#though the curse that was placed on him at birth may sometimes get in the way of that...

[mars-ipan]

more solo magma doodles. this time featuring fortune, the very original and not-at-all-based-on-anything tiefling paladin i'm going to be playing in a new campaign this summer :]

[itstheghostofmypast]

Burden of Love

Non-idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Son of Hades × Daughter of Aphrodite

Summary: Cursed. Since the day of her birth, she had been cursed, one that was a burden her mother had no interest in catering to, the burden of love.

Genre:Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 2.9K

Est. Read Time: 20 min

Warnings: sexual harassment, mild torture

Rating: Mature

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

"If you're going to sulk all day, his highness may conclude that you are unhappy here." The butler cleared his throat, placing a cup of tea in front of his queen, turning his head to face her sour expressions, her small little frown and the dent etched between her eyebrows as she read the book in hand -though he ensured to avoid her eyes. She however was busy, busy ignoring the man talking to her, even ignoring the little exaggerated sigh he had let out.

"What are you reading?" He asked, trying to distract his King's wife, his lover, his muse, the shining star of his dark, cold and endless sky, his spoiled brat- No, Yunho, you do not say that about your queen, no matter how childish and petty she may be sometimes. What did he expect? She was the youngest of Aphrodite's children, which did mean that she was in fact, the most babied of the lot, one who had her mother's and almost every other individual's undivided attention- attention and love she was bound to receive, a promise made at birth, or so he had assumed. Though would she give back in equivalence and sincerity? Even his King, he never did expect his king, the ruler of the Underworld, the sole most beloved child of Hades, the powerful ruler of the world below, one of the strongest to exist- to grovel to his knees at the mere sight of this woman- especially when she had refused to even look a him, for he was from the world below, an inferior being, as she had proclaimed- look at her now, sitting in the very world below that she had once insulted-

"Do you think he no longer loves me?"

His eyes snapped up at her face, still avoiding her eyes once more, though he took in a certain look she wore, one that made her beauty stand out even more, the pastels of her off shoulder dress extenuating her graceful features- this woman radiated an air so alluring that perhaps she would leave her mother jealous- was she? Is that why Aphrodite, herself, ensured to take over the marriage proceedings, ensuring her daughter had no way out, ensuring to send her down to hell, to hide her, to ensure her daughter could not outshine her in any manner- she had even refused when his great King had gone running to her, telling her how he never wished to upset her daughter. The first night of their marriage and she had told the son of Hades how she hated him and never wanted this- in an instant he had rushed to Aphrodite to get to the bottom of this, to ask her how she could do something against the wishes of her own child? How could she harm such a being of tenderness, of such beauty, of such purity, only to be brushed off, when his mother in law retorted with,

"She's yours to do as you please, oh, Prince of the underworld do not burden yourself with her childish tantrums, she is but a nymph, who could satisfy you for eternity and more, just take off the blindfold and your worries will vanish."

That night he had come back to the underworld and called upon all his generals and advisors, he had even called in Seonghwa, even though the guardian of the Titans had no real clue of what love was, giving instructions they never thought of receiving, especially for a mere spoiled child of a goddess,

"We must ensure she is never unhappy, my wife should have her every whim dealt with, no matter how childish."

It may have originally been a form of guilt that he was going through, Wooyoung had told Yunho the same, perhaps like all other men, their King had fallen for her beauty, her alluring nature and persona, her flirtatious being, which is why when she had rejected him to face, he must've felt the guilt of forcing her to a commitment she may not have ever wanted- which is why the first of his new wife's request was to have a separate sleeping chamber, one so far away from them that she would barely see his face. He had agreed instantly- guilt, was it not?

However, even after a year of this practice, he had not once been bothered by her increasing demands, but instead had shown nothing but concern, making Yunho stand there for hours in his dimly lit study, asking about his wife;

"Has she eaten?"

"Yes, young Prince."

"Is she well? Have you been feeding her whatever she wants?"

"She is. We have."

"Is she...what about her comfort? Bedding? Clothes? Rugs-"

"She changed the ones in her room to colours that matched her room in Olympus, we did all she asked her for, including getting her a new wardrobe."

"That's good..." he had smiled staring at his father's will, knowing he would be no longer a Prince in a few days, "I want her to be happy, truly happy."

Yunho had wanted to believe in his King's wishes, but he could tell him how this child of Aphrodite had slowly been drifting away, sitting locked up in her room most of the time, only tended to by the female staff- other than Yunho. Yunho was the only man other than San to have interacted with her in the Palace, but unlike his King, he had never met her gaze, the galaxy filled crystal pair of orbs, that stories had been written about, songs had been dedicated to, the eyes of a maiden that held the galaxy within, shining brighter than a sky full of stars, reflecting off one's deepest desires, often lust when it had been a man who had dared to make eye contact- which is why she was to always where a blindfold, one that would often match her attire, though there were occasions in Olymus where she chose not to, but every god and goddess there feared for their life, knowing laying a finger on her meant Aphrodite's wrath.

It was ironic how the first time his King had ever seen her, she was wearing a blindfold, one she had refused to take off during their wedding as well, out of spite or out of fear, the advisor (mind you she just treated him like a butler) was not sure, but he knew that the night she had said all those things, San had taken off her blindfold, admiring her beauty when she had spat at him, using words so harsh, words he had never wished to hear from his wife.

After that night the blindfold had returned, even when the maids would bathe her she would not let them touch it, Yunho knew she would wear it around him, but he never dared to meet her gaze in any case, out of respect? Perhaps...or out of pity. He had been witnessing for a year how she had begun to lose the colour of her cheeks, her lips now often found quirked into a frown, hands often fiddling with the ribbons of her dress, he had wanted to tell his King this, but he had stopped asking about her altogether, especially since she had refused to attend his coronation, even after receiving the title of the Queen. He had stopped asking if she had eaten, if she was well, in fact, he would no longer be interested in the report Yunho would give nightly, only asking if there was something out of the blue that should concern him- but there never was, everything was always the same, or so they had assumed.

For the night that the King had decided to retire early to bed, bidding his generals and his advisor a goodnight, his advisor following suit, asking his King to listen to him about his wife, wanting to tell him about her declining health, though his Lord had turned a deaf ear to him, "I don't want to hear of it Yunho, I'm tired tonight, I don't care if she didn't like dinner tonight just give her what she wants tomorro-" his words had been cut short with an ear piercing scream, one that had had him and his loyal servant bolt to the wing of the castle where his wife stayed.

Yunho had seen almost his fair share of sin and horrid things, the underworld was no place for the light hearted, but what he had not prepared himself for was the sight of his Queen's shivering form, hugging herself as she coward behind a fallen chair, crying and yelling,as she gripped onto the torn end of her dress to cover herself, while across the room a dozen maids were holding onto a foaming, wild eyed -Minister? What had he even been doing down here? How did he get in? Did he catch her without her blindfold? Was he a traitor coming to coerce the Queen for something? Or was he just a curious old fool? Was this because he looked into her eyes, maybe General Jung could beat it out of him- or not, for as soon as his King had entered the brightly lit, pastel coloured room the atmosphere had shifted, the air had thickened and her cries had been muted out by the screams of the minister that had just caught fire, shackled to the the ground, with the molten hot chains that had manifested from the floor of the castle - of course the son of Hades was no soft hearted fool, he knew no ends when it had come to torture. All too soon the burnt man that was still whimpering apologies was tossed out of the window, his scream ending with a loud thud as the King glanced at maids, enough of a gesture for them to scurry out of the room before turning to his wife, walking over to her, like predator to pray, Yunho would have interfered if he were not so deathly afraid of the man, he was unsure of what he was going to do to his mess of a wife, especially when he had crouched down infront of her, gripping her shoulders, which had only led the poor thing to yelp in pain, pleading for her life, whimpering about how she had nothing to do with this, how she did not wish to taint the reputation of the king, how she did not want to be punished-

"LOOK AT ME!"

Her eyes had snapped open meeting not the glare of a tyrant, not the eyes of a lust induced man, but the tender, soft gaze of a loving husband, one that had her calming down, one that Yunho did not expect- for he had realised something, his King had not been lust driven even after staring into her eyes, was this...love?

He knows not what happened after, for he had been instructed by his King to leave him with his wife, all he knows is that next morning he had been tasked by the King to infrom the head of the King's Counsel, Hongjoong, about the implementation of a new law, a new practice, one with grave punishment,

"One must never look at the Queen whilst in her presence, eyes must be cast to the ground while her Majesty is around, for her safety, anyone caught not following this would be tortured in the deepest pit of the Underworld for eternity, by the great General Park."

As soon as this was done, the King had personally overseen the burning ceremony of all her blindfolds, with his Queen standing beside him, hand in hand, only for her to smile up at him, a smile that he knew had led his King to fall for her, a smile he knew she'd use to get away with anything, even making the poor advisor wear a pink suit because she was bored, the smile that was so menacing and-

"Yunho~" she whined, causing him to let out a sigh, "I asked you a question!"

"My Queen, his majesty loves you no lesser than he did yesterday." He bowed, before straightening up, ignoring the way she scoffed and slammed her book shut, tossing it onto the table, truly a brat.

"Then why has he kept me waiting since morning!? I didn't even see him at breakfast!"

"He is a busy man, one who is ever so dutiful and responsible."

"You know...the saying is to "lick it, not make a meal out of it."

Of course, leave it to her to call him a boot-licker, maybe he should retire-

"Careful love, if you keep this up, Yuyu might retire early~" the door opened, as the subject of the matter walked in, with all his might and glory, laughing at the way his wife huffed and looked away, shaking his head at her antics, "Purple looks nice on you...Yunho." He motioned to the suit he was wearing, another one of the Queen's choice.

"Thank you, Sire, may I be excused?"

"Of cours- oh my." He chuckled when the door slammed within a second before turning to face his wife, who was still not looking at him, arms crossed over her chest, cheeks flushed and puffed out in anger- or a tantrum, whichever it may be, it was enough to have him sitting beside her and gently clasping her hands in his, whispering to her, trying to coax her out of it, "My love, the star of my life, why is it that you ignore me? I was but away ensuring I finish all my tasks so I could spend time with you."

"Liar." She huffed, though she never pulled away, even when he had gently gripped her chin, making her turn her head to face him, admiring her even more upclose.

"Never." He whispered, leaning closer to place a soft kiss at the corner of her lips, letting out a hearty laugh at her gasp, catching the surprise in her eyes, his own crinkling with admiration and love as he gave her his signature dimpled smile, before leaning closer once more, their foreheads bumping slightly, "Not once in my life have I lied to you, my love; my soul, my body, my mind, are but at your disposal, all yours to claim."

She only sighed, pouting at his words, pulling her hands out his hold to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers reaching to twirl a lock of his onyx hair, her other hand gripping his coat, "Prove it."

"Oh? How so?" He mused, letting her play her little game, "Is my seed not proof enough?"

A light hearted chuckle broke past her lips, if it was possible for his heart to grow bigger with joy, it would have, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, "I suppose not~" she purred, the instant change of demeanour had him shivering under her warm touch, biting his lip when she gently tugged on his hair pulling him closer, enough for her to have her back pressing against the couch, him hovering above of her as he peered into her eyes, trying to find the constellation that had blessed their union, though when her hand pulled him down ontop of her, he forgot the purpose of his mission, to busy and engrossed by the sweet taste of her lips, the soft warm skin his fingers could feel through the gown, his hand reaching for hers, pinning her wrists above her head as he pressed his forehead against hers, his warm breath mingling with hers, "You naughty little-

"SHE IS WITH CHILD- GET OFF HER!? HAVE YOU NO SHAME!? AND YOU! FINISH YOUR TEA!"

In an instant the two had parted, sitting prim and proper at the two opposite ends of the couch, hands in their lap, the only give away were the dishevelled clothes, their messy hair and the smudged lipstick that was now decorating both of their mouths.

Clearing his throat he looked at his fuming advisor who held onto a notebook, "I-I was going to be gentle, Yunho-"

"SHUT UP. I KNOW HOW GENTLE YOU ARE, YOU MORON."

"Yuyu! That's not how you speak to your king-"

"SILENCE. I admit it's on the early stage but my Lady you must not let this hooligan give into his desires, do not be fooled by his stupid charm." Pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed as he handed the Queen a tissue, "Your health comes first, my lady, " Then he side eyed a flushed San who was staring at his wife wipe away the evidence of their little session, "And you should know that, Sire, her happiness is linked with her health."

When he earned a strong, firm nod from his King he sighed, for the nth time, "I shall prepare dinner and bring it here, for the love of all that is holy, please do not do anything harmful while I'm gone.' He mumbled walking to the door, only to stop, when he heard a giggle, turning around with another lecture ready, but stopped at the sight before him, his heart melting in disgust covered awe, watching her giggle to herself as she cleaned the lipstick off his lips, only for him to playful nip at her finger tips, earning squeals in return- these brats were a handful, he thought to himself, closing the doors of the study as he walked down the hall, a small smile gracing his tired features, glad that his Queen had found all she had been looking for, so afraid of the curse that she would never even say it out loud...love.

A/N: Idk...I just, I had to get this out of my system. I hope yall like it.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @jaehunnyy @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt

[dreaming-of-barbi]

I have finally come up with a backstory for my reagent oc! I am so happy with how they have turned out !!! Very very long lore outline thing below, copied from my google docs and written on my phone so there might be some errors.

Sugar & Bone(s) | The Demon and The Vessel – lore dump / outline 

TRIGGER WARNINGS - not in order -

RELIGION, OCCULT THINGS, DEMON??, GORE MENTIONS, ABUSE??, DEATH, MAFIA??, DRUGS?? that's all I can think of 

Description of Sugar - 

About 22 years old when she reaches Murkoff.

5’3”, somewhat pudgy with blueish gray eyes and dark brown curly hair that reaches down to her hips. A large portion of her face is covered by a very sensitive, actively healing scar. 

She subconsciously touches the scar on her neck and face, feeling how much it has healed each day. She avoids mirrors and also hides her face with her hair when she can. She removed the night vision headset and E.S.O.P within the first few weeks of being there as the Demon can see in the dark just fine and they don't use the rigs.

She tries to hide the screws Murkoff drilled into her skull. She doesn't smile often as it feels weird against her healing skin. It won't ever fully heal, forever leaving a nasty spider web like scar across her face. 

Her teeth grew back sharper, some of her facial features being slightly altered because of the Demon.

Ages and timeline may change, especially as more lore for Franco comes out. It might be a little off with the ages but I tried to keep everything lore accurate. 

Locations are kind of unknown, for now. Most likely within Louisiana, before finding their way to Mount Sinyala in Arizona.

~

Ever since she had been born, it was as though she was cursed. Labeled as a “demonic child” before her birth, she was already doomed to be nothing more than a scapegoat for whatever was needed. 

The Demon found her at only a few months old, quickly latching on to such a sorrowful soul. How could something so young and small put off this much sadness? And this place? This was no religious commune, especially not when they could so easily step foot on these so-called “holy grounds”.

Shannon meets Franco at age 4 years old, very, very young at the time. Franco isn't much older, as he's almost three years older than her. 

She witnesses him being screamed at by Salvatore and, guided by a simple thought placed in her mind by the Demon, follows him when he runs off after, finding him hiding himself away and crying. She sits next to him without ever saying anything and shares a small loaf of banana bread with him, being called away by her guardians not too long after. 

Franco never forgets this gesture, recognizing her as he gets a bit older and starts learning more about his fathers… business. He sees her within The Commune whenever his father would bring him along in the following years, visiting sometimes to see how the operations were going. 

The commune is a cult, as well as a front for money laundering, and providing another way to smuggle narcotics For Salvatore. Has ties to a  “Freak Show” miles in the opposite direction of the city, which of course, also has ties with Salvatore. The cult buys and also helps distribute Salvatore's goods, earning a small profit for it as they use their ties with the Circus to keep production rolling through.

Who's going to question the little pilgrim-like Christian village out in the woods? 

Circus’ and Freak Shows were hardly even being bothered with any more, less and less appearing across the country each year as people grew bored and tired of it. 

With generous donations coming from Salvatore's companies, food and charity sent to both the Circus and The Commune, no one batted an eye at this tight knit circle. No one noticed them. 

The perfect front. 

It was a dying form of crude entertainment, the only thing keeping it alive was The exploitation of the gullible Commune members nearby, and the few people who visited occasionally. 

A deal was made with the Commune’s “Elders” and the Ring Master of the show, using one of the “attractions” to strike the fear of god into the gullible members. In return, they are paid a good sum of money, and given a discount on Salvatore's… finest selection.

A small albino girl, with a genetic defect causing feathers to grow on her face and body, skin pure white as snow, with two tiny, flightless wings to complete the look. (She is my fiance's oc! teehee) 

She was labeled the “Angle”, thanks to her own inability to pronounce the word. Anyone who attempted to correct it  would be berated and attacked by the Ring Master in a drunken stupor. 

Shannon was often taken with to the Circus, seeing the “Angle” trapped in her tiny cage, hearing the “Elders” scream how the members of The Commune lacked any real faith. Screaming as the small girl in the cage wept, demanding that they watch as she “cried for their sins”. 

Shannon would sneak out sometimes to see the Angle herself and even spoke to her, forming a small friendship, though it was fleeting, as Shannon couldn't risk being caught by the Ring Master or she (and Angle) would have hell to pay. 

She continued to seek Franco out in their younger years, despite him telling her to leave him alone for a while. He was fearful of both becoming close with someone but also fearful of what his father may do about it. Shannon was undeterred, Franco being the only person in her life who didn't treat her like an outcast, everyone else looking at her as though she was the devils spawn. 

He slowly warms up to her, they get to know each other more, Franco and Shannon always being very sneaky about their friendship. Shannon was supposed to stay within The Commune, to cook, clean, take care of the chores. Play the mini housewife for them, as all the Commune Women were expected to, and only god knows what Salvatore would do about his son prancing around with a lowly, nothing girl from that Commune, risking the operation that was held there. They knew the retaliation it may cause if either ever heard of their affairs.

Franco and Shannon knew better than to risk the wrath of Franco's father and the Commune… right?

Franco had many mixed feelings for Shannon.

She would actively look for him, wanting to spend time with him, unlike the other children and people in his life. He was often very skeptical of why Shannon was always so nice to him, even when he got incredibly angry she never switched on him or treated him with disdain like most. 

He was the only person who didn't treat her like a creature. All of The Commune members saw children as nothing more than easy, free labor, especially Shannon, training and treating her like a dog instead of a child. This would often translate into how other people treated her, as it was often encouraged to treat her this way by the “Elders”. 

Franco did not do anything like this to her, not once. She could deal with his temper, the yelling. It was nothing she hadn't dealt with before. 

She knew how kind Franco really was. 

Shannon began sneaking out of The Commune at around age 10, usually walking for miles to get into town and visit Franco, bringing him sweets she had made. 

Franco gives her the nickname Sugar (often Suga’ because of his accent teehee) sometime around when she's 11 - 12.

She makes him a dessert, accidentally adding too much sugar as she was distracted talking with him. He teases her for it, telling her it's “Just like you. Sweet as Suga’~.” the nickname staying as Franco keeps calling her such.

Franco began to flirt with her more around this time in their life, though he also often acted cold and harsh towards her as his own fears stirred. What was their “relationship”, if it could even be considered one? She would never be safe around his Father, around here at all. 

The “Beloved Elder(s)”, as they often demanded to be called, soon began to… up the Villages dosage of medications. They had drugged the “villagers” into submission for years, but for whatever reason they had decided to raise the amount, and even began including the commune children.

