#the sun link is dead so here's a new source link from another source

[ostensiblynone]

Noel Gallagher may have relented to his wife Sara MacDonald by finally learning to how to drive but he says he plans to fail his test so he won't have to ferry his kids around. MacDonald is insisting that he get behind the wheel so he can share some of the family duties by taking their two sons Donovan (5) and Sonny (2) to footie games. But Gallagher has told chatshow host Alan Carr, "My lovely wife is insisting I take driving lessons. She said, 'Who is going to take the boys to the football? And I am like, 'Well you are.' "But I have sussed it, you see. If I ever qualify for a test I will deliberately fail. I would rather be in the passenger seat. I would crash a lot of cars. I have had 40-odd years looking out of the window". 45-year-old Gallagher was famously presented with a chocolate-brown vintage Rolls Royce by his former record company Creation back in the nineties when sales of Oasis' first two albums topped 18 million. Back then, Gallagher used to employ a chauffeur to drive him around. In 1995 he also ordered himself a 1967 Mark 2 Jaguar, paying £110,000 upfront to have it refitted. By the time it was ready 18 months later, he'd forgotten all about it. He said in an interview last year that it's been sitting in a garage ever since, with only 12 miles on the clock.

Noel Gallagher plans to fail driving test | Sunday, 25 Nov 2012

““My lovely wife is insisting I take driving lessons. She said, ‘Who is going to take the boys to the football?’ And I am like, ‘Well you are.’ But I have sussed it, you see. If I ever qualify for a test I will deliberately fail. I would rather be in the passenger seat. I would crash a lot of cars. I have had 40-odd years looking out the window.””

— – Noel Gallagher (x)

[wavytam]

Sanji’s Celestial Connections: His Race, and the Mysteries of One Piece

This post evolved from a simple attempt to connect Sanji with the imagery of the Sky to, perhaps, my current guess/theory on the nature of his powers and his role in the story of One Piece.

Throughout the manga Sanji has been given intriguing abilities and qualities, making him not only a proficient fighter but, more importantly, an empathetic and talented cook. As the story of One Piece progressed, Oda also revealed the amount of thought he put not just into Sanji's personality but also into his backstory. However, the origins of some of these abilities still remain somewhat vague—even after an entire arc dedicated to his past. Maybe this mystery might be intentional, tied to the significant role Sanji is destined to play by the end of the story.

This mystery is what I will try to analyse here and in future posts before the manga ends and they are (hopefully) unraveled — again, if all of this was intentional on Oda's part.

The topics I will cover:

Elbaf: The Underworld, the Sun, and the Heavens

Heaven and the Religion of One Piece

Sky/Sun/Sea/Hell

Sky (空) vs. Heaven (天): Science vs. Religion

Sanji’s Connection to the Heavens

The Mysterious Circular Energy and The Power of Fire

Sanji’s Race and the True Power of the Vinsmokes

Sanji, Devil Fruits and the Lineage Factor

The Will of Love

The Devil and Angels

Sanji’s Transformations

The Blue Demon of the Sea Science

Heavenly Warrior of Love

The All Blue

Disclaimers:

a) This post is purely made for fun, so don’t take it too seriously! I’m focusing on a character who isn’t the main protagonist of One Piece, so I might give him more attention than Oda himself (probably) plans to;

b) Secondly, I'm aware that this is a big tinfoil theory. It's up to you if you want to read it, and I’d be grateful if you did, even if it's a bit of a crazy reach. And even if you don't believe in any of what I proposed I hope it at least helped you with finding your own conclusions about Sanji;

c) Many points, especially regarding Sanji potentially being from a [spoiler]-related race have already been mentioned by other One Piece fans. I’ll address all the evidence (even the repeatedly discussed ones) to make this post as complete as possible — I’ll also leave links at the end to these and other interesting fan theories regarding the topics mentioned! While each theory may reach different conclusions (including my own), they all offer rich, insightful perspectives on Sanji and the world of One Piece. See which one resonates with you the most and if you come to a different conclusion!

Feel free to share your views and theories in the comments.

Now, let's get to it (I warn you, this post is long).

Almost a year ago, I wrote another post discussing the possible connections between Nami and Sanji with the imagery of the Sky, similar to how Luffy is often associated with the Sun and Zoro with Hell. That post has been on hiatus: I hadn’t finished reading the entire manga and I needed to go through the entire story to spot any missed clues or details that might discredit my theory.

However, I felt that what I’ve observed in the anime, as well as through Oda’s interviews and other fan analysis, was enough to create a new post specifically about Sanji and his significance to One Piece.

The decision to write this post came after reading chapter 1132, where we saw how Elbaf is divided. These divisions comprise a group of symbols that appeared earlier in the story, which I believe Oda may use for a future revelation.

But first, let's talk about these divisions.

Elbaf: The Underworld, the Sun and the Heavens

Acording to Brogy:

I think it’s worth noting that, depending on the translated sources, different words are used for these levels:

Heaven/Astral (天界, Tenkai)

Sun/Sunlit (陽界, Yōkai)

Dead/Underworld (冥界, Meikai)

From what I’ve seen, the official (VIZ) translation seems to use: Astral/Sun/Underworld—Levels.

However, for this post, I will use the Heaven/Sun/Underworld classification, and you’ll understand why as you read on.

Since I won’t go into much detail about the Sun and Dead levels (otherwise, this post would be twice as long), let’s focus only on the upper level—which also seems to be the most mysterious of the three: the Realm of Heaven.

By no means am I a proficient Japanese translator, so to help me, here are the translations I found on Google for the kanji used for the Realm of Heaven in the manga:

天界 = tenkai = means "heavenly realm" in the context of Buddhism.  The kanji 天 means "heaven/sky" and 界 means "world." So, the world (界) in the sky or heaven (天) is the "heavenly realm."

Because 'heaven' is a word more associated with religion (and you will understand why I’m bringing up religion), I will use this term for most of the post. However, the word 'astral' will appear in future topics as well as the term ‘sky’.

On Twitter and Youtube, people are already discussing what these realms might represent, and of course, many have realized that Underworld and Sun are symbols used for both Zoro and Luffy in the Wano Arc.

Zoro as the King of Hell (also known as the Underworld) and Luffy as the Sun God Nika.

I don’t believe this necessarily means they’ll be directly connected to these specific places during the arc but I do suggest that Oda:

a) Still needs to address the religious aspect of the One Piece world.

b) Has been using the imagery of Sky, Sun, Sea, and Hell so frequently that there could be a meaningful reason behind it.

Heaven and the Religion of One Piece

Firstly, regarding topic A: Oda often draws from religious and mythological symbols to create characters, islands, and story arcs—examples include Sengoku, Neptune, Noah’s Ark in Fishman Island, and the Ark Maxim in Skypiea. This interest seems rooted not only in his curiosity as a creator but also in influences from other storytellers like Hayao Miyazaki, who incorporates global myths and religions into his works.

So I don't think it’s not far-fetched to assume Oda might use religious themes to shape the origins and powers of key characters, particularly those of the Monster Trio.

But before diving into Sanji’s connection to this theme (it’s all connected, I promise), we must first discuss religion’s role in One Piece.

To conclude the story, Oda must address the spiritual framework of the One Piece world, an element largely unexplored despite the series' rich political, military, social, and historical layers. Religion remains a mysterious yet essential piece of the puzzle, and Elbaf’s deeply religious culture makes it the perfect setting to uncover the origins of Nika and other deities.

I believe the Heaven Realm in Elbaf will serve as a pivotal turning point for the final arcs, both during the crew's time in Elbaf and their subsequent journey to Laugh Tale.

Why the Heavenly Realm? In many cultures, Heaven is where gods and souls reside. I suspect the Straw Hats will venture into this realm and uncover the truth about Nika and, perhaps more importantly, the origin of Devil Fruits.

While science partially explains Devil Fruits at Egghead, their name alone suggests a parallel with the Forbidden Fruit or the Tree of Life from Christian mythology. Why not extend this symbolism to their origin within One Piece’s spiritual framework?

Lastly, I suspect the One Piece treasure is inherently tied to these religious aspects. To reach Laugh Tale and fully understand its significance, I believe the crew must grasp the connection between Nika’s identity, Devil Fruits and religion which will also reveal the greater truths of the Void Century.

Sky/Sun/Sea/Hell

Now, regarding topic B, where have we seen the Sky/Sun/Sea/Hell group before Elbaf to make me think they are somewhat important?

I’ve mentioned this in previous posts (which I will link below), but I’ll briefly cover it here for context.

We saw Sky/Sun/Sea/Hell present in:

Big Mom’s weapons:

The Sun: Prometheus

The Sword/hat: Napoleon (This is a bit of a stretch, but Zoro has the sword Enma, the King of Hell in Japanese mythology—so swords could symbolize Hell, indirectly?)

The Clouds: Zeus/Hera (gods of the Sky)

The strongest fighters of the Pirate King (Jimbei, Sanji, Zoro):

Jimbei, the Knight of the Sea

Sanji, son of Sora (Sky)

Zoro, son of Tera (Earth) (Hell is considered to be located under the earth in many cultures, including Greek and Japanese)

For this one, I’ll take a huge guess and say that Luffy’s mother could have a name related to the Sun, or deities that represent it. Maybe Sun in another language like Sonne (German), Sól/Sunna (Nordic goddess of the Sun), Amaterasu (perhaps a variation of it), or even Inti, the Incan Sun god.

The Ancient Weapons:

Uranus (God of the Sky)

Poseidon (God of the Sea)

Pluton (Pluto/Hades, God of the Underworld/Hell)

Obviously, these groups don’t always contain the same elements (sometimes it’s Sky/Sun/Hell, other times it’s Sky/Sea/Hell), but I think they appear too frequently to be a coincidence. So, considering this, we can speculate that the presence of these four symbols could mean something Oda has been planning to address for a long time.

As they were once again used to describe the Levels of Elbaf, people are discussing whether Heaven represents Nami or Sanji, as Underworld could represent Zoro, and Sun could represent Luffy.

I’ll put on my tin foil hat and say it represents both. In fact, as I mentioned earlier, I wrote a long theory about this topic, BUT there's nothing stopping Oda from using only one of them to represent it.

For this post, I’ll say it’s Sanji. Why? Simple: It’s a shonen manga, and I believe that whatever the Sky/Sun/Hell symbols represent, they’ll likely make the Pirate King and both of his Wings even more powerful fighters for the upcoming war.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Nami will be just as important (please, I really want that!!), but probably in a different way than Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro. Her power-up might come from a different source, and she might use it differently than Sanji/Zoro/Luffy would use theirs.

Anyway, if my hypothesis is correct, Sanji might once again have a big connection with the Heavens (using Elbaf and other elements I will mention later) and the Sky (using his mother’s name as a basis).

But before that, let’s clarify the difference between the words Sky, Heaven, and Astral.

Sky (空) vs. Heaven (天): Science vs. Religion

Based on the Oxford Dictionary and other sources:

Sky refers to the physical expanse above Earth, including the atmosphere, outer space, clouds, and stars. Derived from the Old Norse word ský, meaning "cloud," it has a more scientific connotation. The Japanese kanji for "sky" is 空 (sora).

Heaven, on the other hand, carries a celestial or religious meaning, often signifying a divine or spiritual realm considered the dwelling place of deities. However, it can also refer to the physical "heavens," meaning the sky or celestial sphere. The kanji for "heaven" is 天 (ten).

Paradise is represented by the term 天国 (tengoku), which refers to the afterlife where souls reside in peace. This kanji is used in One Piece when Zoro promises his name will reach the Heavens (tengoku). However, I will not focus on this term here, as it relates more to Zoro, the underworld, and his connection to Kuina.

Before we end this topic, we also have to talk about the ‘astral’ term, which is another word used to refer to the kanji 天.

Astral relates to the stars, celestial bodies, or the cosmos. It often has a scientific or mystical connotation, focusing on the physical or metaphysical aspects of the universe. While 天 can describe the celestial sky or cosmos, the usage of "astral" typically emphasizes the stars and planets, which might lean more toward 星 (hoshi — single star) or 宇宙 (uchuu — cosmos).

Interestingly, I believe Oda uses the words 空 (sora) and 天 (ten) closely enough in One Piece that they might represent the same concept: the astral plane. Why? In his world, as in ours, science and religion coexist in a chaotic yet complementary way, often blurring the line between them.

In fact, in the real world today there are several concepts or groups that blend religion and science, often seeking to reconcile or find common ground between the two.

For instance, in evolutionary creationism (which has Christian roots), the Sun—a star made of hydrogen and helium—is viewed as both a natural object, created and guided by God to sustain life through scientific processes, and a symbol of divine providence and order in the universe.

In One Piece, the Sun is (most probably) also a star made of hydrogen and helium, and it is also used to represent the Sun God Nika.

Similarly, the sky has long been religiously associated with the dwelling place of gods and, scientifically, UFOs or aliens. When we look up—especially at the night sky—we see not only clouds but celestial bodies such as the Moon, stars, comets, and distant planets. These elements have often been linked to divinities and otherworldly beings in many cultures.

This association likely explains why the sky gained religious (or heavenly) symbolism for many cultures, as it represents a place above us, seemingly out of reach, where deities might dwell—whether Olympus, Asgard, or Takama-ga-hara, depending on the religion in question.

To make this mixture even more complex, regarding the gods from Mesopotamian cultures (the Annunaki), there are ancient texts that describe them as coming from the skies. Today, many conspiracy theorists suggest these “gods” were actually aliens or an advanced civilization that came from another planet and taught humanity astrology and science.

If I’m not wrong, the movie Prometheus (the prequel to Alien) actually explores this exact narrative.

Whether this theory is true in our world or not, this topic does not come into discussion here lol. I'm only addressing this because I think Oda, who seems to be quite interested in researching history and religion, might be using these theories in his story.

I mean, isn’t this theory kind of what is happening to be true in the world of One Piece? Remember what Enel found out in his visit to the Moon? (Keep this part in mind; it will be important later on, and I’m sure you already know why!)

And will you look at that! As I was searching for links to post about the Anunnaki here I found a reddit page that talked exactly about them in connection with One Piece!! I still haven’t read it, but here is the link if you are interested. There is also the reference to Laputa, Hayao Miyazaki's movie that Oda used as a reference as well which brings up very similar themes.

So in One Piece, I think Oda blends science and religion much like how they coexist in our world, enriching his story. He weaves gods, devils, and divinity into his narrative while also providing scientific explanations, as seen in Punk Hazard and Egghead.

In conclusion, for this post, I will treat "sky", "astral' and "heaven" as complementary concepts, merging into a single idea which is a spiritual world. (Only for this post!)

Sanji’s Connection to the Heavens

Now, what does this have to do with Sanji?

Well, throughout the manga, many people have noticed that Sanji—through his family, moves, or even gags—seems to have a peculiar connection to elements associated with the sky or heavens, whether in religious, astronomical, or celestial contexts, especially regarding Christian themes.

Let’s list some of these elements:

Stars (Stargazing): Sanji displays a notable interest in stargazing, as shown in a few cover pages. In one example, he is inviting Nami to gaze at the stars with him, as seen in the cover page of chapter 1089.

Shooting Stars: In the anime, Sanji’s newest power-up (Ifrit Jambe) resembles a shooting star or a comet streaking across the sky.

Lucky/Miracle Star: Usopp once joked that Sanji was born under a miracle star—and as we all know, Usopp’s jokes or lies often have a way of becoming true. In Japanese folklore and astrology, celestial events (like the appearance of a bright star or comet) were often seen as omens of significant births or changes.

UFOs: Oda once drew a UFO-like object with Sanji’s face on it. Also, in the cover page of chapter 533, Sanji appears to be stargazing with a Mink, seemingly looking for UFOs. Interestingly, there’s a UFO in the background as well.

Space: Sanji lived for a long time on a ship called the Orbit. The term "orbit" is used to describe the motion of a celestial body around another. (Keep that information for later)

Sky Walk: Although this ability was originally called Moon Step (as used by Jabra), Sanji renamed it Sky Walk. When explaining how he acquired this skill, he said he ran until he “flew to the sky”—using the kanji for sora (空) in Japanese.

Son of Sora ("Sky"): This one speaks for itself.

Angel/Lunarian: In Wano, Sanji has been linked to the Lunarian race, who resemble classical depictions of angels in Christian art (not the biblically accurate ones, but more like those seen in traditional paintings). While I don’t think that Sanji is a Lunarian, he might belong to a equally rare race—possibly one connected to the heavens. I’ll explore this idea further later.

Fire/Hell: Sanji’s ability to ignite himself with flames when angry ties him to the element of fire. Anger, in many contexts, represents a response to injustice and revolt. In the Bible, fire symbolizes God’s wrath, passion, purification, and judgment. Sanji even created a move called Hell’s Memories, invoking imagery of eternal judgment and punishment associated with hellfire. There's another meaning for fire that I will talk about in later topics. Also, refer back to the Stargazing section and the titles Oda chose for the cover pages of chapters 533 and 575, which feature Sanji stargazing— Voiceless Rage and Inferno Hell. Hmmmmm.

Son of Judge and Sora / Divine Judgment: Sanji has increasingly embraced the role of enforcing "laws," acting as a kind of jury, judge, and executioner ever since the awakening of his Germa genes in Wano. This could parallel his father’s name, Judge, and his ancestry, while also aligning with the concept of divine judgment—a judgment coming from the skies(Sora). Interestingly, in the recent Elbaf arc, Nami used “Lightning Blast,” a thunderstorm coming from the skies, as Divine Retribution to punish the Giant Road. A curious observation for my other theory.

So, when I say that Sanji has a stronger connection to the heavens, religion and astronomy than previously thought, I believe these elements make the case clear.

As if that weren’t enough, Oda has made another important connection: he compared Sanji’s eyebrows to energy associated with the movement of celestial bodies such as planets, the Sun, and the Moon (Orbit). This will be our next topic of discussion. 

The Mysterious Circular Energy and The Power of Fire

Taken from the SBS of Chapter 55 (Baratie Arc) D: Why does Sanji-san’s eyebrow curl up at the end? Is it for fashion? Make it clear!! O: Hey! You there, sit down! Now listen! Everyone lives in circles! The sun, the moon, and the Earth all spin in circles! And if the Earth suddenly stopped spinning, the planet would be covered in tidal waves! It would be terrible! Now remember that Sanji’s eyebrow channels that same powerful circular energy! Reflect upon this! You may go!

I believe this SBS may be one of the most important pieces of evidence that connect Sanji and the heavens (and it was answered just a few chapters after Sanji’s introduction!!). Oda explicitly said that Sanji’s eyebrows, and therefore Sanji himself, are connected to the movement of celestial bodies, and more importantly, the powerful energy they generate. (Remember, Sanji also lived on a ship called "The Orbit" before meeting Zeff.)

And since it was mentioned, let’s discuss energy in the world of One Piece.

Specifically, during the Egghead Arc, Oda revealed through Vegapunk that fire is considered a precious source of energy because it “can be converted into all types of energy”.

And wouldn’t you know it? Sanji’s powers manifest as fire—the same powerful and versatile form of energy Vegapunk is trying to unlimitedly have (the Undying Flame)

Meanwhile, Oda also linked the origin of Sanji's fire with his heart in another SBS.

Taken from the SBS of Chapter 426 (Enies Lobby Arc) D: Odacchi, nice to meet you!! I finally sent you a postcard. It’s a serious question, so give me a real answer. That trick that Sanji used to beat Jabra!! If it was that hot to Jabra, wouldn’t it burn Sanji, too?! Wouldn’t Sanji be like, "yeow"?? Tell me! O: What are you talking about… WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!! Are those eyes, or holes in your head?! What were you watching in that fight?! His leg is hot?! No, it’s not hot!! SANJI’S HEART WAS BURNING SO MUCH HOTTER!!!

Now, let’s also remember that Oda originally intended to name Sanji "Naruto." The name Naruto, in addition to being associated with the Ninja manga, refers to the Naruto Whirlpools in Japan.

Whirlpools are often symbols of natural force and spiritual energy, and this could be the same "circular energy" Oda refers to in the SBS about Sanji’s eyebrows.

Curiously, we can parallel the meaning of his name to Nami’s name, as hers means “wave”. Once again, both she and Sanji have a weird relation with similar symbols, whose intention I cannot quite grasp yet. If any of this information brought up an idea for you, let me know.

Back to whirlpools, a long time ago, I watched one of the best theories/analysis about Sanji from a YouTuber called "Parvision." In it, if I remember correctly, he discussed the importance of the whirlpool imagery for Sanji and linked his powers to Haki as well. Here is the video.

To be honest, I watched his videos a while ago, so I don’t recall everything he said (it’s a 1-hour video full of rich infos, lol), but he is amazing, and his theories are really insightful! He also covers many of the topics we’re discussing here about Sanji’s mysterious powers. I’m not sure what his conclusion about Sanji’s origins is, but give it a look, and I’m sure you won’t regret it!

Aside from the circular energy and flames association, Oda has also linked Sanji to Devil Fruits in another SBS (where Sanji wasn’t even mentioned in the question but Oda insisted on bringing him up, lol).

Taken from the SBS of Chapter 436 (Enies Lobby Arc) D: Do all Devil Fruit have that swirly pattern on them? O: That’s right. It’s what distinguishes them from other fruits. Sometimes I wonder if Sanji himself is a Devil Fruit.

So, in three different SBSs, Oda hinted at three fascinating ideas:

Sanji’s eyebrows symbolize the energy generated by celestial bodies (Earth, Moon, and Sun);

This same circular energy resides in the Devil Fruits;

Sanji's heart (emotion) is probably what ignites his fire.

But if he already has a connection to the Sky/Heavens, fire, and circular energy, why did Oda also link him to Devil Fruits? Isn’t everything else enough already?

I mean, if we also consider everything we know about him, Sanji’s character already has a mix of seemingly unrelated traits:

A prince of an extinct kingdom

A genetically altered human

The cook of the Straw Hat crew

A hopeless romantic with the motif of the Knight

Can burst into flames when experiencing intense emotions

However, I believe that these traits, though scattered, may start to correlate if we speculate that Sanji's origins—and powers—are tied to a single, as-yet-unknown source, one that only Oda (and his team) are aware of. I will venture a guess on this in the next topic.

