#the seer of heart speaks!

[iassignpeoplehomestucktrolls]

Sorry for summoning you but I'm making a list of specific mutuals nicknames

@illusionsignmisdirection -serket mootie

@cringetuna -mituna moot

@serfuzzypushover -horsie mootie

@betatrolls -erimeow mootie

@mischiefburns -baphomoot

@lovfurboy -@/non (left over from anon days, thinking of making a new one)

@octovirus -the seer of heart speaks!

To be continued

[writerfae]

Ranva remembered dreaming of the girl with the crown of thorns when she was little.

It had always frightened her, the way the girl would scream and cry and pin her to the ground, raising the dagger high to sink it right into Ranva’s heart.

She used to wake up in tears, running to find shelter in the bed of her parents. Her mother used to run her hand through her dark locks and sooth her back to sleep.

She remembered asking her mother who the girl was, but she didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know, dear. But she cannot harm you, so don’t be afraid. The nightmare will pass eventually, just you wait.”

And she was right, it did.

Ranva almost forgot about it, until one day Henry crawled into her bed, frightened by a nightmare about a girl with a crown of thorns.

She had soothed him back to sleep like her mother once did for her, telling him the same calming words.

It took some nights, but eventually the nightmare passed for Henry, too. Still, this time the girl with the crown of thorns didn’t leave her mind that easily.

She kept wondering who she was and why she kept haunting the dreams of her family.

Maybe that was why one day, when she sat in her chair with Aiden sleeping close to her heart and exhaustion from worrying about her baby made her fall asleep as well, she dreamed of the girl again.

This time, the dream was different from what she remembered and what her eldest son had told her.

She wasn’t the one standing face to face with the girl, she was watching from the distance as the girl fought with someone else.

It was a young man and he seemed awfully familiar, though she couldn’t quite explain how or why.

Knowing how that dream would end, Ranva ran towards them to try and stop the girl from harming him.

As she got closer she got a better look on the boy that the girl was fighting with and it almost made her stop dead in her tracks.

He looked almost like Milan. Almost. But something about him was different.

Ranva could tell that it wasn’t her husband who was currently fighting for his life there, yet the boy felt strangely familiar and she felt the desperate need to help, to save him.

The girl now had him pinned down to the floor and a panicked scream escaped Ranva’s throat as she saw her raise the dagger high up into the air.

Its blade flashed in the light and much to her surprise the dagger, too, was familiar to her.

Pushing the realization aside she lunged forward to throw herself between the two.

Why she did it, she couldn’t tell, all she felt was the urge to save the boy.

But it was in vain, for she slid right through the two as if they were made out of mist.

Staving off a hard fall, Ranva rolled to the side. She tried standing up again, but somehow she couldn’t move.

Around her, time seemed to have slowed down.

Not too far away, the boy turned his head to face Ranva and their eyes met. He smiled slightly, mouthing something she couldn’t understand.

His outstretched hand twitched like he tried reaching for her and Ranva’s eyes filled with tears as she watched helplessly how the dagger sank down into his chest and the boy went still within seconds.

His eyes were still staring at Ranva, unblinking, and she had to look away.

Her eyes wandered to the dagger and the pair of hands still clasped around its beautifully adorned handle and even higher up to the face of the girl who had just committed the horrible crime in front of her.

A cold fist closed itself around Ranva’s heart. Because the person that held the bloodied knife wasn’t the girl with the crown of thorns anymore.

It was Ranva’s mother.

Ranva awoke with a gasp, her cheeks wet with tears.

Aiden was awake, too, crying and wiggling around as if he just had a bad dream himself.

Quickly brushing away her tears she started to sooth the baby, trying to calm both of them down. She held her little son close, pressing a kiss to his head.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Nothing to worry about.

Later, when her husband and sons were already asleep, Ranva sat down in front of their bed and pulled out a little chest from under it.

Careful not to wake Milan or Aiden, she opened the pretty lid, revealing a bunch of letters and items from a life she had long left behind.

Reaching into the chest, her fingers felt for something hidden away at the very bottom of it.

Something that hadn’t left her mind all day.

She finally found what she was looking for, pulling out an object wrapped in a dark red cloth.

Taking a deep breath, she unwrapped it, revealing an adorned bronze dagger.

It was the exact same dagger from her dream. Runa’s dagger.

Ranva gasped.

Maybe this wasn’t just a dream after all.

Maybe it was a warning.

*

Make it known to the world, I finally got my lazy ass up to write something

story masterpost

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @charleeyy @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @gr3y-heron @justafrogandherumbrella @jessica-writes22 @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @marrowwife @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @saltysupercomputer @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @thegirlwithnonickname @thewalkingnerd @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

[redux-iterum]

when yellowfang says the sign wasn’t for her, does that mean other cats can receive signs from starclan as well? i was under the impression that only seers could interpret/get signs :o

Other cats can get signs meant for them, but it's usually up to the seer to find it, since a normal warrior isn't going to be looking around for them or even know what to look for in the first place. In this particular case, that sign was for Yellowfang to find and Fireheart to interpret, since he's the only one of them that knows about...the situation.

[blurrymango]

Kekana Hildra.

Virlo.

Seer of Heart.

Land of Pixels and Bits.

-Views the world in 8-bit graphics.

-His inner demons are clowns.

-But down worry he's winning the battle.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

To Be Known | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Warnings: Drunk ppl, drunk fem reader, allusions to smut, std mentions, bloodwork (doctors), guy being an ahole + taking advantage of drunk reader, scars, angst to comfort

A/N: this request was so good (ty to anon!!), I feel like az always pairs really good with angst to comfort, anyways hope you enjoy<3 (also sorry for lack of posts recently I just had a math+science test back to back and have spent the past few days studying😭)

Requests are open!

Unlike the rest of your friend group, you weren’t special.

You weren’t a High Lord, Spymaster, General, High Lady, Seer, or any special title. You weren’t funny like Mor, witty like Amren, or even talented in much like all of your friends were.

But then again, like your mother had said, opposites always attract.

Maybe that was why had always had a small crush on the Spymaster who was withdrawn and secretive, the opposite of your friendly personality. You could befriend just about anyone, knowing their name, age, and at least a few background details on them in a few minutes, while Azriel was the exact opposite, getting his information on people through other ways.