Sugar often wandered her way to Franco in town, nearly nodding off, clearly under the influence of something. 

One time Sugar appeared at his doorstep, about to collapse from whatever those bastards forced into the food. It was much worse than before, and He would stay with her, helping her ride it out. If only Sugar wasn't so naive, even as they talked of running away. Even as Sugar spoke of the terror the Commune Leaders brought her, she wouldn't hear his pleas to her that they were hurting her for such a long time, Franco trying to convince her for years that she was in danger staying within the commune. 

She learns what the Commune really is, and what Salvatore really does at 16,  finally witnessing it first hand at some point. 

Franco knew the Commune was going to break her eventually, and his father would make her disappear in an instant if he felt like it… nothing was safe here, for her. For them. 

They soon had begun to make more solid plans. Long nights spent talking about how they would run away together, Franco promising to keep Sugar safe many times. He had plenty of men he could get on his side if things ever went bad. 

He wanted a new life and he could start it with her…

But yet… his father needed him here, helping with his work. He knew that.

His father was so proud when he blew that fuckers head clean off, even gave him his beloved Lupara. 

He wanted to do good by his father. 

He was being the man his father wanted him to be now, right? He hunted down scumbags for his father, he did the dirty work. He made his father proud. 

He couldn't just let him down like this. 

“What does this girl know, anyways?”

“Sugar didn't laugh at me…”

“Father didn't stoop low, not for no whores.”

“She never scoffed at a word I said…”

Conflict within his mind happened often, going back and forth. He would ditch this broad once and for all… 

But yet, how could he ever forget…?

The way she never once avoided looking him in the eyes, how she smiled and laughed with him, never at him. Baking him things because she wanted to.

Seeking him out because she wanted to see him.

She called him “Fran”... how silly.

It really, truly is a shame. You never know when you have something so good, pure… precious. 

Not until it's too late. 

 

Maybe they had become sloppy, not covering their tracks as thoroughly as they usually did, distracted as their plans drew nearer.

Maybe it was always known, allowed to build and fester for years, until there was no denying it. 

No escaping fate. Cruel destiny. 

It was soon, she would leave this wretched “Commune” and live a free life with Franco. After the last time The “Elders” pacified the members, Sugar was almost unable to escape. She remembered how easily she could have died in that state. She nearly acted like a different person… 

The many, many times of being screamed at by his father, barely acknowledging Franco unless it was to blame something on him, or use him for his business. 

It often felt like there was another voice speaking in Sugar's head. These substances she was forced under were too much.

She was done. They were done.

They would get out of here, together…

She was 17 now. Giddy as she came back to the barbed wire lined fence of the Commune. He mind was filled with daydreams of running away together with Franco, a skip in her step as she made it back.

Only a few more days and they were free... 

They slipped through a small hole in the rusted fence, hidden behind a shed in a long abandoned goat pasture, her typical returning route.

However, this wasn't the same. As she slipped through, she immediately noticed the bushes and grass usually swarming the fence had been trampled and cut down. 

No one cleared the grass back here, no one ever came back here, and she made sure to keep the grass and plant life lush to hide her escape route behind the shed. 

Her heart began to race as she took her usual route back into the middle of the Commune, trying to avoid being seen as she snuck back into her family's shed. 

However, she was almost immediately grabbed as she stepped in, dragged out into the middle of the commune to The “Elders” by her “guardians”. 

They screamed at her about her disobedience, how she betrayed god and walked amongst sin. Commiting crimes against the lord himself and how she shamed their entire community. How dare you risk allowing the devil to infiltrate their precious sanctuary. They had known from the start what a ruckus she would cause in their precious sanctuary. 

They screamed that she was going to be punished, some of the other “villagers” being encouraged to throw rocks in her direction as they screamed and chanted for her to be punished.

Of course, Sugar had expected to be caught sneaking out at some point, and she knew if that happened it would result in her being in trouble… but her heart sank as she soon realized the extent of what the “Elders” really meant. 

They would not risk someone from the Commune getting out, possibly risking their whole operation here. 

She was just some nobody village girl. Not even her parents would miss her. They would have this solved. In fact… they called up some close friends to deal with the job.

Sugar was taken to the same abandoned pasture as the one she used to escape through, kicked down to the ground as The “Elders” gathered around her. Her fear kept her paralyzed in place, trying to think of a way to run and escape, some way to get out of whatever punishment The “Elders” had planned.

“You cannot be allowed to taint The Commune. You are a disgusting, filthy animal. From the moment you were born, you have defiled god, and now you have defiled us. This commune. Only god will judge you, now.” They taunted her, getting close to her face to say, once and for all. 

“It’s too risky to leave you alive, after what you know. You should have known your place.” 

As they step away, Salvatore steps forward and towards her, staying a few feet away as he encourages Franco to step closer to her with a push of his hand. 

Of course Franco was the one chosen to do it. Threatened earlier by his father; ��Kill that pest. She means nothing to you, or you will mean nothing to this family.”

Who else was better for the job, anyways?

A fitting punishment for both of them.

Franco held the shotgun tightly, his father commanding him to lift the gun and aim for her head. He obeyed, shaky hands raising the barrel and aiming it to her face. 

Her gray eyes gazed up at him, no tears or reaction as he pointed the gun to her. Only her wide, fearful eyes gave away her terror. 

He couldn't risk angering his father more, cocking the gun and placing his finger to the trigger. He swallowed nervously, not saying a word. 

He had to do this. 

He had to do this. 

For his father, for himself. 

He didn't need her anyways, right? 

His father had done this many many times.

So could he. 

“I-it's okay, I forgive you, and… I love you, Fran.” Sugar said after a moment of silence, smiling to him the same way she always had, though it was weak and shaky. 

As if he couldn't stand to see her anymore, he pulled the trigger with a panicked cry, the sound covered up by the backfire as Sugar instantly fell to the ground in a limp heap.

She was dead. 

He had done it.

He stared down at her lifeless corpse for a long moment, watching the blood pooling around her in the grass, staining the wildflowers around her. Barrel of Lupara still smoking in his hand. 

He could have sworn… she was staring right back. 

And, just like that, Salvatore and himself were on their way home soon after.

None of the Commune members bothered with the corpse. 

She could rot right there, away from sight. 

Forgotten. 

—

“Man… I don't remember Romeo and Juliette being like this.“

A voice? 

What happened…? Why does it feel so cold? 

Jaw hurts, body aches… it's completely dark. 

No.. no it's not dark, there's a… projector? Playing a film on the screen in front of them. 

It feels so familiar, the movie. 

It was like watching through someone's eyes, seeing their point of view. They were climbing up a chain link fence. Why did the film playing look so familiar…? They've… seen this fence? 

The haunting memories come rushing back as she is almost forced to remember what had happened, nearly about to lose it when sue was interrupted once more;

“Hey. Let's make a deal, you and I. You rest for a while and I'll help you. You won't die because I won't let you. In return, you be my vessel. How does this sound, hmmm Sugar…?” 

That same voice again.

What deal? Well… Maybe some rest wouldn't hurt them. 

They did feel so very tired…

The Vessel fell dormant within the mind, and The Demon began to make their way through the dark forest. It knew having a nose, jaw and neck were important for these human things but… it had been so long since they were one. What was it even used for, again? 

Nevermind, it would heal back all the same. They'd get this poor, pathetic thing some help from another human.

Humans help other humans all the time, right? They're social animals.

This pity is such a weird feeling. What Demon shows mercy, takes it upon themself to help another? Following some random human girl until her untimely demise, helping her like this?

Don't they scheme, cheat and deceive? Only causing pain, tainting the land around them? 

Sure, maybe some, but not all. 

Demon is a species, not an evil. 

First order of business, a plan they had kept since these miserable places had drawn them in so long ago.

The Demon had seen the state of the nearby “Circus”, near the Commune. They made their way to that dingy little fraud of a place, unlocking every single cage and releasing the “attractions” to run free. 

It really had been too long since they had been around living beings, around humans. They didn't realize the chaos they would cause, possibly sealing the fate of a few of those poor souls within the circus…

Oh well, they were still a Demon, after all.

A few years had passed so far and They were nearly 22 now, the vessel's mouth and nose almost fully healed and regenerated thanks to the Demon. It had made quite an effort to keep this human hidden, like a fun little side quest, doing something… “nice” because they wanted to.

And how nice is keeping a human in this state alive? At least the mercy of slumber keeps the physical pain at bay, but what mental anguish would be left there after? Remembering her death, but never passing on?

However, that wasn't something on it's mind anyways, and soon, this human would be waking back up. The vessel was going to start needing things like food and water once more. There's only so much a Demons power can provide to a dying body.

No worries! They had found a flyer, with details about some kind of animal sanctuary thing for humans? The details didn't matter, it would be good enough. It promised things like food, shelter… a “purpose”? Whatever that means. Humans are weird.

Nearly a year later they were at the doors of a Murkoff charity facility, practically waltzing in. 

The workers tried to chemically knock out the Demon for a very long time but eventually gave up as it was a waste of their product, and the Demon just… willingly went in anyway. Walked right into the cattle car full of people, tied up, burlap sacks on their heads, not even batting an eye. 

It glanced around, clicking its tongue in amusement at the sight. 

“Quite the ride. What's the occasion, you got a Demon Lord visiting town?”

Typical.

—

It's hard to say who ended up more affected by Sugar's passing. 

Sugar herself… or Franco.

Salvatore nearly slammed him against the wall, demanding to know what he was thinking trying to get into the pants of some Commune girl, even making plans to leave with her?? 

Franco knew better than to risk his father's Business like this. 

The ultimatum was given, either kill this girl and restore some sliver of respect his father might have for him, or he would deal with the girl himself, and make sure Franco meant nothing to their family.

Franco tried to tell himself it was fine, nothing unlike the women his father went through. 

Many months went by and this thought only festered in his mind.

She was nothing, she had to be.

As the months turned into a few years, he started… exploring more. Branching out and refining his tastes, something to keep these pesky thoughts at bay. 

This would have been fine… if she didn't haunt him every time he tried to even speak to another woman. He would try his best to push her thought away, but nothing would happen there, and those god damn eyes would be staring at him all over again. 

She was dead, why was he still thinking about her. 

Why couldn't he do anything? 

He felt pathetic and it made him so fucking angry. 

But… there was one solution. 

His mind would cloud as he glanced to his Lupara…

A blinding rage would overtake him, once again seeing those terrified eyes staring at him. Forced to relive the undeniable rush that came from watching her body crumble to the ground so effortlessly. 

When he'd “come to”, yet another victim would lay in front of him. Visceral scenes he cannot remember making left in his wake, the image of Sugar in the grass below him being the only memory he could recall. 

Only… he really didn't care for these broads, and who would blame him if he… explored a little more? 

He would take it further and further each time, seeing what could bring him the same rush he felt with Sugar, her name becoming another one of the things he would mutter to himself when he hunted anyone down. Her image, his memories of her would become more vague, partially tainted by his endeavors.

He was starting to be noticed by his father, as he didn't always try to hide these misadventures… but that didn't bother him.

Things were really becoming a blur for him at this point. He didn't remember when Angelina showed up, his fathers fourth wife, his most recent step-mother. 

He didn't know when she suddenly took an… interest in him. 

He was finding himself being hurt by her, she would push him down, forcing him to kneel below her. She made him feel something he had never known before. Helpless, vulnerable, humiliated, afraid, like he couldn't stop her. It felt so familiar, feeling that rush in a whole new light.

He tried to ignore her lurking memories once more. He didn't want to think of Sugar anymore. 

She died. 

Now, he wanted to focus on this, the closest thing to attention he's felt since her. 

His father, of course, found out about the whole affair soon after.

Needless to say, Angelina disappeared, and Franco was lucky he didn't experience the same fate as Sugar that night, sent away to “help” in Miami.

His mind was a bit broken now, you could say. But, without the limitations and judgments of his father, he was free to truly explore his tastes while helping out “friends” in Florida with Cuba. 

By this point, Sugar had almost faded from his memory, only remembering the rush he felt that fateful night.

When visiting Gator Hook Lodge located in Florida, he would often try to experience his cravings with the working girls, trying to chase that rush all over again, even when he barely remembered Sugar's name.

While in Florida he is noticed and taken and transported to Mount Sinyala, a little less than a year after the Demon finds that silly little flyer. 

—

Sugar had gotten used to the routine here, going into a trial, trying to do what Murkoff instructed them to before inevitably being taken over by Bone to get them out of whatever deadly situation they had got themselves into. 

The Demon drove most of the reagents away from its many… habits. Often found gnawing on a bone from one of the corpses around the trials, complaining that the corpses are better than whatever slop the reagents are fed.

It happened often enough that they were soon being referred to as Bone or Bones by the Murkoff employees and other reagents. 

After almost a year of being with Mount Sinyala, they finally enter The Docks, to do one of the newest trials; “Poison The Medicine”. 

They had only heard of the new Prime Asset in passing, this was their first encounter with them face to face. 

They could handle it, right? How difficult could it be? Well, they knew the new Prime had a gun, so they would have to be extra careful going through these trials. 

Maybe Sugar would sit this one out…

The Demon made their way through the new trial environment slowly, keeping themself low and quiet for the time being. They neared the small room they were supposed to enter as a man begging and pleading for their life hung above, strung up almost as if on display. The sight drew a smirk from the Demon. 

As it entered the weird, rounded, rotating doors and into the small room, it took its time to take in the sight. The floor and furniture were soaked with blood, bits of flesh littered from the blast of a gun, corpses carelessly left wherever they died. This proceeded throughout the entire trial. Seems this Prime Asset certainly had been hard at work. 

The Demon pranced its way up the stairs getting a nice, clear view of the pleading, writhing man through the thick glass. If only they could find a way out there… sadly they couldn't risk making Murkoff upset like that again. 

The last time they derailed the trial, they were drugged and isolated for nearly a month! So boring. The Demon wanted to enjoy this new trial for a while before finally wrecking havoc. 

They turned and looked towards the other side of the room a large glass window revealed quite the interesting sight. 

A large expop corpse missing its head was propped up into a red chair along the corner of the room, with someone laying in their lap. They were happily suckling on the breast of the corpse, wearing a white suit stained with blood. 

The Demon smiled, scoffing with astonishment. This place just gets better and better. 

“When is it my turn?”

The Demon said aloud with great excitement before turning to press the button behind them, in front of the window displaying the strung up man. They noticed that the tank within the trial was now being lifted, and that same man was beginning to panic, writhing and kicking as he pleaded for his life even louder.

The Demon's attention was quickly drawn back to the room with the corpse, noticing that whoever had been in its lap had fallen to the ground. 

He was starting to yell something as the Demon stepped closer, peering into the glass to look, drawing an… odd reaction from the Prime Asset. He stepped back, going completely silent and never breaking eye contact with the Demon as he opened the door and made his way out onto the balcony. He didn't acknowledge the hanging man as he made his way towards unseen doors on the other side of the balcony, eyes still glued to the Demon. 

Sugar and the Demon stared right back, nearly in shock at the sight. They knew who he was, they recognized him. The gun he carried, barrel now sawed very short, his Lupara. 

Why was Franco here? 

They had him under some alias, something they didn't understand. How could they have known the new Prime Asset was Franco…? And now they were here, watching as he finally disappeared behind those weird Murkoff doors. Was he trapped in here, too...? 

He looked like he had been hurt, terribly. The Demon felt nearly overwhelmed by it as Sugar's heart ached for him, but yet also trembled from seeing him again. A conflicting dance of affection and terror, a nasty but also quite expensive cocktail in the Upper ranking Hells. No one would believe they got this shit from the source. 

They continued through the trial, doing the weird tasks Murkoff wanted them to, all while trying to avoid being stabbed. The usual, though this time it was certainly odd…

The Demon was no fool, these were real products they were placing into the cooker. They were doing real shit here. 

What the hell was this place? 

The stories they would have for their buddies at the tavern after this all…

Soon they were pushing some big, rusted, heavy, cart on a track over towards the other half of the trial. The Demon was having a good time, even as Sugar was practically bursting at the seems to know what was going on here. How was Franco here? Why was he so important here? …and how would she ever explain this to him… could she even face him? She felt so oddly terrified. 

The Demon finally butted in, a little irritated at their own lack of thinking room from it all; “C’mon, you gotta chill out. I can't do this if you're panicking, I'm feeling it all.” 

“But why is he here??” 

“Hell if I know! This place is fuckin' crazy, and that's saying a lot. I'm sure you'll get to ask him soon–”

“No, I can't just talk to him! What if he's angry with me?”

“He killed you, sweetheart… at least, he thinks he did. He ain't gonna be mad at you.” 

“But what if–” 

Their outward conversation was interrupted as they stepped into “The Train Depot”, stopped short by a gunshot to the floor beside them, causing a small crater in the floor. 

The Demon didn't jump, only turning to face him slowly before Sugar almost instantly overtook the Vessel. 

The change from the Demon to Sugar was very quick and subtle, but it was clear to Franco that something was off about her. 

Well… other than the fact that she was here and alive. 

He watched her fucking body fall to the ground, he put a hole right through her pretty little skull. 

Was he being tormented purposely by these doctors? 

They already knew so much about him, throwing his past into his face at any possible chance they could. Those fucking bastards.

He stepped towards them, causing Sugar to step back a bit in response. Her eye flicked to the gun clutched in his hand. She hadn't forgotten that night, even after years had passed. 

She could still taste the salty, metallic blood choking her as she laid there. It was so vivid, so distinct in her memory. 

Franco looked irritated, frightened, angry. He looked her up and down with a scowl as he continued to approach her. Memories that had almost been left and forgotten were being dredged up just as he was enjoying himself here. 

“Is this supposed to be fuckin’ funny or somethin’? You think this is a joke??” He demanded, nearly shouting as  anger rose with each word he spoke. Guilt and regret gnawed away at him every day, as much as he tried to ignore it. This was the one thing this wretched place hadn't thrown back into his face, how did they even know about Sugar? Enough to impersonate her? 

He was just staring at her for a long while as these thoughts rushed through his mind. 

Was she even real? Who knew what these scientist fucks were doing to him, why wouldn't he be hallucinating? 

He snapped out of his spiraling thoughts as Sugar spoke up, smiling at him despite the fear she felt, seeing that same gun held in his hand.

“I.. I've missed you, Fran.”

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 26

a thronebreaker scifi cyborg!reynard au

A cybernetically-enchanced Reynard repairs himself only enough to continue to be useful to his Queen.

After yet another fight that the partisans barely scrape through in one piece, Reynard Odo retreats into the industrial bowels of the aging mass production factory they’re squatting in, seeking the rarity of a functional charging port. 

The conditions in the Angren slums their party has been slogging through have been hellish on his metal joints, the air so thick with smog he can taste the corrosion in his circuitry. He swipes the cobwebs from an array of ports along a wall and tests them for conductivity, finally finding one he can use after the third try. 

Reynard’s cybernetic body is still flesh and blood enough that simple rations can ordinarily sustain his function for weeks, but there hasn’t been much food to be found even for the non-augmented among them. He’s been taking too much damage lately, dispelling too much energy in battle, and he barely has the time or supplies to do basic maintenance to keep himself going. 

It’s been harder and harder to hide that he’s running on fumes, but he doesn’t want to worry the Queen, not when she has so many other concerns, so many to keep alive, and a stolen kingdom to reclaim.

“You decent in there, Reynard?” calls a voice from the hall, and Reynard curses the fact that he hadn’t managed to slip away unnoticed. At least it isn’t Meve who’s found him. 