Sanji’s Race and the True Power of the Vinsmokes: Mutation

Building upon the points I've discussed, I propose the following theory:

A previously unidentified rare race existed, possessing the ability to manipulate circular energy because their origins are related to outer space. This advanced race visited the world of One Piece, sharing their knowledge and skills to empower its inhabitants and change their status quo so anyone could evolve and become who they dreamed to be. In its purest form, this energy manifests as fire, aligning with Vegapunk's assertion of fire's versatility as an energy source. However, it can be transformed into other forms, such as Devil Fruits, suggesting its true power lies in the ability to induce mutation. I hypothesize that Sanji, and potentially the entire Vinsmoke family, descends from this extraterrestrial or celestial race.

Although there is the possibility that Sanji has these abilities because of genetic modification, I don’t believe this is the case.

Let's revisit Judge and his duel with Sanji. During their confrontation, Judge witnessed Sanji utilizing Diable Jambe, yet he displayed no discernible surprise.

It's important to remember that at this point in the narrative, Judge believed Sanji to be a "failed experiment" due to Sora's interference. Therefore, Sanji's actions during the duel did not sufficiently alarm Judge to question the possibility of genetic alterations in Sanji, similar to those undergone by Ichiji, Niji, Yonji, and Reiju.

Furthermore, upon acquiring his suit, Germa Sanji's intended ability was invisibility, not fire, as speculated by fans.

So if Sanji's fire abilities were not a product of Judge's scientific modifications, they must originate from his genetic inheritance—either from Sora or Judge.

While I personally favor the possibility of Sora as the source, I believe the origin lies within Judge himself. However, it stems from the aspect of his family that he vehemently denies and despises: the empathetic and emotional side that generates flames.

Oda has stated that Sanji's affinity for fire is rooted in his burning heart. More specifically, I believe this energy is activated by his capacity for love and passion, qualities absent in his brothers thanks to Judge. This is something I will talk about more in future topics.

Sanji, Devil Fruits and the Lineage Factor

Despite these speculations, we all know that Sanji's core essence remains his love and his passion for cooking.

Yet, even in the Baratie Arc, when the world of One Piece was still being introduced, Oda emphasized the connection between Sanji, cooking, and fire.

We observed Pearl, a henchman from Don Krieg's crew, spontaneously combusting in a fit of panic. This mirrors Sanji's current tendency to ignite when experiencing intense emotions. Interestingly, the SBS entry discussing Sanji's curly eyebrows appears in the same chapter as Pearl's fiery ability is shown.

While Pearl's abilities are likely fabricated (perhaps utilizing the pearls in his armor as flint), it's intriguing that Oda introduced this concept in Sanji's debut arc, subtly implying a chef's inherent connection to fire.

Therefore, Sanji's connection to fire is a foundational element established by Oda from the very beginning, and I believe it will play a pivotal role in his ultimate narrative arc.

Notably, during his encounter with Ivankov, Sanji's training obviously focused less on traditional combat techniques—which he had mastered by himself—and more on acquiring the enigmatic 99 Recipes of Attack Cuisine.

To understand the significance of this emphasis, let's examine the sole recipe revealed in the manga: Hormone Soup with Sea Pork. Sanji prepared this dish at the conclusion of the Punk Hazard arc, demonstrating its remarkable ability to rejuvenate the consumer's energy and strength.

In some respects, Devil Fruits can be considered a unique type of food that alters an individual's state, similar to how these recipes function.

I'm not suggesting that the 99 Recipes and Devil Fruits are the same; they clearly do not. I am sugesting that both share a key similarity: both act as "magical foods" that alter the human body.

However, while the 99 Recipes are likely designed to enhance specific pre existent aspects of an individual's physique, Devil Fruits are depicted as agents of biological transformation, affecting humans, animals, and even inanimate objects.

This transformation occurs through the consumption of the fruit itself. Oda could have chosen alternative mediums for bestowing extraordinary powers, such as a spell book or a magical fountain (as seen in Pirates of the Caribbean). However, he deliberately selected food as the conduit, suggesting a deeper significance to food in his world and, by association, Sanji's role.

Nevertheless, I believe the biological transformation induced by Devil Fruits surpass any potential outcomes achievable through the 99 Recipes.

Once again, let’s go back to Vegapunk, who is credited with replicating Devil Fruits. Do you recall his observations regarding their significance?

That's right, Vegapunk asserted that Devil Fruits represent the potential for human evolution.

If you're familiar with the X-Men franchise lol, you're likely acquainted with the concept of mutation. While not exclusive to X-Men, this concept is grounded in scientific theory, particularly the work of Hugo de Vries and other pioneering geneticists. These scientists proposed that the driving force of evolution is mutation.

Mutations are defined as alterations in DNA.

From this perspective, Devil Fruits may function by inducing mutations within the user's DNA, enabling them to become embodiments of their innermost desires. Maybe this is how Vegapunk was finally able to produce the Artificial Devil Fruits.

However, while he is credited with its creation, it's crucial to remember his long standing collaboration with Judge. Yonji even acknowledged their joint discovery of the "Lineage Factor," which corresponds to what we understand as DNA.

Therefore, even though Vegapunk may receive credit for replicating Devil Fruits along with Caesar, I believe their essence—the profound connection to human evolution and DNA modification—is inextricably linked to his research conducted in collaboration with Judge.

My theory posits that Vegapunk's insights into these concepts were significantly influenced by the Vinsmokes' centuries-old ability in manipulating DNA. Judge, with access to extensive data on the Vinsmoke lineage, likely provided it to the MADs Scientists.

However, the foundation of these abilities might predate scientific understanding, rooted in the Vinsmokes' inherent capacity to induce mutation through passionate, instinctual means.

Notably, Judge appeared more preoccupied with genetic modification and engineering than with Devil Fruits. He neither created nor utilized any Devil Fruits during the Whole Cake Island arc whilst most former MADS scientists, such as Caesar and even Vegapunk himself, continued their investigations into Devil Fruit production. This suggests that Judge may have viewed Devil Fruits as redundant, having already devised methods to achieve similar effects within his own children without direct reliance on them.

To recap, I believe Vegapunk's understanding of mutation and Devil Fruits was significantly shaped by Judge's scientific investigation into the Vinsmoke lineage's latent mutating potential. While Judge's ancestors may have activated these traits through intense emotions like passion, Judge sought to achieve greater control and predictability through scientific manipulation, "effectively" bypassing the need for emotions or instinct.

The reason I believe it is all connected steems from Thriller Bark arc, when Sanji erupted in a fiery rage at the prospect of Nami being forced into marriage. Zoro remarked, "He is about to transform into something." The kanji used for "transform" (変身 – henshin) was also used as "mutate" in some translations.

So I believe that Sanji's outburst not only produced flames but also seemed to induce some type of "mutation" within his body. However, we probably still have not seen the final form of this transformation.

Interestingly, according to crepes-suzette-373, a Tumblr user who analyzes the manga in its original language, the Japanese verb used for this transformation is also associated with the concept of "henshin" in Kamen Rider, Sailor Moon and others.

So Sanji's rage, fueled by his love for Nami, ignited these fiery transformations.

This phenomenon might explain Judge's disdain for emotions like empathy and love. He likely perceived them as unreliable and uncontrollable catalysts for these mutations, potentially hindering his ultimate goals. By employing scientific methods, Judge sought to harness the Vinsmoke family's inherent mutative abilities while minimizing the influence of these perceived "weaknesses" – emotions like love.

However, I firmly believe that Judge did not entirely suppress his children's emotions. You can find my detailed reasoning [here], and suzette has also presented their analysis based on the original Japanese translation [here]. In summary, I believe Judge's primary objective was to eradicate empathy, love, and the passion for life – the very qualities that define humanity – rendering his children more easily controlled and subservient to his brutal commands.

Sanji's flashback reveals that his "normal" human birth, with its capacity for love, led him to pursue interests deemed frivolous and detrimental to his father's ambitions and royal status, such as cooking. Judge appeared visibly frustrated by Sanji's unwavering dedication to these pursuits, despite numerous reprimands. I believe Judge concluded early on that love was a significant obstacle to his plans and actively sought to eradicate it within his children. Sanji's resistance to this conditioning further intensified Judge's animosity towards his son.

The events of the Whole Cake Island arc illustrate the devastating consequences of Judge's actions and beliefs. Deprived of love and passion, his children were nearly defeated, lacking the intrinsic motivation to fight for their survival. Ultimately, it was Sanji, driven by the fiery love ignited within his heart, who returned to save them, demonstrating the profound strength of human connection and the limitations of Judge's cold, calculated approach.

Speaking of this love, let’s go to the next topic.

The Will of Love

To recap, Vegapunk was the one who gave us the information that Devil Fruits are connected to people’s desires and human evolution.

“Every Devil Fruit is a possibility for human evolution that someone desired. If only I could be like this… If only I could be like that. All of those powers represent the many branches of the future of humanity.”

I think that desire can be strongly associated with will. While desire is the emotional or internal longing for something, will represents the determination and action taken to pursue that goal.

Willpower is a crucial element in One Piece. I mean, the Will of D, right? Just like religious elements such as gods, devils, and forbidden fruits exist in One Piece, so does the concept of willpower.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, will is defined as:

The ability to control your thoughts and actions in order to achieve what you want; a feeling of strong determination to pursue something.

Willpower signifies the unwavering determination to pursue one's goals and dreams.

I believe Haki, particularly Conqueror's Haki, embodies this concept in the One Piece universe. In this world, an individual's will can attain such immense strength that it not only influences those around them but also defies the very laws of physics, altering the course of reality.

Is not mutation, at its core, a form of change, specifically a profound alteration at the DNA level?

I believe Sanji demonstrated this principle during his brief encounter with Kizaru in Egghead. Through sheer force of will, I think he defied the laws of physics by absorbing Kizaru's laser beam – a feat seemingly impossible, even within the extraordinary realm of One Piece.  Franky’s and Kizaru’s shocked expressions highlight just how incredible this moment really was (lol).

However, in typical Sanji fashion, he attributed this extraordinary ability to the power of love. And I believe he is correct.

Love, though often dismissed as cheesy, is a potent force capable of driving individuals to achieve the seemingly impossible for the sake of others. Just as freedom fuels Luffy's unwavering will, I believe love serves as the driving force behind Sanji's extraordinary feats, empowering him to transcend human limitations and become both powerful and unpredictable.

He kind of said that in Thriller Bark, remember?

“A power that can’t be judged by ordinary means… A power to make the impossible possible. It’ll blow everything away. The name of that hurricane is… love.”

This inherent drive was absent in his brothers during the Whole Cake Island arc. They lacked the will, and indeed, the passion, to truly live and fight for the lives of others, even for their own father, Judge.

In contrast, Sanji consistently demonstrated this will. His unwavering determination to become a chef persisted even after months of imprisonment at the hands of his own father. This unwavering spirit enabled him to endure seventy days of starvation and maintain his lifelong dream of finding the All Blue.

However, plagued by self-doubt, he temporarily suppressed this powerful will, feeling indebted to Zeff for saving a life Sanji deemed unworthy.

But Zeff, being the incredible father he is, made Sanji realize he shouldn’t hold himself back. Just like Luffy, Sanji possesses an unyielding will, which Zeff poetically describes as a spear of blind grit.

Through this dialogue with Zeff, I believe that Oda subtly conveys to the readers that Sanji's greatest obstacle lies within himself. Despite his unwavering kindness and encouragement towards others, Sanji struggles with self-compassion, which frequently holds himself back from reaching his full potential.

However, Sanji is gradually overcoming this internal struggle. I think that his inaugural use of Ifrit Jambe exemplifies his growing ability to channel this "spear of blind grit" in accordance with his own moral compass. In Wano, he faced a critical juncture: he could enhance his combat abilities through the Raid Suit, but at the cost of becoming a cold, emotionless killing machine. Instead, he chose a path that aligned with his values, destroying the suit while still leveraging its enhancements, particularly the increased resistance to heat.

This experience suggests that Sanji's previous limitations were also physiological. With his enhanced physical resilience, he now possesses the potential to unleash even more potent flames, limited only by the intensity of his love and passion.

The greater his love, the hotter his flames burn—remember, Oda said his heart burns hotter!!

This powerful connection between love and Sanji is further reflected in his culinary pursuits.

Just by knowing the reasons he chose to be a cook, we know that cooking, for Sanji, is an act of love, a way to express his affection for others and appreciation of life.

Food is not just used to sustain life, it’s also a way to enjoy it. Look at how Luffy and his love for meat, and the fact that most of One Piece's arcs end in a feast. I'm sure that Oda himself also sees the importance of it. Like I said, he could have chosen various outlets to become the source of Power in the world he created, but he chose food.

Furthermore, because of the importance of food and the reason why he is a cook, Sanji's profound impact extends beyond the battlefield. He possesses a remarkable ability to influence and transform those around him, even individuals perceived as cruel, cold, or adversarial. Whether through the compassionate act of cooking or by simply adhering to his unwavering moral code based on love, he inspires profound change in those he encounters.

He has positively impacted the lives of numerous individuals, including Pudding, Gin, Viola, the Marines in Punk Hazard, and even, to a certain degree, Big Mom herself.

So I believe that Willpower is the fundamental force behind the creation of Devil Fruits. Vegapunk himself stated that they are the physical manifestations of dreams, wishes, and desires – embodiments of will brought to life.

Wait, didn’t I previously say that the circular energy Oda mentioned in the SBS was what created the Devil Fruits?

That’s because I believe that Willpower and this circular energy are essentially the same phenomenon, simply described differently depending on the context. For example, the Skypieans refer to Haki as "Mantra" and the people from Wano call Armament Haki Ryuo.

For Sanji's (hypothetical) ancestral race, I think this power manifests in its purest, most versatile form: fire, which in turn can become many other things.

Interestingly, fire holds profound symbolic significance across various cultures besides just destruction.

In Christianity, it often represents God's presence, passionate will, and even the act of creation. The Holy Spirit is often symbolized as a flame as well.

Beyond religious contexts, fire-based powers in popular media frequently symbolize intense emotions, the life force (energy), and even the power of creation. Consider Avatar: The Last Airbender, when Zuko and Aang had to understand the significance of fire beyond its ability to destroy. Or look at X-Men and the Phoenix Force itself.

The Flame of Prometheus in Greek mythology offers another compelling example. It symbolizes the gift of knowledge, innovation, and enlightenment bestowed upon humanity by the Titan Prometheus, who defied the gods by stealing fire. This act represents the empowerment of humanity, enabling progress and civilization.

However, it also signifies the potential dangers of seeking forbidden knowledge, as Prometheus faced divine punishment for his actions. In a way, Devil Fruits can be seen as the "Prometheus flames" of the One Piece world, a powerful force of change that, while offering immense potential, also carries inherent risks, as if Nature itself (a parallel to the gods) deemed their existence a transgression and punishes the users of the Devil Fruits by making them unable to swim. I'm not kidding, this was Vegapunk's explanation to why Devil Fruit users can't swim.

Thus, fire transcends its association with anger and intensity. It also symbolizes transformation, energy, knowledge, and the very essence of life. This inherent versatility likely explains Vegapunk's fascination with harnessing fire as a sustainable energy source.

Let us not forget the Mother Flame, a concept of immense importance in the One Piece world and currently being exploited by the Gorosei and Imu for their own nefarious purposes.

While I don't believe Sanji is a god (lol), I do believe he possesses an extraordinary connection to a powerful, ancient force that is related to Nika somehow.

To recap, my theory suggests that Devil Fruits were created by a race capable of manipulating Willpower, a force that allows them to shape reality, defy the laws of physics, and even induce mutations. This advanced civilization, possibly originating from a realm beyond our own, maybe from outer space, exerted a profound influence on the world, impacting the lives of fish-men, buccaneers, tontattas, humans, and countless other races.

Furthermore, I believe this race sought to use their advanced technology to uplift and improve the world. This era of technological and societal advancement likely coincides with the enigmatic Void Century, a period shrouded in mystery. The youtuber Artur, from the Ohara Youtube chanel already made a theory about what the One Piece is, and to understand it, he theorized what might have happened during the Void Century and before. Give it a look if you’d like.

Anyway, an intriguing connection emerges when considering the Sun God Nika. You might recall that Luffy, in his Nika form, exhibits the same distinctive spiral pattern in his eyebrows as Sanji. This striking similarity might not be mere coincidence.

Furthermore, recent cover stories have revealed that Judge himself possesses eyebrows identical to Luffy's. This observation once again strongly suggests that the curly eyebrow trait is not a result of Judge's genetic enhancements, but rather a hereditary characteristic of the Vinsmoke lineage.

This line of reasoning is what leads me to speculate that the Vinsmokes might be descendants of this ancient, technologically advanced civilization, potentially even possessing a diluted fraction of their power.

Maybe the Vinsmokes and Nika are both from the same race (and Nika was simply the most powerful among them and revered as a god) or Nika himself created that race. But this is a theory to be explored in other posts.

So, where do I think this will lead Sanji? Before answering that, I want to address another important (religious) motif—one that has been present in Sanji’s arc since day one and which I’ve been saving for now:

The Devil and Angels

Early in their introduction, Sanji made a profound declaration to Nami, vowing to do anything for her, even if it meant becoming the Devil himself.

This declaration is further emphasized by his signature moves: Diable Jambe (Devil in French) and its more powerful iteration, Ifrit Jambe.

Moreover, his associated animal is a horned sheep, and the Mink accompanying him during his UFO-gazing expedition may be a goat – both animals carrying significant symbolism related to the Devil in Christian beliefs.

Finally, Sanji's iconic proclamation after defeating Jabra, "God created food. But the Devil created the spices," explicitly acknowledges his own association with the Devil.

So, I think Oda might also be referencing Sanji as some type of Fallen Angel—a creature who fell from the skies after defying devine authority.

While I personally find this interpretation somewhat unsettling (I'm not particularly fond of the idea of comparing Sanji to Lucifer lol), I believe Oda has been subtly hinting at this "Devilish" motif throughout Sanji's character arc. And I have a few reasons to back this up.

First, I believe Oda employs a subtle pattern throughout the series, drawing parallels between the Monster Trio and key figures or symbols from religions of Asia, Europe and America.  Obviously, it’s not a strict rule, but I’m confident that many of their most significant moves and titles follow this pattern.

Luffy, embodying the spirit of the Sun God Nika, draws significant inspiration from pre-Columbian American religions, particularly those of the Incas, Mayans, and Aztecs. Keep in mind that Luffy would canonically be Brazilian (even though Brazil wasn’t part of those specific cultures, it is still an American country). Also, the Sun God Nika in One Piece was referenced by the Shandians, a culture clearly inspired by these civilizations. Zoro, with his name inspired by an Indian pirate, his connection to the Ashura (Indian ), and his possession of the sword "Enma" (named after the Japanese King of the Underworld), reflects influences from East Asian religions and cultures. In contrast, Sanji's character appears to draw inspiration from European and Middle Eastern mythology, particularly Christian imagery, hinting at a possible connection to the Fallen Angel archetype.

Furthermore, I believe the term "Devil" in the One Piece world might not always refer to inherently evil beings. Instead, it might be used to describe those who defy established authority and challenge the status quo. Consider the fate of the Ohara archaeologists – individuals who dared to question the official narrative and were subsequently branded as "devils" and brutally suppressed by the World Government.

In reality, I believe the true "devils" are those who wield immense power while masquerading as saviors or gods, engaging in unspeakable acts of cruelty. It is worth noting that the Gorosei, the enigmatic rulers of the world, utilize teleportation techniques that involve symbols strikingly similar to pentagrams.

And with this, I believe that these self-entitled gods—those who place themselves above others—would inevitably awaken the fury of someone like Sanji.

He would willingly take on the role of an antagonist to these so-called gods.  Ironically, despite this rebellious stance, Sanji ultimately serves the true "God" – his captain, Luffy, the embodiment of the Sun God Nika and follows morals that in many ways follow the Christian faith. But this is something to talk about in other posts.

Therefore, while perceived as a "Devil" by those in power, Sanji's actions are ultimately driven by a profound sense of justice and loyalty, aligning him more closely with the archetype of an angel who ultimately serves a higher, noble purpose.

This interpretation gains further credence when examining a specific panel from the Skypiea arc. In this scene, Sanji declares that he will assume the role of the "Blue Demon of the Seas" if the man who considers himself a god (referencing Enel) dares to harm Nami.

It's crucial to note that many translations inaccurately render the term as "monster" instead of "demon." However, several fans, including crepes-suzette, have correctly identified the kanji used in the original Japanese text as the same one that signifies "demon," a term Sanji himself previously employed during his initial encounter with Nami.

Robin’s duality of angelic and demonic attributes is clearly exemplified in her character. Despite being labeled the "Devil Child" from a young age, likely due to her possession of a Devil Fruit, she embodies both qualities.

Even before the incident in Ohara, Robin carried this title, and while I don't rememebr her correcting anyone who called her as such it wasn’t until Wano that she fully embraced it. During her fight against Black Maria, she transformed into a fearsome, demonic entity to protect Sanji—a moment of self-realization where she gained full control over her powers.

However, Robin had previously displayed an angelic side of her abilities, such as when she created wings to help Franky in Thriller Bark.

I believe that Robin's metamorphosis during her fight against Black Maria was a moment of self-realization—a transformation she learned to control using her Devil Fruit powers.

In Wano, her demonic transformation wasn’t just a means of victory—it was a deliberate message to those who threaten her loved ones. By fully embracing the "Devil" title and its terrifying form, Robin demonstrated her resolve to protect those she cares about, mirroring Sanji’s own willingness to sacrifice everything for Nami.

Let us not forget that the very name Oda gave these fruits is "Devil's Fruits."

Perhaps they are called that because they were created by enemies of the government/Imu ("devils"), and the government simply chose a fearsome name to deter people from consuming them.

The kanji for "Devil" (魔) that Sanji uses for his moves (and when he promised he would become a devil for Nami) is the same used for the Devil Fruits (悪魔の実) and for Demon Child (悪魔の子). However, unlike Robin, Sanji's association with the devil motif has no direct connection to Devil Fruits, as he never consumed one. Therefore, I see no reason for him to use this motif other than Oda intentionally connecting him to the race that created (or, more accurately, "cooked") the Devil Fruits.

Lastly, in Egghead, we must remember the significant panel where Saturn appears to undergo a transformation, becoming even more monstrous than before. Through Sanji, we gain insight into Saturn's loss of humanity—an interesting narrative choice by Oda.

Now, it all leads to what might happen to Sanji and what he might mutate into.