With his job and his centuries of experience for two different High Lords, it was a wonder he didn’t already know about your crush on him. Maybe it was because, like everyone else, he was focused on the central characters in your friend group.

The three sisters and brothers. It was hard to overlook them, with all their achievements and accomplishments, not to mention the things they’d overcome and their pasts.

Tonight you were all out at Rita’s, Cassian telling awful jokes to Nesta as she rolled her eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder, Rhys and Feyre having a drinking competition, Azriel brooding somewhere in the corner, alone because of Elain visiting Autumn Court with Mor for “political purposes” even though everyone knew she wanted to see Lucien.

You were taking a sip of your drink, idly standing at the bar, elbows propped on the table as your eyes raked through the crowd, searching for someone who could offer a decent hookup. Drunk Fae stumbled about, laughing loudly with genuine joy that made your lips twitch up a bit, the music playing in the background also helping your mood as a cool breeze blew through the open area.

“Looking for someone?”

You choked on your drink, alcohol coming back up to sting your throat a second time before you swallowed it all backdown, one hand over your heart as you sighed in relief, looking at Azriel who’d somehow approached without you knowing.

“Mother above, Az, you scared the shit outta me.”

You replied, taking a few more breaths to calm down, turning to face him, back now against the bar table as the shadowsinger looked down at you, hair falling into his eyes in a boyish way that made you giggle as you tried to brush some behind his hair.

“Someone needs a haircut,”

You teased, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

“I’ll make sure not to go to Mor this time.”

He said, grimacing for a moment at the memory of the awful haircut Mor had given him, insisting he needed it, only to butcher his beautiful dark locks. You could still remember how distraught he’d been after, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

“I could do it, my mom used to cut hair, taught me a thing or two,”

You offered with a little shrug, taking another sip of your drink, one you’d already refilled by now. Maybe twice. You couldn’t remember, all you knew was that the hangover in the morning would be brutal.

A chuckle from Azriel made you rub your thighs together as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He swallowed, almost nervously, odd for him, before speaking.

“Maybe next time, though I wouldn’t object if you-“

He was cut short by another male strolling up to you a tad bit too confidently, one arm going to the right of you on the bar table as his eyes met yours.

An old partner. Particularly a fuck-buddy.

The best solution for tonight, really, since Cauldron knows you weren’t bold enough to push anything with Azriel. He was a friend, nothing more, or at least you tried to convince yourself. He still hadn’t gotten over Elain, or you thought he hadn’t yet, and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship or making things awkward between the two of you because of your desires the the crush you’d kept secret for years.

Your fuck-buddy’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed, glancing at Azriel as he watched the silent interaction the two of you had before giving a terse nod and walking away. You would’ve noticed how his eyes narrowed, or how he looked stiff if you hadn’t taken a few too many sips between talking with those at Rita’s tonight.

“Want to take this back to my place?”

The male drawled, arm sliding around your waist as he began guiding you to the exit around the side, where people could discreetly leave. Neither of you was beating around the bush, and you rarely did anyway. You both just needed a release, or at least you did.

“Mm..sure.”

You murmured, body hot now, thinking about Azriel instead of the male leading you to his old home, wishing it was Azriel’s hands on you, wishing you knew what it felt like to know him more, deeper than just the tip of the iceberg you’d touched.

~

Weeks had passed since that night, you’d woken up cold and alone in the male’s bed, gotten up, and collected your clothes before walking your ass back to the townhouse while your head had felt like someone split it open.

You had vowed not to go drinking for a while now.

And things had gotten weird between you and Azriel Joe, too. He was avoiding you, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, you could tell.

When he heard your footsteps, he left the room almost immediately, hell, even his shadows were avoiding you, not following you like loyal dogs per usual, just one or two to make sure you were safe at all times like he did for every member of the Inner Circle. His jaw was clenched every time he was in a room with you, and he wouldn’t look you in the eye, maybe couldn’t.

You barely remembered what had happened that night other than a few blurry memories of conversations and whatnot; so you didn’t know if you’d said something stupid and messed it up, or he thought you were a whore for going out with that other male and leaving him all alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you thought the latter was more likely.

It didn’t help that just a few days later, amidst all your worries, you’d decided to take a little walk through Velaris to get some outside time and a serotonin boost, only for the exact opposite to happen when you were met with your previous fuck-buddy from that night weeks ago screaming in your face, yanking you down a small alleyway to properly yell at you.

“Nasty bitch, gave me a disease! If you’re going to be a whore, at least keep your fucking viruses to yourself-!”

Horror shot through you at his words. You didn’t have any sort of STD, not that you knew of at least, and if you’d spread the theoretical disease to him…He might be an asshole, but no one deserves that.

Unsure what to do as tears welled in your eyes and fell, you began trying to ignore him as you turned and dashed out of the alleyway, the loose clothing you were wearing helping you to slightly outpace him through the streets, avoiding the children and Fae on them, not to mention the vendors and toys strewn about.

He pursued you, screaming still, and hot tears of embarrassment pouring down your cheeks as you began to sob, you didn’t even realize you’d outrun him until you were already at the steps to the House of Wind, ascending them, not even bothering to count out the 10,000 steps in your head.

Somehow, through either pure anger or sadness, you reached the top right when your knees gave out, only for Nesta to catch you right before you fell, dressed in her training leathers, weapons strapped to her. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and already-building anger as she saw you crying your eyes out.

“What’s wrong?”

She demanded, shifting to hold you up fully, carrying you bridal style as she started walking into the House, snapping her fingers once she got inside, and the House listened to her as always, making a warm cup of tea in your favorite flavor, and a comfort meal she knew you loved as she slowly sat you down at the table. The House must’ve deemed it necessary when it added a cushion beneath your butt on the chair, considering your aching legs.

You tried to blubber out an answer amidst the tears, but couldn’t manage to, and her eyes softened as she sighed, sitting down next to you on your right, before seeing that she wasn’t making much progress, and getting back up.

“Eat, we can talk about this later, I’ll go get him.”

You were about to ask who she was going to get, even though a part of you already knew as you saw her walking off in the direction of his room. You began slowly digging into the food, finding yourself to be much hungrier than earlier anticipated. Then again, you’d skipped out on breakfast, expecting to get a big lunch while out and about in Velaris.

Azriel arrived only a moment later, shadows swirling, concern evident on his face as Nesta gave him a stern look and pointed to you before she mouthed “You’re welcome.” to you, and strolled out of the door.