Of course, Gascon doesn’t wait for his response, stealing into the room as though he’s been invited. Reynard has withdrawn the panels of his armored breastplate, revealing the mess that’s been made of his augmented internal circuitry. For a beat, Gascon mocks covering his eyes, as though he’s walked in on him stark naked.

He steps close enough to get a better look and makes a face.

“Oof, my friend, half your bits are shot,” says Gascon. Reynard’s aware, but it’s not as if there’s an excess of spare specialty cybernetic parts to be found in a place like this. He’ll hold as long as he can. He has to. “I’ve scrapped units better off than you. Ack, th’ rust might be what’s keepin’ you together. Need a hand?”

“No.” He sighs and peers down at his exposed circuits, knowing that most of the repairs would be easier for someone who can actually see what they’re doing, rather than fumbling about by feel alone. “Fine. Do your worst.”

Reynard sorely misses the days of royal workshops teeming with skilled mechanics who had kept the Queen’s commanding general perfectly maintained in order to fulfill his duties. 

The likes of Gascon may be better suited to a hack job like this at least, the scrappy anarchist having survived for years reprogramming rubbish into a formidable underground fighting force. 

“If I had a proper scrap heap at hand, I could augment you with some lovely flamethrowers,” says Gascon, and Reynard frowns at him. “Nah, not your style, I know, I know. Far more energy efficient than those fancy energetic beams you’ve got though.” 

Gascon steps close enough to get his hands inside the open panels of Reynard’s breastplate, and Reynard holds his breath. Or the equivalent of holding his breath, as his lungs were replaced years ago. 

He remembers sometimes when he’s this close to a flesh and blood person how much of himself he’s given up in service of the crown. He’d arrived at court with the usual augmentations expected of a man of noble birth, plus some cybernetic enhancements that helped him rise quickly through the ranks of the military. 

By the time he’d disgraced himself by slandering the king, he was more augmentation than man and could have been decommissioned to a scrap heap to be dug through by the likes of the Strays.

Instead, he’d agreed to reprogramming, his loyalty and devotion to the royal family written into his code. 

Of course, Reynard knows he’d serve Her Majesty with the same unfettered dedication either way. He’s certain of it, knowing the depths of what he feels for her cannot exist in circuitry alone.

“Always wondered if it tickled,” Gascon says, wiggling his fingers maybe a little more than need be inside Reynard's chest. Something sparks, and he swears, shaking out a hand.

“Can’t feel a thing,” says Reynard. He’s meant to, but he’s had to reconfigure any working sensors to be utilized where they’re most needed. His sword arm. His spine. His legs. His eyes. Really, he only needs enough functionality to stand upright and swing a sword, to offer counsel when needed.

Gascon is looking at him in that surprisingly knowing way of his, dark eyes dangerously soft. 

“You’re no use to th’ Queen if you rattle apart mid-skirmish, you know,” he says, voice low. “Or if one morning, you fail to boot up at all. I’d rather not lug your useless bits and bobs about on my back. Even out here, we could find a proper mechanic. Divert our course a little.”

“Not necessary,” Reynard says. He can make do until his purpose has been served. He has to.

Gascon rests a hand on Reynard’s neck. When the carapace of his armored visor that shields his face is drawn back as it is now, there’s a small patch of bare, human skin between the mechanics of his jaw and shoulder. Gascon’s thumb sweeps across it, and Reynard shudders, the nerves lighting up, the feeling of rare touch nearly painful when he’s so accustomed to numbness.

“You can’t really program out free will, you know,” Gascon says. He presses their foreheads together, flesh to metal. “Not unless you replace th’ lot.”

“I know,” says Reynard. He knows he’d have all of himself gutted and remade, losing all agency, all of himself, if only he could better serve Meve, if only she would live.

“You’re sorted for now. Done what I can.” Gascon quits his fiddling, and Reynard’s breastplate folds itself shut with a hiss of hydraulics. He lowers his visor and straightens up, withdrawing his power cord, and is once again the perfect knightly image of an impenetrable suit of armor.

[shadowscrybe]

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 6

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none-typical canon content

A/N: As promised. Six in one go. I'm sorry for a spam, but hopefully this forces me to post the rest. Lmk if I should stop while I'm ahead.

The Highlord and her mother were mated. 

Mates. 

What every fae craved and yearned for. The ultimate love match. Mated they may have been, but love was another question. The Highlord would boast stories of their great love. A great love indeed. So great her mother stayed up in the mountains most of the time barely attempting to play court with him. 

Rayven couldn't blame her after what happened. Maybe they did love each other. Until Rava. 

She was supposed to be Rayven’s twin. 

Twins, Madja eagerly told their mother. Rhys remembered when she announced her pregnancy with them. Rava and Maevan were to be their names. Fae offspring were rare, Illyrian offspring even more, so twin Illyrians were unheard of. When they got the news, as Rhys explained, they couldn't have been happier. Their mother was ecstatic every visit with Madja for progress details until one appointment when she had lost the heartbeat of one of the babes. Rava had been absorbed by Rayven and her power. Her first and most egregious crime that cascaded through her entire life. She would never live down having killed her sister. 

Madja said it happens sometimes. Her power grew, like Rhys’, inside their mother, but Rhys was alone in the womb, with no other fetus to compete with. As Rayven’s power swelled, Rava had not progressed at the same rate, so Madja said the stronger fetus absorbed the other. Only she was born, they didn't even have a corpse to bury. Rayven had taken that from them too. 

She was given the name Rayven by her father upon birth to serve as a reminder of the life she took, and the shame she would always carry because of it. They didn't think her mother was going to be able to deliver her through her grief and when Rayven came out they say she didn't touch her for several days. 

She couldn't blame her. Her body became a gravesite and it's Rayven’s fault. No one is more aware of the tragedy than her. 

Soon after her birth a single shadow appeared. Madja had cursed and spit seeing her next to her in her crib. Madja didn't take a liking to the shadows. 

Rahne was the first word she had said that Rayven could understand. Some speculated she was the soul of her dead sister, trapped by Rayven in silent servitude. 

Rahne had never been silent a day in her little life. She never spoke in more than a few syllables, but she loved to parrot.  

Rayven had put effort into separating Rahne from Rava, pleading her case that Rava had never appeared to her, but they were set on their truth. Rayven was the scary, violent Illyrian half-breed bitch so jealous of her sister she killed her in the veil before life. 

So scary she became. Having a kill under her belt before her first breath. No Illyrian male could say the same. 

Her parents had never been the same after that, Rhys told her. She blamed him, he blamed her, and Rayven blamed the cauldron. It was the real cruel one, giving and taking away a mother’s child. 

The night they would’ve turned ten, they gathered at the House of Wind for Rava’s vigil. Not Rayven’s birthday. He never allowed a celebration for her birth on Rava’s commemoration, though Rhys had found ways to make it more than a day of grief after the Highlord took his leave for the night. 

On that particular death day, he had been disturbed from first light. This anniversary was different to him, and bothered him more than she’d ever seen. He walked into the living room of the Town House, took one look at the modest decorations the boys had attempted, and snapped. 

She wasn't Rava, and she wasn’t Maevan. He didn't make Rava’s death about her or even Rayven, it was about him, and the heirs he lost that day. He was not consoling to her mother who had lived it more than any of them. He took their effort as a serious offense to his ‘loss.’ It was never about Rava. 

He pinned the boys in their place with his power. He wasn't daemati, or Illyrian, but he wasn't the Highlord for nothing. He was skilled in charms and spells. Incantations of another language they never learned. Rhys was powerful, more powerful than the Highlord, but he hadn't been as clever yet. The Highlord had binded the boys with his greeting when they entered the house. His twisted incantations kept them in place. They could only move upon being released by his word. 

Her father yoked her up from the couch next to Rhys, frozen. Their mother’s tears streamed down her face, pleading with her mate to let her daughter stay. By the hair, he dragged her out of the house and tossed her down the steps to the icy stone. 

“Go.” 

“Dad, please,” she begged on her knees. “I don't-”

“You may seek out Lord Devlon of Windhaven.” The only hint he’d given her. 

Windhaven. Leagues across the Night Court. A length the boys could traverse easily, but she could barely fly in the daylight and couldn't winnow yet. There was no way Rayven would’ve made it if Eris hadn't found her. 

“Rhys!” She cried over and over. Even before she called for her mother, she knew Rhys wasn't going to be held for long. Once he and the bastards were free they would come after her. 

“Silence.” His voice had that prenatural volume it took when he was speaking a spell. 

“Daddy, please,” She barely choked out. 

“You are no longer welcome in my court.” 

 His word was law when he spoke like that.  

It was the last time Rayven would ever be on her knees. 

And the last time she would call him dad.

The Highlord ordered Cassian and Azriel to not go after her, or he’d take their wings.  Rhys had to be bound with some threat he never revealed. 

It was the first time Rhys had manipulated the Highlord’s mind. Rhys wasn't as skilled at it as he is now. He couldn't rewrite everything without melting his brain, but he was slowly able to plant more and more ideas inside. After the first year of her banishment he had made progress. He was closer to convincing the Highlord he needed Rayven to keep up appearances in court. People would begin to question her sudden disappearance. He spun stories of her great power down the gossip of the court. She was away to train, he lied. 

The Highlord had come up with the idea to allow her at big events and important court councils. She was never allowed to speak and only ever seen long enough to count her attendance. Then, she was to return to Illyria until he called upon her again. 

Rhys had worked for over a year to get the Highlord to think it was his idea. It was what Rhys could manage to save her with his two brothers still trapped with the Highlord. He truly honed his daemati skills over that first year, gently persuading their father to lessen her banishment. 

The Highlord told them if she could find her way to the Illyrian camps and earn rank among the males in the frigid mountains then he would consider her coming back officially. It had been over six decades and she never touched a ring in her time up there. 

She rarely appreciated her cottage, but then she would remember where the boys were and wondered who really suffered that night. Her house wasn't enchanted with perfect temperature, or warded with magic locks, but it was entirely hers. 

It was nothing more than four walls when she found it. Not even a complete roof remained. 

Over the years, she had learned to make it her own. She eventually added more rooms and a second story that took her almost a decade to perfect. Rhys could only stay for short periods of time when the Highlord sent him. Every time he showed up and she collapsed another wall in anger he would give her shit for it. He said her real power was her affinity for demolitions. She swore at him and he helped her fix it. 

Rayven’s favorite spot had to be her crows nest. She fashioned a single, thin rail with one prong protruding from the tip for her to sit or stand. It was uncomfortable, but she was the only one who could balance on it. If someone wanted her they’d have to be able to fly and maintain a small hover area. Most males couldn't manage suspended flight for long. 

It was her perch she missed most sitting at the dining table in the Town House. 

The Highlord sat at the head of the table with her mother to his left and Rhys to his right. A few other highly placed council members sat between them. Cassian, Azriel, and Rayven sat at the opposite end. Today, she was no more than a bastard in his eyes. 

It could be excused, their separation. They had wings that needed extra room and Rhys usually kept his hidden.  

Cassian sat to her left shielding her from some reeking older fae. She was on the very end of the table, across from Azriel. 

He was the picture of disciplined boredom in this company while his shadows moved fluidly around his shoulders. Azriel wasn't going to participate here, but he never stopped watching. 

She shared a glance with Rhys as the Highlord stood to retell the catastrophic events of Rava’s death. 

Here he goes, he said. 

Rayven’s lips twisted to the side to keep from smiling. She decided to keep her sights on the shadowsinger across her. He was equally uninterested in hearing the Highlord drone on about his broken heart. 

For forcing all of them to mourn his loss with him, he rarely ever mentioned Rava. It was the same old speech about how his possession was taken from him and blah, blah, blah. 

It was sixty-four years to the day of her initial banishment. She was numb to his stale venom at this point. She just had to make it through the toasting and then she was free to disappear back to her mountains. 

Rahne wasn't paying attention either. She and one of Azriel’s shadows played by their feet under the table. Rayven ducked her chin to check on her shadow but she was shooting around her ankles. 

Shit.

She looked up to the Highlord with a glass raised and went to hold hers when the bastards froze. Going completely still on their own this time. 

The Highlord’s full voice lured her back in. “But this year we celebrate my daughter.” 

The eyes of every fae in the room cut to Rayven. She didn't dare try to look at Rhys. 

The Highlord’s cup was raised in the air. “Who has secured an alliance with the Spring Court,” he went on. “Strengthening the Night Court’s authority in the seasonal courts.” 

She realized he was waiting for her response. She had one heartbeat to decide, she wasted the rest with stunned blinking.

“Your will is mine,” She clipped out. Her voice rose slightly at the end, like a question. 

His eyes burned holes through her. 

I’m dead. It was a good seven decades. 

“To Rayven.” He spoke her name to me for the first time in years. 

Everyone tensely sipped their glasses. Rhys put his to his mouth, but didn't tip it back. Cassian raised his for the toast then put it back down without drinking. Azriel never touched his. 

Rayven drank hers for something to do. Her hands set the glass down too hard and it drew eyes back to her. 

Thankfully, she excused herself without having to argue. 

The Highlord wasn't daemati, but when his cold eyes seized hers, he didn't need to be. They were as loud as him speaking the words. 

Later, they said. 

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Labor of Love" (Part 1)

SUMMARY: Jake and Lilah look forward to the impending birth of their baby girl. Also, they have an unexpected encounter with the last person they want to see. Continuation of “Broken & Beautiful.”

Part 2

PAIRINGS: Jake and Lilah; Will and Allison

TRIGGER WARNING: Read with caution! This part references Simone's grooming/abuse of Jake when he was a child. Nothing graphic or detailed.

SUNFLOWER DIVIDER: Firefly Graphics

     It’s March now, and I’m in my sixth month. Baby Maya is still doing well, and she still seems to have a fondness for being a night owl. I know some people may think I’m crazy, but I’m convinced that the reason why she’s especially active at night is because she knows that’s when she can have the full attention of her parents. From the moment we wake up in the morning, Jake and I are busy getting ready for the day. And while we’re bartending, we can’t exactly stop every five minutes to talk to her via my baby bump. So it’s at night, when we’re at home, that she seems to take advantage of the quietness. Jake laughs off my suspicions, of course. Whatever the reason, our little girl likes to throw a late-night party for one in my womb. Not that I’m complaining. I love feeling her move around. It means that she’s healthy and safe.

     According to my OB, I’m also healthy. Though I feel like my body is waging a war against me. The sixth month has ushered in a new set of pregnancy symptoms: heartburn, backaches, dizziness, leg cramps and hot flashes.

     Up until recently, I was never one to move around much during sleep hours. It used to be that I could fall asleep and maybe - once in a blue moon - switch positions once or twice. Now, thanks to my aching back and the occasional leg cramp, I just can’t seem to stay comfortable. I don’t know how Jake puts up with my tossing and turning. Thankfully, the leg cramps can be prevented by staying hydrated. I always make sure to keep a “go cup,” filled with water handy. The only thing is: I have to get up to pee more often. During the day, I can take advantage of a stool whenever I need to take pressure off of my aching back or if dizziness hits me. And at night, Jake and I have become experts at arranging the pillows so I can stay comfortable as long as possible.

     As far as the heartburn is concerned, I have to avoid some of my favorite foods. It’s been easy to part with spicy foods. But when my OB suggested avoiding chocolate and citrus, I just about hit the roof. I am a “chocoholic,” and sometimes my resolve begins to crumble whenever I see anything chocolate being paraded in front of me at the restaurant. On top of that, my favorite fruits happen to be oranges and lemons. On the rare occasion when I end up cutting lemons at the restaurant, and I catch a whiff of their scent, I have to remind myself of two things: (1) if I sneak a bite, I’m technically stealing from the restaurant; and (2) I’ll just pay for it later on. Curse you, heartburn!

     I wish I could say that my changing body and weight gain haven’t affected how I feel about my appearance. There are times when I absolutely love the way I look. If I’m wearing a cute maternity dress, and I have my hair just so, I feel confident. But then, there are those days when I want to avoid the mirror as much as possible. When that happens, Jake is quick to assure me that I’m still beautiful and desirable to him, bump and all. That sentiment is sweet, but it’s hard to feel that way sometimes. And let’s just say that my work clothes? They’re even less flattering, now that I have this belly.

     Jake and I managed to get out of bed early this morning, as we’ve chosen today to go shopping for a stroller and a crib. Thankfully, there’s a place nearby that sells baby gear. They also happen to deliver, which is an added benefit to having them close to where we live. Since our place is only a few blocks from the store, we’ve opted to walk home. Of course, there are certain smells that get to me. But it’s a nice morning, and I want to have a nice stroll with my husband.

     Jake and I take our time, walking side-by-side. “Well, that was a productive morning,” I comment, threading my arm through his. He makes a sound of agreement, and I smile to myself. “Just think. In three months, she’ll be here. Maybe by then, we’ll have a middle name picked out.”

     “I thought we agreed on Elizabeth.”

     “We did. But then, I realized that her initials would be M.E.H. You know, ‘meh’. Doesn’t convey the right message.” He chuckles. “I know! I know. I’m over-thinking things again. Maybe we’ll keep Elizabeth on the table.” I stop for a moment, thinking. I tend to lean toward the old-fashioned names, and so I suggest “What about Katherine?”

     “I thought we ruled that one out.”

     “We did?” I scrunch up my nose, scanning my memory banks. “I don’t think so.”

     “Yup. It was during our ‘Olivia, Elizabeth, Anne, Katherine, Jade’ debate.”

     “Really?” I roll my eyes. “I guess my pregnancy brain has struck again. Well, I guess we can revisit Katherine and Olivia.”

     “What about Jade?”

     I don’t particularly like that name, but Jake seems to favor it. And you know what they say about marriage: it’s important to make compromises. “All right. We can revisit Jade.”

     We pass by a bakery that happens to have its doors open, and the scent of freshly-baked bread wafts toward me. This, thankfully, is one of the few scents that doesn’t bother me. If anything, it makes my stomach growl. Loudly.

     “Sorry. Guess it’s that bread. Smells delicious,” I say with a blush.

     Jake laughs. “I’m a little hungry, too. What do you want?”

     My response is immediate. “Bagel. Plain cream cheese.”

     We break apart and, while Jake enters the bakery, I sit down on a nearby bench so I can rest my back. I look down at my belly and give it a light, affectionate rub. “What do you think, little one? Do you want to be ‘Maya Jade’ or ‘Maya Katherine’? How about this: one kick for Jade. Two for Katherine.” One kick. “Traitor,” I tease with a little laugh.

     My mirth soon comes to a screeching halt when I hear a familiar, feminine voice say to me “Hello, Lilah.”

     I close my eyes and cringe as chills run up my spine. I let out a steadying breath, open my eyes, and look up at the intruder. “Simone,” I greet cooly.

     She looks down at me, eyebrow raised. Damn! “I see you have a new addition on the way. Congratulations.”

     “Thank you.” I look in the direction of the bakery, but it’s too crowded to see my husband. Jake, where are you? Hurry up! I think to myself.

     “Well, I’m very happy to see that things are going so well for you.”

     “Thanks.” I have to get out of here. Pronto. “ Umm ... I hate to be rude, but I really should get going. I have to work in a few hours.” I make a move to stand up, hoping she’ll take the hint, and stop in my tracks when she speaks again.

     “Are you still in touch with Jake?” I roll my eyes up at the heavens and turn around to face her, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I know you two were close. I lost touch with Jake a while ago, and I’m wondering if he’s all right.”

     Not wanting to give away too much information, I keep things vague. “He’s fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me ...”