Sanji’s Transformation

To understand better what Oda might be planning for Sanji, I’d like to reference other important transformations that many superheroes and characters from popular shows have gone through, especially those related to intense emotions or powers tied to flames:

Jean Grey Phoenix: holds back her power, which manifest as flames

Kamen Rider: has transformations related to his intense emotions

Asura’s Wrath: his anger, rooted in his love for his daughter, ignited his Berzerk transformation

Kevin Levin: motivated by the love to protect his friends he became a powerful, yet psychopathic monster

Since the themes mentioned above have been explored by many writers for their characters, Oda might also adopt similar concepts for Sanji’s development. Let’s talk about them in more detail below — if you are not interested, you may just skip this part lol WATCH OUT FOR SPOILERS OF THE MENTIONED STORIES.

In the Marvel Universe, the Phoenix Force is one of the oldest known cosmic entities, said to predate darkness and the universe. It is considered the spark that ignites creation and the flame that consumes it, perpetuating the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. In many media portrayals, Jean Grey, the Phoenix’s most well-known host, must hold back this power because it's deemed too dangerous. In her case, Jean must train not to become stronger, but to restrain her immense powers and control them — it depends on which X-Men adaptation though.

Next, Kamen Rider, which seems to be a significant inspiration for much of Sanji’s lore. Kamen Rider Black, the main hero who was turned into a mutant by an evil organization resembling Germa (and indirectly, the Nazis), was killed and later revived as Kamen Rider Black RX. Through intense emotions, Kamen Rider RX transforms into two distinct forms based on his feelings. When he is enraged, he becomes the Prince of Flames, and when he is filled with sorrow for humanity, he transforms into the Prince of Sadness. In these states, he gains different abilities.

In Asura’s Wrath, the protagonist undergoes a fury-driven transformation after losing someone dear to him. His rage drives him to go berserk against the self-proclaimed “gods” responsible for the attack that killed his loved one. This kind of intense emotional reaction mirrors Sanji’s potential path, where his love could trigger a similar rage-based transformation when someone he cares about deeply is in danger. In the process he could become more cruel.

Finally, in Ben 10 Alien Force, Kevin Levin possesses powers related to energy absorption due to his alien ancestry. He faces an enemy of the same race, and when his friends, particularly the girl he likes, are in danger, Kevin uses his powers (in a dangerous way) to save them. However, this power comes with a cost: as he uses it incorrectly, he risks going insane. Kevin’s eventual turn into an antagonist demonstrates how overwhelming power can lead to a loss of control, paralleling Sanji’s potential struggle with his cruel side, especially when his genetic modifications take hold.

Given these examples, I can see Oda following a similar narrative path for Sanji. My guess is that Sanji will undergo two distinct transformations, with love being the catalyst for both.

The Blue Demon of the Sea Science

The first transformation will likely be a dark, evil persona, where Sanji allows his mutant genes to take over, making his flames burn hotter. This form could mirror the Dark Phoenix (the corrupted side of the Phoenix) or Kevin Levin's monstrous state.

This transformation might resemble Saturn’s metamorphosis, where Sanji becomes more powerful but loses the very emotions—his love and passion—that initially motivated him. In this state, Sanji might temporarily become an antagonist, possibly aligning with Germa’s science and his brothers' ruthless behavior. Eventually, Zoro may be forced to fight him, fulfilling their pact. In this form, Sanji may take on a more devilish appearance.

Heavenly Warrior of Love

For the second transformation, I believe Sanji will overcome his modified genes through his love—probably for Nami. This might lead to him mutating into a more celestial form, perhaps even resembling a Garuda (a mythical bird from Hindu and Buddhist iconography and the other name Judge has). Suzette has an insightful analysis of the Germa Kingdom's imagery as well as the holy fire and more—I recommend checking it out if you're interested!

In Thriller Bark, we already know something like this happened when Sanji's shadow was placed inside the corpse of a penguin/dog.

Because Moria, who performed the transfer, did not know Sanji's true strength, he used a weak body. This led to a surprise for most of Moria's henchmen, as Penguin Sanji demonstrated immense will.

However, what shocked them the most was Sanji overcoming his programming and refusing to hurt Nami when it was implied he had to. Sanji himself said it was due to the power of love, so I’m sure Oda will revisit a moment like this again, but on a much larger scale.

Though I prefer to stick to official material from the manga, there is an intriguing moment in the One Piece Pirate Warriors game where Sanji is overpowered by an external force that drives him to act evil. However, when he is forced to hurt Robin, he stops because his moral code—especially his vow never to kick a woman—proves stronger than any external influence. This shows just how deeply rooted his values are and how much they shape his actions, regardless of the power that might control him.

We saw how in Egghead, the motif of how love overcomes science was shown through a lot of characters, I.e. Seraphim Hancock when she decided to help the Straw Hats because of original Hancock's love to Luffy and Kuma overcoming his programing to save his daughter, Bonney.

So, I imagine Oda could use this idea (of Sanji fighting against any genetic programming/science) in the manga on a much larger scale.

Visually, for his transformations, I imagine Sanji's entire body could burst into bluish flames (not just his legs), taking on an inhuman silhouette during moments of extreme emotion. I think this fits with a few moments in the manga where he bursts into flames, and his hair even seems to turn into horns.

Also, can you imagine if this state—since it pushes his hair upward—revealed both of his eyes?

Maybe in his second transformation, he gains control over both his modified and inherited genes, visually symbolized by his eyebrows.

Let's remember, the eyebrows change direction when activating his genes (I still don’t fully understand how they work, but that’s an analysis for another time, lol). In his normal human state, they point left. But what if he finds equilibrium, and his eyebrows become symmetrical?

Notice how Judge's eyebrows, like Nika's, are actually symmetrical.

It’s just speculation, but it would be fun to see, hehe.

With Sanji’s incredible speed, if you saw him moving from afar, he’d resemble a shooting star streaking across the sky. A bit like the animation for Todoroki when he uses his fire powers for the first time

To conclude, there’s something else about Sanji that might connect him to the Heavens:

The All Blue

Yes, I’m going there.

My main theory remains that the All Blue is located in Fishman Island but still needs to “transform” into the All Blue after Luffy destroys the Red Line. However, let’s set that aside for now and focus on an interesting video I found by a Japanese fan who translates the One Piece manga, Dawn&Dusk.

He made a video that talked about the All Blue and discovered something so intriguing that I’m starting to consider another possibility.

In the video, the youtuber points out a draft from Oda where Zeff talks about the All Blue. However, what he says is quite different from what we read in the final version of the manga.

Zeff states:

"I’ve already lost my traveling companions. I don’t want to continue the journey with anyone but them. They were precious fools who accompanied me for a silly legend (...) That place transcends this world. In a year of sailing, I saw the possibility of All Blue in that place."

The translator explained that the kanji used for "transcend" carries the connotation of “greatly surpassing common sense, being exceptionally outstanding, and achieving something considered ‘impossible.’” It also suggests a state far removed from mundane affairs.

The translator speculated that the All Blue and Laugh Tale might exist in another dimension—a place beyond the world of One Piece. You can watch it and see what you think!

In my opinion, this could change a lot of things, especially regarding Oda’s plans for Sanji. Many have theorized that the All Blue symbolizes a new era of unity and freedom, and I think that’s Oda’s goal. But what if the All Blue is more than that? What if it already exists, but is in another world—a sort of Heaven, accessible only to gods or spirits, that will eventually be brought to Earth?

It’s somewhat similar to The Legend of Korra, season 2, whose universe has a spirit world, accessible through a portal, until the Avatar merges it with the physical world. Or even the world that Chihiro is transported to in Spirited Away.

I know it sounds unlikely, but that’s the fun part, right? I don’t really care about being right; I just enjoy how Oda has created so many intriguing elements around one character that we can endlessly analyze.

Even if I don’t agree with how he resolves some narrative elements, it’s always curious to see where he’ll take us next. So let’s keep reading and guessing! I hope you had fun reading my theory.

Also, knowing Oda, I wouldn’t be surprised if many of these connections were just happy coincidences he came up with on the spot.

I remember an interview where Taz Skylar said he asked Oda a lot about One Piece (and Sanji), and most of the answers were simply, “Because I thought it would be cool.” lol

I'm sure I'm seeing a lot of things that Oda didn't really intend to have a deeper meaning, but since he hasn’t confirmed them, everything is possible, right? And I don't think it takes away the fact that some of the things he wrote, Oda was indeed planning for a long time.

Anyway, what would your crazy theory about Sanji be? Or maybe about Nami, or even both? Let me know!

For Sanji I still haven't brought up what his role to the story of One Piece could be, I’m still trying to gather my thoughts about this, so let me know if you are interested and I will post something in the future.

[themarshmallownerd]

A Lazarus Drug

Summary: While stranded in the Canadian wilderness, the struggling survivors of the Yellowjackets soccer team discover they're not alone in the woods surrounding their camp. Deeper in the woods lies the nest for a mysterious force. A force with the tempting power to bring fallen teammates back from the dead. However, there is a price to pay for those who tamper with the barrier between life and death, for the souls that go into the ground are not the same as the souls that come out.

Relationships: Shauna Shipman/Jackie Taylor; Lottie Matthews/Natalie Scatorccio; Minor Taissa Turner/Van Palmer

Ratings: Mature (M) for canon-typical violence, cannibalism, and character death (though the major character deaths are temporary)

Link: Chapter 1 (AO3)

A/N: Trying something new with this AU (and by new, I mean a hell of a lot of angst lol). Chapter count may change depending on how long the individual chapters end up being, so we'll just have to see where this takes us! The lore for this is also heavily based on the logic behind Stephen King's Pet Sematary, so as you could imagine with that source material, and the themes of Yellowjackets in general, there will be a lot of talk of death, and violence, and survival horror.

Preview: “Sorry about that,” the nurse said in that nasally voice of his. He stepped further into the room, practically hugging the tray of food to his lanky, stick-like frame. “I’ll ask the receptionist to turn that down.”

Shauna couldn’t care less. She merely stayed stone-still on her perch on the very edge of the bed, her blank stare trained on the door to the main hall where the nurse had just emerged.

“Got some lunch for you,” the nurse went on cheerily, setting down the tray on the metal stand just beside the bed. He appraised the small assortment of paper bowls filled with drab-colored slop for a few seconds, then filled in the persisting silence with a small explanation of, “The smaller portions are just for now. Just to slowly reintroduce your bodies to proper foods. Too much too soon could result in you getting sick.”

Shauna inhaled deeply at the thought. Her head turned away as much as physically possible. In her peripheral, she could see the slanted rays of sun that peeked through the blinds of the window just behind her. She shut her eyes, trying to stem the flow of memories of that first spring in the Wilderness.

When she opened her eyes again, she went back to staring blankly at the door. 

Her peripheral vision caught the nurse shifting restlessly in his place, scratching at the hair of his beard along his jaw like a nervous dog. He cleared his throat, before filling in the silence again. “Well, I’ll just leave this here. No rush to finish it, of course. And if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to press the call button.”

Shauna glanced over as he held up the tiny remote with a single button. Then at the nurse, and his small, condoling smile. 

It was almost pathetic, how relieved he seemed at the prospect of her finally acknowledging his presence. Even with something as minute as a glance. 

Perhaps the Shauna of Before would have smiled back. Just to be polite. Or maybe even out of genuine gratitude. The Shauna of Before would have been relieved to finally be in the company of someone so well-meaning and friendly after so long surrounded by nothing but animals, both of the wilderness’ natural domain and her own creations. 

The Shauna of Now can’t find the energy to so much as feign cordiality. She couldn’t find it in herself to do much of anything at all.

She went back to staring at the door. 

At the same time, the door crept open again. Another nurse poked her head in, just enough to show her face and short bob of red hair. Like her colleague, she shot Shauna a polite smile as they made eye contact before her attention promptly switched to the other person in the room.

“James,” she whispered loudly, waving him over with one hand. 

The first nurse didn’t waste a second, scurrying over to join her in the hallway. The door hung slightly ajar in their wake, offering a view of James’s profile to Shauna’s unbreaking stare. 

“We’re gonna have to do their blood work again,” the second nurse announced. “Something must have gone haywire down in the labs. Only one of the tests actually came back with results.”

“What about the rest?” the first one queried, taking a file from her to check the results for himself.

“The others’ results said they were dead.”

There was a beat of silence as James continued to read over the paperwork. Then, he stuffed the files into a purple folder with a half-hearted chuckle. “OK, yeah. That’s one hell of a glitch. Alright…” 

He sighed tiredly as he considered the work they would have to do for a second time. He and the second nurse promptly decided who would cover which tasks in the blood testing process. 

James swiftly ducked back into Shauna’s room, explaining the situation to her as if she wasn’t within earshot for the previous conversation. Though in fairness to him, she offered no indication that she had been listening. Or that she was listening to him right now. 

She merely kept staring at the door, unblinking. Unfeeling. Not quite processing that the world of the Wilderness was truly gone. 

“Of course, it can wait until after you all have had something to eat,” the nurse said in conclusion to his little spiel. “Again, take your time with getting through your food. I’m gonna do a quick check-in with your friends, see where they’re at. In the meantime, are you sure there isn’t anything you can think of that we should be on alert for during our examinations? Any allergies to medications we should be aware of? Anything that happened to you recently, like serious injuries or illness symptoms? Anything that happened out there that feels worth reporting at all?”

He asked that question earlier. Back when they were drawing blood from her mindlessly compliant arm the first time. She couldn’t remember giving any answer. 

She didn’t think she had spoken at all thus far. Nor in the past few days. 

What could even be said of what happened to them out there? She wasn’t sure if she could even remember what all were true events or what were strangely lucid nightmares. 

She could feel the effects of being aphonic now, as her tongue reticently unpeeled itself from the roof of her mouth. Her gaze still couldn’t seem to break away from the doorway, which should have been her first sign that her mind wasn’t entirely with her as she tried to answer.

“We were being punished.”

That much, she knew for sure.

In the corner of her eye, she could see James lean in closer, as though he hadn’t heard her across the scant six inches between them. “I’m sorry?”

Shauna properly looked to him then, meeting dark hickory brown eyes with her own. The most she could conjure in terms of an explanation for her words was an equally listless sounding, “My friend called her piano teacher a cunt.”

[rarepears]

Lanbari ask. What if Kyouya 'Created' a new cultivation method? So now in xianxia land, there's also Flames now. I once read a fic where the mystery mom of LWJ and LXC was a Wen. We could use that here, having that fire connection with the Wens be "connected" to this nifty new power Lanbari made. Which makes everyone lose their minds. Lanbari, as ever, is a Cloud. LXC could be a Sky, a Rain or a Rainy Sky. LWJ could be a Lightning. WWX is definitely a Sun. 'Activating' the dead that he controls gives them a huge boost. MY is probably a Mist. Lanbari let's that slide since Chrome showed that not all Mists are bad. NHS is probably a Mist, too. NMJ could be a Sun or a Lightning. JWY as a Storm, JYL as a Rain.

Lanbari, having learned from his previous life that just because someone is a Sky doesn't mean they're the best person to lead. (Timoteo, Iemitsu, (sorry) Tsuna) So he'll make it so his brother doesn't have to worry too much about his people. He'll lead with gentle suggestions on how somethings would be beneficial to the Sect (I HC all Skies have Intuition) from LXC for optimum efficiency. Actually, LXC probably tells MY who gets the stamp of approval from Lanbari. Either way, his Sky brother doesn't have to deal with too much Empathy like Tsuna did while in a leadership position and won't kill off his Empathy like Nono and Iemitsu just to try and lead well.

Although being a Lan probably makes it difficult to make bonds, with all the strictly enforced social rules, so Lanbari is hunting for prospective Gaurdians for his omnivorous twin. Which was another reason for MY being handed off to LXC at first. Lanbari wanted to see if there was potential there. (There definitely was and now Lanbari has a future in law.) NMJ was a fight friend and was introduced to LXC (Little brother is introducing me to his friends! How sweet!) and bonds him, too. At this point, Lanbari worries that any other intros might lead to a harem for his brother so he tries to find others that are already spoken for. I can't think of any off the top of my head since I've never actually read the source and only fanfic of MDZS. Anyways!

You could also add some Humor to it. After introducing LXC, MY and NMJ, other Lans might think hes a good matchmaker so they try to ask Lanbari with help finding their soulmate, too. In response, Lanbari throws them at someone to get their idiotic babble away from him. It turns out, they're soulmates. Way to go, Lanbari! Now he's harassed by (idiots) people determined to go through a beating from Lanbari to get a soulmate.

You could link the future leaders of the cultivation world together early, leading to a solid foundation for them all to fall back on when/if the Wens attack. Also, imagine the Wens trying to storm the Lan Sect. For Angst, Lanbari could be on a nighthunt far away so it still happens, maybe with less casualties since he'd probably beef up the defenses. For Fix-It, he'd be present and kick the Wens asses.

 Personally, my headcanon is that mafia heads are all skies because of tradition. Skies don't make good heads and they don't have to be the head; it's just that skies are so charismatic that it ended up becoming tradition.

So... MDZS doesn't have that tradition. No one can protest about a cloud becoming sect leader instead of a sky. In fact, MDZS values talent more than necessarily firstborn becoming sect leader - otherwise Jiang Yanli could have been sect leader... probably. (Didn't the Gusu Lan had a female leader at one point? That means it's not impossible for the great sects to have female leaders. Add in the the maternal tradition of Madam Yu, it's possible! But Jiang Yanli was sickly and weak in cultivation talent.)

Anyways, Hibari as the head. I don't feel like he even listened to Tsuna - their goals just happened to align, so it's good that he's official head as he would go do his own thing regardless. Lan Xichen would have no hope of controlling Hibari's actions, just hope to mitigate the damage, if he were head instead.

Lan Xichen would serve as the Hibari-translator, softening Hibari's words into something more gentle, more politically correct. It helps that Hibari is very abrupt with his words and doesn't provide clarifying details, so Lan Xichen can twist Hibari's words a bit. You know, from "clean this mess up" to Lan Xichen now instructing the disciples to clear the debris, to contact the craftsmen, to arrange for the shop keepers to be compensated for their damaged goods, and so forth.

So that particular command is all fine and well. But when Hibari points at Jin Guangshan and says "trash"... time for Lan Xichen to sing a song about how Hibari TOTALLY meant something else. Like how Jin Guangshan should do something about the trash in his sect like all the immoral cultivators who have been disobeying rules - oh did you know that I had to stop so and so from stealing goods from a merchant's shop?

I do love the thought of Hibari hunting for good guardians for his brother. He's obviously his twin's cloud. Lan Wangji feels like a rain; plus rain can sound like music.

This frees up the lightning spot for Nie Mingjue - he willing to absorb the Wen's damage to protect his sect. He doesn't seem very... nurturing; he's more sturdy like an anchor for a ship.

Hibari doesn't exactly have to look very hard for guardians; he just lets the guardian candidates come to Gusu Lan for Lan Qiren's lessons and inspects each individual one by one. The first test is Hibari beating the potential candidates up. The guardians should be very sturdy and skilled at fighting of course!

(Meng Yao is the exception because he's the pencil pusher.)

Hibari the matchmaker! That's a hilarious thought!

Just imagine him beating up two cultivators and having them thrown into the same jail cell.. and then three years later, Hibari receives a wedding invitation to the two's wedding. He's being invited as the "matchmaker" of the couple. I guess that makes Hibari a more violent cupid?

As a cloud who's terribly possessive of his territory, Hibari would not allow himself to travel so far that he would not be at Gusu Lan for years - the Sunshot Campaign took years. If anything, Hibari hears rumors about what a strong fighting Wen Ruohan is, so he goes to Qishen Wen for a fight...

Wen Ruohan loses. Badly. Hibari is disappointed and he leaves the city, Wen Ruohan knocked out for the count.

Wen Qing uses this amazing opportunity to poison Wen Ruohan with no one the wiser; Wen Ruohan slips into a coma and never wakes up. Wen Qing blames Hibari for using poison or something something nefarious that resulted in none of her healing techniques working.

Considering that Hibari used his cloud flames in this fight and it was visible, people believe Wen Qing's claims. Hibari's fearsome reputation just went up by ten million points, but as someone who doesn't pay attention to rumors, he doesn't know about Wen Qing's claims.

Even Gusu Lan believes in Wen Qing's claims that it was Hibari's attacks that slowly killed Wen Ruohan to death.