“What happened?”

He asked, smooth voice soaked in worry as he quickly pulled out the same chair Nesta had just been sitting in, sitting in it as it groaned under his weight. One of his wings stretched out in your direction, just barely curling around you.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tears coming back up.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You managed to croak out, and he shook his head.

“I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

He pledged, and you trusted that promise as you sniffled again, wiping the wetness from your eyes with one hand.

“Me and that male from Rita’s, we slept together, and he just accused me of…of giving him an STD.”

You said, before breaking into sobs again, hands going to cover your face despite the warmth that burned in your cheeks from the shame of being in this situation. His large palm gently brushed over your back as he scooted closer, raising an eyebrow at the cushion in your seat for half a second before his wing curled fully around you; and he pulled you into a surprisingly warm hug.

“I’m sorry.”

He murmured, and your sobs slowly subsided until you had no tears left to cry, but you still held onto him in the hug, hands fisting the back of his shirt, the cloth bunching up beneath your fingers.

“What if I do, though? Have a..virus?”

He gave a little hum of thought.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, do you want to go get tested?”

You gave a sad little nod, a small pout on your lips that made him want to rip apart the male that made you feel this way. He gently picked you up, careful with your sore legs, figuring out what had happened rather quickly after some of his shadows informed him what they’d seen. They also quickly informed him on the full story, and what that male had done. Another job for another day, but he would make sure he paid for it.

Nearly two hours later, you’d had to pee in a cup for Madja to check, and now were getting blood taken to get that tested as well, as well as any other necessary bodily fluids. Symptoms were noted if there were any. It was uncomfortable at best, but Azriel held your hand the entire time, not even wincing when you squeezed his hand a bit too hard for all the scars covering it.

He quickly winnowed the both of you to the House of Wind afterward, having been told the results would take at least a day to get back. He winnowed the both of you straight into his room.

It was dark, curtains drawn and everything, with the barest essentials in it as well as a desk for work, a few maps hanging from the walls, and assortments of fancy knives you knew he must’ve collected over the centuries.

You turned to leave, but his hand grasping your wrist quickly made you turn, tilting your head sideways in mild confusion.

“Stay.”

He begged, looking terrified of what you might say, but also hopeful. You sniffled again, nodding and tentatively following him as he gently led you over to the bed, each move like a new dance, one that neither of you had practiced before, but were willing to try.

He slowly stripped his leathers off, letting you see his scarred body and wings for what it truly was. And for once, the sight of his bare body, while very attractive, didn’t just make you horny or craving him. It made you appreciate him, who he was at his core. The years he’d spent training and honing his body to protect his Court, the scars he’d suffered protecting his loved ones and serving them; even willing to take it to the end.

You appreciated him. Even in the bad lighting of the room, or the thick shadows swirling everywhere, you appreciated Azriel.

And so, in turn, you began slowly tugging your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. His eyes ran over you, respectfully as always, but taking in your vulnerability; who you were beneath the covers, before he gave a small nod.

He walked over to his dresser, pulled out one of his more casual shirts; one that was clean that he hadn’t worn in a good while, and walked over to you, standing in front of you as he helped gently tug the opening over your head, guiding your hands to the arm holes, adjusting it for you.

No words were exchanged, and none needed to be, not ad you both crawled into his bed under the blankets, and he enveloped you in an embrace; wings and arms wrapped around you with his head tucked into your neck.

And tonight, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t wake up cold and alone like that night so many weeks ago.

No, tonight, you didn’t need the warmth of passion or lust to keep you from the biting cold, now you had Azriel by your side, and that was more than enough.

[amplexadversary]

I'm going to say something horrible and I hope you forgive me for it

But I think you just worked out what Chibodee's homestuck/sburb classpect is.

He's a Maid of Hope

(Though I could also see an argument for Heir. )

Chibodee's position as a symbol of hope conflicts with his struggle to stay optimistic without some sort of external encouragement, like his fans have hope because of him, and he in turn only has hope because of them, in this essay I will

[dark-and-kawaii]

your pregnancy ficlets are super sweet! How about Halsin finding out tav is pregnant 🥰

Halsin would/does make the best dad. When he was worried about the kids not getting a bedtime story from him I wanted to cry. I go feral for big ol’ guys with a soft heart, and he’s like the poster man for that.

༺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 ༻

♡ Halsin | Pregnancy - Fluff

In the midst of a small flower field, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, you sat in the forest. Halsin, in his bear form, approaches you silently, attempting to surprise you. But as always, you are keenly aware of his presence. Chuckling softly to yourself you continue plucking a pink flower, and with a playful tone you remark, "You'd have better luck sneaking up on me if you were a cat, you know."

Halsin nudges your back gently with his large furry head, emitting a low, affectionate grunt as he settles down beside you. Resting against his solid form, you're enveloped in a unique comfort only he can provide, afterall, it’s not everyday someone gets with a bear. Twirling the flower wreath you've been weaving, you muse, "I'm considering changing these to yellow blossoms, what do you think?" You glance at him, your look soft and affectionate as he cocks his head, ears perked, you know his bearish confusion was a silent compliment to your creation.

Your laughter is light as your fingers trace the fur between his eyes. "Yellow's quite the neutral choice," Halsin watches you, his gaze intent, absorbing every word you speak, “Hmm, or maybe I should do white instead, but that’s just- no. That’s a terrible idea.” He continues to listen, studying your expression intently, as if trying to decipher the message behind your words.

“If it's a boy," you continue, your eyes lingering on the wreath, "I don't think he'd appreciate all these shades of pink." Your gaze meets Halsin's, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "And if it's a girl, well, pink seems to be the only answer. But how am I supposed to know? I'm no seer." You raise an eyebrow, your eyes searching his face. Suddenly, his wide brown eyes illuminate, and in a burst of radiant energy, Halsin stands before you, transformed back into his glorious elven body. "Is it true? You spoke of the truth just now?" he asks, his voice filled with awe and excitement.

Joining him in standing, a smile spreads across your face, and you nod, uttering the words he longed to hear, "It's true, my love." Unable to contain his joy, Halsin bursts into laughter, engulfing you in his arms as he spins you around, expressing his elation in that moment of pure bliss.