     I don’t know what to do. I want to get away from Simone; from the negativity and stress she’s making me feel. But I can’t just leave Jake behind. Especially without notice. Chewing on my lower lip, I try to work out what I should do. Deciding I should warn Jake, I duck into a nearby shop and pull my phone out of my purse. In a matter of moments, I’ve typed out my warning and sent it to him.

     Jake, S.O.S. Simone just showed up. She’s outside the bakery. She knows about the baby, and she asked about you. I’m hiding out in the flower shop nextdoor.

     I let out a long breath and run a hand over my belly, trying to calm down. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I begin to pace, hoping Jake will get my message in time. The florist asks if I’m all right, sharing a concerned glance with one of her customers. I give them both a nod and say “I’m fine.” I stay close to the window, looking out every now and then. Still no sign of Jake.

     “Is there anything I can help you with?” the florist asks.

     “No. I’m just waiting for my husband. Thank you.”

     The florist nods, seeming to accept my answer. “Would you like some water? I can bring out a chair, if you’d like to sit down.”

     “Water would be great. Thank you.”

     The florist approaches me a little while later, presenting me with a cold bottle of water. “Are you sure you don’t want a chair?”

     “I’m fine. Just wondering where my husband is,” I say, trying to play it off as a pregnant wife who’s feeling impatient. I take a few gulps of water and put the cap back on, pretending to be a potential customer. “These arrangements are lovely. Have you been in business long?”

     “Six years. If you don’t mind ... what are you having?”

     Rubbing my belly affectionately, I answer “A girl. She’s our first baby, and she’s due in June.”

     “Your first. How exciting!” She pauses for a moment. “May I offer you some free, unsolicited advice?” I nod. “Take as many pictures as possible. To this day, I regret not doing that with my children.”

     I give her a smile. “My husband is a photographer. I’m sure we’ll be up to our ears in pictures. I don’t know how many he’s taken of me and my bump.” I look out the window again, frowning when I see Jake. Seems he wasn’t able to sneak past Simone after all. “Umm ... I see my husband outside. Thank you for the water.” I open my wallet and pull out some money, intending to reimburse her, but she waves me off.

     “No need to worry about that. You just enjoy that baby of yours.”

     “I will. Thank you, Molly.”

     Bracing myself, I push open the door and step outside. As predicted, Jake’s reunion with Simone is a tense one. He is facing me, his expression stern. Simone, meanwhile, has her back to me. Seems my text message didn’t make a bit of difference. Either he didn’t have a chance to read it before he left the bakery, or he received it in time and decided not to hide out until Simone was gone. I’m not exactly thrilled about being near that woman again. Knowing what she did to Jake makes my skin crawl, and I don’t want her to try to weasel her way back into Jake’s life. But Jake needs my support, and I’m tired of hiding. And so, smoothing down my dress and squaring my shoulders, I step into what feels like Ground Zero. As I move closer, I can pick up on what Simone is saying.

     “I don’t understand you, Jake. Two years’ worth of silence. Because of what? Because I went back to Etienne? Because I chose to make a life for myself?” She shakes her head, making a single clucking sound with her tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Jake. I thought that, with a little time, you’d come to your senses. I thought you were more mature than this.”

     Jake’s eyes narrow into a glare, his jaw clenching. If I’m going to make my move, it’s now. Without saying a single word to Simone, I step around her and take my place by Jake’s side. I reach out and take his hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He returns the gesture and then says “Simone, you remember Lilah ... my wife.”

     The petty side of me wishes I could take a picture of Simone, because her reaction is priceless. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her flabbergasted.

     “Your wife?”

     “Yes. His wife.” I hold up my left hand to show her the simple white gold wedding band that graces my finger.

     Simone casts a look in Jake’s direction, and he simply stares back at her. “When did this happen?”

     “Last year,” Jake states with a smirk.

     “Oh! Well ... congratulations! I’m happy for you two.”

     “Are you?” Jake snarks back.

     She blinks at him, and she has the gall to act surprised. “Yes, Jake. Of course I am. I know we’ve had our differences, but I just want you to be happy.”

     “Really?” He shakes his head. “You want me to be happy? Is that why you tried to come between us?” He gestures between himself and yours truly. “Is that why you tried to put doubts in our heads?”

     “Jake, I --”

     “Don’t!" He leans toward Simone, looking her directly in the eyes. She seems to be intimidated by him now, and it’s a wonderful sight. For once, the manipulator seems to be backed into a corner. Jake keeps his voice low, but his anger comes through loud and clear. “Don’t deny it! Don’t try to twist things around! Don’t you fucking dare try to manipulate me again! For years, I let you get away with it because I was terrified that you’d write me off and abandon me. You knew that, and you used that to keep me under your thumb.”

     “Jake --”

     He lets go of my hand, and I watch while a few pedestrians give us strange looks as they pass by. “Whenever I came close to finding happiness apart from you, you did everything you could to take it away. You did that with my business plans, and I let you. You did the same thing when Lilah and I got together. That time, you failed because I love her ... and she loves me. And for once in my life, I feel safe.” Simone stares back at him, and Jake nods at her. “That’s right, Simone. I feel safe with Lilah. Do you know why? It’ because she doesn’t lie to me or manipulate me. All she has ever done is stand by me and love me. And you hate it because it means that I don’t need you anymore! It means can’t control me or keep me under your thumb! For once, I’m living my life the way I want to!”

     Simone stays silent this time. Maybe it’s because her shock has rendered her speechless, or maybe it’s because she knows better than to try to argue with Jake. He stays quiet for a while, taking a series of deep breaths. Then he looks around, and I watch him carefully as he leans even closer to Simone. What he says next seems to shake her to her very core.

     “And I remember what you did to me, Simone.” He nods at her, his pale skin flushed with anger. “That’s right. I don’t remember how young I was when it started, but it did happen. You can say that you were a child. But I was a child, and what you did to me ... It’s sick. You took whatever innocence I had left, and you twisted it and you degraded it. I don’t care that you were lonely. I don’t care that your parents didn’t pay attention to you. There’s no excuse for what you did to me. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.

     “Because of you, I’m damaged. Yes, my mother’s suicide messed me up. But you made life miserable for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be fixed. All I know is this: I’m better off without you. And I’ll be damned if I let you back into my life. This time, I don’t just have myself to look after. I have a wife ... and we have a child on the way. And there’s no way in Hell that I will ever let you near us again. They mean everything to me. And you? You are nothing. Stay away from me. Stay away from us. If you come near us again, you won’t be walking away.”

     The staredown lasts for what seems like an eternity until Simone backs down. Jake straightens up, takes a few steps back, and gently grabs my hand. He watches Simone for a few seconds longer, giving her a warning glare, and then walks with me in the direction of our apartment. We’re only a short distance away from our building, and Jake casts a glance behind us every now and then to make sure Simone isn’t following us. We reach our building and, when we’re certain she’s long gone, use our key to open the main door. We make our way up the stairs to the second floor and stop outside apartment 2A. It’s only now, as Jake fumbles with his key, that I see that his hands are shaking.

     “Here. Let me.”

     I gently take the key from him and insert it into the lock, turning it to the left. Another half-turn to the right, and I pull the key out of the lock. We step inside and Jake closes the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. After setting the key down in the dish on the table by the door, I step forward and reach out to him. Because of my belly, I can’t give him a full-frontal hug like I used to. Instead, I wrap an arm around him and lean against him, my head resting on his shoulder. The palm of his left hand is pressed against the small of my back, while his other hand rests on my belly.

     “Are you okay?” I ask, listening as his breathing slows down to a normal pace.

     He breathes out a sigh and kisses the top of my head, breathing in my scent. “I’ll be okay. What about you? Are my girls okay?”

     “Yeah. We’re fine. I’m sorry she ambushed you. I thought that if I went into the bakery, I’d lead her straight to you. That’s why I texted you and hid out in that flower shop. I didn’t know what else to do.”

     “Hey. It’s not your fault. You and I both knew she’d show up again.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I needed it. I had to tell her what she did to me. She’ll probably never stop making excuses. But ... I think it’s safe to say she’s out of our life for good.”

     We pull apart and face each other, and I reach out to touch his face. Stroking his cheek with my thumb, I say “I know what happened back there wasn’t easy for you, but I’m proud of you. I always am.”

     He kisses the palm of my hand, and I can feel him smile against it. Then he leads me over to the sofa, where we eat our pastries in comfortable silence.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[valkyrieshepard]

From my Twitter Thread for fun facts about Paul! My half celestial OC.

1: He was born with a curse as a cruel punishment to his father- who refused to marry for politics and chose the one he loved. The goddess scorned then decided to punish his "first" born - which was Paul. The curse makes nature rot around Paul if he stays in one place too long.

2: He's a witch. He was naturally born with magic which are deeply rooted in nature - but he's not above learning new things like a bit of necromancy from his bf!

3: He did pick up a nonmagical skill - making jewellery! He wanders around a lot and likes to collect shiny and pretty things, so eventually figured out how to make a bit of money with them (which one does need from time to time in civilised areas).

4: He had a son: Fate. He didn't even know it was a thing he could do! Sadly, through the curse what was born came out very wrong. Though he tried to save him - he failed. Or so he thought. (Fate lived, and that's another story)

5: He has two soulmates! Elias, big beefy elf necromancer who he met by chance and immediately fell in love with. And Zev, his twin, his literal soulmate, who he only meets about 50 years after he met Elias.

6: Paul has high libido. When it was just Elias and Paul, they'd have an agreement that when apart, Paul can be with other men to fulfil that need. The more Paul fell in love with Elias though, the less he felt the need to do so.

7: Paul is helpful to a fault. He wants to help everyone that he can - perhaps bc he can't help himself with his curse. Sometimes it's not always the right thing to do, or he'll get himself hurt along the way, but he'll always, always try to improve things around him.

8: He's super smol! He's 5ft/153cm small. Elias, once knowing he's a celestial twin, muses that he might have grown taller and stronger had he grown up together with his twin - and not apart from him. But he also loves being so much taller than Paul!

9: NSFW. Paul can deepthroat like no other! No joke, that man's a cockslut and has the skills to match. Elias may be A LOT bigger than he is, and he may have needed a few tries, but he definitely knows how to take the D into any of his holes lmao.

10: Paul is a shapeshifter who can shift into animals. As a bonus, he always shifts into white animals, even if they're not normally white. He loves to become something cute and fuzzy that earns him belly rubs - they just feel good!

11: NSWF. Favorite position: Anything that gets him stuffed with both Elias and Zev at the same time 😌 He doesn't feel complete without both his loves.

12: Paul feels guilty for not being able to cure Zev's depression. He knows his twin had hoped once they were reunited all their troubles would stop, but not all did.He also knows it's unrealistic to expect of him, but Paul still feels guilty that he can't help who he loves most.

13: Paul has 4 moms! His birth mom, Victoria Evans. And the three nomadic dryads that raised him after finding him abandoned: Daisia, Rosaria and Elidia. They certainly struggled, not knowing anything about babies, but probably only dropped him once, lol.

14: He sleeps curled in a little ball! Since he grew up travelling with his mommas, it was often more convenient to sleep in animal form, like a curled up little fox or cat. Once he started sleeping with people, it was hard to unlearn that habit. Now he starfishes.

15: He can't stop adopting animals in need. He literally can't! Doesn't matter if it's dangerous or not - Paul is never in danger anyway, and he loves to help them when they're sick or hurt. His partners are used to it, esp when they start to settle down it's just like... here we go again

[cha0tician]

okay im getting in here before wrestling is over bc nothing is topping the first ten minutes

the connection between dionysus and jesus is one of my favorite things and easily the thing that would draw me to christianity the most! there's a number of similarities:

- son of the chief god and a mortal woman, a bridge between humanity and divinity

- reborn, sometimes repeatedly depending on which dionysian myths you incorporate into your beliefs

- [re]born on/near the winter solstice [though of course there's also those who place jesus's birth closer to easter--and, conversely, those who would say dionysus is reborn not when the days lengthen but during spring]

- water into wine

- travelled around preaching

now, like i said in my comment, anon and i have slightly different approaches to these similarities! i personally don't have much use for jesus, because to me he's very much so a carbon copy of dionysus the liberator, if a bit more tempered wrt revelry.

but the god of the old testament! now that's a zagrean/orphic dionysus. i agree entirely, there's more of a strong-handed connotation with the Father than there is with the Son. jesus walked the earth with humanity, but orphic dionysus, the facet of him i prefer, was fully divine in his first birth, separate from humanity, but who loved them enough to give them his gift of the vine, like god gave us jesus. and this earlier version of dionysus is associated with death and the underworld and bouts of madness and destroying those who would forsake him.

the father may feel disinterested, disconnected, crueler, harsher, but dionysus, to me, has those aspects as well! the bacchae for example strongly resemble the destruction of sodom and gommorah--the cities that turn away from god/dionysus suffer deadly consequences wa the divine offers a path of forgiveness to those who believe and obey.

but even god turned down isaac at the altar, while agave's sacrifice was gladly accepted. and dionysus only gave us his wine, which is used for good and evil, while god gave us his son/himself.

god loved us enough to want to walk among us, just the way dionysus did. but while you can argue that dionysus had to--raised on the mountain, away from the gods--god chose to, and, as the narrative goes, to give us the opportunity for forgiveness.

all this said i don't believe in jesus beyond as a narrative device and my view of god is... very complex. and i dabble in luciferianism for the similarities between him and dionysus as well [cast from your rightful place at the side of the chief god, bringer of free will to the masses, cursed wander the earth]

but it gets lonely not really belonging to any one community or fitting with either side. i know the feeling well!

and jesus is definitely easier to sexualize than god the father and lots of people have over the centuries and will continue for forever. though he's not walking around with a phallic object in hand and inventing the dildo so let's not lose sight of Thee fuckable god

this is a long one and your ask box is a confessional now. to start off; im not christian. i was raised christian but thats just not the life for me. secondly; my name is judas. this makes christians uncomfortable as well. last thing before we get into the meat of it; i am also not a satanist but i do still dabble in it from time to time. so off the bat your more die hard christians would Not like me. like i said i have a very complicated relationship with christianity; i hate god and god hates me. i do things specifically to spite him and i call him out on his bullshit all the time. however; this does not extend to jesus. this is where the more complicated part comes in. i am not a christian, i do not worship god nor the holy spirit or any saints or anything like this, and my relationship and connection to jesus i view more as an extension of my worship of dionysus more than anything else. i dont know what this all entails, im still exploring this, but despite all my disdain towards christianity i cannot get myself to extend this to jesus. and its haunted me for years and years until i finally started to accept that. and more recently ive stopped trying to fight the nature of my relationship to jesus and lean into it. and my exploration of my worship of dionysus has helped as well; a lot of people connect the two in their own ways and i personally view them as two sides of the same coin. and through this ive just started to accept that my relationship with him is inherently queer, sensual and erotic even. god, to me, has always been rough, cruel, and uncaring, taking away whatever support he has given me at the drop of a hat if i do something that he doesnt agree with. a cold hand. but jesus was never like that yk? always kind and caring, a guiding hand, never let go even if i stopped and went back. a soft, tender lover. ive cried and hes responded to my pain with gentle touches. always forgiving, never judging. ive felt guilt over my sexual fixation on him; weight on my shoulders for years. trying to ignore it and bury it. but the second i gave up and accepted it i felt free. my name had no connection to its origin when i initially chose it; it just fit like a glove when i tried it. but the more i go down this weird path the more i realize that it fits more than i thought. its nice. but i dont think your average christian would appreciate my views.

This has been in my inbox for a day and I've reread it a few times, and I don't know if you're looking for religious counsel or maybe just to get your thoughts out (evoking the image of a confessional implied you were interested in a response specifically from my point of view, or some sort of direction, but if that's not what you want, stop reading after the cut?) So I'll try to answer as an anthropologist and theologian before answering as myself.

First and foremost, and the part I'm sure you're familiar with, you are far from the only person that has a convoluted and difficult relationship with religion--so the good news is that you're not alone! Even among the most devout Christians there is unrest, doubt, feelings of loneliness and despair. And those people seem to know what they're about. So for someone that has an unfavorable history with Christianity and no longer identifies with it, it only makes sense to feel such a varied and complex array of emotions about specific aspects.

I don't even necessarily think that it's abnormal to feel there is an erotic element to your relationship with Jesus. St. Teresa of Avila experienced her "spiritual ecstasy"--

In his hands, I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one’s soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share. [Article on that.]

Your stance is, yes, unorthodox (haha). And it's true that many Christians would shy away from and admonish everything you have going on here--not all of them! I think you have some interesting concepts going on with your personal spirituality that don't necessarily speak to me as a human being but that I think would be interesting to do some writing about, if you care to.

The story of Jesus and Judas is a love story. What kind of love story it is can be up to interpretation, and that's a wonderful thing to me. And I think that's something that you have certainly considered between your name and your personal theology.

On an objective level, I believe that if this is good for you this is good for you and that it is then worth exploring. If you like what Jesus as a man and as a symbol encompasses, you should include that in your own spiritual life--and it sounds like you are! You can love Jesus without being a Christian. Many people do.

i hate god and god hates me. i do things specifically to spite him and i call him out on his bullshit all the time.

God does not hate you. God doesn't hate anyone, that's kind of the deal. You could do the most morally bankrupt nonsense and still God would be there for you. I think a lot of the other things I would want to say on this topic come off as though I would be trying to convert you (I'm not) and would be better in, like, an essay, so I'll leave that be.

This is a genuine question, not that you have to answer but if you'd like to please feel free: how are you, as someone that isn't Christian and doesn't worship a Christian God, qualifying what exactly God's bullshit is? What goes into that category? Is there something worth examining there?

my relationship and connection to jesus i view more as an extension of my worship of dionysus more than anything else. [...] a lot of people connect the two in their own ways and i personally view them as two sides of the same coin.

I'd love to know more about this. I don't know much about Dionysus as a figure nor Dionysian worship so I'm interested in how people make the connection/what that does for them and their spirituality. I know you said you're still exploring this and figuring out what it means for you so ofc no pressure to bare your soul or anything, but again if you have any specific thoughts to share go wild.

god, to me, has always been rough, cruel, and uncaring, taking away whatever support he has given me at the drop of a hat if i do something that he doesnt agree with. a cold hand. but jesus was never like that yk? always kind and caring, a guiding hand, never let go even if i stopped and went back.

Bizarre to me to so readily separate God and Christ. But I do understand that Jesus is easier to empathize with as a man, we have stories of his life, joy, and suffering. Jesus is also divine, though--you could even view him as a bridge between us and God, in a way. I don't know your personal journey. But it's easy to mistake, sometimes, God telling you the path you're on is wrong for you as God denying you or revoking support from you.

This was a really interesting message! I hope you feel that I've engaged with it fairly. Do you have any beef with the Holy Spirit or is it just the God/Jesus split you struggle with?

[sadprosed]

𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬   THE  LANGUAGE  OF  THORNS,  midnight  tales  and  dangerous  magic.   (  2017  )  by  leigh  bardugo.

sentences  taken  from  or  inspired  by  the  collection’s  dialogue  &  narration.

+   feel  free  to  change  pronouns  !

i.    AYAMA  AND  THE  THORN  WOOD.