[themurderofcrowscollective]

The Red Witch glances at him and looks at him up and down, analyzing him. " Scottish I assume? You're far more sun-kissed than most of the blokes I know around here, and those are the bluest eyes I've ever seen. " John chuckles softly, nodding. " Aye, was the accent a dead giveaway? " " Yes, but I didn't want to assume anything of you while you snored away for the past 4 days. Now then, my name is Amelia Pentaghast, the last survivor of the Pentaghast family and sole inheritor of the Pentaghast-Fortuna fortune. " For a brief moment, John recalls the time he saw the news of the fire that took most of the Pentaghast family and the original manor in a newspaper, before he takes a bite out of a sausage link. Amelia looks at him once again after eating her peach and tilts her head. " Would you like to hold that mock interrogation now, Detective MacTavish? " " Yes, although I find it more as a questioning. " " Then ask away. " " Right. I've heard from the residents of the town that you are considered a devil woman and, to quote one of them, 'should be burned at the stake for what she did.' I assume that was said because of the murder of Frank Brown, but what I would like to know is what really happened between you and him. " Amelia sits back in her chair and recalls that very night, with a thoughtful look in her eyes. " Well, yes I did kill him but I did so for good reason; After my family was killed in that fire, I had decided to marry into another rich family to rebuild the home I had lost to keep the Pentaghast legacy alive, we were very well known and respected once. My late husband, Charles Fortuna, was a wonderful man mind you but he was abruptly killed a week after our honeymoon by Brown out of jealousy and a desire to wed me instead so he could inherit the fortune that was left to me. " As she spoke, John seemed intrigued and quietly ate. " He was a greedy and selfish man but rather than reporting him to the authorities to arrest him, I sought out to reclaim this sword that was left to me by my father and took matters into my own hands. Brown tried his damned best to woo me while my home was being rebuilt, but my mother taught me all the ways to stay true to myself, so I declined him many times before the night my home was rebuilt. " She chuckles warmly as she recalls the outfit she wore. " The celebration party I held was fun, but I knew I couldn't dance the night away like I wanted to. The day previously, I challenged Brown to a duel with swords and lied that a doctor would be present as it is written in the law of dueling, and told him to wait for an invitation. He was a boastful idiot and told his friends, so when I led him out to the garden, one of his friends followed quietly and watched as we fought. " Amelia stops for a moment and snaps her fingers, a silver tray with a tea set floating over and landing on the table carefully, and as she continues, the tea pot pours a bright red liquid into a tea cup and three sugar cubes land in the cup, a spoon magically stirring it. " For a moment, the whole fight was magical but I knew what had to be done. When I bested him and threw aside his sword, he looked at me and admitted that he aimed to kill me for my inheritance, wanting a truce but I couldn't let him live a moment longer and so, right there on the spot, I beheaded him and buried his corpse where a large tree is standing now. " When Amelia finishes, she picks up her cup and takes a sip before glancing at John. " Satisfied, detective? " John seemed windswept by the story before regaining his composure and clearing his throat. " Not quite, but thanks for the story, I still have questions. Do you intentionally terrorize the town with any magic or plague? " " No, I hardly leave my home nor do I even use any of my magic to cause harm. " " Alright. What is the source of your magic? "

Rose Red

(Another fuckin' fanfic, let's get this bread!) (The fanfic title is inspired by Emilie Autumn's 'Rose Red', I recommend it.) - - - There are all sorts of tales that speak of wondrous adventures and knights and princesses, dragons and the highest towers of a castle in ruin, kings and queens. Many of these stories make the knight play as the hero, a man of valiant honor and loyalty, set out to save the princess who is trapped or captured but these types of stories... are just about everywhere. In the 1700s, in Manchester, Britain... there lives a woman who is considered the most infamous outcast there is. Her name is unspoken of as she is a taboo topic to speak of, considering her past. Her family were loved and were spoken of in high praises as they all were noble, fair and talented greatly in art, music, story writing and architect. Anyone would have something good to say about this family, that is until the dreadful fire that set their home ablaze and took them all with the home, all except their middle child who survived. In order to maintain her high status, she had immediately married into a rich family to rebuild her home and restore honor to her family name as she is the sole survivor, but all came crumbling down when her marriage abruptly ended with her husband dying of a cruel man's actions. She mourned the loss of her love but rather than going through the grieving process, she swore vengeance at the funeral and revealed a side to herself that shook the whole audience to their very core. Rather than going to the authorities to arrest the man who killed her lover, she spent days figuring out where he had fled to and recovered a family heirloom that her father gave her before his passing. The heirloom? A sword of pure steel with red rubies adorning it's hilt and the family crest in the center of the hilt. As her brothers were deemed unworthy to wield it, they were jealous of her and kept patronizing her with 'facts' such as 'You know that only a man can do a man's job, right?' or 'Women shouldn't be allowed to wield swords!' but on that fateful night, she proved them wrong. That night, with the rebuilding of her home completed, she hosted a party to celebrate and invited everyone including the man who killed her husband. He had thought he was lucky and wanted to find a way to woo her into marrying him, so he could kill her next and inherit the fortune left behind for her but what he found out was it was all a trap. He was led away by her during the party into the gardens of red roses, not expecting to be met with a sword to his throat instead of her 'goods'. Infuriated, the man took out his own sword and swore to kill her but little did he know, she was trained by her grandfather to kill from a young age. The fight was glorious and they nearly fit well together but rather than giving him a truce when she had him on his back, she uttered softly with a fire burning in her eyes... 'No retreat, no surrender.' And like that, he was beheaded with one swift swing of her sword. Before anyone could find the two, the lady buried the man she killed and went back to the party like nothing happened, having cleaned up her attire from the blood until someone comes running back inside and exclaiming that they had seen her kill the man responsible for her husband's death. The party went into a panic and the guests fled the manor, while a few men stayed behind to kill her for killing their friend. The last thing they saw was each of their friends dying quickly, the rubies glowing and the lady's eyes burning a bright orange color similar to the embers of a fireplace. That night, the lady's name became lost to time and thus became The Red Witch. - - -

[carryonthroughtheages]

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

--

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

[thegrapeandthefig]

Festivals we know (almost) nothing about - Part 1

Once in a while, it's good to remember that none of our calendars are complete. This is much more obvious with non-Attic/Athenian calendars, and anyone who decides to jump into attempting to reconstruct the cultic calendar of Delphi, Delos, Sparta, Argos etc. will know exactly what I mean, as they are painfully fragmentary (not to mention the ones that are completely lost).

Because of the contrast between the fairly well-preserved Athenian calendar and the others, we often forget that Athenian calendar we know about is only "well-preserved" but by no means complete.

Back in January, I decided to make an user-friendly calendar and I had to make several choices about how to keep it simple. One of those choices was to get rid of obscure festivals, especially when their date or content is unknown or highly speculative.

The downside of my project is that it further solidifies this illusion of completeness. This is why I'm making this post: here's the list of Athenian festivals we know by name that haven't made it into my calendar for the reasons mentioned above. Emphasis on "know by name", because there's probably a few we completely lost as well. This list likely isn't going to be exhaustive either (took out deme-specific festivals, hero worship, battle commemoration festivals etc. + I probably forgot stuff).

Note 1: This will be cut in parts of 10 festivals because there's really a lot.

Note 2: The aim isn't to tell people to add all of those holy days and festivals to their calendar, that would be way too much for a single person. Rather, this list is meant as inspiration for worshippers, especially those who have relationships with less widely worshipped deities.

The Adonia

Date unknown but probably happened in the summer. We actually have decent information on this one, aside from the date issue. It was primarily a festival for women. A few days before the festival, they would go plant young sprouts of lettuce and other garden plants and cereals on the rooftops. The sprouts, being left out in the sun, would quickly die, which was meant to represent the tragic short-life of Adonis. On the day of the festival, the women would come back on the roof to cry and mourn the death of Adonis.

For a complete study and contextualization of this festival, see "The Athenian Adonia in Context: The Adonis Festival as Cultural Practice" by Laurialan Reitzammer.

The Aiora

A swinging festival of unknown date, though there is debate about it being part of the Anthesteria. The Aiora was probably connected to the death of Erigone.

The Amarysia

Pausanias is our only source of a cult to Artemis Amarysia in Athens (Description of Greece 1. 31. 5):

"Amarynthus is a town in Euboea, the inhabitants of which worship Amarysia, while the festival of Amarysia which the Athenians celebrate is no less splendid than the Euboean. The name of the goddess, I think, came to Athmonia in this fashion and the Colaenis in Myrrhinus is called after Colaenus."

We have no further information for this cult in Athens specifically.

The Anthesphoria

This one is tricky to fit in the list, because we have very little proof this was ever celebrated in Athens, and most of our sources on the festival trace back to Sicily, even though there are indications it was held in other parts of the Greek world. It was a festival of the flowers focusing around Persephone and Demeter. It was probably held in early spring, if we take into consideration the common stem between Anthesphoria and Anthesterion (anthes = flower), the Attic month of February-March, which alludes to the abundance of flowers during this time of the year.

For a more complete post on this festival, see @verdantlyviolet's breakdown. For a study, see "Hera’s Lettuce Women and the Peculiar Uses of Flowers, Fruit and Vegetables in Ancient Greek Festivals for Women" by Lucinda Guzman (Master's thesis)

The Arrhephoria

Festival held in honour of Athena and Pandrosus, date unknown but it seems to have been linked to the Acropolis.

The Asklepieia

Probably a set of two festivals to Asklepios, one occuring in winter (between the Lenaia and the City Dionysia, so roughly between January and March/April) and another roughly six months later, between the Eleusinia and the Thesea. At this point, it is believed that the latter actually is known under the name of Epidauria, which was celebrated on Boedromion 17 or 18 (around September). Whereas the first festival would fit with an observance to Asklepios known to happen on Elaphebolion 8. It was probably at those two festivals that doctors would make their sacrifices to the god.

The Diisoteria

Two dates are known for this festival to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteria, as there are indications this festival has been changed over the centuries. The original date was Skirophorion 30, the last day of this month (somewhere between June and July, most likely - which also happens to be New Year's eve for the Attic calendar). According to R. Parker, the date was moved in the 4th century BC to be earlier in the month, before Skirophorion 11. A decree from the 2nd century BC indicates Asclepius and Hygieia were also added to the list of recipients.

The Elaphebolia

Festival to Artemis, probably in the month of the same name (Elaphebolion - March/April). We can assume it was held on the 6th day, but we have no certainty. The preparation of ‘deer’ cakes (probably in private houses?) attested by Athenaeus is all that we can be sure of.

The Galaxia

Festival in honor of Cybele, the Mother of the Gods. No date known. For the occasion was offered a golden bowl with ‘galaxias’, a mixture of barley flour and milk.

The Genesia

Festival celebrating the dead, most likely dead parents. It was held on Boedromion 5 (late August - early September). Details are blurry, it's possible this was mostly a private, familial celebration. If there was a public rite distinct from private commemorations, we do not know where it was held.

_______________________

Unless stated otherwise, most of the information is taken from Parker R., Polytheism and Society at Athens, 2005

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 5 -

- Ao3 link -

It was not a letter that came to the Cloud Recesses in response to his query, but rather Lao Nie’s two sons.

Lan Qiren was made aware of their arrival when Lan Wangji burst into his room at a run, without knocking, and it was such a strange and bizarre occurrence – it was simply unthinkable for Lan Wangji to do such a thing, when his love and respect for the Lan sect rules were equal to Lan Qiren’s own, a special interest they shared and bonded over – that Lan Qiren immediately knew that something must have gone very wrong.

“Nie Huaisang is scared,” he said, his own golden eyes wide and round as the moon, his voice trembling as if this news was the worst thing that could ever happen. Indeed, Lan Qiren could not think of any instances in which he had known Nie Huaisang to suffer the emotion of fear: laziness, impertinence, annoyance, any number of emotions, yes, but never fear. “Shufu…”

“Where is he?” Lan Qiren asked, already rising to his feet – Lan Xichen, with whom he had been having tea, had already leapt up.

“Is Mingjue-xiong here as well?” he asked anxiously. “Is he well?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes filled up with tears and he shook his head furiously, his voice failing him, and Lan Qiren held out a hand to him. Lan Wangji put his smaller hand in his and started tugging him out the door. When he met the Nie boys at the gate, it was already after dinner, late by Lan standards with the sun already mostly set, and Nie Mingjue was unexpectedly wearing one of his winter cloaks; perhaps it was that which deceived Lan Qiren’s eyes, hiding his appearance until they returned with him to his rooms, or else it was simply that he had difficulty believing the evidence of his own vision.

“What happened?” he demanded, his hands gentle but determined on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders as he guided the boy into his well-lit home, forcing him at once to sit when he saw the state of him. Nie Mingjue was a mess: a black eye and a split lip, bruises on his cheek and his collarbone; his fingers were trembling and it was unclear what other injuries there was under his clothing. “Where’s Lao Nie?”

Nie Mingjue flinched when he asked; Nie Huaisang, following in behind him, burst into tears. He, at least, looked more shaken than actually injured: his lips were chapped from what must have been a blisteringly fast flight and there was a bruise at his brow, but one that seemed more like the sort that one would get from knocking into something by accident, rather than a fight gone horribly wrong.

Lan Qiren felt something cold slither up his spine.

“Where’s Lao Nie?” he asked again, suddenly afraid of the answer. “Did you come here by yourselves..?”

Technically permissible, given that Nie Mingjue was probably fifteen, but Lao Nie would never have allowed such a thing – and yet Nie Mingjue nodded dully.

“You need a doctor!” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue started violently, then reached out and caught Lan Xichen’s wrist before he could go to fetch one.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t, no. I don’t want anyone to know. I only came here because – because Huaisang –”

“I’m not letting you go back alone!” Nie Huaisang shouted, and his voice was hoarse, too, almost squeaking with the effort needed to speak. “I’m not! You promised you’d stay with me!”

Nie Mingjue averted his eyes.

“Da-ge…!”

Lan Qiren swallowed down his fear. “Xichen, get the medical supplies from my travel bag,” he instructed, interrupting the imminent battle between brothers, and Lan Xichen moved at once. “Wangji, fetch them both some water; Huaisang, you will drink the water before you lose any more of your voice. Mingjue…tell me what happened.”

The story, when it came out, was worse than Lan Qiren could have imagined.

A night-hunt gone wrong, that was with the realm of his expectation – a night-hunt against an especially vicious yao, a wild boar gone mad with the season and having cultivated to great strength, near-human in its cunning and malice but purely bestial in its unending strength. Such things had been the end of many cultivators, no matter how talented or powerful; it would have been something not unlike that which had put an end to the life of the light-hearted Cangse Sanren and her valorous husband.

But the rest of the story…

“Jiwei shattered?” Lan Qiren asked, unable to believe it. “Jiwei? How could that happen?”

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said, wiping his streaming eyes. “I could feel it, just before it happened – I felt him. His cultivation. He did something to Jiwei, all those months ago, that stupid party…he patted her a few times, I don’t know what he did. A-die’s been complaining ever since then that something seemed wrong, but he couldn’t quite say what it was so he just disregarded it.”

Lan Qiren swallowed again, his throat abruptly very dry. “That’s an accusation of murder against another sect leader, Mingjue,” he said carefully. “To say such a thing could lead the whole cultivation world into war.”

Nie Mingjue – honest, straightforward Nie Mingjue – looked up at him with red eyes. “But it’s true, Teacher Lan. He did it. I’m sure of it.”

Lan Qiren didn’t doubt him. Nie Mingjue might be young, but he was an exceptional cultivator. He wouldn’t have made a mistake of this type, not with something like this. And given his earnest, serious, and righteous nature, he wouldn’t speak lightly, either – if he said it, it meant he believed it; if he believed it, it was more than likely true.

Wen Ruohan had shattered Jiwei.

Whatever his motives, whether they were political or personal, whether he was avenging some grudge or perhaps just irate that Lao Nie had decided against sharing his bed or what – he had destroyed a spiritual weapon, which would be an abominable move under any circumstances but which was so much worse when the blade and master were so closely connected and intertwined as Lao Nie and Jiwei were.

Had been.

“And – Lao Nie – he…” Lan Qiren’s heart shook in his chest. “Is he…”

“He’s not dead,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Qiren’s knees went soft in relief. “But he’s not – he doesn’t act right.”

“Not right?” Lan Xichen asked. He was sitting next to Nie Mingjue, dabbing warm water on the wounds on his face; he clearly would have preferred to summon a doctor at once, and was equally clearly itching to tear off Nie Mingjue’s robes to get at the untended wounds that doubtless lay hidden there. “What do you mean?”

“He keeps asking for her,” Nie Huaisang said. His voice was high-pitched with stress; his hand was clenched around Lan Wangji’s, knuckles white, grip so tight that it must have hurt, although Lan Wangji said nothing to indicate any discomfort, even if he noticed it. “He’s always asking for someone to bring him his saber, asking where Jiwei is – even when we showed him the pieces, he didn’t recognize them. And he doesn’t recognize us, either!”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t recognize you?” Lan Qiren asked, voice sharp. “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“He thinks we’re his enemies,” Nie Huaisang said. “He doesn’t – he doesn’t believe us when we say we’re his children, he thinks we’re other people – calls us names I don’t recognize – he thinks we’re keeping Jiwei from him on purpose, and he gets angry. Teacher Lan, he gets so angry…”

Lan Qiren’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. “Mingjue,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Mingjue, A-Jue…how did you get those injuries?”

He’d thought that it was left over from the fight with the boar yao. Nie Mingjue had said he was there, that he’d finished the job after everyone was frozen because of what happened to Jiwei, after Lao Nie had nearly gotten gored with a tusk, and it was plausible.  And yet, Lan Qiren knew too well how fearsome Lao Nie was in the midst of his rage, how violent, how vicious, how callous.

It was rage he would never turn against those he loved. But if he didn’t recognize them –

“Some are from the boar,” Nie Mingjue finally whispered, his head bowed in silent admission that that was not the source of all of his wounds. An admission that some of them had come from Lao Nie’s hand, and oh – that hurt most of all, to think of how Lao Nie would hate what he’d done. Lao Nie despised those who raised their fists to their own kin the most; he called them cowards, pathetic, monsters in human flesh.

He would hate more than any other what he had become at Wen Ruohan’s hands.

“What do the doctors say?” he asked, voice sticking in his throat.

Nie Mingjue’s head lowered still further. “Wait.”

He did not mean – they did not mean – that time would heal this illness.

They meant for him to wait until Lao Nie died.

“I will return with you to the Unclean Realm,” Lan Qiren decided, and Nie Mingjue started crying in abrupt relief.

“I didn’t dare hope – I just needed someone to watch Huaisang,” he said, stuttering over his words, face in his hands as he wept. “A-die said we could always come to you –”

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Nie Huaisang shouted at once, although his face was pale. “Da-ge, he’s my father too -”

“Your cultivation isn’t anywhere near strong enough to stand up to him! You need to be safe, Huaisang –”

“And you don’t? Da-ge! Teacher Lan, tell him!”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, calling for silence. “Huaisang,” he said sternly. “You wish to return because you fear for your brother, which is admirable – ‘be loyal and filial’. Yet remember that you must also extend faith to others. Do you trust me to make sure Mingjue is safe?”

After a moment, Nie Huaisang jerked his head in a nod.

“You will stay here with Xichen and Wangji,” Lan Qiren said. “Mingjue and I will go, and I will do what I can. To the best of my ability, I will not permit him to be harmed.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, comforted, and Lan Wangji solemnly squeezed his hand. They were young and easily deceived; but Lan Xichen, who was older, had not yet lost the look of concern on his face – unlike the younger two, he knew the vast difference in strength between Lao Nie and Lan Qiren.

If Lan Qiren were the more meticulous, the more targeted, then Lao Nie was still the blazing sun in comparison to his dim candle. Lan Qiren had never been permitted to leave the Cloud Recesses in search of adventure, had barely even been allowed to go to night-hunts to try to win fame lest he die and leave the Lan sect with a power vacuum, and even before that, as a child, he had been promising but painfully slow; he had always relied on Lao Nie for matters that called for sheer power. No matter how much Lan Qiren had cultivated through meditation and music and orthodox swordsmanship, enough for a golden core that shone brightly with a clear and pure light, it was nowhere near enough to give him the strength to stop Lao Nie if he was in the midst of a rampage.

Lan Qiren was no match for Lao Nie.

Lan Xichen knew that. Equally so, he knew that Lan Qiren obeyed their Lan sect rules as if they were a heavenly mandate: he would not lie.

To the best of his ability, he would not permit Nie Mingjue to be harmed – even if it cost him his own life.

It very well might.

“What’s your condition? How long do you need to rest before you can fly again?” he asked Nie Mingjue. If he could, Lan Qiren would side with Nie Huaisang and force Nie Mingjue to stay in the Cloud Recesses as well, to heal from wounds both external and internal – he might be as tall as a grown man, but Nie Mingjue was the same age as most of Lan Qiren’s students, most of them less than a year or two into night-hunting and convinced of their own immortality, foolish with confidence and deeply vulnerable beneath that. Nie Mingjue himself was steadier, had been night-hunting for years since Lao Nie had no plausible basis to deny him the right to it, but the hunted, scared look in his tear-reddened eyes showed that he was still just as fragile.

And yet, without him, Lan Qiren would not be allowed into the Unclean Realm.

He knew the protocols of the Qinghe Nie sect like the back of his hand: in such a dire situation they would retreat inside their fortress, bar the doors and refuse guests, wait for the storm to pass. They were brave and exuberant, always willing to rush out to be the first to face down evil, but they were also intensely private, each one of them. When the hurt came from the inside, they would hide the truth of it more thoroughly than they would a treasure.

Lao Nie would not be able to counter-order them – so Nie Mingjue had to be the one.

He’ll be sect leader next if Lao Nie dies, Lan Qiren thought, and felt abruptly sick to his stomach.

The Nie sect valued martial strength much more than the Lan sect, prized their saber spirits above all else, even safety; Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be forced to give up saber training or night-hunting the way Lan Qiren had had to. But the demands of the position of sect leader were relentless, taxing beyond belief, and something would have to give – it would be everything else that would need to be sacrificed.

All of Nie Mingjue’s softness, the hobbies he enjoyed in his spare time, the books he liked to read; his time with friends, his inclination to play, to read, to learn, to do things for pleasure, his ability to act spontaneously without first thinking of what it might mean for his sect. Even the tears that flowed so easily down his face now would become a luxury he could not afford, a weakness he would need to hide away until only a few close friends could see it.

His sect elders would probably want him married off as soon as possible, too, and never mind that he was too young – Nie Huaisang was still young, too young, but he’d never been especially promising, not the way Nie Mingjue was, and the Nie sect elders knew very well how the saber spirit worked, how the most talented were often the earliest to die. Lan Qiren had a letter on his desk from Lao Nie, only a few months old, complaining that they were already pressing for him to find an engagement for his eldest.

If they had their way, they would put Nie Mingjue to stud at once, hoping for at least three strong sons to carry on the family name by the time he died, and in so doing would selfishly sacrifice any hope he might have of finding love…

“I can keep going at once,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Qiren leveled him with a stern look. “I can! Teacher Lan, trust me, I know myself. Let me meditate as you get ready; two incense sticks and I’ll be capable of the return journey.”

“Take a shichen,” Lan Qiren instructed, and glared Nie Mingjue into silence when he tried to protest. “The journey to Qinghe is long, and we will need to make stops along the way regardless to recover the strength to continue. Overexerting yourself could damage your cultivation, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said. He was as headstrong as any Nie, but on everything but a matter of principle he generally erred in favor of obedience; a good, filial child. He would need to get rid of that trait, too, if he were to become sect leader…

“It will take that long for me to get matters in place for my departure,” Lan Qiren added, a comfort, and he had the pleasure of seeing Nie Mingjue’s shoulders inch down a little from his ears. “Xichen, go to the kitchens; tell them we require something warm – soup for sure, and preferably a meat dish, if there is any. Do not accept no as an answer.”

Lan Xichen barely took the time to nod before he was out the door. Nie Mingjue was already folding himself down into a sitting pose to meditate, drinking the water Lan Wangji had brought him, and Lan Qiren looked at his second nephew and his best friend’s second son.

“Wangji,” he said, and Lan Wangji looked at him at once, seriousness written into every line of him. “Take Huaisang back to your quarters and keep him there, hidden from notice. As few people as possible should know that he is here at all, and even fewer where he is being kept.”