Halsin's laughter fills the forest as he spins you around, his joy palpable in the warm embrace. "By the Great Oak Father!" he exclaims, his eyes shining with happiness. You both come to a stop, and Halsin cups your face in his hands, his expression overflowing with love. "Our love, our bond, will be forever sealed in this precious life."

The forest and flowers around you seemed to come alive with vibrant colors, the gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of the blooms. It feels as if though nature is celebrating alongside you.

As the initial rush of excitement settles, Halsin lowers himself to one knee, holding your hand close to him. "My heart, I promise to be there for you and our child every step of the way. I will protect and cherish both of you with all that I am."

Tears of joy well up in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "And I promise to stand by your side, Halsin, as I always have.”

Halsin's grin widens as he rises from his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. "I have no doubt that we will raise a child who embodies both the strength of the wild and the wisdom of the druids. They will be surrounded by love, nature, and the embrace of the elements."

With hearts filled with excitement and anticipation, you and Halsin spend the rest of the day in the forest, basking in the joy of your upcoming journey as parents. As the sun sets, casting a mesmerizing glow across the landscape, you can't help but feel an incredible sense of gratitude for the life growing within you and the love that binds you both together.

[katerinaaqu]

Question who is your favorite character in Greek mythology?

Like in general? Including epics and tragedies and myths etc?

Odysseus. Straight out

I find myself relate to him in so many ways and his torments and trips and mistakes always speak to me differently; the perfect combination of someone you might consider "prodigy" but shaped and carved by hard work and life, a complicated personality that even the ancient Greeks had trouble placing.

Some like Homer or even partially Sophocles and Statius named him their hero; complicated and controversial and so human. Others like Hesiod named him almost an anti-hero. Eurypedes or the Romans pictured him almost a villain.

Warrior or a sneaky coward? Noble or a man that is thirsty for the love of the crowd no matter the price? A rape victim or a cheater?

It gets me so intrigued that not even the ancient sources could handle him and so many different writers pictured him in a negative light while writers like Homer or Statius picture him as of noble heart but controversial nature and ways. Writers like Conon in August Augustean times wrote Odysseus capable of stabbing at the back the very man that admired him and respected him to gain fame while Homer writes him as a man who would throw himself on the sword to make sure his men would come back alive. Hyginus makes him a planning and scheming man who would frame an innocent for treason and set an elaborate plan to do it while Pausanias mentions a crime of passion or at least not as planned and thorough as Hyginus mentions etc.

So yeah I believe that Odysseus is my favorite especially as presented by Homer; a man full of contradictions. He is the man that would jump in front of a 6 headed immortal dragon for his men but the same man conquered a city by the night against all ethics to finish a war. The same man that refused to steal from a cave that belonged obviously to a monstrous creature and decided to give them the element of doubt was the same man that conquered the city of Ismarus, killing the men and enslaving the women and taking the resources from it. The same man that jumped in the battle to save Diomedes against all personal safety was the same man that was holding his army back till the right and safest moment to fight. The same man who had no problem facing the behemoth of a man Ajax, called his name almost for last when he volunteered to face Hector so that he would have as fewer possibilities be chosen as possible. The same man who killed 108 young vigorous men in his own home was the same who was embracing and kissing his son his wife and his loyal slaves. A strong and ruthless king but also a king that rules like a father to his people.

And also most importantly; a man that could be anyone of us. He stayed alive and survived by seer will at times. No demigod or superhero. He was a man like everyone of us; showing to generations to come the strength of mind and willpower.

I just love Odysseus!

[kopfkino-o]

it's been a minute since i did some theory rambling and i've got a long train ride ahead of me so let's get at it! this is more of a general elain post but there is some pro elriel thinking sprinkled in. thanks for reading!!

was Elain blessed by the Mother so she might cure the corrupted Cauldron? are there two primordial forces warring within it? does Elain have the power of Life? bear with me while i ramble about all this.

warning: the following thoughts probably aren't cohesive lol.

okay but does anyone else think that there's a small part of the Mother, the original creator, left within the Cauldron and that's what recognized and loved Elain? Like a part of me thinks that some aspect of the Mother remains locked away or maybe weakened by what the Asteri did to the Cauldron that recognized the inherent goodness in Elain and that's why she was "blessed."

What if the last lingering ember of the Mother's will recognized Elain's gentle heart, her brave soul, and gifted her with the power to break the corruption and restore the order of things?

"Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there." - ACOSF, as told from Nesta's point of view.

SARAH, GIRL I SEE YOU!!!

We know that Elain is associated with roses from the description of her drawer, her love of gardening, from Feyre telling us that Elain would trim the roses without gloves and get thorns in her hands, amongst other associations. Nesta placing a symbol associated with Elain next to this primordial goddess figurine, PERHAPS EVEN THE MOTHER HERSELF, feels just so...prophetic. It's like Nesta is almost passing the mantle of being the storyteller or the FMC on to Elain. And maybe even hinting at what's to come.

BLESSID. BELOVED. BENEVOLENT.

Okay. So back to the Cauldron, the Mother, all that. We know Nesta took something from the Cauldron (but this is a post for another day) and that Elain was given something. We know that Elain is a seer, blessed with the gift of foresight and clairvoyance, though we don't exactly know what the innerworkings of this sort of magic are.

But what if Sight wasn't the only gift Elain was given?

My theory is that Elain was given the gift of Life by the remaining aspect of the Mother to counter/compliment the power of Death Nesta stole from the corrupted aspect of the Cauldron--or the power of the Asteri, which I think might also be the power of Deanna from the Throne of Glass World (but again, that's a post for another day). And I can't help but think that, for the gentler grower of things, this theorized "Life magic" would manifest in the form of earth/soil/plant manipulation. We saw this in HOFAS with the official introduction of earth based magic and it has me thinking!!

And with that thinking, I'm wondering if the lingering essence of the Mother might have blessed Elain with these powers in the hopes that she would be able to master them, in the same way the Nesta mastered the power she claimed, and help finally banish the corruption from the force of the Cauldron. I've got a little headcanon that all three sisters will have some role in this but it needs to stew a bit more lol. And what if Elain's bond has some roll in all of this?

A THREAD TIDED TO A RIB

I don't want to speak for everyone, but to me there's something off about Lucien and Elain's bond. He is able to live far away from her with seemingly no issue. She shrinks into herself when he's around. Lucien just seems...sad whenever the bond is mentioned. Could this be the result of the same awkward/push-pull tension that we saw between Nessian and Feysand? Maybe.