‘  love  speaks  in  flowers.  truth  requires  thorns.  ’

‘  we  all  know  the  story  of  how  the  queen  becomes  a  queen.  ’

‘  we  should  leave  this  place.  ’

‘  no  doubt  it  will  come  and  devour  us  all.  ’

‘  the  beast  will  laugh  you  right  out  of  the  wild  lands.  ’

‘  you  know  how  the  stories  go.  interesting  things  happen  only  to  pretty  girls.  ’

‘  is  the  wood  much  worse  than  a  garden  overgrown  with  pricklers  ?  ’

‘  stupid  girl  !  do  you  wish  to  become  a  monster  ?  ’

‘  strike  me.  cleave  me  in  two.  ’

‘  you’re  as  thorny  as  the  wood.  ’  

‘  there  is  but  one  rule  in  my  wood.  speak  truth.  ’

‘  perhaps  you  might  show  mercy  freely.  ’

‘  just  eat  a  bit  of  the  sun  to  fill  the  sky,  and  you  will  feel  empty  no  longer.  ’

‘  what  nonsense  !  of  course  that’s  not  how  the  story  ends.  ’

‘  some  people  are  born  with  a  piece  of  night  inside,  and  that  hollow  place  can  never  be  filled.  ’

‘  what  do  i  care  for  winter  ?  no  season  touches  this  wood.  ’

‘  you  know  the  only  bargain  i  will  make.  ’

‘  sometimes  the  unseen  is  not  to  be  feared  and  those  that  are  meant  to  love  us  most  are  not  always  the  ones  that  do.  ’

‘  bad  fates  do  not  always  follow  those  that  deserve  them.  ’

‘  no  prince  is  worth  your  life.  ’

‘  are  you  so  eager  to  be  eaten  ?  ’

‘  they  have  told  me  to  return  with  your  heart.  ’

‘  you  think  to  love  a  monster  ?  ’

‘  a  man  like  you  is  owed  no  words.  ’

ii.    THE  TOO  CLEVER  FOX.

‘  you  are  doomed  to  a  miserable  life.  ’

‘  better  to  be  hungry  now  than  to  be  sorry  later.  ’

‘  what  will  everyone  say  when  they  see  such  a  face  ?  ’

‘  we  have  not  gone  so  soft  as  that.  ’

‘  you  think  that  we  will  let  you  live  on  foolish  promises  ?  ’

‘  you  have  bested  me.  that  much  is  clear.  ’

‘  will  you  not  free  me  ?  ’

‘  you  will  have  a  fine  time  of  it,  i  can  tell  you.  ’

‘  i  can  bear  ugliness.  i  find  the  one  thing  i  cannot  live  with  is  death.  ’

‘  if  you  will  only  cease  your  talking,  i  will  gladly  go.  ’

‘  where  he  went,  he  bled  the  woods  dry.  ’

‘  what’s  a  bit  more  blood  ?  ’

‘  you  should  leave  this  place.  you  are  not  safe  here.  ’

‘  with  such  big  eyes,  i  think  you  see  too  much.  ’

‘  will  you  not  tell  me  what  troubles  you  ?  ’

‘  why  do  you  stay  with  him  ?  you’re  pretty  enough  to  catch  a  husband.  ’

‘  just  because  you  escape  one  trap,  doesn’t  mean  you  will  escape  the  next.  ’

‘  first  i  must  find  my  courage.  ’

‘  few  can  resist  the  sight  of  a  pretty  girl  crying.  ’

‘  the  trap  is  loneliness,  and  no  one  escapes  it.  not  even  me.  ’

‘  in  the  wood,  even  songbirds  must  be  survivors.  ’

iii.    THE  WITCH  OF  DUVA.

‘  there  was  a  time  when  the  wood  ate  girls.  ’

‘  be  back  before  dark.  the  trees  are  hungry  tonight.  ’

‘  who  can  say  what  shapes  an  appetite  ?  ’

‘  this  is  my  home,  you  can’t  just  send  me  away.  ’ 

‘  don’t  be  foolish.  there’s  plenty  of  light.  ’

‘  well  then,  come  help  me  stir  the  pot.  ’

‘  i  will  warn  you  just  this  once.  go.  ’ 

‘  you  cannot  come  and  go  from  this  place  like  you’re  fetching  water  from  a  well.  ’  

‘  hope  made  me  stubborn.  ’

‘  stay  there  and  keep  quiet.  i  don’t  need  rumors  that  i’ve  been  taking  girls.  ’

‘  i  will  not  have  you  bring  a  monster  to  my  door.  ’

‘  you  know  that  you  are  welcome  to  remain  here  with  me.  ’

‘  i  will  follow  her.  i  will  peck  out  her  eyes.  ’

‘  believe  me.  say  you  believe  me.  ’

‘  dark  things  have  a  way  of  slipping  through  narrow  spaces.  ’

iv.    LITTLE  KNIFE.

‘  it  is  dangerous  to  travel  the  northern  road  with  a  troubled  heart.  ’

‘  if  you  are  lost  in  your  own  thoughts,  you  may  find  yourself  stepping  off  the  path  and  into  the  dark  woods.  ’

‘  she  was  beautiful  from  the  moment  of  her  birth.  ’

‘  why  must  i  be  the  one  to  hide  ?  ’

‘  do  you  think  i  am  so  foolish  or  so  cruel  ?  ’

‘  water  only  wants  direction.  it  wants  to  be  told  what  to  do.  ’

‘  always  you  have  done  my  bidding,  but  what  good  are  you  to  me  now  ?  ’

‘  soon  i  will  be  very  rich,  but  will  i  have  a  good  man  ?  ’

‘  that  is  a  question  for  the  river.  ’

‘  your  tongue  is  not  fit  for  my  true  name.  ’

‘  will  you  come  with  me,  and  be  bride  to  nothing  but  the  shore  ?  ’

‘  she  was  terrifying  in  her  beauty,  bright  like  a  devouring  star.  ’

‘  remember  that  to  use  a  thing  is  not  to  own  it.  ’

‘  should  you  ever  take  a  bride,  listen  closely  to  her  questions.  ’

v.    THE  SOLDIER  PRINCE.

‘  this  is  the  problem  with  even  lesser  demons.  they  come  to  your  door  in  velvet  coats  and  polished  shoes.  ’

‘  you  will  find  great  love  and  more  gold  than  you  could  wish  for.  ’

‘  he’s  a  charming  fellow,  but  most  unusual,  and  peculiarities  seem  to  follow  him.  ’  

’  it  seemed  harmless  at  the  time.  ’

‘  he  needed  a  girl,  still  malleable,  one  that  he  could  make  admire  him.  ’

‘  this  is  pleasant.  this  is  enough.  ’

‘  are  you  my  soldier  ?  are  you  my  prince  ?  ’

‘  i  have  not  come  to  fight,  only  to  talk.  ’

‘  wanting  is  why  people  get  up  in  the  morning.  it  gives  them  something  to  dream  of  at  night.  ’

‘  i  am  perfectly  real.  ’

‘  she  loves  you,  though,  and  that  will  make  it  harder.  ’

‘  best  not  to  ask.  i  think  the  answer  would  please  no  one.  ’

‘  we  can  stay  forever  in  the  land  of  dreams.  ’

‘  kiss  me.  take  me  from  this  place.  ’

‘  i  sent  you  to  die  a  hundred  times.  ’

‘  i  eat  the  wonder  in  their  eyes.  ’

‘  you  were  an  idea  in  my  head.  you  were  nothing,  and  to  nothing  you  will  return  when  i  think  of  you  no  more.  ’

‘  you  wanted  only  that  i  might  live.  you  would  sacrifice  your  own  life  to  make  it  so.  ’

‘  are  you  my  darling  ?  are  you  mine  ?  ’

vi.    WHEN  WATER  SANG  FIRE.

‘  you  wish  to  strike  a  bargain.  ’

‘  make  me  someone  new.  ’

‘  this  is  the  problem  with  making  a  thing  forbidden.  it  does  nothing  but  build  an  ache  in  the  heart.  ’

‘  easy  magic  is  pretty.  great  magic  requires  that  you  trouble  the  waters.  ’

‘  no  one  expects  me  to  accomplish  anything.  ’

‘  i  can  smell  your  ambition  like  blood  in  the  water.’  

‘  i  know  that  you  should  keep  it  like  a  secret,  not  shout  it  like  a  curse.  ’

‘  yes.  i  can  imagine  it  all.  ’

‘  you  are  worth  more  than  that.  you  should  not  have  to  earn  him.  ’

‘  hope  rises  like  water  trapped  beneath  a  dam,  higher  and  higher,  in  increments  that  mean  nothing  until  you  face  the  flood.  ’

‘  there  is  no  pain  like  the  pain  of  transformation.  ’

‘  take  your  pleasures  as  you  will.  ’

‘  come,  and  i’ll  tell  you  all  you  wish  to  know.  ’

‘  he  made  me  dream  of  things  i  cannot  have.  ’

‘  i  do  not  care  for  dancing.  ’

‘  look  into  the  mirror,  and  try  to  deny  it.  ’

‘  you  have  never  been  like  the  others,  and  you  never  will  be.  ’

‘  we  were  not  made  to  please  princes.  ’

‘  i  am  not  quite  mortal  either,  and  i  have  many  lives  to  live.  ’

‘  i  wouldn’t  care  if  you  were  part  human  or  part  frog.  ’

‘  my  voice  is  not  enough.  ’

‘  you  know  i  was  never  strong.  ’

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi Nalyra

Absolutely loving your beautiful blog, your iwtv takes and your writing ❤️

I was wondering if you have any cute Loustat headcanons you'd like to share?

Hey dear!!

Aww thank you so much, so happy you like! 💕💕

And thank you so much for this ask, loved it though I DID have to think about it a bit 😅

Tbh, I have lots of headcanons, though most of the time they develop in my fics ;)) Some book spoilers based ones, too, I guess, and in no particular order!

I totally headcanon Louis LOVING to brush Lestat’s hair, because Lestat loves it, and actually gets quite… docile (all things considered ^^).

I think Louis, and especially this Louis likes to be seduced. It’s something he can tell himself it’s not his fault when it happens, I mean it’s Lestat, right, and I can just see him becoming a shivering mess with the right attention 😈

(Whenever they live together/are together) There’s never a shortage of new books or warm coats or new shoes, even though Lestat may bitch about it

Louis‘ playlist contains everything Lestat has ever composed or listened to (and he drives Armand insane with it)

The post Merrick Blood-exchange-circle is what Louis truly considers his birth to darkness (more meta than headcanon, probably)

Louis‘ reasoning for red pyjamas is because he loves Lestat’s little drinks (and it’s sometimes messy)

Louis recreates huge and artful and yet wild and beautiful gardens in the Auvergne

He and Lestat visit that bench Lestat dragged up into the mountains regularly to make out in moonlight

They both like sharing baths/showers, purely for skin-hunger/petting/caressing pleasures

They have hilarious (and intense) quickies when Claudia enters their lives (kids, I tell ya)

Louis is a/the main source of proper relationship between Lestat & Viktor because he keeps dragging them both out to plays and makes them talk etc

Louis also makes Armand and Lestat sit down properly (eventually), which… gets intense 😇

Lestat loves to dance, and Louis loves it more than he likes to admit

Louis „confiscates“ Lestat‘s old room in the Auvergne, refitting it for the two of them

Lestat takes Louis to the witches‘ place and where he killed the wolves

Louis thinks it cute that Lestat keeps confusing certain English/French terms, no matter how old he is

The real reason why Louis refuses to re-turn a human Lestat is because he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop, he wants him too much

Louis misses Lestat in higher-heeled shoes and privately curses modern fashion

Lestat mixes their own toothpaste (yes I do think they brush) with his own blood mixed for taste in and Louis only realizes that on the ship when he leaves with Claudia (ok this one is bittersweet)

Louis teases Lestat mercilessly in regards to that obnoxious Medusa ring

if and when they share a coffin it doesn’t matter where or when they are they just… are. And it’s beautiful.

Also some bittersweet (canon) things that live rent-free in my head

in the Prince Lestat era Lestat spies on Louis at Trinity Gate … but Louis was almost as strong as Lestat then. I always figured he must’ve known (or seen it in the minds of others). And he waited for Lestat to come to him (and Lestat eventually did, to Rue Royale after broadcasting to let Louis know to come there)

Louis dusting off Lestat and brushing Lestat’s hair in/post Memnoch. That’s actually canon, since David is embarrassed when he realizes they’ve both stopped doing that (in Merrick)😭

Louis knows Lestat needs emotional support and extends it, quietly, surely, holding his hand etc

Louis and Lestat steal away from the court to spend time alone in Paris (where Lestat has (always) rented hotel rooms😈)

Hope you like!! I‘d love to hear yours 🤗💕

[mochikeiji]

Renascent

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: mild manga spoiler mention, daddy! gojo, pure softness, hurt/comfort

↠ a/n: i love soft daddy gojo, it's my comfort piece (T^T) my baby fever flowing off the charts

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

Who knew that the domestic living felt so heavenly apart from the gruesome life Gojo was raised to witness. Never did it cross in his head that he'd get married. Heck no one expected someone would last with him for almost 7 years. It was a pleasant change of lifestyle, though it had been long since you were both in a relationship, he assumed that what you did in the past was already like something a married couple would do.

While he was right, the honeymoon phase didn't pass up between you two. Gojo was still the ever loving, affectionate person he was for his age. The only thing that thankfully grew was his maturity and acts of being responsible. Your married life has been nothing but cloud 9. It reached to the point where he became speechless and for the first time, numb when another human was welcomed to his world.

He swore from the moment he saw you that he'd never spare even the slightest attention to anyone. But for the moment, Gojo feels himself fall madly in love when the small bundle of joy laid on his stiff arms comfortably. Whether it was the way his baby fits perfectly in his embrace, the tiny body protected by his scarred, large figure, or when his big thumb was grabbed by smaller ones that barely engulfed the digit. He was reborn once again. You recalled his little whisper about how it hasn't even been a second, the little girl you've given him already made him weak in the knees and given up his every thing.

You should've taken a picture. If it was possible to cry and look beautiful, Gojo won, no complaints. But also because you wanted to capture his uncovered eyes, swimming with softness behind the glassy texture. You didn't say anything to ruin the little bond he's sharing with your little one.

Now he was attached every where your daughter would be. When she slept in her crib Gojo pleaded that he'd move it closer to your bed side, claiming so that he could watch over her closer and that there may be curses lurking any where around the area. Even if he's casted a protective veil ahead of time before birth. Sometimes you'd catch him late at night still wide awake. His finger would wiggle between the bars of the crib to entertain the also awoken baby in a way to lull her to sleep.

When you're in deep sleep next to your husband, you will be awoken to the sight of your baby in between your heads. No matter how many times you scold him for placing her in a spot where maybe one of you would probably suffocate(which will not happen because his and your instincts are off charts) he'd sheepishly smile at you claiming that having her close helps him sleep more than constantly checking after five minutes if she was still there, breathing and okay. Megumi was in the same state of shock as every one was seeing how the troublemaker who raised him turned out to be a different person. Poor Megumi had to suffer not only the duo knucklehead's teasing about being the jealous child, but also the second years. 

It was a sight to behold how soft he's been lately. Attentive in every cry of needing a change of diaper, cry for milk, or a cry for attention or disturbance, Gojo would race you to it. How he balances his time in parenting and working late hours concerned you. Nothing has been the same ever since the multiple deaths of his former colleagues and teacher. To juggle around the bricks of disintegrated despair had him with a heavy heart. He doesn't know why he deserves to have the chance to have a family, but he knows it's his way of living for the those who's lost theirs and wanted the same paradise he has.

Through out the guilt and cruelty of the world that had rampaged on the innocent, there beside him fast asleep was the little one that held his existence together from falling deeper into his own melancholy with tiny, squishy hands. While you were finishing up in the showers, Gojo fights back the fluttering of his eyes, clearly in need of sleep after a long day of assisting the students and a couple of files from the pestering elders. A developed habit of his was to keep a sharp eye on his child at all times and close to him. He's done it before with you, it's funny how it heightened more on his daughter.

Seeing him fight the slumber his baby was already in was adorable, especially when he had a protective hand on her side and kept nuzzling the tiny body to his face. "Satoru, honey, you can sleep you know." placing down the dirty laundry. "You need sleep."

Having to be woken up a bit by your sweet voice, he melts and purrs quietly having his scalp scratched by you in hopes he'd rest for the night. "I can't keep my eyes off her."

"I'm here now, I'll put her back in the crib since she's fast asleep. You don't need to worry too much."

"I don't want her in the crib." whining, his long legs curls up to his stomach forming himself as a ball, the need to be closer to the his baby while pouting tiredly, "I feel like if I take a second away from looking, she'll be taken too."

After being sealed in the prism realm and returning to so much loss, though Gojo will never show how much this affected him. It was as if he was living the nightmare of his high school days once more. To think that having him gone would cost more than a spilled blood from a fighter, makes him wish he could split his body just so he can be there for every one. To save them.

But he has to remember his own proclaimed words that he can only rescue those who he can reach.

Your heart pinched whenever your husband would show vulnerability. He had been the loneliest for as long as he can remember to talk to someone about his own worries, "She won't be taken. She's safe here with us."

"You know I've never felt this completed in my life." having your genes and his mixed into the this very human in his arms amazes him until now, he couldn't help but trace gently a finger across from her puffed up cheek to the tiny button nose, "I've never been more terrified of the thought of losing you and her more than ever. Never been afraid of ending up lonely." he whispers in a tone slightly going higher, thinking he was also talking to the baby.

"I don't want to close my eyes or go anywhere and wake up to lose all of this."

Coming down to your side of the bed, finally having his face in your vision. There wasn't just exhaustion in his bright blue eyes that peered in adoration of your child— it more than a simple, fond fatherly look. If eyes could talk, you could understand how they were pleading for what they look at to never disappear from sight. To never become the replica of the past. He wanted to cry for mercy, to no longer take any of what was dear to him. If it means he has to give up these good for nothing abilities, he would for the sake of of all that is good.

"You make me happy— she makes me happy." squishing his cheek gently to hers, "I don't want to lose that too."

"You'll never lose us, Satoru." you cooed as you reached over to cup his jaw, stroking carefully the side of his face in process of closing his eyes, "So don't lose yourself for us. Please."

He holds onto the back of your hand in gratitude. Silently spilling an i love you for sheltering him from his conflicts. The people didn't lie when they said he had the whole world in his hands; an innocent child and a soulmate he could never be enough of. They didn't know that those were the only world that made him breath lively again.

A small whimper between you interrupted the approaching slumber he was about to achieve. "Hey, hey, did daddy wake you?" patting the distressed child by her bum, "I'm sorry, shhh." through kisses and cooing pressed on her scrunched up face, he wins over the cries of your daughter who fell back into dreamland happily. Gojo re adjusting his position in bed to stretch his arms to embrace you both, resting his hand on your hip.

With your lids feeling heavy already, you removed the hand on your hip and instead, held on them close to where your heart was beating. A reminder for Gojo that you weren't going anywhere along with the cute snores from the person between you. Gojo doesn't fall right asleep after you, he likes to take his time doing his sappy routine of watching both of his favorite girls snuggled near him. They did say you don't know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Even if he's done this all the time it never grows old. In a world where any time anyone could be taken away, every thing mattered.

He's never had one final moments with the fallen— he knows he can never laugh fully at the game of life and death. He knows he can't recover fast after losing too many pieces of the puzzle. But he can always build a new one and solve it together with what he has. The pieces cannot be replaced, but from there he knows it'll become an utterly different masterpiece. One where both heaven and earth can smile upon. You lose something, you gain something. As silly as it sounds, Gojo understood more as he held onto you and cuddling closer to the baby. It'll be okay. There's no telling when and where, but what matters most is that he still has a part of his family before and now he swore to protect.

