually be the opposite. This could foreshadow Hong Lu’s arc of breaking away from his past, family, and conditioning, realizing that what he associates with reality might be a lie, simply because he didn’t know any better.

After all, Dulcinea connects the term "naive" with Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes, (and "naive" is the adjective used for Hong Lu):

"I almost prefer that naive look from earlier. I still hated your eyes, twinkling or not, but…"

To clarify what “naive” implies, I like relying on The Walking Dead 4’s definition: Naive means you think a certain way because you don’t know the way it really is.

I find this perfectly matches how naivety is understood in the world of Limbus Company, even if we cannot be certain of that. But if we accept that this definition applies to “naive” in Project moon’s world, then being naive implies both innocence—almost childlike—and living in a lie or denial of reality.

Additionally, the emphasis on the sparkles might support the theory of the moonstone, or that Hong Lu is connected to the abnormality Yang, as it involves disregarding reality (to avoid mental breakdown). But we are not here to talk about that.

Thus, if Hong Lu is mistaken, and the twinkling represents disillusionment and denial of reality, then the more Hong Lu's eye sparkles, the more he’s immersed in illusion, a false sense of truth.

So, the first reason Hong Lu’s eye is dimming could be that he’s beginning to realize his reality wasn’t true, symbolizing the start of his awakening. After all, even Vergilius reacted with « … » to Hong Lu’s remark so it could mean that he knows that Hong Lu is in the wrong.

So, if the glow represents the jade influences on Hong Lu’s mental state and perception of reality, then the dimming of his jade’s light might signify that he’s starting to break free from this mental crutch. However this is not what I believe in…

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

What bothers me is that Dante describes the dimming of Hong Lu’s eye light in a rather pessimistic, almost fatalistic way, as though Hong Lu is fading along with his jade's light, loosing himself:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

So, if this dimming light is a symbol of breaking free from an illusion why does Dante describe this so negatively with an emphasis on the idea of loosing Hong Lu? Maybe because, it is indeed a bad omen.

According to what Dulcinea says, Don Quixote's eyes were empty of light before when she was Sancho, this absence of twinkling at the time seems to be linked to the fact that Don Quixote/Sancho does not really believe in life and has already suffered too much from the latter. Dad Quixote then offers her a new life and hopes to bring those stars into her eyes by giving her a new family and then inviting her to participate in her adventures with him.

If we follow this analysis, then the light in Hong Lu’s eye equals his will to live and optimism about the future. So if this light is fading, does that mean Hong Lu is beginning to lose the will to live?

Well, yes, I think so... but in a very specific way.

Hear me out, Hong Lu’s eye is dimming because he’s aware his journey is nearing its end, that 7 of the 12 sinners have already regained their golden boughs, and that he may be the next:

Hong Lu’s day is ending, and it is reflected in his eye. I would even go so far as to say Hong Lu, in some way (without being aware of it), equates his return home with the end of his life (this life of new experiences and in the City, and this life with freedom).

So, this take is much more of a speculation than the last one, but if we stick with the idea that twinkling = will to live (forward) then Hong Lu started his journey in a new world with a bright eye with expectations and a desire to live new experiences, but he knows that one day he will have to return home, he knows that his journey will end one day and therefore it is normal that the closer Hong Lu gets to his golden bough moment the more the light of his eye fades, since this will be the end of his "new experiences".

Which could also echo Hong Lu's suicidal tendencies.

But then, why does Hong Lu’s eye produce sparks during Bloodfiend Hunter, Liu Story, and Yurodivy Story?

And it is now, that I would like to propose something. What if we separated the glow of Hong Lu’s eye and the sparks it produces: What if these two manifestations relate to different things? If Hong Lu’s glow reflects his mental state, then perhaps the sparks represent an effect of his jade’s power.

This leads me to discuss Jia Baoyu’s jade, both to support this analysis and to share information about the stone and its powers for those who might not have time to read the novel.

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

In Chapter 8, Jia Baoyu’s jade is described as follows:

The size of a sparrow egg (about 22.5 mm)

Shining like a bright coppery cloud

Smooth and lustrous like marbled cream.

On the jade’s face is inscribed:

"Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception (also called Precious Jade of Spiritual Understanding). If thou wilt lose me not and never forget me, Eternal life and constant luck will be with thee!"

This means the stone is a talisman of protection and happiness. If Baoyu (or whoever holds it) keeps it close and never forgets it, they will be blessed with a long, prosperous life.

The reverse side reads:

"To exorcize evil spirits and the accessory visitations; to cure predestined sickness; to prognosticate weal and woe."

This inscription highlights the jade’s protective power: it can ward off evil, cure illness, and predict fortune or disaster. It is both a magical and prophetic object.