But what if it's because SJM Is using them to show us what a "Cauldron-given bond" looks like? Rhys theorizes about the bonds in ACOWAR and brings up a very interesting comment:

"There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had. “Even so,” Rhys went on, “there will always be a … tug. For the females, it is usually easier to ignore, but the males … It can drive them mad. It is their burden to fight through, but some believe they are entitled to the female. Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but … Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

IM SORRY BUT IS THAT NOT SARAH SCREAMING AT US?

Sometimes the bond picks poorly! She gives us TWO examples of this with Rhys's and Tam's parents. Two bonds that I think were CAULDRON GIVEN bonds. Then, as a foil to this, she gives us Nessian and Feysand. Vivienne and Kallias. Three bonds gifted by the Mother--the primordial being, the gentle creator of things. Could this be Silba from the TOG world? Kythona from Crescent City? Is she Wyrd? And could the Mother have given both Elain and Lucien other bonds--blessed bonds--that are currently being surpressed by the corrupted bonds bestowed on them by the Cauldron?

Personally (and especially after HOFAS) I think the Cauldron's corruption needs to be addressed. And I think Elain is the one to do it. Her entire character is steeped in themes of choice, fate vs freewill, destiny vs self-actualization, and gods, the set up for an AMAZING story is right there.

TO CLOSE THIS MADNESS OUT

I can't say what SJM will do in the end. But I can theorize based on the last few books and the foreshadowing she's lain. And for me, I see the angsty, unprecedented chosen love story she's building between Elain and Azriel with a rejected mating bond incorporated into the heart of their love story. Could she change the direction of her books and abandon this? Absolutely. But I think the story would be so much worse for it. The crumbs for something amazing are there. The crumbs for something that has the potential to be genre-defying is there. And based on what Sarah commented to the Times, I can't help but she's knows this and can't help but write it.

ok bye thanks for reading!! i'd love to talk more about this to anyone else who is down to yap! dms are always open.

[nocasdatsgay]

What Could Have Been

Chapter 1 of 2: The Bargain

Pairing: Eris/Elain | Word Count: 1035 | Chapter Rating: T

Summary: Eris meets with Elain to make a bargain. For @erisweekofficial Day 1: Bargain

Warnings: None | Read here on AO3 | Master List 2024

Gen Tags: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @ninthcircleofprythian dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

The Middle was a dangerous place, which was why Eris was hesitant to agree to a meeting in those ancient woods. He preferred Spring- Tamlin was so used to his presence he seldom bothered to investigate when he was there. But Eris was curious and curiosity always got the best of him even after all these centuries. So he waited, up in the trees near the edge of the dense forest. He wore a deep green coat with brown trousers; he glamored his hair to blend in. He arrived early to see if she would come alone or if it was a trap set up by those brutes with wings.

There was a rustle of wind and she appeared.

She was nothing like he remembered. The one time he saw her during solstice, she seemed out of place- blended into the room with ease in Night Court black. But here, she looked the part of a fae princess in her soft pink dress. Her golden brown curls were pulled back away from her face, so he could clearly see her doe brown eyes searching the woods.

He decided to not make her wait.

He dropped from the trees, landing in the grass just a few strides away from her. She gasped, meeting his gaze immediately as he removed the glamour off himself. She looked so beautiful and innocent. Eris knew better.

“You are the last Archeron I expected to hear from.”

“Were you disappointed?” Elain tilted her head ever so slightly. “My sister is too far gone. Your chance with her passed.”

Eris scoffed. “You say that as if I don’t know it.”

“Your mind does. Your heart doesn’t.” She stared off past him, eyes defocusing for a moment. “It’s a pity. You would have been happy together.”

He frowned. “You speak as if you know.”

Her gaze focused back to him and she stepped forward. “I know a lot of things, Eris Vanserra.”

For the first time since being freed from under the mountain, Eris felt unnerved. Maybe he was wrong in assuming Nesta was the more interesting sister.

”Did you know these woods are deadly?” He asked, tilting his head, "Is that why you asked to meet here? Hoped a monster would swallow me whole?”

”I didn’t want to be followed,” she replied quickly. She wrung her hands together and glanced about the forest. “I don’t have much time.”

“Nor do I.” He placed his own hands behind his back in an attempt to ground himself. “Why did you call me here, Elain Archeron?”

“I need your help. You love your brother Lucien, do you not?”

He furrowed his brows as she looked up at him, her doe eyes wide and pleading. When he didn’t answer she continued.

“I have seen him die more times than I can bear.”

Her statement made the hair on the back of his neck stand. “What do you mean-“

“I am a seer, Eris.”

He shoved down his shock. “The Night Court and their secrets.” He grinned, “You are foolish to trust me.”

“Am I?” She stepped forward. He could smell the strong scent of jasmine wafting through the air. “The only time he lives is with your help.”

He recoiled inside but scoffed aloud. “And what is in it for me?”

“I know how to kill your father and make you High Lord.” Before he could react she continued, holding out her hand. “A bargain. You help me save Lucien when the time comes. I help you become High Lord.”

His gaze flickered from her hand to her face. “I’m going to need more reassurance before I enter a bargain with a young fae I’ve never truly met before.”

To her credit her hand didn’t falter. “You need herbs to weaken your father without him knowing. It will take time, a few months of subtle dosing. When he’s weakened, you can strike.”

He contemplated for a moment. “And you just happen to know the herbs and dosing needed? How can I trust this will work?”

“I am offering a bargain. If it doesn’t work I will die.”

She had a point.

“Do you know I’m going to sneak this poison to him?”

Elain rolled her eyes. “It’s not poison. It’s a spell. And it will be easy to trick him into consuming it. He takes his tea in the afternoons. The maid can be… persuaded.” Eris made a face at the implications. She laughed. “Flirtations, Eris.”

He sighed. “Fine. And what does helping you save my misguided brother entail?”

Her outstretched hand balled into a fist. “There are too many… events in play. You would need to take me to the continent when it’s time.”

He pretended to consider it for a moment. He stuck out his hand and she relaxed her grip, taking his hand into her own.

“We have a deal.”

The magic washed over them both. Eris mentally was relieved that no mark was felt searing itself into his skin. He let go of her hand and stepped back from her.

“I suppose you’ll be in touch?” He asked, raising a brow.