Finally, Gojo sleeps in the hands of his world. Knowing it'll be there when he wakes up.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[chimchimsauce]

Fairest

Is beauty a blessing or a curse? All of her life, princess YN was told that her beauty was the greatest gift her late mother ever gave her. But when her looks attract a man cruel and bloodthirsty, YN begins to think that her greatest asset is the beginning of her demise.

“Checkmate.”

YN cannot help the grin that spreads across her face as she utters the word, watching as her older brother groans with disdain.

“You always win!” he complains, acting very much like a child.

“That’s because you always get too caught up in the current move, dear brother. The future decisions are the most important ones.”

YN’s older brother, first in line to the throne of their small country Ameris, huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Chess is like war. You get too focused on winning battles that cause you to lose the war. I certainly hope that won’t be the case for our kingdom . . .”

YN is only jesting. Her elder brother is an excellent leader and will make a wonderful king. He’s just really impatient with games. 

“I’m sure I can beat you next round!” her brother says playfully.

They both know it’s unlikely, but YN clears the board and begins to set up another game. As she’s placing the last pawn, a knock comes at the door. One of her handmaidens opens it, revealing one of their father’s special guards. 

YN’s breath catches ever so slightly before she schools her expression back into one of unbothered royalty. It’s always so hard to ignore her secret lover when other people are around, but she knows she must. A relationship between her and her father’s most trusted guard would cause a scandal that would undoubtedly get Wonho’s position revoked. He’s worked his entire life to get good enough for a spot on the King’s royal guard and there’s no way YN would do anything to sabotage that.

“His majesty has requested your presence,” Wonho says, not even looking YN in the eyes.

He’s much better at keeping his emotions in check.

YN’s brother stands, tapping his finger on the chessboard.

“Lucky thing I’m being summoned, or else I would have absolutely destroyed you in this game.”

YN laughs, maybe a little more politely than she would if Wonho wasn’t standing at the door.

“I’m sure of it,” she says, “Feel free to come back anytime to play again.”

YN’s brother nods and leaves her quarters, following after Wonho. Being the heir to the throne means that YN rarely gets to see her brother. He’ll be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time as he tours the neighboring countries to learn everything he possibly can, as well as maintain a positive relationship with their allies. Ameris may be a small country, but it is located in the perfect spot for transcontinental trade and filled to the brim with valuable resources. One could dig in a mine for just a few moments and emerge with a diamond the size of a robin’s egg.

Thankfully, Ameris has not had any problems with its neighboring countries in hundreds of years. The last war was ended by YN’s great great great grandfather and peace has blanketed the region since then.

Well, for the most part. In the last several years, the Eastern kingdom of Moonbyss has been steadily expanding and taking over small, unclaimed villages. They have not breached any borders or broken any treaties, however, so there is no cause to worry quite yet.

YN sighs as her thoughts shift back to Wonho. Their secret love affair has been going on since they were teenagers. At first, Wonho was just an attractive boy who was willing to indulge her wanton fantasies, but soon enough an affection bloomed between them. It’s so hard to pretend not to be in love with him, especially when he grows more handsome by the day.

“Thinking about him, my lady?” YN’s lady in waiting, Irene, asks her.

Irene is YN’s closest confidant and friend. She knows almost everything about the princess. Ever since she arrived in the castle from abroad two years ago, they have been inseparable. 

“Of course,” YN says, standing and walking over to the window that overlooks her private gardens. 

She opens the glass door and steps outside, her skin warmed by the sunshine. It’s an absolutely beautiful day, cloudless and blue. Birds chirp sweetly and the scent of flowers wafts on the breeze. The princess stops at the fountain in the middle of the garden, sitting on the bench and looking into the bubbling water. YN often made wishes in this fountain when she was younger, tossing in coins that reflected the sunlight back at her. More recently, though, she’s only wished for one thing - to be with Wonho. Her father, although he loves her, would never allow a union between them. Her older brother, however, has promised to allow YN to marry whoever she desires once he takes the throne on his thirtieth birthday.

He does not know that someone already has her affections, but no matter. YN is not worried about being married off. While her brother is the only prince in the kingdom, the king was blessed with twelve daughters and YN is the youngest. Every available man of power in the kingdom and the surrounding countries have already been wedded. 

YN has Irene bring her a book to read and she settles in, getting comfortable in her garden. The hours pass by quickly as she is sucked into the tale, but soon enough a shadow blocks her reading light. 

The princess looks up and is shocked to see Wonho standing in front of her. Alarm flares up inside of her. The two of them have agreed to never be seen together in daylight.

“Won-”

“Your Majesty,” Wonho says stiffly, “The King requests an audience. I have been asked to escort you to the throne room.”

YN hesitates a moment. She can tell that something is wrong by the strain in his voice. Something must really be bothering him for the guard to allow it to leak into his words. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, but she never knows who is watching so she simply stands, handing her book off to Irene who stands beside her.

“Very well,” YN says, trailing after him and back into the castle.

He walks three paces in front of her, leaving her to stare at his back. So much about him has changed in the last few years. He’s gained an immense amount of muscle, something that YN has really grown to appreciate during their midnight endeavors. It’s a shame that everything is covered up by his uniform, but she must admit he looks dashing in it.

As they walk, YN notices that Wonho isn’t the only one acting strangely. The various maids and butlers who usually flit around and chatter pleasantly amongst themselves are dead silent, walking with perfectly straight backs and zipped mouths. The princess notices a few pitying looks tossed her way and something cold settles in her stomach.

What’s going on?

Wonho knocks on the throne room’s closed doors. They are ever so carefully opened a few moments later and Wonho leads YN into the grand room.

Her father sits on the throne, a smaller one empty next to him. It always makes YN sad to see her father by himself. The Queen passed away only a year ago and was her father’s closest friend. The late Queen was kind to everyone, even YN’s mother - a poor girl her father discovered in one of his hunting trips. Apparently, YN’s father was so taken with her mother that he simply had to add her to his harem and rarely visited any of his other concubines afterward. But it didn’t last long - YN’s mother died shortly after her birth. Everyone says that she left YN her ethereal beauty, a fact that led YN to being hidden away in the castle for the majority of her life.

“You’re the most valuable diamond in all of Ameris,” her father told her once, “It’s important that few people know of your existence.”

It had saddened YN when she was younger that she could not attend the lavish parties and balls like her elder sisters and brother, but she came not to mind once Wonho came into her life. It mattered not if other people thought she was beautiful - as long as Wonho desired her, that was more than enough.

Standing to her father’s side is YN’s brother. The jolly air that had surrounded him mere hours ago is gone completely now. He looks furious, an expression YN has rarely seen on his face. He’s looking at a man who stands before the throne, a crown placed perfectly on his head.

Visiting nobility? 

The man turns as the click of YN’s heels sounds out against the marble flooring. YN’s step falters as a large, nearly terrifying grin spreads across his face. He is incredibly handsome, but the smile on his face does nothing but creepy the princess out.

“There she is,” he says, quickly extending his hand towards her.

YN, uncertain, looks at her father who gives her a stiff nod. Hesitantly, YN places her hand in the stranger’s grasp, making sure to school her expression as he places a cold kiss that lingers too long against her gloved hand. The princess has never been more glad to be wearing gloves.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” YN asks, careful to watch her throne. 

“King Seokjin Moonbyss, your highness. I must say, the rumors of your beauty do you no justice. You’re much more radiant in person.”

YN’s blood freezes in her veins. This cannot mean anything good.

“Thank you,” YN says, a slight tremble in her voice.

The man has still not released her hand.

“YN,” her father says, giving her an excuse to look away from this man - no, this monster - beside her, “King Seokjin has asked for your hand.”

YN barely squashes the shout of protest that so desperately wants to escape her throat. There’s no way this can be happening! No way! Her eldest brother is just three years shy of taking the throne, three years more of having to tiptoe around with Wonho. No way she can get married, especially to someone from so far away.

“Excuse me,” Wonho says, speaking up from his place behind YN, “I thought King Seokjin was already married.”

Relief flows through YN. If Seokjin is already married, then surely this is an error.

“She failed to provide me with a male heir, so I had her disposed of,” King Seokjin says simply, glaring at Wonho, “Do not question me again.”

There is not a trace of remorse in his voice at all, nothing but anger.

YN begins to tremble.

“Father -” she begins.

“King Seokjin has made us an offer I cannot refuse,” he says, cutting her off, “And besides, YN, you’ll be able to be Queen. You never would have had that opportunity here.”

YN’s father would normally never make this sort of decision, especially not for the daughter he tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Of course, sweet YN,” King Seokjin says, “You are free to reject my offer if you so desire. I would, however, be forced to declare war on Ameris. After all, this country is the most resource rich of all the lands. It’s a shame. It would have been so much nicer to make a positive connection with this beautiful country. I wonder how much of its splendor will be left once my troops march through it.”

The threat is crystal clear. YN has to marry this King or her country will suffer for it. YN glances at her father and brother, seeing the fear that’s in their eyes. Ameris is much too small to fight Moonbyss and win, especially since the eastern country has been gaining a lot of territory very rapidly. YN swallows. In a matter of hours, her perfect daydream has been shattered.

“I would be honored to marry you, King Seokjin,” YN says, trying her hardest not to cry.

She can release her tears once she’s in the safety of her own chambers. She cannot show any weakness in front of this man.

“Beautiful and smart,” King Seokjin says, “It will be my honor to have you as my bride. After all, the most handsome man in all the world deserves the most beautiful bride of them all.”

YN never really thought much of her beauty. She’s always heard it was a blessing, the only one her mother ever left her, but right now it feels like a curse. 

“I pray that you’ll join me for dinner this evening, my betrothed,” King Seokjin says.

“I would love to,” YN says even though the thought of having to spend even a single moment more in this man’s presence makes her want to hurl.

“You best retire to your quarters, my love. Your father and I have much to discuss before this evening. I’ll send someone for you when I’m ready.”

The dismissal is clear. YN turns swiftly and leaves the room, Wonho following closely behind her. She walks much too fast to be considered ladylike, but she does not give a damn, wanting to be as far away from the throne room as possible. 

“YN, wait!” Wonho calls out to her.

He grasps her wrist, uncaring of who will see, and pulls her to his chest. As soon as the warmth of him touches her, YN loses all composure, breaking down and sobbing into his pristine uniform.

“Wonho,” she cries out, grasping him as close as she can, her fingers creasing the silk he wears, “I don’t want to be Queen! I want to marry you!”

YN feels something wet fall against her head. Based on the way his shoulders shake, Wonho is also crying. She hasn’t seen him shed a tear since one of his best friends was murdered on a mission.

“What are we going to do?” YN asks into his chest, her voice muffled, “I don’t think I can bear being apart from you, especially with someone as cruel as the King!”

“We’ll figure something out, YN, I promise,” Wonho says, pulling away just enough to give YN a salty kiss.

“At least once more,” YN says once their lips part, “I must have you at least once more.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Wonho says, pulling her along to her chambers.

The two fall into the sheets, both knowing that this is the last time despite desperately wanting to spend eternity together.

On the other side of the castle, Irene makes her way through the hallways, stopping at a grand door and knocking three times. No one answers, so she swings it open, prepared to wait for as long as it takes. 

Maybe half an hour later, King Seokjin opens the door, looking quite pleased with himself. He doesn’t greet Irene, instead instantly walking over to her and pinning her against the wall, his lips meeting hers passionately. Irene barely has any time to catch her breath, but she doesn’t mind at all, too enamored with this man she knows is only using her.

When he was only a prince, Seokjin was infamous for being a womanizer. All too often, he lured servants and noble girls alike into his chambers, whispering promises and pressing kisses against their skin only to leave them abandoned like trash when he grew bored of them. Irene was one of those servant girls, but Seokjin has kept her around for longer than most. A part of Irene is convinced it’s because she’s special to him, but she knows it’s really not true.

Seokjin has been obsessed with YN, the secret twelfth princess of Ameris for five years now. Ever since he spotted her while visiting Ameris with his late father, he wanted her - needed her. After all, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, trying as he might to find another. His late wife was incredibly beautiful as well, but she didn’t compare to YN. No one else was worthy of her but him. It was YN that drove him to murder his own father and take the throne before he was supposed to. After all, Seokjin has never been a patient man.

Seokjin pulls away from Irene, looking unbothered as ever.

“No good,” he says, “Simply imagining that you’re YN does nothing. I’m tired of waiting.”

His words sting Irene’s heart. She tries not to be bitter, but jealousy is a powerful emotion, one that overshadows the genuine affection she feels for princess YN.

“Well,” the King asks her, “Who is it? The one YN claims to be in love with.”

The King rolls his eyes, gripping his fists tightly. How dare YN love another when he’s already claimed her.

“It’s Wonho,” Irene says, pushing down her feelings, “the guard that accompanied her today.”

“A guard huh? How dare he think he deserves someone as beautiful as YN!” he says, furious.

Seokjin is terrifying when he’s angry. Irene tenses, preparing for the worst. Instead of gripping her hair and tossing her to the floor like he usually does, Seokjin grabs a decorative vase and tosses it against the ground, watching as it shatters into a million pieces.

“You didn’t strike me,” Irene says, shocked.

“I have been practicing,” the King says, “After all, it would be a shame to make a single mark on YN’s perfect body.”

Much too soon, Irene is knocking on YN’s private chamber door.

“Your majesty,” she calls out softly, “Your betrothed has requested your presence.”

YN rolls over to Wonho, tears in her eyes. He blinks them away, wanting to remember this moment clearly.

“One moment,” YN calls out, listening as Irene walks away.

“Run away with me,” YN pleads, her voice desperate.

“You know we can’t,” Wonho says, his eyes sad.

“Yes we can!” YN insists, “You know this country better than anyone. We can get up right now and flee and -”

“YN,” Wonho says, “What about the country? You know we’ll be forced to go to war if you disappear.”

YN sniffles.

“I don’t think I can live without you,” YN confessed, “And if I can, I don’t want to find out.”

Wonho is silent for a moment before he sits up, an idea in his mind.

“What? What is it?” YN asks him.

“What if you didn’t?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to live without me? I’ve heard rumors amongst the staff of a poison you can take that will put you in a deep slumber for a fortnight. If some was mixed into your dinner tonight, it can seem that you’ve been poisoned and passed away. Then when you awake, you and I can disappear together.”

YN brightens. Even though being unconscious for a fortnight doesn’t sound pleasant, anything will be better than having to marry KIng Seokjin. Besides, she trusts Wonho with her life.

“Okay,” YN says, agreeing right away.

“Are you sure, YN?” Wonho asks her, “You will end up getting rather sick for a few days before the slumber.”

YN nods eagerly.

“Yes, anything,” she says.

“Very well.”

Wonho hops out of bed, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he possibly can.

“I’ll get everything ready. YN, go to dinner with the king, alright? I won’t be able to see you after this so as not to arouse suspicion. I love you, princess.”

He leans down to kiss her.

“I love you more,” YN says, watching as Wonho slips out of a glass door and into the gardens.

Unbeknownst to the lovers, King Seokjin is outside the door, his ear pressed against it to hear everything. He had come to escort his beloved like a sweet fiance would, only to hear his to be wife scheming to get away from him.

He’s never been so angry, but he suppressed it, not wanting to let YN know that he’s been here. He grabs Irene by the arm roughly and leads her out into the hallway, bending over to whisper in her ear.

“Make sure to add enough of the poison to YN’s food to keep her under for longer than a fortnight. Put as much of it in as you can without bringing her to the brink of death.”

“Are you sure your -”

Irene’s question is cut off when he backhands her, one of his elegant rings drawing blood.

“Do NOT question me!” he says, “Do as I order!”

Irene rushes off to do as the King says, tears brimming in her eyes. She’s never regretted being Seokjin’s spy until now, too blinded by love. She should have warned YN, should have helped her disappear with Wonho - someone Irene knows truly loves the princess. King Seokjin is just obsessed with her beauty and determined to own her like she’s some sort of object to be bought and sold.

Peeking around the corner, Irene sees Wonho pouring a liquid into the soup bowl meant for the princess. When he leaves and when the coast is clear, Irene snatches the vial from the counter and empties the rest of it into other dishes reserved for the princess before refilling the vial with water and placing it back where Wonho left it.

“YN, I’m so sorry,” she whispers to herself before fleeing into the night, never to be heard from again.

At dinner, YN pretends not to notice the odd taste in her food. It’s obviously been tampered with, but YN doesn’t let it show at all, eating properly and conversing with King Seokjin as much as she can bear. YN misses the look of glee in his eye as he drinks from his goblet, still believing that everything is going to plan.

YN starts feeling ill once the final course comes around. She quickly asks to be excused and King Seokjin offers to walk her back to her room. YN accepts, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own with the  way the room begins to spin.

For the next three days and nights, YN is in and out of consciousness, the world swirling around her in a nauseating mix of bright colors and fuzzy shapes. When she closes her eyes at midnight of the third day, her thoughts are on Wonho and the fact that the next time she opens them, she’ll be free to be with him.

But YN does not wake up. Not for a fortnight, not ever. Seokjin, furious, intends to find Irene and hang her for murdering his beloved before realizing that she’s nowhere to be found. It’s easy enough to frame Wonho for her murder and a matter of hours after YN dies, Wonho follows her from the gallows.

At his request, YN is preserved and dressed in a wonderful white wedding gown, still looking very much alive. He marries her anyway and has her crowned, determined to have her even in death. She’s too beautiful to be buried underground, so he commissions a glass coffin to display her in, putting her corpse in his bedroom where no one else can see her. King Seokjin finds that he does not mind YN being dead. She’s much less bothersome in passing, much easier to fall to his will.

King Seokjin stands before her, placing his hand flat against the cool glass of her coffin. Even in death, YN is the fairest of them all.

[notsogoodangel]

Finally done: Children of Dead AU AKA an SBI Royal/Antarctic Empire AU which actually includes both Fundy and Kristin. More info under the cut

also ignore typos in the drawing, I did the text at like 2 am

The Antarctic Empire seemed to pop out of nowhere, and just as fast as it appear, it became among the most prosperous and wealthiest (and most dangerous) kingdoms in the world. The world was in shock figuring out how an adventurer, who first came into view from a pathetic death, became the ruler of such a prosperous empire. Although once meeting the royal family, one begins to understand. Emperor Philza, also known as the Angel of Death, a man later became known for his wisdom and bravery. He will always raising to the occasion, of course, if he believe in it, and destroy anything that stands in his path. The empress is Death herself, always kind to everyone who doesn’t run from her and her touch and to be feared if you ever go against her. They formed a family that almost seems too perfect for running the place the call home. The oldest son is almost perfect soldier, seemingly never loosing a battle and always knowing how to plan to their next expansion of their territory. The crown prince has a way with words that makes everyone listen, always trying to get the upper hand and his pride always seeking what’s the most optimal outcome during a meeting. The youngest of the emperor and empress children is a loud young man that is never afraid to speak his mind, fight for any occasion to protect the empire and his family, trying to improve any injustice that may ever plague the kingdom. The crown prince’s son is focused on making the empire structurally stable, always focusing on the infrastructure and improving the technology.

Secondary characters

Ranboo: 

He was taken in by Phil when he was 15, but he really seems to be adopted by Techno than by him.

Not an official prince, but under the protection of the royal family.

Still half enderman and half something else.

He is the same age as Tommy, and they get along well-enough.

Tubbo: 

He is not adopted by the royal family, but might as well be.

Even though he is a citizen of Manberg, he spends most of his time in the empire, specially hanging out with Tommy, Ranboo, and Purpled.