There was a glimmer of fear in Lan Wangji’s eyes as he absorbed the implications of that – that there were those that might want to take advantage of the crisis to harm the Nie sect, even here in the Cloud Recesses, that Nie Huaisang was the most vulnerable of them all with his weak golden core and no defender by his side, that he could be subject to death or kidnapping or worse – but he nodded deeply, saluted as best as he could without releasing Nie Huaisang’s hand from his own, and tugged Nie Huaisang along with him.

“Da-ge…?” Nie Huaisang asked, twisting to look at Nie Mingjue, who nodded encouragement at him. With a sniff and a swipe of his nose on his sleeve, he finally went, trailing behind Lan Wangji.

Lan Qiren busied himself with the preparations he needed to make – he hated to plan a journey that did not have a set endpoint, but he’d gotten better at it and this was one in which it was clearly necessary. As far as he knew, he might never make it back to the Cloud Recesses, and Wen Ruohan would have struck down two sects in a single blow.

It was, in all truth, pure foolishness for him to go. All the sect elders would advise against it, marshaling any number of citations to the rules and arguments to support them.

Lan Qiren didn’t care.

He could think of dozens of rules to cite as rebuttals, his heart hurting in his chest all the while, but in the end he could only think about how taking the time to argue at all would delay him, how it would extend Lao Nie’s suffering if he dithered and debated instead of acting swiftly. Lan Qiren might die, yes, but he had to try to help. He owed it to Lao Nie to do anything he could.

He owed it to himself.

[sinnaminsuga]

(gif source: google. if it's yours let me know!)

Title: Be Gentle With Him Pt. 2

link to part 1: right here

Summary: part 2 of soft geralt!

Word Count: 1,061

A/N: i'm just writing the soft geralt that i'm in need of! 😭

Tags: @wendimydarling @inlovewithhisblueeyes @connieisland @littlefreya @viking-raider @october505 @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @infinite-shite @hope-to-hell @the-soot-sprite @nuggsmum @raspberrydreamclouds @thelastsock @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @geek-eat-repeat @oddsnendsfanfics @oddduckthatgirl @feralrunaway @its--fandom--darling @madbaddic7ed

Since abandoning his life as a witcher, there was a new light about Geralt. He of course hadn't forgotten his skills or his way around a sword, and he would keep himself fine tuned in order to protect me should the need arise. But instead of lugging on his armour and leaving for weeks at a time, I now could find him in the garden most days in a loose flowy tunic, hands turning the earth. Geralt tended to his small group of crops like they were his children, whispering to the plants and touching them with the utmost care.

I watched the large man from the steps of our home as he smiled at his work. His hair was pulled back into a loose bun and his skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat causing his sage green tunic to stick to him in certain places. He looked truly happy for the first time in a long time. “Come, little dove! See what I’ve grown for you!” He called to me from his place in the dirt. He held his hand against his brow to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked to me, a toothy smile gracing his face. I left the steps in order to join him and when I was close enough he swiftly pulled me down into his lap.

“Look. This one is strong. The roots are good and it's been flowering quickly. And look at this one, dove! So quick to bear fruit! I’m so proud of them. They’ve been so strong in this unpredictable weather we’ve been having lately. Hmm. I think I’ll need to go into town soon for more supplies.” Geralt said, trailing off mostly to himself. I couldn't help but stare at him with adoration when he spoke about his plants, but a small part of me would always be filled with sorrow that he would never have a child to speak about like that.

Almost as if he could read my mind, Geralt leaned his head forward to rest his forehead against my temple before speaking quietly. “I didn't realize how much I would enjoy taking care of something. It gives me a purpose. It makes me wonder of fatherhood. Would it be anything similar to this? Surely I must never seek to know for I fear it would just make me a sadder man, to think of things we’ll never have.”

Not wanting to sully the moment any further, I fixed to distract him. “Well my love, you mentioned going into town? I could use a few things if you're planning a trek. I’m awfully tired and it would be so helpful if you could do this for me, yeah?” I asked, lightening the moment. Geralt’s face lit up at the idea. Doing things for me always seemed to make him happy, he liked to be needed in a domestic way.

“Yes! Make a list of what you need and I’ll gather my things!” He said, excitedly, rising from his seat on the ground effectively knocking me off his lap and onto the grass. I laid on my back giggling as he strode off to the house. “Come on woman! There's lists to be made!” he shouted while turning back to see me still laughing on the lawn.

A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set and I could hear the tell tale sound of Roach and her rider drawing closer. My heartbeat quickened, thrilled (as always) to see Geralt. I could hear him muttering to himself outside the door and I chuckled to myself as I hurried off to the kitchen to start dinner.

“Little dove? I’m back! And I have something special for you!” Geralt's voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen my love!” I called back, excited to see what he had in store. He walked quietly into the kitchen, his satchel clutched close to his chest and a childlike grin plastered on his face. “Oh Geralt, please don't let this be another joke. You might recall my unpleasant reaction to your last one.” I shuddered at the memory of the day Geralt brought home a dead fish wrapped in gift paper and a bow. Oh how he had laughed at that.

“No dear, I wouldn't dare try that again. I was put on the floor to sleep for three days. Now close your eyes.” He directed. I did as I was told and listened to the rustling of his satchel being placed on the kitchen table. There was the sound of the brush of fabric and a tiny sound I didn't recognize as Geralt tutted at the gift. Finally after what felt like an hour he said “Open your eyes.” And when I did, I couldn't contain the whimper that left my mouth.

In the witcher’s large hands, was a ball of orange fur with two big green eyes. The tiny kitten looked even tinier in Geralt’s huge paws. “A man was selling them in town and this little fellow was the only one who didn't hiss at me! I knew he was fated for us right then!” Geralt's smile was infectious and I grinned too. “Oh Geralt he's so precious!” I whined, reaching out to gently pet the fluff ball. His tiny body began to vibrate as he purred and leaned into my touch. Geralt made a motion to deposit the little feline into my hands but when he did, the kitten made quick work of crawling up Geralt's forearm, over his shoulder, and under his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. Geralt looked at me with surprise but also confusion.

“Well my love, it looks like this little furry friend has taken quite a liking to you! I think it's only right that you give him a name.” I said with a soft smile, so elated Geralt had found himself a companion.

“Calendula. That will be his name. Like the orange flowers that grow in the yard. Cal for short.” Geralt declared, absolute certainty wrapping around his words as he scooped up the small creature. He began to busy himself with the kitten, apparently forgetting his load of supplies still sitting outside with Roach. I made my way out to the horse and patted her side as I spoke quietly. “This is gonna be good.”

THE END

[bellygunnr]

Checksum

[Previously...] [Next]

Chapter 2: Profit Margins

PILOT ORVILLE FREEBORN MCS JAMES MACALLAN // TITAN BAY 4 EN ROUTE PLANET TYPHON, IMC-CONTROLLED SPACE

The simpod's indicator light winks green. Orville watches it, lulled slightly by the deep hum of the egg-shaped machine while his colleagues talked around him. They were clustered together, talking freely about the two men semi-unconscious in front of them, though he had long since lost the thread of conversation. He never paid much attention to gossip and he wasn't about to start now.

Besides, the rifleman wasn't that interesting. He seemed quiet and never looked anyone in the eye. What Lastimosa saw in the man, Orville didn't know. But Lastimosa had only told them what he was doing-- not why he was doing it.

The kid could be his son, for all he knew. At the end of the day, the lone notion of the kid simply became the Marauder Corps's worst-kept secret.

"Say, Freeborn," Shaver says, nudging his shoulder.

Orville starts, dragging his gaze away from the 'pod to focus on his mate, Crane. He raises an eyebrow.

"You think Anderson and Grenier are even alive by now?" Crane asks.

His tone is light and conversational. Orville hums, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Sure, right? Why would they be dead?" Orville says.

He glances up at the crouched Titan behind them, BT-7274. It's focused intently on Captain Lastimosa, but he hasn't any doubt it's eavesdropping on them. Captain Cole has taken to opening and closing an electric lighter repeatedly, filling the space with anxious clicking.

"Apparently, the SRS outpost we had here went dark," Crane explains.

"So? That's just standard protocol. We've had ops like that more than once, Shaver," Orville says, gaining an edge to his voice.

"But this one just seems weird, y'know? Some backwater IMC planet, a mystery testing facility... Very hush-hush, I've heard."

"El-Tees Shaver and Freeborn," a deep, smooth, but still clearly synthesized voice erupts, "you are in violation of confidentiality codes regarding Oscar-Two-One-Seven."

Crane has the good sense to wince and Orville crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. For a second, he wanted to retort, but...

BT wasn't wrong. With Cole and the rifleman in the hangar, they really shouldn't be so loose-lipped.

"Sorry, BT," Orville says.

There's a pause as they both wait for a response from the Titan. Predictably, he says nothing, but the shutters in his optic suddenly twist, that blue pinpoint of an eye leveling on the 'pod. Orville, Crane, and Cole all turn their gazes to it, curious.

The green light was now blinking. It turns solid amber.

"They must be finished," Cole says.

BT-7274 draws itself to its full height with an abrupt scrape of metal. At the same time, the lights in the hangar stutter, plunging them in a half-realm darkness. Orville reaches for the pager at his belt, tapping the screen on, his chest already tight with alarm.

There's nothing on the pager. The lights flicker again.

"I thought they fixed this shit back at Harmony," Crane says.

Tai jerks to life with a start, the same instant the simpod beeps and pops its latch open. Orville turns to stare at a dazed Jack Cooper.

Alarms start blaring. Five pagers go off at once, shrill with the sound of a non-standard alert. The intercoms crackle, but it's not the ship's AI that speaks. It's the captain.

"All hands, abandon ship."

"Abandon-- but we haven't--?" Crane stammers, shocked. "What?"

"Get off your ass and go, pilot," Tai snaps. "Prepare for Titanfall, everyone. Rifleman--"

Orville hurries after Crane, where his Titan resides, already crouched and open for embarking. He jams his helmet on and flops into her palm.

He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

BT-7274 MCS JAMES MACALLAN // TITAN BAY 4 IN ORBIT PLANET TYPHON, IMC-CONTROLLED SPACE

The faux field BT-7274 finds itself in is reminiscent of the prairie surrounding much of the Militia's HQ back at Harmony. He takes it in cautiously, scanning the horizon for threats despite being fully cognizant of the simulated war fog obscuring the distance. A considerable distance away, Tai and the rifleman stand, both excited.

"That's my partner, BT. He's a Vanguard-class. Homegrown Militia technology... "

BT-7274 pushes himself upright.

"The first Titan chassis we designed ourselves. One we didn't have to steal from the IMC. Now, go ahead, Cooper. Call in your first Titan."

He flicks his gaze skyward to witness the sky ripple, a pixelated rift bubbling and expanding, spitting the under-rendered silhouette of a Titan-- a mere copy of himself-- to the ground, high-speed.

Before it can land, that rip in virtual reality explodes. The system error that rocks the simpod flashes in the corner of BT's own HUD. Quietly, he detaches  itself from the program.

Titan Bay 4 is in chaos. Pilots and ground crew run between his legs, shouting orders and clambering for their gear. BT-7274 checks his own inventory compulsively.

"They're killing us down there, rifleman. Trying to, anyway," Tai says.

SHIP AI UTAH to ALL UNITS: ABANDON SHIP. REPEAT, ABANDON SHIP.

BT-7274 splays his massive hand out flat for Tai to step onto, cockpit already open, obscuring its vision. It would take them fifteen seconds to return to their ejection stall. In a few ticks, he was pulling sensitive information from the ship's AI and the MacAllan's internal systems reports.

"We're going to see a new planet today, Cooper. Maybe even die on it. I'll see you down there, alright?"

Tai settles down with a grunt that's lost in the din. He shuts the hatch before BT can get to it, but pauses, allowing the neural link to wash through them both.

"Transferring controls to pilot," BT-7274 says. "You know I do not like it when you say that."

Tai chuckles. "But it's the truth, BT."

"Again, I ask-- do you want to die on these planets?"

The conversation keeps its nerves, so to speak, steady, as they move with haste to their stall. The platform dips beneath BT-7274's colossal weight, groaning in protest as it carries them into position.

"The 9th Militia Fleet has encountered a formidable screen of orbital defenses. Apparently, two of our own have already been lost," BT explains, summarizing the data he'd just pulled. "It seems our intel from Anderson was wrong."

The ship shakes violently.

UTAH to BT-7274: GET OUT OF THESE CHANNELS.

BT-7274 to UTAH: I will soon be out of effective range.

Odd, that it's now that Utah chooses to stop BT from looking where he shouldn't. He extracts himself from the MacAllan's diagnostics.

Tai and BT-7274 hunker down and lock their joints for impending Titanfall. The automatic ejection system rotates them outward, even as another hit jostles the mechanism. BT shutters his optic against rapidly strobing lights.

"Please wait," intones a modulated, cheery voice. "Titanfall in 10... 9... 8-- 8--"

The hydraulic frame holding BT-7274 and Tai in place shudders, then appears to fold in on itself, collapsing the floor and pushing its chassis through. Coordinates, speed, and other targeting information flies through BT-Tai's head, coalescing into a single point.

"Well, that wasn't normal," Tai says cheerfully.

"Planetside in 17 seconds," BT states, splashing a timer in a corner of their HUD. "Expect heavy IMC forces."

CLAY NGUYEN CICHLID SQUAD, 34th DIVISION JUNGLE CANYONS TYPHON, IMC-CONTROLLED SPACE

Clay wipes the sweat off his hands and compulsively triple checks his station, useless as it was in the deep, suffocating darkness of the jungle-like canyon. He could see nothing beyond the loose perimeter his team had setup, a consequence of the moonless nights that had been become the new norm, as well as the lightning storms that started around the same time. But who was keeping track, really?

Not him, surely.

"The Militia should just hurry up and get here," his partner grumbles.

"Why? So you can watch the drones do all the work?" Clay shoots at her.

It wasn't like they were going to be doing any fighting-- not against ground forces, anyway. But they'd been here for hours already, since the sun went down, and had nothing to show for it.

That was fine with him. His team? Not so much.

A bright flash illuminates the darkness. Clay looks around for the source before finding the good sense to look up-- where a web-like pattern had flared to life, suspended and writhing miles above their heads.

"The anti-ship cannons," Clay breathes. "Jesus."

"Look alive, Cichlid," crackles their radio. "There's reports of Militia drop pods starting to enter Typhon. Look out for ships, too-- it's quite the fireworks show above our heads."

Clay can sense his partner starting to move, but he's fixated on the sky above. Pinpricks of light were rapidly exploding into white streaks that descended into obscurity.

"Archer's showing potential targets," Suvia announces. "Would you get off your ass already?"

She shoves his shoulder. He pushes her back, momentarily rankled, but hurries to where the second rocket launcher stood. The tiny digital screen offered several potential targets, but no locks.

"I think it's just--" Clay starts to speak, but a colossal, bone-shaking boom drowns him out.

His teeth chatter, then his world turns over, as four distinct booms impact the earth. It's all he can do to keep his grip on the Archer despite the hail of rock and soil raining on his position.

"Suv, you okay?"

"I've got dirt in my mouth!"

When the initial spray clears, Clay sees fire, smoke, and the battered, conical frames of drop pods. He has to remind himself that they're Militia. The IMC war paint was from capture and thievery, but only two had met the ground levelly.

The other two had smashed against the jagged rocks hard enough to ignite something in their internals.

"Some of the pods hit the rocks," Clay says tightly. "Shit,  they're firing."

"They don't know we're here," Suvia says. "Here comes our birds."

He watches the Archer's targeting system instead of the evolving battlefield. He wasn't interested in the slaughter. He wasn't interested in facing a Titan, either, but...

The Archer chirps. Clay adjusts his grip on the launcher as it automatically adjusts itself on the tripod, tracking a blue blip in a sea of red and yellow.

"Titan," Clay calls. "Tone's good."

"Tone's good," Suvi repeats.

Clay searches the sky briefly. It's difficult to make head or tails of what he sees, but the enemy Titanfall attracts his gaze by triggering its Distortion Brakes. IMC technology again, a little voice reminds him.

The enemy Titan unfolds itself and sticks the landing gracefully.

Two Archer rockets zip toward it, trailing smoke.

[cto10121]

Does R&J Play With Gender Stereotypes?

So I came across this piece of meta by @hamliet that rather intrigued me:

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

Let’s break this down.

“the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine.”

Romeo does indeed call Juliet the sun, but Juliet never calls Romeo the moon—or likens him with anything symbolically feminine, come to think of it. The closest she or the play gets is a small but clear association with night: Romeo has “night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes” and Juliet implores “loving, black-browed” night to give her her Romeo. Even then it is so that he can “make the face of heaven so fine / That all the world will be in love with night / And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Instead, Juliet consistently uses the same love language of authority as Romeo does with her, calling him her lord, husband, knight, “day-in-night,” “mansion of a love,” “god of my idolatry,” and, (my particular favorite), “tassel-gentle” or “falcon.” “Pilgrim” is the lowest social rank she uses, but of course she is following Romeo’s pilgrim-and-saints flirtation and its wink-wink bilingual allusion to his name. Romeo’s use of “sun,” then, could be viewed in the context of both lovers conferring cosmic/earthly authority, beauty, ownership, and sovereignty to each other—the Elizabethan equivalent of calling each other wife/husband. And of course they begin doing that immediately after they marry.

Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one.

Definitely not. Romeo is plenty decisive and bold—making the first move in wooing Juliet, climbing the orchard wall, showing himself to Juliet, immediately agreeing to marry her, nearly killing himself when he thinks Juliet might not take him back and, er, actually killing himself for her. I wouldn’t say he is impulsive, either—though he makes decisions fairly quickly, it is almost always with some deliberation beforehand (“Can I go forward when my heart is here?” “Shall I hear more or shall I speak at this?” and his monologue after Mercutio’s exit) and of course there are instances in which he restrains himself (“I am too bold” and his monologue after Mercutio’s death). The most accurate description of Romeo is that he is a risk taker—at least when he is well and truly motivated. And even then it does not rob his deliberation or even his wits.

He is also not flighty. In fact, he proves just as loyal as Juliet—as soon as he meets her, he forgets about Rosaline and leaves her clear behind. He doesn’t once waver in his conviction that Juliet is for him and makes plans to die with her (and does!). His love for Rosaline is clearly framed by the narrative as shallow, performative, and passive, and the verse bears this out. He was never in any kind of relationship with Rosaline—his love was an unrequited crush that he was at perfectly liberty to have ditched, frankly. After that, it’s Juliet, Juliet, Juliet until he dies.

Also, once more, Romeo is no crybaby. He explicitly cries a total of two times—one even before the events of the play, when he pines over Rosaline under a grove of sycamore, and another when he’s 1) seen Mercutio get mortally wounded, 2) killed Tybalt, 3) learned that he is banished from the city, and 4) mistakenly believed that Juliet no longer wants him (the Nurse’s reply is vague enough to be misinterpreted); at the very least he is devastated to have been the cause of her pain. Anyone would break down in those circumstances. Juliet herself breaks down on hearing the news and arguably is more verbally vehement than Romeo—namely, that even the words “Romeo is banishèd” are worse than if herself, Romeo, her parents, and Tybalt were dead. She ends that monologue with a passive suicide threat: “And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!” How anyone can argue Juliet isn’t as lovestruck as Romeo is beyond me.

What Shakespeare was most likely aiming for was showing the mutuality of R&J’s love with parallel scenes and even language. Both have chances to act strong, decisive, and bold, both show vulnerability and great emotion and passion, both are lovestruck. Both demonstrate so-called “masculine” and “feminine” traits, which is almost always culturally-and time-based, anyway. There are only a few key differences between the two—almost all of the above traits, however, they both share. It’s almost as if…Shakespeare understood that no man or woman had all masculine or all feminine traits.

Moving on to the conclusion:

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit).

You just opened up 200+ years of fandom wank, OP. I’ll just do a quick sum-up.

The Sonnets are a complete mess. They are contradictory as hell, there is clearly more than one persona speaking, there is evidence that Shakespeare edited and revised them, evidence they were published with his permission, quite a few sonnets are based on pre-existing sources, and, most damnably of all, none of the most likely candidates for the so-called Fair Youth and Dark Lady fit the narrative of the Sonnets perfectly or even satisfactorily—if there is even a clear narrative to these things to begin with. Sonnets were artificial works whose clichés and conventions were heavily satirized in Shakespeare’s own works—Berowne’s own rant-y sonnet swearing he would never believe in love sonnets comes most readily to mind. They were usually not meant to denote an actual real-life relationship, although there was a kind of “game” in trying to figure out which parts are true and which ones fiction. At least one sonnet sequence had a completely fictional addressee (Fulke Greville, I think).

Shakespeare’s sonnets do break a lot of these rules and conventions, and radically, and as they seem to have been compiled over many years, they lend themselves to autobiographical speculation. But, as a bit of a poet myself, I feel this: No one writes 154 sonnets—plus a whole narrative poem!—to one lover or even multiple lovers. Poetry is much less personal than laypeople think. Outside the sonnets, Shakespeare is not linked to any man romantically, and, besides his wife, only to two women (unnamed citizen’s wife and Jane Devanant).

Even if we assume Shakespeare’s bi, though, that doesn’t mean R&J is a queer narrative, which brings us to…

It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society.

A queer narrative that has its lovers express their love through the language of heterosexual marriage (husband, lord, wife, lady, pilgrim/saint), and commit suicide by a chalice-and-blade symbolism that mimics heterosexual sex (Romeo drinking a “cup” of poison and Juliet stabbing herself with Romeo’s dagger. Freud couldn’t have done it better). If Shakespeare was thinking “gay allegory!!!” he would have had to at least change or erase the symbolism (straight coding?) of the double suicide, or have Juliet attribute to Romeo explicitly feminine imagery. He would have to have done some major plot rejiggering. He would have had to, in short, change the whole story.

(Unless by “queer narrative” you mean “anything that has an emotionally constipated male lead who doesn’t growl sexily and a female lead who doesn’t cry/faint at the drop of a hat.” That’d be most every narrative, lol.)