She didn’t answer. She reached into a pocket inside her dress, pulling out a container bound with string and a note. She handed it to him with a smirk.

“Instructions for the first month. Write to me before you run out.”

“Clever girl,” he purred, taking the bundle and paper.

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a smirk and clasped her hands together. “I’ll be seeing you, Eris Vanserra.”

In a blink she was gone.

He unraveled the paper, not daring to bring it home and have his father find it. The instructions were simple: grind the herbs into a powder and one spoon full every three days into tea or food. He burned the letter in his hand. After he blew the ashes away, he opened the container. He recognized some of the plants but there were a few he’d never seen before. Eris contemplated on whether he wished to risk taking the time to look into what the foreign plants were as he closed the container. He decided he would coax it out of her later as he winnowed home.

Chapter 2

[iassignpeoplehomestucktrolls]

Boop! :3

Boop <|:3

[rachelsfav-queer]

Snoods

Wednesday silently snuck past the yellow police tape, careful not to let the bright, neon color touch her skin as she entered the now twice abandoned mansion. The last time she was here… she shuddered just thinking of that horrible night. It was certainly the worst birthday ever and not in the exciting way.

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts, Wednesday continued into the mansion, entering the same way as before.

Everything was different inside and yet exactly the same, but she wasn’t here to explore or sightsee. She was here to grab something that never should’ve been lost. The raven went straight for the stairs down to the basement and soon enough… she found it. And it… broke her cold, black heart in ways she hasn’t felt in so long.

Shredded black fabric laid across the cold and dusty floor and Wednesday dropped to her knees to pick up all the pieces, tears flowing from her eyes unbidden as she tried to hold back her sobbing. Wednesday held the tattered fabric to her chest as she cried for who knows how long, just kneeling in this abandoned house that has taken so much from her, now taken one more thing from her.

Suddenly… “Wednesday?” A voice rang out throughout the house, traveling down the stairs like the echo of lost memories.

“Wednesday! Wednesday, why are you out here again? I swear, if this is another stupid- Wednesday?! Oh my gosh, Wednesday! Are you okay? Why are you crying? What happened? Are you- hurt… oh… Oh, Wednesday,” Enid’s voice softened impossibly as she noticed her girlfriend clutching the torn snood she had made for her all those years ago.

Enid quickly wrapped the seer up in her arms, holding her carefully, but oh so tightly, just how she knows the girl loves and as she does, the dam breaks and Wednesday lets out an absolutely heart-shattering sob as she curls up into Enid’s embrace.

Endless apologies would be spewing from Wednesday’s mouth if she weren’t crying so hard that any words were just completely incoherent. Enid shushed her gently and comfortingly rubbed her back and her head.

The werewolf waited out the worst of the storm, letting her girlfriend have a very overdue and much needed cry session that would hopefully wash out most of the emotional gunk that had definitely built up inside the poor raven since the day her pet scorpion died and she had sworn off tears and emotions altogether. It was necessary, Enid knew, despite how painful it was for her to hear the smaller girl sounding so entirely broken down and defeated.

Once Wednesday’s tears had slowed and all that was left was small little sniffles and hiccups, Enid pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes and spoke, “Feeling a little better? Yeah, I’m sure you are, that was probably a literal decade in the making. Don’t worry, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Wednesday hiccuped as she looked down at the torn snood in her arms, “It’s ruined…”

Enid simply smiled softly, “It’s okay. I’m very sure I can fix it, it’ll be good as new. But… I don’t think this was all just about the snood, was it?”

The raven shook her head as she looked away sadly. Formulating how to word it all, she was interrupted before she could even speak. “Hey, Wednesday? You don’t have to talk about it, if you’re not ready for it. Take your time, okay? Besides, we should probably get out of this creepy ass house before we get caught down here or something. Principal Weems will have a total fit if she finds out we were out here again.”

Enid’s bright optimism and enthusiasm always managed to sweep away all the pain and darkness inside Wednesday in a way that she just couldn’t fathom was real. Nonetheless, she nodded in agreement and the two girls stood up and walked out of the mansion together, this time holding hands while Wednesday held her snood tightly in her other arm.

It wasn’t okay yet, but it would be, in due time. Enid was right, it just takes time. And it’s okay to not be okay all the time. As long as they had each other.

(Day 29, Prompt 29 of Wenclair-Tober. Sorry this is so late lol. I took melatonin last night and it always makes me sleep in super late lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one! Yes, it takes place in S2 time, whenever that exactly is. Weems is alive because I said so! Just remember, everyone, it’s okay to not be okay. Take care of yourselves and be patient with yourselves. Much love, Rachel ❤️)

[mikkeneko]

Samwise Gamgee and the song at the end of the world

I first read LOTR at a young age, continued to read it when I became an adult, but it's really only with some critical context that I can go back and finally see some parts of the story for the first time. When I was younger, while I loved the books, there were parts I always found baffling. The Tom Bombadil interlude is one. The conversation between Galadriel and Frodo at the Mirror is another. That conversation at time seems kind of baffling, and in the moment leads nowhere -- until Frodo enters Mordor, and starts testing the limits of his mastery of the Ring, which culminates in his confrontation with Gollum. The conversation with Galadriel in Book 1 was a direct set-up for that moment in book 3. And the interlude with Tom Bombadil in Book 1 is a direct set-up for this moment, in book 3, in Cirith Ungol.

You see, Tom Bombadil -- as @astronicht pointed out in their wonderful LOTR liveblog -- is very clearly a scop, a bard from the old anglic tradition that Tolkien was writing from. He uses galdor, spells made of song, to work his will on the world. Tolkien is spelling it out very clearly for us here: yes, this world runs on the same rules as the old traditions. Yes, in this world, spells can be made of song. And two books later in the tower of Cirith Ungol, in his moment of darkest despair, Sam... sings.

"....weary and feeling finally defeated, he sat on a step below the level of the passage-floor and bowed his head into his hands. It was quiet, horribly quiet. The torch, that was already burning low when he arrived, sputtered and went out; and he felt the darkness cover him like a tide. And then softly, to his own surprise, there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief, moved by what thought in his heart he could not tell, Sam began to sing.

In some ways this feels like the turning point of the whole Quest, of the whole book, as much as the moment in the heart of Mount Doom or the Battle of Pelennor fields; this feels like the culmination of Sam's character arc, as much as the choice to go on after Frodo's death or the moment he shakes off the Ring's thrall.