Son of Captain Sparklez, his uncle is Schlatt and Puffy, and Dream is his cousin.

Half goat and half sheep (that’s the couple horn).

Purpled:

An ex-child soldier, rescued and taken in by Ponk and Punz (his biological-older brother).

He was REALLY good at his job, and still continues the mercenary work, but he actually makes money out of it.

He is an alien hybrid, which is among the rarest hybrids, and has very little drawbacks.

He hangs out in the castle because he can and nobody can stop him.

Sam: 

A prince with so many brothers that is near impossible for him to become a king, so he moved to the empire and helps in the building of it with the help of Foolish.

A raccoon-creeper hybrid, and connected to Tommy very fast because of it.

He is in a relationship with Ponk, and lives with him, Purpled and Punz.

He can explode, and tries his best to control his angel... and he is scared of cats, which works out because Ponk is allergic to them.

Schlatt

Phil’s old adventure buddy (look, I love their Hexxit series, fight me)

President of Manberg, although not for long because he dies near the end of his first term. After that he haunts, Quackity, Tubbo and Phil, although mostly Quackity. 

He has the Revive Book, because his family is cursed and all males died young and he is looking for a way to stop it or extended the dying.

He is Sparklez’s and Puffy’s cousin, although he did help raise Tubbo since they travel a lot.

5up: 

Fundy’s childhood friend (and later boyfriend)

He is a nature spirit, specifically a radish. All nature spirits are connected to a plant, and this helps him to stay connect to this realm because again, he is a spirit. 

He tries to spend as much time in the empire with Fundy but the weather is hard on him, and staying in another realm can be hard.

Minor characters

Sally: A fish-hybrid that comes to the empire when the water is not frozen solid, and despite that, she is married to Wilbur and gave birth to Fundy, making her the princess of the empire.

Squid kid: A squid-hybrids that comes to the empire year-round and helps Techno keep his crops when he knows he is going away for a battle for an extended period of time. Techno only does this because he hates machines, and prefers manual labor. 

Ponk: A dreamon-hybrid (hides it) mercenary and doctor who keeps an eye in Punz and specially Purpled. Usually the middle man between any hits someone may request.

Punz: A alien-hybrid (recessive) mercenary and ex-child soldier. While he lives under Ponk and Sam’s roof, he doesn’t really listen to them as he is only there because he cares about Purpled... also he doesn’t listen to anyone unless you pay him.

Extra info: 

Tubbo, Dream, Puffy, Sparklez and Schlatt are all biologically connected. The “C” on Tubbo and Schlatt’s name stand for Captain, which is the family name. Don’t ask why is in the beginning of their names, they don’t know either. Their curse consist in that all males in the family will die young, usually tragically (Sparklez drowns in one of his travels and Schlatt dies alone from a heart attack). While the females will start to forget things if they are not consistent, for example, they will remember how to garden if they are a farmer, but they will forget they have a child if they live alone for an extended period of time.

Dream is the rules of the Greater SMP, although he hates the idea of being the face of the country since he hates people being up in his personal business, doesn’t like attention, he has personal beef with Techno and Tommy and that is not good for public relations when you hate two of the princes of one of the most powerful empires in the world; and his uncle runs a country that is not connected to his at all (aside from being to war in the past, but Schlatt wasn’t president then). So he still rules, but put Eret as a figure head as he has good personal relations with Wilbur and they actually like the attention.

There’s a small secret revolution against Wilbur going on the Antarctic Empire run by Blop and Oreli and many other of the people Wilbur used as experiment and torture during his “rebellious” phase. They mostly just want to torture and no-canonically kill him.

Hannah and George are also nature spirits. George is a mushroom spirit and Hannah is a rose one. George lives in Kinoko Kingdom with Karl (not a hybrid, but just a straight up an interdimensional being) and Sapnap, a fire-demon hybrid, and they are visited by Dream, who’s a sheep-dreamon hybrid, Quackity (a duck hybrid) and BBH (straight up demon and Sapnap’s dad). Hannah, on the other hand, lives on the Empire in a green rose, and works as a mercenary with Purpled. They sometimes work together, but most of the time they just train together.

Quackity is the vice-president during Schlatt presidency, and takes the mantle of presidency when he dies. He wants to run, but he after entering in a relationship with Karl and Sapnap he stops and moves to Kinoko. 

[softinkshadows]

Jujutsu Kaisen astrology (sun/moon/rising)

Some sun-moon-rising speculations, according to the characters’ official birthdays as listed by Gege Akutami, with some mild spoilers ahead ~ (birth years not taken into account)

Gojo Satoru - Sagittarius sun, Gemini moon, Aquarius rising Quick, witty, and without a serious bone in his body, air and fire dominant Gojo Satoru is the epitome of avid communication and chaos. His flighty personality appears out of place in serious life or death circumstances, though his shallow behaviour often hides a darker, more serious side which he keeps to himself. His sun-moon opposition makes him someone who grows through oscillating between extremes, and in the mutable signs his moods are light and change lightning fast. Highly intellectual and often cocky, he is also detached, surprisingly stubborn and a believer in larger humanitarian goals (resetting the jujutsu system). His Aqua rising makes him somewhat of a loner at times. Probably also a Sag mercury for his dramatic, showy speeches, and a Sag venus with his love for freedom.  Itadori Yuuji - Aries sun, Libra moon, Pisces rising  Itadori is one of the few people whose energy (or childishness) can match Gojo Satoru. Like Gojo, his sun-moon fire-air opposition makes him eccentric and complex. Not especially comfortable with his own emotions, Itadori represses his own traumatic experiences. He also often finds himself in moral dilemmas, such as what is considered a proper death, or weighing the balance between saving lives and causing mass destruction as Sukuna’s vessel, a perpetual and difficult state for a Libra moon. Relationships with others are important because he gains self-awareness through them. His Pisces rising is seen in his soft, easygoing and impressionable social demeanour, which can be quite chameleon-like depending on who he’s with. Likely a Taurus mercury and venus. 

Fushiguro Megumi - Capricorn moon, Scorpio moon, Taurus rising Fushiguro is the definition of controlled intensity. Usually sporting a deadpan look, his emotions are firmly contained and his private life is kept intensely private (re: his past as high school gang beater, his sister). Known as the most sane/collected out of the main trio, the strength of his feelings are revealed when he flicks the emotional switch and overwhelms the special grade with his domain expansion. Like many Capricorn suns, he struggles with competitiveness, self-worth and becomes adorably shy when validated by others (Gojo and Sukuna). Scorpio moons often have difficult and complex familial relationships, and this is evident in the lack of parental figures throughout his life (and his indifference towards them). They also have a good deal of natural sex appeal, which explains his popularity in middle school and Itadori’s (and SUKUNA’S LOL) early affection for him. Likely Cap mercury and Aqua venus.  Kugisaki Nobara - Leo sun, Virgo moon, Aries rising  Loud, brash and expressive, Kugisaki is confident, although sometimes coming across as arrogant. She is extremely critical (a Virgo moon trait), sees herself as above the boys when she meets them, and is generous and warm to (female) figures whom she highly respects. Interestingly, despite her dramatic persona, she’s the most level-headed out of the three when it comes to a crisis. She focuses on getting the job done, even if it comes at great personal sacrifice, such as the fight against the death paintings where she did not hesitate to stab herself to defeat them. She hides her sadness because it makes her vulnerable, and strength is the image she wants to portray. Like many Virgo moons, she has a solid sense of duty - despite her injuries during the Shibuya arc, she refused to leave the battlefield when her friends were still fighting. Possibly Leo mercury and Virgo venus. Nanami Kento - Cancer sun, Virgo moon, Capricorn rising The morose salaryman sorcerer. Responsible, down-to-earth and favouring structures and rules, Nanami is a true blue Virgo moon. He operates out of a sense of obligation and duty to society, often struggling to find meaning in life, and is practical in the way he goes about making decisions. This moon makes him highly perceptive and analytical in a fight, as seen from his multiple brushes with Mahito, and its need for precision and detail is reflected in the way his cursed technique operates (along a fascinating 7:3 ratio scale). His emotional Cancerian traits are kept under wraps, though he is protective of people and his friends. Because of the depth of personal trauma with Haibara, he even ran away from the sorcerer line of work. As a Cap rising, he is workaholic, solemn and overly serious. Most likely a Cancer mercury and Taurus venus.  Getou Suguru - Aquarius sun, Scorpio moon, Virgo rising  As one of the most radical personalities, Getou’s sole focus is on how to achieve the greater good, although what he defines as good has become skewed to the extreme. Quiet, dignified, and self-reflective, he is the patient and level-headed counterpart to Gojo who understands what it feels like to be born with power. Fueled by his strong sense of injustice and need to protective fellow sorcerers, he is methodical and self-effacing in achieving his goals, sacrificing his relationships with his friends, family and his status in jujutsu society along the way. Likely Aqua mercury and Cap venus. Maki Zenin - Capricorn sun, Aries moon, Aries rising Maki’s blunt, fiery and stubborn personality makes her strive to prove herself to her family. Amongst all the students, she possesses the strongest leadership charisma and potential.  Inumaki Toge - Libra sun, Pisces moon, Scorpio rising  Mostly quiet, mysterious and strangely alluring. Very protective of his friends, as seen from his colder, distant personality towards Yuta in their early days.  Panda - Pisces sun, Taurus moon, Sagittarius rising  Panda is quite sage-like and wise in personality. They keep calm and grounded, yet knows when to chime in with a joke or two to diffuse conflict in a situation.  Aoi Todo - Virgo sun, Aquarius moon, Leo rising A deep eccentric with an overactive imagination. Extremely intelligent and analytical, with a penchant for bravado and showiness.  Mai Zenin - Capricorn sun, Aries moon, Taurus rising  The younger of the twins, born shy of a few minutes after Maki, Mai’s Taurus rising makes her graceful, elegant and sensual.  Miwa Kasumi - Aries sun, Pisces moon, Cancer rising The sweetest! Shy, really giving person with a girl-next-door look. Gets starry eyed and excited too easily. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt for "Close" or "Reforged": NMJ & Baxia goes to the Nie tombs to accompany someone. The spirits sensed a saberspeak translator FINALLY exists and traps them. Everyone thought the place hostile, but the sabers just want NMJ listen to their ramblings/demands/complaints/lectures... and also to do something about that "basketcase" saber spirit sealed further in. They're sick of listening to it! Do something, Nie descendant!

ao3

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lan Xichen said one day when he was a teenager, lying on his back in a field in the Cloud Recesses with his best friend in the whole world, excluding family. “Something secret.”

Nie Mingjue, lying beside him, hummed for a moment, thinking about it. “When I was a kid – about Wangji’s age now – I got stabbed in the stomach during a fight,” he said eventually. “Everyone thought I was going to die, and I mean they really thought it, but then I didn’t.”

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, having meant something more along the lines of ‘a girl let me touch her chest behind the garden shed once’. “Everyone must have been very glad you were all right.”

“Mostly,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice and gaze distant. “Once they let me out.”

“Of your sickbed?”

Nie Mingjue blinked and shook his head as if to wake up. “Enough about me,” he said. “What about you? What’s your secret? Is it about that He sect girl and the shed again?”

“It was not,” Lan Xichen insisted, even though it totally had been. He was very proud of it. “I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular!”

-

When Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen about his family’s curse, he didn’t actually tell him directly.

He brought him to a room, with tea and food set out, had him sit, and then vanished, sending Nie Zonghui to tell him instead. It was horrifying, of course, but in the same manner as the whole war they’d just endured had been horrifying – nothing that would make Nie Mingjue blush.

“Why didn’t he just tell me himself?” Lan Xichen asked, mostly because he couldn’t really be upset at Nie Mingjue for being in the process of slowly dying, even if that’s what he really wanted. “Did he think I wouldn’t be able to stand it or something?”

“Or something,” Nie Zonghui said. “It’s not about you, Zewu-jun. It’s about him.”

Lan Xichen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a sensitive subject for him,” Nie Zonghui said. “Especially the saber tombs – and after what happened when he was younger, I can’t really blame him.”

“When he was younger? What happened?”

“Did he never say? He said that he’d already told you: when he was young – eight or nine, I think – he was in a fight, and got stabbed…”

“Oh, yes, that,” Lan Xichen said. “I know about that…what does that have to do with cultivation?”

“It was his first fight carrying Baxia,” Nie Zonghui explained. “She wasn’t even fully forged, but he grabbed her out of the smithy and wielded her against those invaders.”

Nie Mingjue had not said anything about invaders.

“He saved the lives of several other children,” Nie Zonghui continued, and Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything about that, either. “Shed his first blood on his blade – even took his first life, all the things that function as a marker of adulthood. Defeat evil, rescue the innocent, all that. So when they thought he was going to die, they decided to give him the honors of an adult.”

For some reason, that made something sink in Lan Xichen’s stomach.

“When you say honors…” he started.

“He was taken to the saber tombs,” Nie Zonghui said. “To die as his honored ancestors had.”

They must have been very sure that he would not live.

“But he didn’t die,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Zonghui hesitated. “What are you not telling me?”

“Sect Leader Nie was left there to die alone, as is customary,” Nie Zonghui said. “When they returned after three days to collect his body for cremation, they found him still breathing, much to everyone’s surprise…after, there were rumors that he had died.”

“What? How? He’s walking around even now.”

“They thought he had been possessed,” Nie Zonghui explained. “By one of the saber spirits. It caused some trouble, later. Anyway, ever since then, he doesn’t talk about it directly – and nor should you.”

“But –”

“I think that’s enough of an explanation for now,” Nie Zonghui said firmly, and no matter how Lan Xichen entreated him, he said no more.

-

“Oh, sure, we have plenty of stories about saber spirit possession,” Nie Huaisang said when Lan Xichen asked in a roundabout fashion. “All sorts! I grew up on them, naturally. Temporary, permanent, through birth or misadventure – that one story about the generation of Nie women where everyone was female, whether born or misaligned –”

That did sound somewhat interesting, actually, but not exactly what Lan Xichen was looking for at the moment.

“What happens in cases of possession?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “You know, if someone thinks someone else is possessed – speaking generally, of course?”

“Generally?” Nie Huaisang frowned and tapped his fan against his lips. “I mean, in the case of temporary possession, you usually try to exorcise the spirit – usually through traditional means, like arrays or talismans or incantations, but sometimes if you think they’re trying to steal a human life permanently, through discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“Oh, you know. Excess exercise, denying food, hurting them. Show them that they’d rather not be human after all, that sort of thing.”

“…what if they’re wrong about the possession?” Lan Xichen asked, a cold chill going down his spine.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “It’s supposed to be pretty obvious? Someone who has the strength of a guai instead of a human, who refuses to die when a normal person would, someone rigid and unyielding with barely any flexibility – more metal than human – unusually angry, full of bloodlust and an unquenchable desire to destroy evil –”

“That could describe your whole family tree, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said. That could describe your brother.

“Sabers reflect their masters,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. “So it makes sense that it would, doesn’t it?”

“But –”

“Oh, don’t fuss, er-ge! I’m sure the elders wouldn’t just go around assuming someone’s secretly a saber for no reason,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now, let me tell you about the generation of women story – it’s one of my favorites –”

-

“Da-ge refused to let me play for him again,” Jin Guangyao commented, and Lan Xichen frowned.

He wasn’t an idiot – he knew how bad the relationship between his two sworn brothers was – but although he’d hoped that this would help repair some aspects of that, his primary goal with the Song of Clarity was to improve Nie Mingjue’s health.

(Sabers could suffer from qi deviations, too. Not that Nie Mingjue was possessed by a saber or anything.)

“Did he say why?” Lan Xichen asked.

“He was busy this week,” Jin Guangyao said mournfully. “Visiting his family tombs, apparently.”

Lan Xichen blinked. “The – Nie family tombs?”

Jin Guangyao had been speaking casually, clearly thinking of it as some excuse meant to fob him off, but perhaps there was something about Lan Xichen’s face that caught his interest. “Yes, he said there was some issue there that he had to deal with personally. Is there something the matter with that?”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, and then frowned. “At least, I don’t think so? I’ll speak with him about not skipping more sessions, A-Yao; don’t worry.”

He excused himself shortly thereafter and went to Qinghe on the first possible excuse.

“Where’s your sect leader?” he asked one of the guards.

Their frozen expression said everything he needed to know.

-

“Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, blinking at him. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Wangji,” Lan Xichen said. “Of course it’s me!”

“I meant that more in the ‘what are you doing in my family tombs’ sense,” Nie Mingjue said.

Lan Xichen allowed that that was a fair question. A better one, however…

“What are you doing in your family’s tombs?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Song of Clarity isn’t working, we can try something else!”

“Xichen –”

“It is far, far too early for you to even think of coming down here –”

“Xichen –”

“And may I say, that’s a barbaric tradition anyway, I don’t care if your ancestors did it, locking up a child is just –”

“Xichen.”

Lan Xichen stopped.

Nie Mingjue was rubbing the back of his head, and his cheeks were red. “I heard a rumor that one of the old masterless sabers got loose,” he said. “I was just checking it out. I wasn’t coming here to – to reside.”

“…oh,” Lan Xichen said, and felt rather stupid. And then, trying to change the subject, he said, “How’d you hear about the saber getting loose? I thought no one came here unless there was a death.”

“Oh, the sabers told me,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Oh, I guess…wait. What?”

-

“So you…hear them,” Lan Xichen said. They were seated on the foot of one of the statues guarding the tombs, which was a bit rude but Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to mind and they were, after all, his ancestors. “The saber spirits.”

“Since I was child, yes,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“And you don’t think this is – odd?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “They gave me spiritual energy so that I could survive. It left a mark, I think.”

Lan Xichen nodded.

He tried to figure out how to phrase his next question.

“I’m fairly certain I am not a saber spirit possessing a human corpse.”

“Oh, good,” Lan Xichen sighed. “I had no idea how to ask.”

Nie Mingjue knocked their shoulders together. “You can always just ask. I’m your friend. Corpse or not.”

“Please don’t make jokes about that,” Lan Xichen said mournfully, even if it was a little funny. “I’d miss you if you were a corpse.”

“Well, depending on the state of the corpse…”

Lan Xichen snickered, even though he really didn’t mean to. It wasn’t actually funny.

-

“So is it just sabers?”

“Not always. Why? You want to know what Shuoyue thinks of you?”

Lan Xichen stared at him. “Can you?”

“Either directly or indirectly,” Nie Mingjue said. “Even if the weapon doesn’t want to talk to me directly, they usually don’t have a choice when Baxia is pushing them.”

“…do swords have a lot to say?”

“Not as much as saber spirits. But more than you might think.”

“What does she think of me, then?”

“She likes you. You’re good to her. Except when you wield her overhead because you keep tensing a muscle in your back that makes the strike a little wonky, so she’d prefer you stick with forward thrusts or low cuts until you get that fixed.”

Lan Xichen started laughing.

-

“If I die outside, make sure I’m brought here,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think I’d enjoy the company.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Lan Xichen promised, and he meant it, too. “I promise.”

[warcraft-lore-archives]

The Folk & Fairy Tales of Azeroth Lore Facts

Editor’s Note: “Some of the tales you’ll encounter here may be rooted in canon, or they may be another traveler just telling a tall tale.” 

Eyes of the Earth Mother

Though the Earth Mother heard the whispers of the Old Gods, she could not be swayed by them (13).

Pregnant, the Earth Mother sought a place away from the Old Gods’ corruptive influence to give birth to her children. Unable to find such a place, however, she decided to shape the world and, in doing so, create her own safe haven (14). 