Also, I’m hard-pressed to think of love romances that are 100% patriarchal narratives, and those that do (Casablanca, maybe?) are not really true ones, anyway. Patriarchy inherently opposes all romances of love and sex, including heterosexual. It demands that men be raised as soldiers to kill enemies, slaughtered, and discarded, and women as chattel and land to be bought and sold. Marriage was that transferral of property. Having children is necessary, not out of love and care for them, but to propagate the species and create even more future warriors and womb incubators. It grudgingly accepts only (mostly straight and like maybe 1 or 2 gay) love narratives that can be subsumed into this narrow paradigm, but the tension of interpretation is always present. Ideally, it prefers to ignore, diminish, scorn and mock, or even suppress them. I suspect most people’s problems and discomfort with R&J stem from this pathology, this deep-seated unease over anything that touches on human experience patriarchy can’t quite control or subsume.

Shakespeare was obviously no lover of patriarchy (in his personal life, though…well, it’s debatable). His plays resist it greatly to various degrees, and R&J is no exception. R&J hews much closer to the reality of heterosexual love and love in general, which are informed by, though are not inherently tied to, patriarchy (as are gay relationships, sadly). Shakespeare is just being a good writer in throwing most of that rotten apple away; it doesn’t apply to what he was trying to do, anyway. R&J’s challenge to patriarchy, though, is heterosexual in nature.

And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

True dat.

[ginger-danica-snapps]

Set Our Course by the Stars

Written for Day 6 of The Spring Blossoms and Autumn Leaves event @jonsaseasonalbash 

for the prompt set, spring fever/stars/autumn sadness 

Summary: Sansa had almost given up on being rescued from the hell of King’s Landing by any member of her blood. They were all dead and gone, accept for a bastard brother who had gone to the wall. Sansa has never been so happy as to be wrong about something in her life. Her prince does come and he is the Prince Aemon her father promised her once upon a time when she was a sweet, summer child. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30952292

The day that Sansa’s prince rescued her from the dreaded lion’s seemed as normal a day as ever in the beginning. 

She woke early and her handmaids, all loyal, western ladies, helped her to don a dress with heavy silks and loosely tied sashes. They wove her hair into the intricate styles that Cersei Lannister was well known for. Then she took exactly twenty deep breaths, exhaling and inhaling, as she stood before her mirror and prepared her armor that could not be seen. 

Twenty deep breaths is all she allowed herself everyday, except for three times in a week when she was able to go to the Godswood for prayer. She bothered not with the sept. The southern gods abandoned her completely when Joffrey ordered her father’s head chopped from his shoulders. 

Twice she had thought she might find rescue from unlikely sources. The first when Stannis Baratheon attempted to take King’s Landing. He had failed. The second was when rumors of Daenerys Targaryen hatching dragons reached them. Then the notice of her death by the hands of the masters of the city she was sacking and the slaughter of her dragons. One stray arrow from atop a wall took down the mother of dragons. 

Sansa would have probably died in dragon fire if she had survived, but Sansa thought that preferable to being humiliated in the Lannister court and forced to eventually carry a Lannister child. 

Today was one of the days she would first go to the morning session of court. If Joffrey was in a particularly distracted mood, then Sansa would physically be able to acquit herself to the Godswood. 

She knew the chances of her making the Godswood for prayer was unlikely the moment she had walked into the balcony of the throne room. Joffrey immediately noted her presence and it was not long before a lady came to get her. 

“His Grace requests your presence, Sansa,” the girl spoke, only a few years above Sansa’s age, but certainly no one that should have considered it appropriate to call her by name with such familiarity. 

Summoning all her courage and thrusting her feelings, thoughts, and dark wishes behind the cool facade that was Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of a traitor, and willing guest of the crown’s own custody. 

In another life she would have been as Theon in Winterfell, if Cersei Lannister and her hellspawn were anything like her father. Scolding herself for the ill thinking, Sansa plastered a polite smile upon her mouth and curtsied deep before the throne. 

She maintained her stance and waited for permission to rise or for Joffrey to indicate that the Kingsguard should knock her all the way down. 

“Did you hear, Lady Sansa?” that voice mocked from the gilded throne. She imagined the sharp edges of the conquered swords slashing into Joffrey as they said King Maegor had died. She imagined pushing him back onto the blades herself and quickly pushed these thoughts behind her carefully, constructed mask, glad she was still kneeling and had yet to look up. 

“Your grace?” she asked, keeping her voice meek and low. 

“I asked if you had heard, Lady Sansa, of the great news that has reached us?” Joffrey mocked her as he stood from the throne. 

“I have not, Your Grace? Would you please be so kind as to honor me with this great news?” she responded, keeping all inflection out of her voice. What else could he do? Her father was dead, her brother and mother murdered, as well as Rickon and Bran. She had been married to Tyrion Lannister who seemed to think it such a great kindness that he would not take the maidenhood of a barely grown girl. 

What else could he do to her? 

“Your brother...Snow, was it? The bastard of your father? He has left the wall and forgone giving his vow to the night’s watch. My man says that he did not swear, but I don’t think I believe him. I’ve sent word North that anyone who finds him shall win their weight in gold and an empty northern keep for their own if they bring me his head. I shall give it to you as a gift once the dwarf begets a child on you,” Joffrey leaned down and wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to stare into her eyes as he whispered. 

“Or when I fuck one in to your cold cunt. One moon, traitor’s seed, do I give him to put a babe in your belly. If he does not then I will slip in one night and do the job for him.” 

Sansa made herself shiver as if in fear before responding with a simple, “Yes, your grace.” 

Joffrey sneered at her and turned away to make the climb back to his seat. 

“This traitor is fowling my air. Remove my...aunt...from the court,” he said offhandedly and Sansa stood and made one more quick dip before fleeing. 

Upon making it to the Godswood, Sansa ignored her handmaid's who walked behind her, or the shadowing presence of the Lannister men and went straight into prayer at the base of the tree. She kneeled into the roots and placed her hand upon the bark. 

Please. My mother’s gods have forsaken me and my father’s are all I have left. Wherever Jon is, please keep him safe. I will offer anything, just keep the last of my blood safe. 

Time passed and when she felt the warmth of the setting sun move on her body, she stood and brushed her skirts off. The ladies had long since left her and her guards had changed. She made her way back into the keep and to her quarters with Tyrion. 

Not that he would be inside of them. Tyrion had left two days prior to travel to Casterly Rock and back on his father’s order. Upon entering she started to ring for a maid to help her uncloth, but a shadow shifted behind her changing screen. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly a man was in front of her and for a moment in her confusion she thought her father stood there. 

Then her vision cleared and she gasped, “Jon?”

“Sansa,” her lost brother whispered, almost reverently and reached out to cup her cheek and brush her hair back from her face. His eyes followed down and she knew the moment he saw the lashes that peaked out of her dress at her nape and shoulders. Ser Payne had been particularly bad at aiming in the last few moons. 

Jon gently laid a hand upon them and pulled her to his chest, “I’m so sorry, Sansa, that I was unable to be here before now. I...I was at the wall and I learned some things and then I was away looking for allies. I thought there would be time...Robb was winning and my allies were not particularly happy about entering in the war until we had more support.”

Sansa was not sure who Jon could have drummed up as support, but Dorne was a possibility. They had always wondered if Jon was the son of a Dornish noblewoman, even Ashara Dayne for all they said her son had died. 

A noise from outside her doors brought her back to the present and out of her mind’s wondering. 

“We need to go, Sansa,” Jon said as he stepped back from her. 

“Where? The entrance to my room is guarded,” she answered back, fear setting inside of her. 

Jon laughed, “We are not going out the door, sweetling. We are going through the tunnels.”

“Tunnels? What tunnels?” Sansa whispered even as Jon moved to a tapestry that she realized was already displaced. Then he was slipping his fingers between two stones and pulling it out. Suddenly a low grinding noise of rock upon smoothed stone was heard and a doorway appeared. 

Jon held his hand out to her and she grasped tight as he led her forward. Stopping only momentarily to lift a torch that was in a sconce in the dark tunnel. He handed it to her and did some shuffling to close the entrance again. Then he took the torch back and led her forward. 

“Where are we going,” she whispered as they moved quickly and quietly. She was unsure of where else they passed as they climbed downward on a staircase that had to be where the wall widened at the base of the kitchen keep at which the top was her and Tyrion’s quarters. 

Jon pulled her closer as the tunnel narrowed into a long hall. 

“We will be passing into a cavern below the throne room. It is the only room from what my contact has said that the Lannister’s discovered from the Targaryen’s. It’s where Robert Baratheon was convinced to place the dragon heads. Then we will go down another tunnel that will lead us to a small strip of land and water. A boat and an ally with the ability to take us through the bay to a ship waiting for us will be there,” Jon explained and it was now that she realized something odd about his clothes. 

He was wearing black as she would have thought a man of the watch would, but it was not the rough leathers and ruffled fur she’d seen her Uncle where on his trips home from the wall. It was shining in its richness, layered and thick, with red threading throughout. The armor that was beneath his cloak glistened like the blackest metal she had ever seen forged and red rubies adorned something she could not quite make out. 

Reaching forward she brushed the cloak from his chest and her breath caught as the three headed dragon appeared. 

“Jon…” she began hesitantly. 

Jon leaned down and kissed her forehead, before standing and cupping her chin as he spoke, “My father named me Aemon Targaryen and my mother begged my uncle, your father, to protect me from Robert Baratheon. Almost twelve moons ago, Aemon Targaryen, maester at the wall recognized the tone in my voice and the features of my father in my face. He discretely requested a search at the Citadel and two moons later, riders came with documentation of my parents marriage and my birth. Three moons ago, inside the sept on Dragonstone, loyalists gathered and declared me Aemon, first of my name, and King of Westeros. When we sail from King’s Landing, it is only to join with the rest of our allies. We do not have enough to take the bay and the city, but we have enough to block supplies in and out. Our army will eventually surround the city. Now that Tywin Lannister and the majority of his major allies are in residence for the royal wedding, we will never have a better opportunity.” 

Sansa was quiet and easily began to follow him again as the words circled in her mind. Jon had always been kind to her. Kind, brave, strong, and true. Her father’s words came back to her. 

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” 

There was a bright light ahead and Sansa watched as Jon drew his sword and pressed Sansa behind him. They stepped slowly into the large, cavernous room that Sansa knew was where her sister had often hid. Arya had talked about the large dragon heads that dominated the room for days after her discovery. 

Beside the largest of them, Varys stood. Sansa tensed up, but Jon gave her hand a squeeze in support. 

“Your Grace, Your Royal Highness, Lord Seaworth is ready. We must be away before the chance that someone realizes the princess is missing,” the master of whisperer’s said and began to lead them through another tunnel. 

Sansa found herself introspective about the idea that she was being referred to as a princess. 

She supposed it meant that Jon recognized Robb as a King. 

“He named me his heir in his will,” Jon said quietly as they climbed wet, oddly spaced stairs, “It took moons to convince the northern lords to follow me after I admitted my heritage. Winterfell has already been secured and returned to the Starks. The House of Bolton has fallen. There are many things that will surprise you in the coming time, but Rickon and Bran survived. Theon lied about their death. I have named Rickon as Lord of Winterfell and Lord Manderly is acting as his regent.” 

Sansa hummed in approval, but thought it odd they accepted Jon, when two sons of Ned Stark were alive. The only way they would have agreed is if Jon had agreed to do something to strengthen their loyalty and suddenly Sansa knew what they had demanded. 

Rhaegar was a fool with his affection, if that is what it was, but he did elevate a Stark daughter to one day be a Queen. The only thing that would assuage the Northern pride and offer them enough stability to be a part of the seven kingdoms was if there was another Stark Queen and this time, one that would beget the heir to the iron throne in the open. 

“Marriage. They have demanded we marry for their cooperation. You agreed?” Sansa hesitantly asked as they stepped from the darker tunnel and into the night air. She watched the conflicted emotions cross his face. 

“Yes, but only if you wished to be my queen. If you do not, then I will take a Northern bride of their choice and you will be the regent of Winterfell until Rickon is of an age to be the warden,” Jon responded simply. 

Someone brave and gentle and strong. 

The words echoed in her mind again as they finally reached a small rowboat with a man aboard. He reached out and helped Sansa into the boat and Jon climbed in after her after a few words with Varys. 

“You will leave in plenty of time to avoid being caught in the siege. Do you understand me, Lord Varys?” Jon was saying quietly as the man tittered and agreed. He walked away as the man began rowing away. 

Jon reached down and began to help. 

Sansa tilted her head and watched him carefully, knowing that her silence was probably not helping Jon’s state of mind. She’d never really given thought to Jon as anything but a person who shared a miniscule amount of blood and caused her mother shame. It was not his fault and she understood that now in way she had been woefully unprepared to do before the summer child of her youth was discarded for the cynical reality of the world. 

Still...Targaryen or not, Jon had always been everything her father desired for her in a match. The only difference being that she had not known of his high birth at childhood and he had supposedly been her brother. 

Cousins, though...cousins could marry. It was highly likely had the war gone another way and the North had stood with Lyanna, then it was likely Sansa would have been betrothed at birth to Jon...Aemon. 

“Do you prefer Aemon now?” she blurted out and couldn’t help the twitch her lips made in an effort to smile when Jon burst out laughing at the first words she decided the share after the shock. 

“Nay. Please just keep to Jon. It’s hard enough remembering to answer to the Lords and Ladies of my allies, nevertheless my...cousin,” Jon finally answered. 

They were quiet for a time as Sansa watched the stars appear and because too shine in the night sky. Using the little knowledge she could remember from her younger years, Sansa found the wolfstar and it made her feel safe for a very small moment. 

As the night stars shined, they made way to a large ship outside of the bay in the darkest part of the night. The hour of the wolf, Sansa thought with an odd sense of satisfaction. Jon reached down and helped haul her up on the deck. Sansa found herself quickly leaning in to her cousin. 

“See there, Sansa?” Jon whispered as he pointed to the wolfstar. She nodded her head. 

“Every night as the stars come out, we make our heading and set our course by the wolfstar. It leads us North and regardless of where we are, it will always take us home and it will always be a part of the north,” he said solemnly. 

Sansa stared up at the sky and then at him again. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. A small, fleeting thing, but one that left him staring down at her in surprise and serious. 

She laughed softly, “I thought perhaps it might be alright if I kissed my betrothed, the King.”

She abruptly stopped laughing when he took her lips again, this time in a longer and deeper kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers after releasing her lips. 

“You may kiss me anytime you like, sweetling, but certainly always under the stars,” he whispered to her and Sansa felt her heart swell with something she had thought lost. 

Hope. 

[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1+k

Author’s Note: Basically, all this chapter contains is scavenging and conversations. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 2: Introduction

After you had deemed leaking your information safe, the both of you spoke most of the night away in whispers. With the exception when a rustle was heard from the outside, worried it's another creature ready to attack. That is until you deemed it important to catch wink of sleep.

You're the first to wake up to Nick loudly snoring. One glance at the window lets you know the sun is brightly shining. The rays softly hit your face and you watch as the small particles dance in the gleams of light. There are no curtains in this particular room, proving it to be quite early. Eight in the morning seems to be an adequate time to wake up by your guess.

You look over his resting body and whack Nick in the head, which prompts him to wake up with a jolt. Frantically looking around for the source of his pain until his eyes connect with yours with burning annoyance, “Are you insane?!”

His exclamation is loud. Very loudly in fact, and that prompts you to slap a hand against his mouth to quiet his yells, “Are you insane? We don't know if the creature is still out there or if there are more of them! Have you seen what it looks like and what it can do?”

The whisper is firm and harsh, sure of the fact he hasn't seen it. The image from the night before makes you shiver. It's sinking sharp teeth showing up, which makes you shake your head to get rid of the image. A dead Shadow is certainly not on your to-do list, but you have an inkling it'll eventually come to that if you like it or not. An inevitable decision will have to be made for your survival in this place.

He apologetically looks into my eyes and his puppy eyes cause my hand to lower… Not before delivering a sharp punch to his arm. Nick whines out and clutches his injured arm.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and to be truthful, you made me yell at you,” he shakes his head at me with a mocking smile. Your face showcases an unidentifiable emotion and that makes Nick nervous.

“I can make you yell more,” you start tauntingly, “after I serve you as a main meal to that Shadow.”

“Stop! Why would you make your friend a meal for the– “he thinks back to what you referred to it as,”– Shadow?”

“Yes, I think it suits the appearance of whatever it is,” you reply back with a slight laugh, “And to answer your question. I'm pretty sure your annoying ass would taste delicious for the creature.”

Your mood has started to increase little by little after having someone at your side who's fighting for the same as you. Hope was lit up in you at the thought of an ally after you had talked through the abyss yesterday. Engrossed in getting to know each other and making your goals clear before you get into any alliance with someone.

Nick just laughs along with you, slapping his knee as if you told a great joke. Yet you didn't. At least it doesn't look that way to you. Sure, you laughed, but it's not that funny, come on…

“So, you think my ass tastes delicious?” He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh,” you devilishly smirk at him, “I'm sure it does, but not to humans.”

• • •

After both of your morning routines that consist barely of any proper hygienic setting, you both deem it important to stretch and even decide to venture outside. You've both settled on finding a new base and spoke about it during the night. Possibly a sturdier and a stronger house that can be easily fortified. First, you'll have to find something like that and then go scavenging for some planks, nails, and food, though. That is if there aren't planks and nails in the newfound house already.

Later, you find yourself wandering around the neighbourhood. You haven't stumbled across any Shadows, yet, which you are extremely thankful for. It seems they just vanish during the day and reappear during the night. It's just a theory of yours, though. Nick was against the idea at first, but after being out for more than an hour, he begrudgingly agreed with you. Finding it useless to argue with you anymore on who's theory is the right one.

You wander around the neighbourhood while chatting about some stupid things.

“Do you think that house would be good?” You point towards a two-story house that looks to be enough for plenty of people. There's still a sign stating, ‘For Sale’.

“Abandoned and looking good?” He happily questions, “Hell yes, we're taking this!”

“Well– you technically cannot take a house just out of blue or at all,” you sigh.

“Shut up! Are you objecting? It's not like we know if there are any other people except for us. We could be stranded here alone,” he states sadly.

The sad look on his face only lasts a couple seconds before he breaks into a big grin and takes you by the hand. Tugging on your joined hands and almost sending you tumbling to the ground face first if it weren't for you catching your stability in time. You're seriously surprised by his strength when he's happy for something. You just shake your head at that and start to follow him willingly. Though, you're still on high alert for any possible dangers. Nick doesn't show any reluctance to going straight to the house, so at least one person must stay on guard.

As your feet carry you across the chalky pavement with ease you wonder what happened to this world. The buildings don't look to be in the best shape and the streets are presumably swarmed with Shadows at night. Some lampposts look to be broken and rusty, flowers envelop them in a conspicuous design and lie on the ground, while the rest don't even seem to be working anymore. At least not on this avenue. The grass and flowers overgrow the buildings and concrete. Nature visibly winning against human inventions.  Houses are sprayed with different slogans that you presume were left behind by people that are long deceased. The most appealing and provoking to you is, ‘Blood for the Blood God’ and ‘We have some unfinished business, green boy. I hope you're ready’.

Who left them here and what do they exactly mean? There are a few ideas of their meaning swarming your head, but you know better than anything to presume certain things. Some are better to not be answered at all either way. Are the people who made them still alive or long gone? Do they turn into Shadows? What are Shadows even made of and how can you kill them? Can you kill them?

I unfortunately can't answer you, Reader. You'll understand later. Or will you be left with no clue up until the end?

You're already through the doorway when your thoughts fade to dust. Nick has decided to wander off on his own and search the house for any possible materials or food and water, so you set to do the same. It honestly isn't as huge as you thought it would be. Nevertheless, there's still enough for the both of you.

You roam the lower floor while Nick makes sure to scavenge the upper. Therefore, you scout the living room first. There, you can see ruined wine cabinets, a completely scratched sofa, a dismantled bookshelf, shattered vases, broken chairs, and side tables. The mess is accompanied by pieces of glass and clay. You thank the stars for wearing shoes. Your feet would've been pierced by so many sharp shards if it weren't for them and you don't think you'd even have enough medical supplies to assist your wounds. Not like you'd voluntarily step on them, but having this cluster of broken glass right here can prove disadvantageous in the future.

The planks from the wine cabinets and bookshelf can be used for boarding up the windows. Thankfully, those look to be still intact. You can't use the sofa for sleeping, therefore the only usage is barricading the door. If you can even move it all the way to the front door. The chairs' legs can serve as temporary weapon parts along with the glass if you're successful in finding tape. If not, attaching some nails to them with a plank should suffice.

After you make sure you've searched everything, every nook and cranny of the living room, you walk to the kitchen to find a relatively clean place. From the looks of it, you're pretty sure the stove isn't working. The cabinets hanging off of the wall contain some stale chips and chocolate and that fact presses you to leave it as a last resort. You move onto the lower cabinets, only to come face to face with no food, but they hold some remains of tape and scissors. Nothing edible or drinkable. You then try turning the faucet on, but no water comes out. A disappointed sigh leaves you and you move onto checking the last place: the bathroom.

Upon closer inspection, you're able to deduce there's just bunch of pills way past the expiration date and you can't even tell what type of pills they are since the packaging and label is gone. The toilet and shower are meaningless. Well– not completely. You can still use the toilet to satisfy your needs. It doesn't sound appealing, but it'll have to do if anything.

“What have you found?”

That question causes you to slam your head against the cabinet under the sink you've been rummaging through and you have to take a second to recollect your thoughts and rub the pain away. You send Nick a glare, to which he just replies with a wink. Closing the doors, you stand up and adjust your clothes.

“I've found some planks, chair legs, nails, glass and clay. The sofa is unfortunately fruitless for sleeping, but we can still use it for barricading the front door. I can explain the usages of the former to you later,” you both exit the bathroom, but you continue with your dialogue, “I also spotted some pills, which are out of expiration, so I would be against swallowing any of them. They might not hurt you, but they might as well be like swallowing a pill with no effect. There's some chips and chocolate. Both stale, so our last resort. Water doesn't work either. What have you found up there?”

“I haven't found much,” he scratches his head, eyeing the brown satchel hanging at his side. You throw him a suspicious look about the accessory hanging at his hip, but don't mention it in hopes he'll enclose more information regarding it.

“I gave you a full report of what we have in inventory and you give me just one sentence that contains no information whatsoever?” you shake your head in disbelief, turning the corner and stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“No! I was getting ready to tell you everything,” Nick argues with you, but you won't let him slip so easily. A teasing gleam shining in your eyes that he doesn't like in the slightest.