Frodo is a scholar; he's well-read and speaks several languages, he knows more of Middle-Earth than almost any hobbit alive save perhaps Bilbo. (And arguably a kind of seer, though I won't go into that now.) But it's Sam who is heir to Bilbo's love of poetry. It's been Sam, throughout the whole journey, who is the most interested in poetry and song. He wrote the song about the Trolls; he is thrilled by the dwarven song of Khazad-dum; he wrote a new verse on the spot for Gandalf's eulogy; he recites the Oliphaunt. Sam has been enamored of poetry and song as much as he has been enamored of Elves, of the old legends and songs of heroism. Sam, like Tom Bombadil, is a scop, one who can weave spells through song. And now, in the darkest night in the heart of the Enemy's lair, Sam weaves a song.

His voice sounded thin and quavering in the cold dark tower: the voice of a forlorn and weary hobbit that no listening orc could possibly mistake for the clear song of an Elven-lord. He murmured old childish tunes out of the Shire, and snatches of Mr. Bilbo's rhymes that came into his mind like fleeting glimpses of the country of his home. And then suddenly new strength rose in him, and his voice rang out, while words of his own came unbidden to fit the simple tune:

In this moment Sam reaches out for help, and something reaches back. Someone answers. Another voice joins his, and lifts his quavering song to something high and clear and strong, and Sam finds the strength to rise from his despair. And most of all, the song allows Sam to find Frodo in the dark.

 Though here at journey's end I lie in darkness buried deep, beyond all towers strong and high, beyond all mountains steep, above all shadows rides the Sun and Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, nor bid the Stars farewell.

Who answered? Or perhaps the question should be, Who answered? I'm personally inclined to think that it is themselves the great elven heroes of old, the ones who have been through this darkness before and come out the other side through their own song, whom Sam always idolized and did not dare to dream that one day he might be counted among them, who reach back to Sam in that moment. It's already foreshadowed in his ascent through the Tower, where his form is overlaid by that of a greater power, one that makes the Orcs he encounters believe him to be an elf-lord. His tale is their tale, and their power, in this moment, becomes his power.

But one can't forget that this very world was created by a song, by the Lord of song, who exists in a place beyond all towers strong and high, a remote and clear power untainted by darkness. Did Tolkien's letters say that there was only one time, during Lord of the Rings, that this distant power interfered directly in the events of the War of the Rings? This has sometimes been proposed to be interference in Frodo and Gollum's struggle in Mount Doom, which led to Gollum's fall, but I never believed that; the geas accounts for that sequence well enough by itself. Maybe it wasn't in a battle at all. Maybe it was here, in darkness and despair, lending a little bit of his Song to his smallest singer.

[areislol]

you never quite believed in oracles. prophecies, fate—it all seemed distant, something out of the tales you’d heard growing up. infatuated! azriel thinks otherwise.

here you were, standing in the shadow of the temple where azriel, the oracle of the mountain, resided.

the rumours about azriel have always been peculiar. people said he was a gifted seer who could speak with the gods themselves, but as time passed, fewer and fewer came to seek his guidance. whispers of his madness, of his increasing obsession with someone unknown, had driven most away.

but you… you had no choice. a strange pull had brought you to him.

when you first met zzriel, it felt like time stopped. his violet eyes, glowing faintly with the light of divination, locked onto yours the moment you entered the dimly lit hall.

there was something in his gaze—an intensity that made you uneasy, but also intrigued. you had come for guidance, but now it felt as though you were the one being watched, studied, even hunted.

“welcome,” he whispered, his voice soft and deep, echoing off the stone walls of the temple. “i’ve been waiting for you.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “waiting… for me?”

azriel smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yes,” he said, stepping down from his raised dais, his movements slow and deliberate. “i’ve seen you. in every vision, every dream. fate has brought you here to me.”

a chill ran down your spine. something about the way he spoke unsettled you, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. you’d heard of oracles receiving visions, but this was different.

his words felt too personal, too close.

“i… i just need help,” you stammered, stepping back slightly as he approached. “a small reading, that’s all.”

azriel’s smile widened, a flash of something possessive in his gaze. “help?” He chuckled softly, his voice low, almost mocking. “i will help you, my love. i will guide you, protect you from the dangers that lie ahead. i’ve seen it all. the future, your future.”

he was standing in front of you now, close enough that you could see the faint glow of his irises. his hand reached out, fingertips brushing your cheek, and you shivered at the coolness of his touch.

“i… i don’t understand,” you whispered, trying to pull away, but his hand gently cupped your face, holding you in place.

“i’ve seen our fate intertwined,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “the threads of destiny have brought you to me. you belong here, with me.”

“azriel, i—” you tried to speak, but he silenced you with a single look, his violet eyes flickering with a dangerous kind of devotion.

“shh,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your lips. “don’t be afraid. i've seen the future. i will protect you from it. from them.”

your heart raced. “them?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

azriel’s expression darkened, his hand sliding down to your arm, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a possessive grip. “the ones who would take you from me,” he said, his voice dripping with barely contained rage.

“they will try, but i won’t let them. i’ll keep you safe.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat. his words were terrifying in their certainty, in the way he spoke as though your fate was already sealed, as though you had no say in the matter.

“azriel,” you began, trying to reason with him, “you don’t even know me. i came here for guidance, not—”

“i know you better than you know yourself,” he interrupted, his voice soft but unyielding. “i’ve seen every possible future, every path we could take. they all lead to you being mine.”

your stomach twisted with unease. his grip tightened slightly as if sensing your discomfort, and his expression softened, though the heat in his gaze remained.

“you don’t have to fear me,” he whispered, his other hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “i would never hurt you. i’m the only one who can protect you from the chaos of fate.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, but his presence was overwhelming, his words wrapping around you like a snare. “but… i don’t want this!” you asked, your voice trembling. “this isn’t what i want.”

azriel’s smile faltered, just for a moment, before it returned—more strained this time. “you don’t understand,” he said, his voice laced with desperation.

“you can’t see what I see. you can’t know what i know. every future where we’re apart is… wrong. it’s chaos. you would be lost without me.”

his hand slid down your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “but together, oh... no one will come between us. no one can stop what’s meant to be.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. he was so sure, so utterly convinced that this was destiny, that you were meant to be together. but you felt trapped, like a pawn in a game you didn’t understand.