This ability is confirmed again in chapter 25 when a Taoist priest says:

“In your family, you have readily at hand a precious thing, the like of which is rare to find in the world. It possesses the virtue of alleviating the ailment, so why need you inquire about remedies?”

It is then revealed that it appears that the jade has lost some of its powers due to the dissipated life Baoyu has led; it has been polluted by music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other worldly distractions.

The monk then fix the jade and recites a poem reflecting the spiritual journey of the jade, as well as Baoyu's. In it, we are told:

The jade was once bound neither by heaven nor earth, existing in a state of spiritual purity undisturbed by human emotions (joy or sorrow).

However, upon entering the human world, it was exposed to disturbances. The jade is now tarnished by material elements ("the traces of powder and rouge stains"), symbolizing the carnal pleasures and temptations to which Baoyu has succumbed.

Finally, the monk predicts that, although the jade is currently trapped ("caged like a duck"), it will awaken from its "slumber," and once it fulfills its destiny, it will be freed.

[Little paranthesis]

I find the sentence used by the mond really interesting : "House bars both day and night encage thee like a duck" because it is really fitting for (yes Jia Baoyu but also) Hong's Lu's situation, especially with the use of the word "house".

[End of the little paranthesis]

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

The jade and Baoyu are interconnected and can be seen as one and the same, with each influencing the other. For instance, Baoyu's mood and emotions affect the appearance of the jade (its brightness), and the presence of the jade impacts Jia Baoyu's mental state (its absence renders him completely witless/foolish).

At one point in the novel, Jia Baoyu's jade shines particularly brightly when he believes he will marry Lin Daiyu (when he will actually marry Xue Baochai). This strong light seems to be triggered by Jia Baoyu aligning with his spiritual destiny.

All of this to say that even in the novel the glow of Jia Baoyu’s jade can mean several things at the time.

Brief conclusion

Returning to Hong Lu, I wonder if Project Moon has separated the manifestation of the jade's powers from the expression of its alignment with Hong Lu’s mental state: therefore, when there are small sparks, it indicates that his jade’s powers are manifesting, while the varying intensity of light would reflect a part of his mental state.

It would suggest that Hong Lu, as an individual, is gradually disappearing, maybe renouncing to his will, becoming a puppet entirely under his family's control. Indeed, when Jia Baoyu loses his jade and becomes completely foolish, his behavior shows that he is controllable and malleable; he is so witless that he cannot act independently and only repeats what he is told.

However, I can’t complete this analysis without mentioning that Jia Baoyu’s jade also loses its shine due to worldly influences, like music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other earthly distractions. So, does the city’s dark and horrific environment tarnish Hong Lu's jade?

Well, the issue is that, although the city is an apocalyptic world grounded in reality, it can’t truly be described as an environment where Hong Lu experiences lust or wealth, the false pleasures of life; which are what tarnish the jade in DOTRC.

On the contrary, he lives more of a life that Jia Baoyu begins to envy at one point in the novel because it is a life free from the obligations and facades imposed on him by his family. Therefore, what he is currently experiencing should not affect the brightness of his eye.

So, after all this blabla, I think that Hong Lu’s eye is gradually getting dimmer as the end of Hong Lu's journey approaches, which signifies the end of his new experiences and his return to a life of wealth but also to a life with his family and to how things used to be.

We could see this light fading away as an hourglass where the sand is slowly falling down but little by little there will be no more remaining sand at the top.

I fear that when this happens, by going back home, Hong Lu will lose all individuality and will, becoming docile and obedient as he seems to have always been at home. And he is accepting this and it is because he is accepting this that his eye is getting dimmer, it is reflecting Hong Lu’s decline.

I think that during Hong Lu’s Canto, one of the biggest challenges will not only be to retrieve the golden bough but also to convince Hong Lu to leave with us. It’s almost certain that when we reach his home, Hong Lu won’t be able to leave with us because, his family won’t allow it, and above all, he won’t want to either because he’ll convince himself that he can't and that his little trip is over.

I’d like to finish by saying that Hong Lu’s Rose Hunter EGO Corrosion could really be linked to this because we can see that Hong Lu in his corrosion has a hangman’s like rope around his neck, formed by his horse’s reins.

Even if I want to analyse Hong Lu’s EGOs in another post I will just say that for me it is the symbol that Hong Lu is dependent of his (determined) fate and the will of the narrative (his family) even if it has to equal to his death (literally or figuratively or mentally we don’t know). I think it also means that even if Hong Lu believe being in control of his actions and decisions, in reality he is just following the lead of « his horse », the one conducting him, deciding where he is going — and so I think following his family’s wishes.

Voilà, thank you for reading!