“Oh, yeah? I hear no words coming from your mouth, except for bullshit.”

“Let me speak, for fuck's sake,” he grumbles, which you just reply with a wave of your hand, “We have a pretty soft bed up there that has enough space for the both of us, but if you're not comfortable being in one bed I can always take the floor. Courtesy and all that crap, but I wouldn't be against sharing the bed with you. Anyways, there are plenty of planks from demolished furniture, small number of nails and a hammer. I also found some arrows, but there is no bow, so we can just use them for stabbing people's eyeballs.”

You hop up onto the kitchen island, kicking your feet in boredom. Quietly apologising when you kick his thigh by accident from the proximity, “And you told me you haven't found much… Anything else worth mentioning?”

“No. There isn't anything important on the second floor that I'm aware of. Save for the stuff I already told you about.”

“If I discover something valuable, I'll use those arrows to stab your eyeballs. Mark my words, mister.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes me, and you reach over to flick him in the forehead.

“So, can we agree on using this house as our safe place and base?”

“For sure,” he rolls his eyes at the seemingly stupid question. “Do we have any other choice?”

Though, what you aren't aware of, there's a hooded figure spying on your progress and conversation from across your building. A crossbow on their back, loaded with a poisoned arrow. They hold an uncertain smile, wonder and worry flashing through their eyes at the same time. Though, their expression turns stoic afterwards, quietly slipping further into the dark night.

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 4: AU/Freebie (SFW)

for @dincobbweek​ this time we’re returning to a favourite AU of mine. The Halo universe!

i’ve previously explored a Halo/Mandalorian AU. the first story is very much NSFW but this story acts as a prequel showing how Cobb and Din meet in that verse

before we get started here is some very handy terminology

ODST - Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Spartan - a term for someone who was a child soldier and given physical augmentations to become a weapon ONI - Office of Naval Intelligence (so like the in universe FBI) UNSC - United Nations Space Corp (the army but in space) Covenant - invading alien forces and the main villains in the series Reach - a planet humans had settled that was destroyed by the Covenant

AO3 Link

Blast Radius

When Cobb was told by his CO to expect some heavy infantry of reinforcements, he was expecting another ODST squadron, not a Spartan III whose black and silver armour made him look more like an ONI operative than a functioning war machine for the UNSC.

Now granted, Cobb had nothing against Spartans. Spartans were the reason they were even managing to hold their own against the Covenant. But he did have a problem with this Spartan.

“Sergeant Vanth?”

Cobb looked up from the view into New Mombasa to see his Lieutenant Jo leading forward a heavily armed Spartan.

“Infantry’s arrived,” she said, and Cobb wished she didn’t have her helmet on so he could read her better.

“Sergeant Vanth,” the Spartan said. “Spartan A114 reporting in.” The Spartan then snapped to it and saluted him to show that he knew how to respect his superiors, but Cobb knew better. Spartans had a reputation to Lone Wolf it, and Cobb didn’t need that shit on his team.

“A Spartan,” he said incredulously. The Spartan easily towered over him by nearly a foot. All those augmentations and front of the line armour specs only added to the mass that made all Spartans seem unkillable. But in Cobb’s eyes, it made them cocky as well. “Wasn’t expecting a Spartan.”

“It was all they had on hand to offer,” 114 said.

“Right, well, settle in, big guy. We’re mainly search and rescue. Free hostages and get them to safety while clearing out the nests, you hear?”

114 nodded. “Loudly.” He unhooked a sniper rifle from his back and moved forward to join the rest of Cobb’s team with the look out—without needing to be told or looking to be told.

Cobb sighed. It was going to be a long fight.

…

“Vanth, come in.”

“Go ahead, Issa.”

“I’m spotting Jakal reinforcements on the rooftops. Beam rifles from the looks of it.”

“All. Squad, keep your ears on and your heads low and—”

Cobb heard a crack over head and ducked low as a second one followed shortly after. He held his battle rifle up as he looked for the source of the shots.

“Jakals are cleared. You’re free to go.”

That was 114.

Cobb sighed and clicked his tongue. “A heads up would be nice next time, 114.”

“Time’s of the essence, Sergeant.” Then he heard a ‘click’ and Cobb knew the bastard had likely muted on his end.

Fucking Spartans.

…

New Mombasa was a fucking mess. Based on the chatter they were picking up, the Covenant forces seemed to become more and more contained to one part of the city, like they were congregating. Other ODST squads had been deployed to hotter areas in the city, and Cobb’s smaller strike team made it easier for infiltration to minimalize casualties. They were the cleaning crew, really, and Cobb didn’t mind that.

But he did mind that his Spartan was deathly silent most of the time.

He had 114 act as their eyes. With his high-powered scope, he was able to get a better view of the terrain before Cobb’s team went down in to clear it out, and Cobb had to admit, 114 was a good shot. Those enhanced reflexes sure came in clutch in the best ways possible, but Cobb was expecting at least some communication on his end.

114 acted like a brick wall and Cobb hated it. He knew nothing of the Spartan, didn’t even know his name, and while it was nice to be fighting with someone who was this well skilled, Cobb didn’t know if he’d choose 114 over another top notch ODST squad.

“Looks like we got a standard fair here,” Jo said. “Couple of Brutes. Grunts as back up and a Jakal nest.”

Cobb nodded. “You see a Chieftain?”

“Nah, looks like pretty standard fare for them.”

“Good. Listen up! We clear this intersection and that gets us one step closer to the bank. You play it safe and you play it hard. Cover always. Focus fire on Jakals and Grunts and then the Brutes. Clear the field before we got in heavy. Got it?”

He received a chorus of Oo Rahs! and then utter silence from 114. “Hey, Spartan, you got that?”

The Spartan nodded and said nothing.

“Good. I want you on that roof top. Take the Jakals and then we move in. Provide cover from the Brutes if they get close.”

“I think it’d be better if I were on the ground with you,” the Spartan said, and Cobb was surprised he said anything at all—let alone battle advice.

“No,” Cobb said. “You’re best on the rooftops.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Spartan.”

He could see that 114 was frustrated with how he tightened his grip around his sniper, but he fell in line all the same and marched off to find a perch of the sight before the team moved in to clear the junction.

“Get into position,” he said to his team, and they all crouched for cover and waited for 114 to get into position.

He looked through the scope of his battle rifle and scoped out the scene. Four Brutes, half a dozen Grunts, and two Jakals. Nothing in comparison to what Cobb had dealt with before, but it was better to play things safe and slow rather than to rush in.

“114, check in,” he said.

Silence.

“114, this is Sergeant Vanth. Check in.”

Again, silence. And then he knew why.

Rather than targeting the Jakals first and letting the squadron in there was a sudden explosion that caught Cobb off guard. 114 had discharged a round into one of the plasma cells stacked in the area that took the Covenant force by surprise, killing one Brute in the onslaught. Then Cobb saw 114 jump into the fray from what should’ve been his perch, taking a running jump to clear a distance of a dozen or so feet and come to the ground in a roll to lessen the impact from a fifteen foot drop. Then he struck with deadly precision on the Covenant left recovering from the shock.

“Fuck,” Cobb said. “Issa, eyes on the Jakals.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

“The rest of you, eyes forward! Now!”

He leapt over his cover, raised his rifle against his shoulder and began to pick off the Grunts one by one, while 114 aimed for the Brutes. And he was doing so with just a magnum pistol and a knife.

One of the Brutes raised his spiker in Cobb’s direction, and he dove down behind a concrete barrier as the deadly spikes imbedded themselves into the asphalt where he had just been standing previously. A Grunt jumped into his field of vision on his left and he turned and fired, hitting the Grunt’s methane tank, which he saw spark and catch before it blew. He raised his hands for cover and then looked over the barrier to see the field. The Grunts were fleeing. The Jakals were dead, and 114 was locked in combat with the only remaining Brute until he managed to drive his knife into the Brute’s throat and finish it off with a shot from the magnum until the Brute fell dead.

Cobb charged up to him. “What was that!?”

114 wiped his knife off his vambrace before sheathing it. “I told you. It was better to have me on the ground.”

“You disobeyed an order!” It was hard to feel commanding in contrast to a Spartan, who towered over Cobb in every way and could likely throw him up against the wall.

“It was efficient. You aren’t using me for my skills.” It also didn’t help that 114 was a calm speaker, rarely showing any form of inflection.

“Your skills are firing cover. My team can handle the job on their own. Disobey me like that again and I’ll see you reassigned.”

The Spartan looked at him, head tilted down in his direction. For the longest time he didn’t move until he took a half step back.

“Clear?” Cobb said.

“Clear, Sergeant.”

“Good.”

He looked over his shoulder to his team and waved them forward. “We’re moving.”

…

Scrounging in conditions like this were hard. Training to be an ODST required a certain amount of time in the field already before jumping into training specifically to handle an orbital drop. And then from there it was ‘survive until you group up or you’re pulled out’, which meant with the sun falling on the city that was burning, it was time to break for an MRE and some water before the final push into the heart of the city to help with the withdrawal of ONI scientists. It was the last job before the UNSC was pulling out the troops, which meant that ONI was going nuclear with its facilities so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. New Mombasa was being abandoned in the short run. Once the Covenant was off Earth, they’d probably try to rebuild, but for now, it was pull back and see what happened.

It was nice, for a moment to sit on the ground with his back against the wall and his helmet off. It could’ve been a nice day in the city. The sun was warm. There was a breeze cooling his sticky skin from the sweat when the internal fans in his helmet couldn’t cool him fast enough.

But then he saw the Spartan who stood there rigidly off to the side of their little encampment. He had his back to the rest of them and seemed as if he was still on patrol despite the fact that the area was safe and they needed to rest before the final push.

Cobb sighed and got to his weary feet. He walked forward, grabbing at his pouch for one of the MREs he still had left. “Hey, Spartan.”

114 only turned to look over his shoulder.

“You eat yet?”

“Not hungry,” he said, before looking over the highway they were on and the sheer drop it led to.

“Come on, partner. You gotta eat. We’ve been going for near twelve hours and at least another twelve yet before we’re out for good.” Cobb stepped in front of him and handed out the MRE. He didn’t know if Spartans had the same standards as ODSTs. Did he carry MREs? Looked like he had water at the least.

Then 114 did lift his hand and take the MRE from Cobb’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to it, pal.” He stepped back, slapped 114 on the arm, and went back to his squad.

Then, when Cobb was sitting on the ground once more, he saw the Spartan move to a concrete barrier and take a seat. Then he removed his helmet, showing only a shock of dark hair, overgrown by UNSC standards. He didn’t see his face, but at least the Spartan ate.

…

Their final push into New Mombasa was the ONI facility itself, a giant cube looking building built in the center of a manmade pond to look fancy. It was a rough sight, but under the cover of darkness, it wasn’t like Cobb could see it all that well. All he was looking at was the sight of four ONI scientists being overlooked by a Covenant strike team—which included a Brute Chieftain.

Chieftains were worse than the usual foot soldier Brutes. Their armour was heavier, including armour that could only be struck through or cracked at the very least with specific armour piercing rounds. Chieftains also usually carried heavier weaponry, and this one had a gravity hammer on his back.

“They’ll want to keep the scientists alive,” Cobb said. “That’ll be our advantage to get in. Issa, what do you see?”

“By my count? Five Brutes on top of the Chieftain. A dozen Grunts. Jakals with shields but no beam rifles.”

“The structure doesn’t make good for sniper nests,” Jo added.

“114, you there?” Cobb asked.

“I’m here.”

“Report in.”

“I’m in position. Not the easiest place to leave in a pinch if you need back up.”

“We’ll go slow,” Cobb said. “Target the Brutes and get them broken up. I don’t want to fight the back.”

“Hear you loud and clear.”

114 went quiet on his end but didn’t mute.

Progress.

Then he turned to the scene at hand to plan the best way forward.

“On your count, 114. You take the lead. We’ll pick off the stragglers.”

“Going loud in three.”

Cobb looked down his scope and breathed in deeply and watched as 114’s first shot landed and struck a brute dead.

“Keep them clear from the hostages,” Cobb said. “I don’t want them taking them anywhere else. Issa, Jo, on me. We’re moving.”

They moved in as a unit before breaking and posting up at the windows that lead into the building they were infiltrating, most of which were broken. Once Cobb had a clear line of sight, he opened fire.

The darkness gave them a natural cover, and with their spread position, the enemy had no idea where they were. They kept the Brutes at bay away from the hostages where they were pressed flat on the floor to cover from the spray of bullets and plasma. For the time being, they had the upper hand until the Brute Chieftain roared and pointed in their direction.

“They’re coming out! Heads up!” Cobb said.

First the Grunts and then the few remaining Jakals which were picked off with deadly precision until the Chieftain himself charged out with his hammer swinging in Jo’s direction.

Cobb stood up from his cover and peppered the Chieftain’s back with bursts of rounds until he turned on Cobb and came in his direction.

“Cobb!” He heard Jo’s concern over the radio, but it was too late.

He rolled and dropped to avoid the Chieftain’s hammer as it discharged a burst that affected the CPU components in Cobb’s armour. But then the Chieftain swung again and the force of it sent him to his back, momentarily stunned before the Chieftain swung the weapon around, showing the sharp edge on the other side of the weapon head before crashing it down on Cobb’s chestplate.

The chestplate cracked under the pressure, and Cobb felt a burst of pain before the force drove the air from his lungs and he laid there, prone and stunned.

His ears were ringing, and he gasped like a fish which only made the wound worse until spots clouded his vision and he blacked out.

He blinked and saw the Chieftain’s armour cracked by an armour piercing round from a sniper.

He blinked again and saw Issa and Jo corner the Chieftain before a second round struck his back before a third struck his neck and he began to tumble.

He blinked and lost sight of what was before him.

…

“Cobb? Cobb.”

“Sarge, lift your right hand if you’re awake.”

“Is he okay?”

“We need to get the hammer out. His lungs could be damaged.”

“I’ll handle that. Hold him steady.”

Pressure on his shoulders, gently so before a wrenching and—

He gasped and coughed, felt pain radiating out from his chest and he tried to raise his hands to cover it, but he was held down gently.

“Spartan, there’s biofoam at his hip.”

“Got it.”

He heard the sound of an aerosol can being applied to his chest before the pressure on his lungs was abated and he could take a deep breath and relax.

“You there, Sarge?”

He nodded and tried to reach back and pat for Issa’s hands.

“Chestplate is cracked,” he heard 114 say. “The biofoam will hold for a few hours, but he needs medical attention.”

“I’ll get to the hostages,” Issa said.

“Evac point is over the bridge,” Jo said. “I’ll post up with Issa and get the hostages to safety. You good with the Sarge?”

“Just fine.”

Then he felt himself being lifted from the ground and cradled close to someone’s chest.

“Hey, Spartan,” he mumbled.

“That was damn reckless. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Knew you were watchin’.”

He heard 114 sigh. “Keep your words to yourself, Vanth. This fight isn’t over yet.”

…

He had heavy bruising to his chest and a hairline fracture in his sternum. He was on bedrest for a least a month with another month of light duty. He was lucky his lungs weren’t pierced.

Regardless, he had the luxury of his own private room in an actual hospital and not just a field tent. He was on some medical grade painkillers, and his team was being commended for their bravery. All around successful.

But now with this free time, he intended to do some research—never could abide stagnation for long. He pulled up a datapad and using his UNSC credentials, managed to get into the databases of every active soldier on the ground. He searched for Spartan A114, and as he suspected, he was given a lot of redacted material.

The Spartan III program was still tightly under wraps, but parts of it were being declassified, and through the grapevine, Cobb knew they were different from the old Spartan IIs.

Not as good training facilities. Not as good outcomes or survival rates.

He saw the name ‘Reach’ in 114’s file and knew if the Spartan had survived the planet’s destruction, he was a survivor to reckon with, and also why he didn’t have a fireteam of his own. He probably lost them all in the fray.

Everything else including personal details like date of birth, home planet, and name were redacted, so there wasn’t much else he could look into for the time being. But he did file a request to have 114 placed permanently on his team. He wanted to keep the Spartan close.

…

Friends and teammates would come by and visit him. Issa and Jo in pairs, but then one strange visitor came: a very, very tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly kept moustache.

“This seat taken?”

He’d heard that voice of his helmet dozens of times, and Cobb looked at him and couldn’t believe his eyes, that he was seeing the Spartan—his Spartan—out of his armour.

Cobb waved his hand to the chair and pushed a button to have his bed elevated so he could face 114 head on.

It was almost comical to see 114 sit down in a chair not meant for someone of his size, but he made it work. He was dressed in a uniform and not standard military fatigues. There were metals pinned to the beast pocket, and Cobb could see what many of them meant.

“Ceremony?” Cobb asked.

“No. Meeting. I heard you put in a request for me to be made a permanent member of your squad.”

“Well. I liked you. Felt we fought well together eventually. We could use another on our team.”

“I’m surprised you’ve been managing well with only the three of you.”

“Used to be four, but I sacked the other guy.” Cobb shook his head at the memory of Toro and his hot-headed ways. The kid was lucky he hadn’t lost his head if Cobb hadn’t pulled him back time and time again.

“How are you holding up?” 114 asked, eyes drifting to Cobb’s chest and how its swathed with bandage and gauze.

“Eh. Could be worse. Chestplate took the brunt of it though.”

“That’s what it’s for.” 114 breathed in deeply, licked his lips, and looked down at his hands. “It’s . . . it’s good to see you. That you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I barely had my sights on him.”

“Hey, Spartan. Look at me.”

He looked up, and Cobb was struck with how upset 114 looked. Upset in almost a sad way.

“I’m here. You killed the Brutes. Hostages made it out. That is a hundred-percent in my books.”

“Still, I . . .” He breathed in, a shuddering breath. “I don’t like watching from afar when my teammates are in the direct line of fire. It makes me feel . . .”

“Like you can’t protect us.”

114 said nothing.

“Listen,” Cobb said. “We can discuss this. Figure out new strategies. My team, we’re new at this. We’ve worked alongside only a handful of Spartans but not directly with one. We’ll figure it out, see what works for the both of us. But I’m not tolerating Lone Wolf shit. We’re a team.”

114 nodded.

“You good, soldier?”

114 raised his head. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Cobb smirked. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Satisfied with that answer, 114 stood and prepared to leave but just before he could get to the door, Cobb called out, “Hey, Spartan. You got a name to add to the A114?”

The Spartan turned to look at him, pulling open the door as he did, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, “Din.”

“Nice to have you, Din. Rest up if you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead AU || CHAPTER ONE.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is.  Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you,  not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                        The Walking Dead.

       Season 1-?

                                        FEM OC! and ?

Enjoy :) and here is the link to the PROLOGUE!

College. Something I never went to. Sure the thought was there. The ideas to get my diploma and possibly becoming a doctor sounded like a great idea. Until I hit senior year of high school. That was when I realised that maybe I'm not meant for school. Sitting in a classroom wasn't my ideal cup of tea, but I stuck it through high school because I was determined to not become a high school drop out.

When I was in high school it was as though everybody had already figured out what they were going to when they took their first steps into the big, bad world. I was never like that. I left high school and I felt lost. I had no clue what I wanted to do. I convinced myself that I was a disappointment to my family because everybody instantly knew what career path they wanted to pursue and I didn't.

I felt that way until I joined the police academy, a year after I left high school. I was in a real slump, applying to anything and everything, I wasn't getting anywhere until Ally suggested the police force. I instantly declined, not believing that I had any chance of making it. I wasn't the most physically active, any chance I got to skip gym class I grabbed with two hands, but the Police Academy was tempting. I wanted to challenge myself and also prove to all the people who thought I couldn't do it wrong.

And I'm glad I did. Joining the P.D was by far the best decision I made in my life. I found myself as a person. I went from being this shy, delicate flower to an independent and determined individual.

Just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I didn't experience what's it's like to be a typical college student. I attend my fair share of parties, not that I enjoyed them but I still went to please Corey who didn't want to go alone because apparently, that's embarrassing. Aside from the parties, I don't understand why people stick it through college, sure a degree is a good excuse but honestly is any college student happy? Judging by the faces passing by my car the answers no.

My mind is still on autopilot from what had happened not even a half-hour ago. The scene still vivid in my mind, like a record, stuck on repeat, it won't leave me alone. Maybe if I hadn't rushed her out the door then she would still be here, at home with her husband, happy. Her husband. I've ruined a family-

My thoughts being abruptly stopped by the sound of knuckles furiously knocking on the only rolled up window. Moving my drooping eyes to the source only to be met by the slightly annoyed face of my sister Cora. Leaning over to push down the lock, I'm smacked in the face with the humid Atlanta heat.

"About time, I've been knocking for five minutes," she exclaims holding the door open, entering the car. Only humming in response, repositioning myself in the driver seat, staring deadly out the window, "Wow, what's up?" She asked instantly knowing something's off.

"What? Why would anything be up?" Shaking my head, trying to focus on now and not the past, "Oh I don't know maybe you burning a hole into my school with your eyes or the fact that you haven't acknowledged Maggie in the back seat." She states with that smart tone that I love oh so much.

Swirling round in my seat, I met with the contagious smile of Maggie Greene. She a delightful one. A pure soul who could honestly do no wrong, and yet somehow she's best friends with Cora. The pair are polar opposites, like two peas from completely different pods but it somehow makes sense. Cora is like a hyperactive puppy whereas Maggie is a house cat. Maggie keeps Cora grounded. Without Maggie, I don't even want to know where Cora would be.

When Cora first started college she got in with the wrong crowd. She started to miss important family events; like our weekly game of family-friendly monopoly. Cora wasn't Cora anymore, she was someone new, she was trying hard to become something she wasn't. That's until she met Maggie. Apparently, Maggie went through something similar, I don't know all the details, that's a secret between them. All I know is that they met in the student car park at night completely shitfaced with no way to get home. It all came from that singular moment of stupidity, and I'm glad it did because I've already 'lost' one sister, I don't need to lose another.

"Hi Maggie, sorry just had a weird day at work," I half lied, staring up the car again driving out of the almost desert car park, "The farm?" I asked, knowing where to drop her off having done it a couple of times.

"Don't worry about it Macy, we all have our days, and yes please if you don't mind," her southern accent radiating through the car, a genuine smile covering her face meeting at her eyes. Nodding my head, my eyes training back on the road but my mind and eyes can't help but wonder. It was only a few miles back that I saw those things from the news, they could be lurking around here too.