“azriel,” you said softly, trying to reason with him. “i… i don’t know if fate works like that. you can’t force—”

“i’m not forcing anything,” he whispered, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m simply ensuring what’s already written. what the gods have shown me.”

his lips brushed the top of your head, a gentle, almost reverent touch. “i won’t lose you,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “not when i’ve waited so long.”

your pulse quickened, panic rising in your chest. you had to get through to him, to make him see that this wasn’t right, that he couldn’t just bend fate to his will because of some obsession.

but as you opened your mouth to speak, azriel’s grip tightened, and he pulled you even closer, his eyes glowing with a manic intensity.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with fervor. “i’ve loved you since the moment i first saw you in my visions. and i’ll love you until the stars fall from the sky.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes half-lidded, as though he were savouring the closeness. “you can’t leave,” he murmured, his voice laced with an eerie calm. “you won’t leave. not now. not ever.”

and as his words sank in, you realized that in his eyes, you had already been bound to him—your fate entwined with his, whether you wanted it or not.

[coeurdelain]

It’s always « poor Lulu » and never « poor Elain ».

Elain who had a mother who didn’t care about her. A mother who only cared about Elain’s beauty and what that beauty could bring her. A mother who didn’t believe in her. A mother who said she had no ambition, and that she only cared about her gardens. A mother who wanted Elain to have an advantageous marriage.

Elain who saw her father’s death. ( and maybe she feels guilty for his death for not arriving sooner. The fact she said nothing could have saved him. Did she have to make a choice between saving Nesta and Cassian or her father ? A life for a life. We don't know if changing the future can have consequences. )

Elain who saw both of her sisters almost die in front of her.

Elain who has been kidnapped two times. (And we don’t know her thoughts about it.)

Elain who was thrown in the cauldron. (Feyre literally said that Elain’s screams broke her heart and Nesta said she felt violated ») Also, the fact Elain was thrown the first one, she didn’t know if she would survive. She had to deal with pain, stress, fear and also, the humiliation when almost all of the men in the room laughed at her. Also, the fact she was almost naked in front of them.

Elain who had her heart broken by Graysen. He rejected her because she is a fae now. He didn’t accept her as she was. And during this time, she had to learn to love a body that people made her hate (people seems to forgot but for Nesta and Elain, Faes weren’t good people. They learned to fear and hate them.) All the sisters had to deal with this transition. Be the thing they learned to hate. They were humans and now they are faes. They saw their lives changed overnight.

Elain who had to deal with her new power. She was lost between reality and dreams. She saw and heard things that no one else saw and heard. She must have also thought she was crazy or something was wrong with her. Until Azriel told her she was a seer. She blinked and woke up. (And it makes me laugh when people said that she needed sunlight or see the gardens when it is written in the book that « she woke up »when Azriel told her she was a seer. You can’t make an interpretation when it’s literally written).

I also add that Elain was depressed in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wasn’t eating, she didn’t speak, she was staying in her bedroom.

And finally, Elain who had to deal with a mate while she is interested in someone else. A mate who reminder her of her trauma. A mate who reminds her the worst day of her life probably. (It’s also why I prefer Elriel than Elucien or even Gwynriel. The first meeting between two characters is very important to me, and the circumstances in which Gwynriel and Elucien met are just too sad. Elain and Gwyn look at them and they remember the worst day of their life, it’s not very romantic to me).

So, the lack of compassion for Elain is so incomprehensible. She’s literally the definition of suffer in silence.

And, I’am tired of seeing comment like « Lucien deserves to be happy ». They act like Lucien carried all the misery of the world on his shoulders.

All the characters suffered.

[turbulentscrawl]

That thing you wrote about hunters fatally injuring their s/o made me think about how bad Joseph's reaction would be. He'd no doubt be anxious about simply injuring his s/o but them dying because of it? Because of him? He'd be a mess.

Oh you want more pain? Sure ewe

He had not slept since it happened.

Joseph was neither an especially kind nor unkind man, but he knew his role in the matches and he performed it with great efficiency. Brutality, unfortunately, went hand-in-hand with that. His sword was a painful and deadly weapon even when swung with hesitancy.

When he’d struck you—on accident, somehow, as everyone knew Joseph gave special caution to you—you’d fussed over him. Cooed and comforted his despair. He clutched your bleeding body and yelled demands for your only remaining team mate to come heal you. Perhaps he was bitter; the thief never came. When your hands fell limp from Joseph's cheek, the dungeon opened and the match was done.

And Joseph had not known rest since. The manor didn’t need to punish him because he did it himself, crumpling under the weight of his own guilt. Five days he suffered in that limbo, isolated, impatiently waiting for the next full moon when he might see you again. Some of the others tried to visit him, speak to him, but he never opened his door. Nothing they had to say could be important enough to interrupt his spiral.

When the night finally came, Joseph fled from the doors of the Hunter manor and to those of the Survivor’s and waited out front for you. After nearly an hour without any word, he swallowed what was left of his pride and knocked.

Predictably, it was the Seer who answered. He was one of the few with a modicum of familiarity with Joseph.

“Hello, Mr. Desaulnier,” he greeted. The owl on the Seer’s shoulder eyed Joseph closely, and he was sure it was inspecting his drained appearance, the mess of his hair, wrinkle of his clothes, and the dark bags under his eyes.

“Yes, hello. I’m here to see—” Joseph cut himself off when the Seer stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind him. The mood shifted to something he didn’t like.

“I suppose Bi’an was not able to speak with you,” the Seer said cryptically.

“About what,” Joseph snapped, more order than question. “Can this wait?”

“I’m afraid it’s very relevant,” the Seer said. The air between them continued to thicken. Joseph made to smooth his sleeves and found his hands to be shaking. “In our matches this week…ahm…. For some reason, when we die by bloodloss…it now seems to be permanent.”

Joseph felt his body go numb as realization struck. He was still as a statue, as a picture, and he closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see anything that was left in this world. You were gone, and you’d never let him take your picture. You were gone.

“Where did you bury them?” He asked the Seer.

“Out near the hedgemaze,” he responded. “Emma planted some irises as the grave marker.”

Without thanks or other words, Joseph turned on his heel and marched towards the resting place of both your body and the last pieces of his heart.