All of Azeroth’s lands, waters, and even the elements themselves came forth at this moment. They were suffused with enough of the Earth Mother’s essence so soon after their inception that they kept the Old Gods’ powers at bay (14). 

The Earth Mother gave birth to twins: first An’she, a beacon of life and warmth, then came Mu’sha, who was to bring rest, tranquility, and healing. The elements called them the “sun” and the “moon” (15). 

Eventually, both An’she and Mu’sha developed connections with the elements. An’she found himself able to wield the light and warmth of fire while Mu’sha maintained some control over the tides and winds (15-16). 

The twins even went so far as to use the elements to create weapons to spar with. Mu’sha opted for a bow and arrow, whereas An’she’s weapon of choice was a set of blades (16).

To keep her children safe from the Old Gods’ ever-present influence while she slept, the Earth Mother took both An’she and Mu’sha up into her eyes. Their power was so great that she had to keep one eye open at all times (16).

This, however, meant that Azeroth no longer received An’she’s warmth or Mu’sha’s guidance of the wind while the Earth Mother rested. Cold slowly spread across the land and blizzards raged until she finally woke again (18).

The Earth Mother’s cycle between periods of sleep and awakening would come to form the basis of the seasons as we know them, with her time of work the summer and her time of rest the winter (18).

As the twins grew in power, they developed the ability to bring on the change of seasons at will, though they took care to do it slowly and give the world time to adjust. As the Earth Mother rested, An’she and Mu’sha continued to tend to Azeroth from behind her eyes (19). 

After waking at one point, the Earth Mother found that there was new life walking the earth. Plucking wheat from the plains to sprinkle over them, the Earth Mother called them “Shu’halo,” - the tauren (19).

Just as the Earth Mother taught her children, both An’she and Mu’sha taught the Shu’halo in the ways of the elements and caring for the land (20). 

When the Earth Mother next slept, however, the Old Gods extended their influence to the tauren, causing them to grow violent and turn on their own kind (20).

Saddened to see the tauren fall to such corruption, the Earth Mother shed a single tear. She realized that the land was no longer able to hold the Old Gods’ power at bay, meaning anything it touched could be corrupted (21). 

Knowing that she was not safe for her children anymore because of her own connection to the land, the Earth Mother removed An’she and Mu’sha from her eyes and laid down in despair (21-22). 

The single tear that the Earth Mother had shed became a blue baby, later named “Lo’sho,” or the Blue Child (22, 24). 

Seeking to put an end to the Old Gods after what they had done to the tauren and the despair they instilled in their mother, An’she and Mu’sha fought against some of the eldritch beings’ manifestations. During the battle, An’she was wounded grievously. Though Mu’sha sought to heal him with wind and water, he continued to bleed (24).

The Earth Mother, stirred by her distant children’s dismay, eventually found her way to them. She urged them to take Lo’sho and go to the heavens so they could protect Azeroth from above, while the Earth Mother chose to root herself in the earth and prevent the Old Gods from ever claiming her children (26-27).

Mu’sha, the moon, continues to follow An’she closely across the sky so she can keep tending to his wounds (26). 

One Small Tuskarr

The tuskarr etch their clan and family symbols into their tusks. Though this is customary, some do engrave other symbols - such as marks indicating deeds of great distinction - into their tusks as well (32, 36). 

The catch master, who weighs the tuskarr’s catches, has a counting staff adorned with cords in the colors of each of the clan’s active fishermen. In accordance with how big a tuskarr’s haul of fish is, the catch master ties a single knot or more into their respective cord. These knots can be traded for tools, weapons, and coins, among other things (32-33). 

A single knot is customary for those who meet basic requirements, while additional knots are allotted to those who catch more (33). 

One can also earn knots from other tasks, such as fine embroidery, though they do so at a much slower rate than those who fish (38). 

Food is shared equally among the tuskarr (33).

The tuskarr perform nomadic journeys that take them to various kalu’ak towns. While the fishers take their own boats, most of the mothers, adolescents, and children trek across the ice (34). 

Fishing practices are passed down from parent to child. Though it is unclear if that is “law,” some of the tuskarr refuse to teach others to fish if they are not their own blood, going so far as to withhold information about the currents and places fish gather (36).

Tuskarr sometimes dye their moustaches (36).

It never gets fully dark in Northrend (38).

Oacha’noa is the tuskarr’s deity of both the sea and wisdom. Her symbol is that of a kraken (39). 

The spearhead on most tuskarr weapons is made of sharpened bone (42).

A type of manta ray known as the stargazer can be found in Northrend’s waters (44).

The tuskarr can survive in water so cold it would kill other races native to Azeroth in mere minutes (45).

The tuskarr typically fly kites for fun, though they have been known to use them to send signals to others at great distances (48).

Lay Down My Bones

According to Vulpera beliefs, the first of their kind was born from the magic of the desert. Though they are a nomadic people, an old tale about an artifact called the Wailing Bone claims the desert calls their bodies back to where they began when they die. To ensure they find their way back, the vulpera follow the Wailing Bone (55-56). 

Once one of their own has passed, it is customary for the next of kin to carry the bone at the head of the caravan while the vulpera wander in search of the proper place to bury them. The journey may take anywhere from days to weeks, but when the Wailing Bone begins to cry, the vulpera know they have found their loved one’s final resting place (56, 61). 

A poem is carved into the Wailing Bone: “Wander, roam; bring me home, / Down paths at my behest; / Among the stones, lay down my bones, / So I, at last, may rest”. Few can read the script it is written in, but most all vulpera can recite it from heart (54). 

Two vulpera, frustrated at their inability to find their elder’s final resting place, neglected their duty and left his corpse in a river in the hopes that it would bring him there for them. Refusing to obey the Wailing Bone caused it to crack. From that night on, the vulpera of the caravan found themselves cursed for failing to heed the Wailing Bone (62, 65).

Cracking under the pressure of the curse, the two negligent vulpera ultimately died gruesome deaths at each other’s hands. One of their bones was made into the next Wailing Bone (65).

A caravan always needs a Wailing Bone (65).

The Uninvited Guest

One goblin adage goes like so: “Every great goblin invention was born from necessity, bubble gum, or an accident” (69).

The goblins have a nursery rhyme: “In the dark of night and bright of day, / Keep in your hand a tossaway. / Guard your fortune, mind your greed, / Or else the Uninvited Guest will feed” (70).

The Uninvited Guest is a goblin boogeyman of sorts who is attracted by greed so egregious it offends even the dead. It is incorporeal, invisible, and has the ability to move through walls (76).

The Uninvited Guest feeds off of greed, but it can never be satisfied. It will latch onto its host like an invisible parasite to feed, inciting strange charitable behavior in them until they have given away all of their earthly possessions (76-79). 

A “tossaway” is a shiny gold-painted coin stamped with the face of the very first trade prince. These fake coins get their name from the way goblins quite literally toss them away in a symbolically superstitious act to protect themselves and their fortunes from the Uninvited Guest (70, 74). 

Tossaways were invented by Slixi Boompowder, the wife of one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel, after her own run-in with the Uninvited Guest. She only escaped from it because she distracted it with actual gold galleons, which inspired her to create the tossaways (83).

Legend has it that the Uninvited Guest still roams Azeroth to this day, looking to feed off of hapless greedy goblins (84). 

Klaxz Boompowder was one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel. His rival was Rikter Hogsnozzle, the trade prince of the Bilgewater Cartel (70-71).

Tradition dictates that goblins are buried with their most valuable possessions so they can enjoy them at the Everlasting Party, the goblin afterlife. They are then given burial gifts by other goblins from their own riches, though most goblins are too greedy to truly part with anything important (73).

Once the coffin is sealed, goblins dance on top of it to usher the deceased on to the Everlasting Party (75). 

Prominent goblins typically serve as pallbearers while goblins contractually obligated to serve as pack mules carry the rear (75). 

The goblins used to employ golden galleons as their form of currency, but it fell out of fashion. Nowadays, they are incredibly rare and expensive (74-75). 

Trolls have a tale about an invisible evil that sucks the souls from living beings and leaves them mad. It can only be seen in the light of a full moon (80). 

Sister is Another Word For Always

Vereesa felt Sylvanas’ death at the hands of Arthas the moment it happened (89-90). 

Sylvanas’ eyes were gray as a high elf (91). 

In the midst of her sorrow at her sister’s death, Vereesa sought many escapes. At first she tried to sleep, but when rest and forgetfulness would not come, she embarked on a journey across deserts and forests with little in the way of proper food or nourishment except that which she found (90, 93). 

It is very possible Vereesa perished at some point on this journey, for she came across a spirit healer, though she was told it was not yet her time. The spirit healer offered Vereesa a deal: if she could bring her the willing soul of Sylvanas without ever touching her, the spirit healer would restore her to life (96-97). 

When Sylvanas first died at the hands of Arthas, it seems as though the Arbiter sent her to Ardenweald (98-99). 

After she struggles to locate her sister in Ardenweald, Vereesa is inadvertently pulled into the Maw. There, she still has difficulty finding her, and is told by the Jailer that Sylvanas is not there - at least, not yet. He then urges her to leave, telling her she does not belong there (99, 102-103).

Eventually, Vereesa spots a silver glimmer she knows to be Sylvanas, though it is only a fragment of her soul (103-104). 

Before she can escape with the soul of her sister, the Jailer stops Vereesa and inadvertently tricks her into touching Sylvanas, rendering her deal with the spirit healer null and void (106). 

At the end of this journey, Vereesa awakes at the foot of a statue, her memory of the experience hazy (109). 

The Paladin’s Beast

Uther is originally from Stratholme (117).

Introduced as a fable beloved by the princelings and princesses of Lordaeron, the Paladin’s Beast is a tale that follows a young Uther as he finds himself in a mysterious and unfamiliar land. Determined to prove himself and bring back a prize to his fellow paladins, Uther joins a tournament put on by a foreign kingdom despite the protests of its princess. Though he is a strong warrior, she insists the beast of the tournament kills every knight who challenges it. Still, Uther refuses to back down, confident that his faith in the Light will give him the strength he needs to prevail. However, the princess’ words hold true, as every knight who goes to fight the beast before him perishes. When it is his turn, Uther decides to stay his hammer rather than fight, remembering the princess’ words. The beast withdraws, defeated by his act of compassion. It is revealed afterward as Uther goes for his prize that the princess actually was the beast all along, cursed to fight in the tournament for disobeying her father and breaking the royal lineage. She casts a spell on Uther, making it so that when he returns to Lordaeron, he will not remember anything of who she was or his experience there until the day he finds himself in a fiery field. Though the fable ends there, it is said that Uther dreamt of the silver kingdom and its princess for many years to come. It was not until his final moments, trying to fell a beast with weapons rather than compassion, that he would fully remember the princess and her story (111-127). 

For Lies and Liberty

Most undead do not get all of their memories back immediately once they are raised (or given free will). It takes time and encouragement (133-134). 

On the long-standing issue of whether or not undead have ichor or blood running through their veins, it appears one Jeremiah Pall still has blood in his body, though it has stopped moving on account of his still heart (134).

The story of the “Fearless Flyer” - a man known as Captain Whitney - is famous among some of the Alliance forces. According to the man himself, Whitney and his outfit had been fighting orcs for months to no avail when he hatched a bold plan to launch himself by catapult into their camp and take them by surprise, hence the nickname the “Fearless Flyer”. This story, unfortunately, turned out to be nothing but hyperbole. As it stands, a drunk Whitney accidentally got tangled up in nets, fell in the catapult, and was unceremoniously flung into the orcish camp. Believing themselves to be under attack, the orcs retaliated and killed most of the unsuspecting humans while Captain Whitney hid (136, 142). 

Stones, Moss, and Tears

Though female elves traditionally mark their faces after they have achieved a rite of passage, they can continue to add embellishments to commemorate any further deeds (155).

At least one kaldorei lorekeeper was charged with knowing the name of every Sentinel and recording details of their more noteworthy battles (156).

The Bloomblade druids were one of the oldest, unbroken lines of night elf druids (158). 

A species of insect known as glowmoths migrate through Mount Hyjal every autumn (164). 

The Embrace

The White Lady and the Sun were charged with keeping watch over Azeroth as it dreamed (171, 176). 

Though she loved the people of Azeroth dearly, the White Lady found herself growing lonely and in want of a family (173). 

The moon cycles are thought to be the White Lady turning away and hiding her face in her sorrow, though she would always look back upon Azeroth to watch over it (174).

It is said that the White Lady loved Azeroth and its denizens so much that a child - the Blue Child - was born of that love (174-175).

The Blue Child, ever curious, began asking the White Lady questions about the mortals that weighed on her heart, as she could not answer (176).  

One night the White Lady woke up to find the Blue Child gone. Unable to find her, she swore off her charge until the Blue Child was returned to her (177-178).

Without her guidance, the planet sped up and the tides ceased. The White Lady was only convinced to return to her duty after the Sun urged her, telling her the Blue Child might return if she had the moonlight to guide her (178).

The White Lady began to glow even more brightly over time in the hopes that her child would see, her light quickly growing to rival that of the Sun’s. This, too, caused problems, for crops burned and navigators could not see the stars to travel by (179). 

Upon seeing the terrible effect this was having on Azeroth’s denizens, the White Lady dimmed her light and retreated (181). 

The Blue Child ultimately returned from her long travels to her mother. They embraced in the sky, creating a beautiful eclipse (182).

Ever curious, the Blue Child was bound to grow restless again and leave for the stars, but the White Lady knew she would always return (183). 

When the moon turns red, it is a sign of her anger (177). 

Why the Mermaids Left Boralus

Back when Kul Tiras was still a Gilnean colony, Boralus had hardly any walls or structures protecting it from the wind or sea. More often than not, when the Great Sea churned at the city’s edge, it took houses, ships, and even men down into its depths. So many would drown in these incidents that those remaining covered them with weighted nets, causing them to sink to the seafloor (187-188, 190). 

Many of the roads out of Boralus flooded during great storms, making it deadly to try to leave the city on foot or by ship (198).

The Kul Tirans declined to build a seawall for fear that it would have done nothing and also because repairing it after a storm would have been just as dangerous as the storms themselves (188).

Most of Boralus’ early inhabitants were seamen of some sort, whether fishers, sea priests, sailors, or pearl-divers (188). 

During storms, the tidesages would act as a makeshift seawall and use their power to cut the waves before they made it deeper into the harbor (199).

Mermaids appeared quite openly near Boralus in its early days. Though they lived much deeper than most could naturally dive, they liked to sit on the rocks and watch ships go by, among other things. Most lived in temples beneath the sea that belonged to Kul Tiras’ former inhabitants (189, 191). 

According to superstition, sighting a mermaid was bad luck and presaged many inauspicious things including a doomed voyage, a brutal winter, and poor fishing. They were also seen as the harbingers of storms (189-190). 

Tidesages were (and still are) always the first and last to disembark from a ship. As a result, they usually went down with their ships (191).

The tidesages’ unrivaled dedication, combined with the frequency of drownings and shipwrecks, often meant they died young (191). 

Mermaids are spawned from eggs and leave no corpses when they die (191, 203).

The mermaids had very little understanding of the Kul Tirans’ mistrust towards them (191). 

Mermaids have some power over the rocks and water - granted to them by the Tidemother from birth -, but they use it sparingly because it is finite. Once a mermaid runs out of magic, they die. As a result, mermaids can live up to five hundred years (192). 

Mermaids consider sirens lazy and murlocs deplorable (192).

According to legend, the bubble seaweed in Boralus Harbor is actually discarded pearls. A mermaid by the name of Halia fell in love with a tidesage and kept secretly gifting them to her as a token of her affection. The tidesage, Ery, was far too pragmatic for such a gift and dumped the pearls back in the water every time (195).

The mermaids believe that the Tidemother will give tails to those who slit their feet from toes to heels and walk into the harbor at dawn (197). 

According to legend, Boralus’ great stone seawall was formed through the combined efforts of dozens of mermaids and one lone tidesage. A virulent tempest had come upon Boralus one day, taking men and ships alike with it. Though the city’s tidesages gathered to push back the waves, all but one were lost to the storm over the course of five long days. The last remaining tidesage, Ery, persisted despite her exhaustion while the mermaid Halia, too afraid to watch her lover perish, began using her own magic to craft a seawall. Though the storm repeatedly broke it down, her fellow mermaids joined her, ultimately expending their magic and sacrificing themselves to raise a wall so grand it towered over even the mightiest of ships and waves. Ery herself nearly died after this, though Halia saved her by invoking the Tidemother. She cut Ery’s feet from toes to heels and dragged her into the harbor, performing the ritual necessary for her transformation into a mermaid (198-203).

All but one of the mermaids - Ery notwithstanding - perished to save Boralus, which is why none are seen there today (204-205).

As a result, the sailors of Boralus now see mermaids as a symbol of the highest honor, good luck, and sacrifice (205). 

During calm sunsets when the red of the sky is reflected in the harbor, sailors refer to it as “Ery’s blood,” after the tidesage who fought the storm so valiantly. Ery’s blood is a sign of good weather to come (205). 

The Courageous Kobold and the Wickless Candle

Kobolds tell a sleep-time story (209).

Kobold families live together in caves. They have their own nests, but congregate in common areas for stories, among other things (210).

Some time ago, the Whiskersnoot kobold tunnels crumbled, submerging the Whiskersnoots in total darkness. They lived like that for generations, having decided it was no longer safe to dig higher after the cave-in. This spawned a saying: “Never pick above your snout, else the darkness snuff you out!” (210-211). 

Granny Whiskersnoot, however, dug just a little bit upward every day until one day she broke through to a light above. She intended to lead the other kobolds to it, but could never find her way back through the tunnels again. It wasn’t until her granddaughter persisted in finding it that they made their way back above ground (211, 222). 

The kobolds think of the sun as a “Wickless Candle” (211). 

Visage Day

On a dragon’s Visage Day, they choose what mortal form they will take. This is significant, as it shows the Aspects trust them to adopt the guise of one of the mortal races and walk among them. It is the dragons’ hope that through choosing a form to embody and relate to mortals, the more mortals can understand dragons in turn (228, 234). 

Onyxia, on the other hand, maintains dragons choose visages that allow them to control the mortals (241). 

In accordance with tradition, the Visage Day ceremony occurs on the uppermost level of Wyrmrest Temple. Each of the Aspects are usually present for members of their own dragonflight, though Alexstrasza herself has been known to officiate on occasion. It is also customary for each flight to send emissaries (243). 

During the ceremony, all attendant dragons take their own mortal forms in honor of the dragon whose Visage Day it is (245). 

Before they publicly choose their form, the dragon in question traditionally makes a proclamation (245).

The Visage Day ceremony can be delayed (244). 

Nozdormu has helped many bronze dragons prepare for their own Visage Day (230).

When Nozdormu sits in the sands at the heart of the Bronze Dragonshine, intricate patterns form around him (233). 

Both Kalecgos and Chromie performed a short incantation to assume their mortal forms, though Nozdormu did not appear to need to (234, 236, 246). 

Kalecgos says that he chose a half-elf form - which he calls a “blend of mortal worlds” - in order to symbolize his own attempt to blend together the dragon and human worlds (237). 

Onyxia, on the other hand, opted to take the form of a beautiful human woman to better manipulate mortals (241). 

The dragons often go by nicknames in their mortal forms because they find their full names sound too formal to humans (238). 

The drakonid were fashioned by the dragons to be helpful and loyal (238).

The black dragonflight practices how best to inflict pain (239).