"You will not believe what Ashton said to me today," Cora said, kicking her feet up on the dash of my car, her hand sitting comfortably behind her head. "Oh please do tell," taking one hand off the wheel to push her dirty Dc. Martens on my beloved car.

Scoffing as her feet slap against the floor of my car, y'know where a normal passenger's feet are supposed to go, "He said, 'i think we should see different people', and I was like 'why', and he said, get a load of this, 'I just don't think it's working out'. Yeah no shit it's not working out, he never calls me, never texts me, and that's the first time he has ever spoken to me in school," leaning towards the cool air drifting through the window as she rants about her love life.

"Ashton a grade-A douche, I pretty sure we've had this conversation every time I pick you up," I state as the boredom begin to consume me at the ritual of Cora's love life discussion coming up once again. Looking in the rearview mirror I see Maggie nodding her head in agreement, "I agree, out of all the guys in our school you choose Ashton," she gags making a yuck sound, her face scrunching up at the thought of her best friends boyfriend.

"It's kind of your fault y'know," I laughed as she sided eyed me, "you met a guy called Ashton and expected him to what? sweep you off your feet?"

"She's got a point," Maggie pointed out hiding her laughter better than me, "No she doesn't!" Exclaimed Cora as she turns around to fully face Maggie in the back middle seat, "what about your love life huh, oh yeah it doesn't exist," she sassed hands crossed over her chest, a smirk on her face as though proud of her very mediocre remark.

Shaking my head at my sister's antics, "Maggie will meet a guy when she's ready too. Just because she not actively looking doesn't mean it will never happen. And I bet when she does meet someone, he'll be a million times better than Ashton or any of those other guys you've been with."

"Thank you, Macy," I hear her quietly responded, shyness overtaking her voice at my comment. Not being able to hide my smile at the innocent girl behind me and the slightly ticked off girl beside me, "um hello! You're supposed to be on my side-," Cora's voice shuts off to a silent whisper. Confused at her sudden change of tone, I glance her way. Her eyes trained directly out the front window, never blinking.

Trying to find what she was looking for wasn't hard. It's them. Only a few, 2 male and 1 woman, a couple of meters away from my travelling car. These are different, they're nothing like the ones I encountered earlier. The ones from before were coming towards me at an agonising walking pace, these ones however are running, running extremely fast.

Cora's heavy breath begins to fill the car, as Maggie mutters incoherent words. I however am static, this wasn't just a one time encounter. In the space of not even an hour, I've seen a dozen of these people. The government has issued official reports telling us, the public, that's there is absolutely nothing to worry about and they have this all under control. At first, I believed that, but now with these thing sprinting towards my car, I'm beginning to beg to differ.

"Um, Macy drive. Macy, please drive!" A panicked Cora heaves in my ear. Judging from my previous encounter, fight or flight is not an option right now. Not until I fully understand what these things are.

My tires make the all to familiar shrieking against the warm tar, with nowhere else to go but straight through the few in the middle of the road. The sound of the dead weight hitting the bonnet of my car before flying over the top was like nothing I've heard before. It's sounded sickening. A mixture of bones clashing and screams. A horrific sight and sound.

The car stayed in utter silence until I pulled up to the Greene farm, to where none of us dared to move a muscle. You could hear a pin drop over the sounds of slightly irregular breathing. The beating sun shining through the front window causing the car to feel more insufferable.

"That's those things from the new isn't it?" Asked Cora quietly as though scared to break the silence. Having not enough courage in my voice to reply, I just simply nod, "that's why you had a weird day at work, wasn't it?" She asked again, this time staring at me but I refuse to meet her eyes only nodding again. Hearing the shaky breath from behind me and the sound of the door opening, snapped me back to reality.

Looking out through Cora's window, I see a slouched Maggie struggling to keep her balance. Pulling my lips into a tight smile, "Be safe," I said gently toward the shaken up girl. Muster up a nod she replies, "you too, the both of you," before turning round to met her sister Beth at the porch. Seeing the pleasant girl brought a smile to my face as I waved back to the gleeful youngest Greene.

Once Maggie was safely inside her farmhouse that's when I pulled away, only to have something at the corner of my eye catch my attention. Hershel, Maggie's father, walking away from the slightly beat barn. In his hands some sort of animal handling pole. Nothing unusually really, Hershel is a vet but that's not what's concerning. The glooming blood dripping slightly off the loop is however concerning.

"Hey Mr Greene," greeted Cora, her voice still failing her a little. Laughing at the younger girls formalities, "how many time have I told you to call me Hershel," he said walking closer to the car, a cloth in hand as he tried to discreetly clean the pole in his hands, but the deed was already done, I had already seen it.

"A couple more times should do the trick," she tries to joke, wanting to forget what had just happened. Luckily enough Hershel doesn't notice the pressed bloody handprints of the front and sides of my car, as he leans to see me at the driver's seat, "Thank you for dropping our Maggie off again Macy, it really means a lot."

"Don't sweat it. Didn't want her travelling back home herself especially now with the mess that's all over the news," a sharp inhale from Cora causes me to reach over, comfortingly grabbing her sweaty hands in my own, rubbing the backs for her hands softly.

"Ah yes, I did see that. I'm sure its nothing to worry about," he waves his hand slightly, looking over his shoulder at the barn he had just left. I frowned my eyebrows at the elder's change in body language; his wondering eyes and shuffling feet are causing me to doubt the man's knowledge of the current situation.

"Better safe than sorry I guess," I dismiss getting ready to drive off again, "I suppose you're right," his voice becoming harder to hear with him no longer facing me. The sound of my engine starting up again is what snaps him in our direction, "Well Thank you again, have a good day," he farewelled beginning to make his leave, walking up the same creaking steps to the porch.

Before he could catch the door handle, I yell, "Hey Hershel," catching his attention, "Be safe," only to receive a simple nod before he descended into his home. Home.

"Let go home," I exhale tapping my sister leg, catching her teary eyes, "we'll be fine."

I don't know who I was trying to reassure, Cora or myself, but with what has been going on recently, I think everybody could use a bit of reassuring.

This is quite a short chapter but I need to start somewhere right? If you took the time to read this, Thank you! and I hope that you liked it :) 

I might start a taglist for this au, so if you would be interested in being tagged when I post for this au then just message me or comment to let me know!

I’m going to try and post chapter two later today hopefully too :))

DAISY.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 7: Shadow And Moonlight

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which the woods try to tell Y/N something.

Word count: 3.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

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“Don’t move.”

Harry hissed into his palm as he peeked through the gap between his fingers to watch Y/N tending to his wound. His hand had been burned slightly, but nothing too severe.

Y/N had managed to find some healing herbs in the forest. She chewed them in her mouth and spat onto the burn, amused by the way Harry’s face contorted with disgust.

“Yuck.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said mockingly. “Would you like it to be infected?”

A corner of his mouth raised as he watched her bandage his hand with a piece of fabric she’d torn from her coat. “How did you know how to do this?”

“I read,” she said with a grin. “It’s great. You should try it sometimes.”

Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the cold or he was shy, but she’d just seen a bit of colour in his cheeks. Harry averted his eyes immediately, looking at his bandaged hand. And there it was again – that sinking feeling in her stomach.

When they’d managed to escape from the burning house, Y/N had regretted her decision to continue the journey. But as she was looking at Harry now and thinking about how she could lose him any moment, she was more determined to find the lake.

They didn’t talk about what had happened. Y/N wanted to talk about it, but she hated to acknowledge it. She hated that she didn’t have an explanation for the things that she’d seen. For all she could tell, it’d been magic. And magic didn’t always have answers.

Harry probably felt the same way for he’d been quiet this whole time. They were both thinking of the same thing and keeping their guards up. And maybe that was enough to keep them alive for now.

The sun was setting. They’d gone far from the house, killed two rabbits and cooked them for lunch and dinner. They and the horses were too exhausted so they’d decided to camp in the woods for the night, hoping there wouldn’t be another storm, otherwise they’d have no shelter and get buried in the snow.

“Impressive,” Harry said as he watched Y/N make a fire. “It’s like you grew up outside the castle.”

She didn’t say anything about that compliment, didn’t even remind him that he’d been the one who’d taught her that. The more he said things like this, the more she felt like she didn’t know him anymore. He was slowly turning into somebody else. And she must admit that there had been moments when she’d thought she was gradually falling out of love with him. But then, she’d think about that kiss in the burning house. That had felt similar, hadn’t it?

“You kissed me.”

Y/N started as she dropped the stick she was holding and gaped at Harry. He was looking straight at her, his eyes round and full of wonder as he said, “In the house. You kissed me, right? Or was it just an illusion?”

“Yes, I kissed you,” she admitted, not looking at him as she added more wood to the fire. She could still feel his eyes burning holes on the side of her face.

“Why?” he asked.

“I needed to shock you,” she replied coolly. “I pricked my finger and it pulled me back to reality. So I thought–I just...didn’t want to hurt you.”

Harry chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked him. “I saved your life, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did, Your Majesty,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m just imagining His Majesty’s face when he hears about all the things we’ve done to survive.”

Y/N mustered a smile at him, ignoring the jab in her stomach. “Well, let’s hope you’ll survive until my husband kills you.”

Harry didn’t say anything about that, but the smirk never faltered on his face. It made Y/N all flustered so she had no choice but to pretend that he wasn’t there and mind her own business.

They ate the rest of the rabbit, and it was night again. The stars and the moon were visible tonight. They could be seen through the branches overhead, so there might not be a storm and Harry and Y/N would be safe. At least if they were careful enough to not fall into another trap.

“We should take turns keeping watch during the night,” Harry said.

“Good idea. I’ll take the first watch.”

“No–”

“I insist,” said Y/N as she secured the fur coat around herself and sat down by a large rock. “I can’t sleep now anyway so…”

“All right,” Harry sighed, stretching his limbs and yawning. “Wake me up when you’re tired.”

“Sure.”

And so he lay down on the ground beside her, all wrapped up in his coat with his back facing her. She couldn’t help but stare, wanting to run her fingers down his spine or through his hair and kiss him goodnight. But all she could do was watch in silence and repeat those three words in her head so she wouldn’t forget what they sounded like.

“You were very brave.”

Y/N was taken aback. She blinked, for a moment thinking she’d misheard it. But then he went on, not turning to face her, “Thank you for not abandoning me there.”

She felt a smile growing on her face. “Can’t even look at me as you say thank you?” she asked, laughing so he knew it was a joke.

Harry laughed too, quietly. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to see you blush. Wouldn’t be able to sleep if I kept thinking about it.”

Y/N was left speechless. She worked her jaw for a response that never came. But Harry didn't seem to expect anything from her; he drifted right off, his shoulder rising and falling as he snored softly.

Y/N put both arms around herself, feeling goosebumps pimple her skin as a cool breeze blew right through her clothes. This was the first time she’d spent the night in these woods. She’d heard tales about them when she’d been little. The kinds of tales that were used to scare naughty children. And after what had happened in that house, Y/N was very convinced that those tales were all real.

Once you had stepped into the darkness of these woods and felt the cold pass through you, the trees would swallow all memory of light and they would know all your secrets, the stories you’d kept hidden inside the cage of your chest. The trees whispered, too. They could be taunting Y/N right now, making her think she was safe and getting her when she least expected.

She pinched her eyes closed and took a deep breath before observing the lines of tall soldier trees standing guard around them. It was all so quiet, but why did she feel like something was out there.

She imagined a beast or shadow with hooked claws and grim eyes. A thing the forest kept, waiting for the right moment to release.

Her fingers twitched as fear rose at the base of her throat. She hated this feeling building inside her. She was her mother’s daughter. She should not be afraid of invisible things. But then again, when it came to things she did not understand and could not explain, she should be afraid.

“Come.”

Y/N jumped when she heard the voice. It wasn’t Harry’s. He was still sleeping. She whipped her head around, trying to locate where it’d come from but she could not.

“Come.”

There it was again. The voice of a woman. Somebody was here. Somebody was hiding in the dark, camouflaged by the trees, silently watching them.

Heart pounding out of rhythm, Y/N tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Harry, I heard something.”

There was no response.

“Harry, wake up. Harry!” She shook his shoulder harder. He still did not budge. If he weren’t still breathing, she would assume he was dead. It was almost like he could not feel or hear her.

She took a second to calm herself down and study her surroundings. Moonlight peeked through the trees, pale and lonely, bathing her skin. Bare branches above looked like skeleton fingers waiting patiently to grab her when she slept. She held her breath, straining her ear to listen to the voice. But she heard nothing. Moments had passed, and still, nothing.

It was not real. The mountain had a way of getting inside your head—playing tricks on those who dared to walk among the pines long after the sun had set. These woods were wild and rugged and unkind. They could not be trusted.

Feeling anxious, she added some more sticks to the fire and sat there hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the flame. She thought about her mother, trying to hold onto those few precious fading memories of her childhood to put herself at ease.

Suddenly, a branch cracked.

Y/N’s head snapped up like a hunter expecting her prey.

Or maybe she was the prey all along.

“Come.”

It was the voice again.

Soft like silk.

Longing like a distant memory.

Y/N covered her ears as the voice kept repeating the same word over and over again. It only grew clearer as she tried to block it out. The voice was coming from inside her head.

Her skin pricked with gooseflesh.

And when she opened her eyes again, she saw it.

A white deer glowing in the blackness of night. It stood between the trees, watching her silently with its eyes gleaming like the brightest stars. She stared back at the animal, holding her breath, wondering if it was just a figment of her imagination or such creature did exist in these magical woods. Everything could seem and feel real until it wasn’t. Like the house. Like this entire journey. She could be dreaming.

Wide eyes stayed fixed on the deer, she reached for Harry, but he was not there. She snapped her head to the side and found him gone. So were the horses and their weapons and supplies. She was all alone. She pressed her fists to her heart, feeling its violent beats as she prayed that this wasn’t real. Then, the fire went out. Y/N recoiled, shaking all over. What was happening?

She could still feel the creature watching her. So she slowly opened her eyes and saw that the deer was glowing even brighter than before. It was the only source of light now. The moon had been obscured by the clouds. As the light from the creature’s skin touched her own, it was warm and put her at east. So when the creature nodded its head to ask her to follow, she hurriedly pushed herself off the ground and went after it.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This. Is. A. Dream, she kept telling herself as she made her way around the trees. The air was cold and damp. Y/N breathed slowly as she moved forward, stepping carefully, deliberately, over fallen logs and frozen flowers. She didn’t know how far she’d followed the deer. She didn’t remember walking. Her steps felt so light it was like she was being carried.

The next thing she knew, she was heading towards a cliff. The moon was so big it looked like a giant eye or a face in the sky. Y/N was so taken by the moon that she did not see the deer transforming into a woman. The woman was dressed in a white gown. She stood on the edge of the cliff, her white hair flying like a silvery stream.

Just like the deer, she was glowing, too.

“W-Who are you?” Y/N asked, but the woman didn’t answer nor turn around. And when Y/N opened her mouth to ask again, the woman whipped her head to her left, revealing her face for the first time. She was a young girl, about Y/N’s age or even younger.

Curious, Y/N looked to where the girl was staring at and saw a dark figure. A man. He didn’t pay a single glance at Y/N, so Y/N knew he could not see her either. He and the moonlight lady rushed toward each other for a strong tight embrace. They were both young and beautiful. But Y/N had never seen them before.

The man was dressed in all black. The girl in all white.

Shadow and moonlight.

This wasn’t just an ordinary dream. It was trying to tell Y/N something.

But what?

“Your Majesty!”

Y/N’s eyes popped open when she heard it. Harry’s face rushed into view, and she flinched at the touch of his fingers on the side of her face. He immediately jumped back, raising both hands in the air.

“What—” She looked around, baffled. They were now standing at the same spot by the fire. The horses were still here. Moonlight still cast eerie shadows on the snow. But there was no deer. No girl. No mystery man.

“Were you sleepwalking?” Harry asked, looking concerned. “I woke up and saw you just standing here staring into nothing…”

“No,” she said, tearing her eyes from his. “I thought I heard something. That’s all.”

Harry’s forehead puckered slightly. He didn’t believe her. “Your Majesty, if something’s wrong, you must tell me.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry,” she murmured, forcing a smile.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “So you weren’t sleepwalking?”

“No.”

His eyes locked with hers for a second as if he was trying to detect a lie. To her relief, he exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. “All right. Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Y/N didn’t say another word to Harry as she came to lie down by the fire. For some reason, she could feel someone watching them. It was the woods. They were always watching. And when she fell asleep, she saw the face of the white-haired girl inside the giant moon.

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“Your Majesty!”

“Get out.”

Jo’s mouth fell open as she smacked her palm onto her chest, acting shocked, frozen in the doorway. Lance probably expected her to leave immediately, and when she didn’t, he tore his eyes from the book he’d been reading and glanced up at her. He cocked an eyebrow, looking annoyed. “I said–”

“A maid told me you'd called for me,” she said.

Lance opened his mouth, probably about to tell her off when he seemed to have remembered calling for her, so his mouth snapped shut at once. The smug grin she was giving him must have got him all bashful as he cleared his throat and combed his fingers through his raven hair. “Well, I was going to ask you a few things but I figured it out on my own.”

“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I guess I should go now?”

“Yes.”

She picked up her skirt and gave a curtsy. “Good night, Your Majesty.”

“Wait. Actually–” Lance heaved a sigh as he rose from his chair. “I think I’ve discovered something.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Close the door,” he said.

Jo did as she was told then padded over to the desk where Lance had laid out two tall piles of books. This was what he’d been doing for the last few days. Research. Y/N had almost died twice. And at this point, Jo guessed Lance was done just sitting at one place and doing nothing.

Isolde had been at peace since their Queen had left, but it could be the calm before a huge storm. Jo didn’t know much about politics, but she knew Lance had been losing sleep over what Calanthe might have up her sleeve, and also for Y/N’s safety.

As Jo watched him flip through the pages of the huge dusty old book, she could not help but watch the ring on his finger glowing red.

Y/N, she thought, when are you coming home?

“From what we’ve learned from Mary,” Lance said, snapping her back to reality. “This group of people called The Monks believe in one ruler. They want to believe it’s Calanthe so they’re on her side, giving her advice and will fight for her in the battle.”

“If you’re asking me for more information, I haven’t got any,” Jo sighed. “I barely talk to the witch.”

It was true. She now shared the room with the witch who’d erased Harry’s memory of Y/N. Jo didn’t care that the witch no longer had magic. It was best to keep her distance and be guarded at all times.

“No, not that.” Lance shook his head. “I just found something fascinating.” And pointed to the page. “King Lokesh. The first High King in the North was thought to be the one ruler, too. The Monks were on his side during the war with his brothers.”

“It was a useless war. There was no winner. That was how one hundred kingdoms were divided into four high courts.”

“True.” Lance raised a finger. “But Lokesh didn’t rule for long. He died after only two months on the throne and the crown was passed onto his eldest son. It was said that he’d died of a mysterious illness.”

Jo grimaced as she tapped her fingers on the table. “What does that have to do with us?”

Lance clenched his jaw, his thick brows knitted. “Do you think The Monks have something to do with his death?”

“You mean they killed him?”

Lance nodded. “Because he was not the chosen one.”

Jo took a moment to think then shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re worried. I’m actually hoping they’ll kill Calanthe when they realize she’s useless.”

Lance pursed his lips before letting out a sharp breath. He closed the book and crossed his arms as he leaned against the table. “Do you think I’m being paranoid?”

“A little,” Jo scoffed. “But I get it. It’s been stressful for us both.”

Lance was quiet for a moment, his gaze glued to his feet. “I really hope she’ll make it home. With or without finding the lake.”

“So do I,” Jo said. But the voice inside her head was quick to add, With or without Harry.

She felt bad about it, of course. Harry had been unbearable at times yet he didn’t deserve what he was getting. After all, he’d lived and died for Y/N. And Jo’s ultimate mission in life was only to make Y/N happy and keep Y/N safe.

She returned to her room with those heavy thoughts clinging onto her and almost forgot that she wasn’t alone. Her heart jumped as she stepped in and saw the girl with a damaged face sitting on the bed beside hers, dressed in a white nightgown like a ghost.

“Where were you?” Mary asked, giving a smile that crinkled her good eye.

Jo tried not to show how disgusted she was as she walked straight to the fireplace to add some wood to it.

Mary was quiet for a moment, either waiting for Jo to speak or thinking of what to say next. Eventually, she broke the silence, “You cannot not speak to me forever.”

Jo could. In fact, she was doing it now.

“How’s the Queen?” Mary persisted.

Jo didn’t want her to be doing this all night, so she decided to answer this one. “Alive.”

“Good, good,” Mary said, laughing nervously. There was a three-second pause. “Hey, I was wondering...um...since you were the last person to see my sister...h-how was she when she left?”

“She was happy,” Jo said without any emotion in her voice. Then she suddenly felt bad about it and added, “I didn’t really know her, but she seemed like a nice person.”

“You’re a nice person, too,” Mary said. This time, Jo cast a glance at her and saw her grinning. “Maggie wouldn’t just save anyone.”

Jo would tell Mary that Maggie had done it for Y/N, not for her, but she didn’t want this to turn into a conversation. She stayed quiet and walked back to her bed, but Mary had already got up and got in her way. She stopped, second-guessing what Mary would do next when the witch took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said.

Jo was too shocked to pull back so she just stood there like a statue. “About?”

“The Queen. I know you–” Mary stopped herself at once, yet Jo already knew what she was going to say. It wasn’t hard to tell how she felt about Y/N. “Also,” Mary went on, her hands turning warm as they held Jo’s. “I’m sorry about your baby.”

It’d been so long since someone had last mentioned it. Jo felt like her wound which had recently healed was sliced open again. She stared at Mary unblinkingly. And somehow Mary thought it was a great idea to continue adding salt to her injury. “We’re more alike than you think, Josephine,” Mary said, lacing her fingers with Jo’s.

Jo immediately shoved herself away from the witch. Mary opened her mouth to speak but Jo didn’t give her a chance. “No.” She held up a finger and took a step back. “We’re nothing alike. You’re a witch. Look at you. You’re...you’re–”

Ugly. Evil. Heartless. Manipulative. Pretentious.

“Just...do not touch me ever again,” Jo said under her breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Mary said to her but she didn’t bother to hear it. She turned abruptly and stormed out of the room. This was all too much for her to take. She would have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.