#which is the most blessed outcome possible

[muirneach]

anyways. the fact that felix plays casper next and its not a medal match is so beyond evil because i need casper gold but the way felix is playing i need him to capture a medal. also whoever wins that plays carlitos (unless paul ****) which is also terrible because id like him to medal also

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I deeply love all of the little echoes between the Silmarillion and LOTR, but this is one of my faves:

Last of all Húrin stood alone. Then he cast aside his shield, and wielded an axe two-handed; and it is sung that the axe smoked in the black blood of the troll-guard of Gothmog until it withered, and each time that he slew Húrin cried: ‘Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again!’

-Húrin at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears (C. 20, the Silmarillion)

"Hail, Lord of the Mark," said Éomer. "The dark night has passed, and day has come again."

-Éomer at the Battle of Helm's Deep (C. 6, Two Towers)

Naturally, I adore the fact that Éomer is the echo of Húrin, almost definitely the single most badass human of the entire First Age (and arguably of the first two ages!). What an honor for our horse boy! The echoing quote could easily have gone instead to Aragorn or an elf, both of whom are descendants of traditions that go all the way back to those First Age events where Húrin did his thing. But instead, the line went to the heir of a newer, younger people—a people who are, in many ways, more representative of the future of Middle Earth than the old, historical communities that have been in decline or fading for some time. So I love that choice of pairing. Húrin and Éomer feels less expected but more fitting to me.

Of course, the outcomes for these two are starkly different. Húrin is facing a crushing defeat and is about to be subjected to the wrath and punishment of Morgoth himself, which leaves him permanently destroyed emotionally. Éomer has just come out of an unexpected victory and is headed for another, at the end of which he can rebuild a happy life and even come to carry the royal title of Éomer Éadig, the Blessed. But I think that's the point of the echo.

Húrin did all that was possible (and arguably more!) for a human to do in the circumstances he faced, and in the end it wasn't enough. He never gets to enjoy a new morning. But that doesn’t mean he was wrong. Day does come again. It comes for Éomer. Because if there is one thing Tolkien wants us to know, it’s that you never give in to despair. You keep going and you try again, because eventually someone will find that sunrise and live to enjoy its warmth and brightness.

[elkian]

In Stars And Time (and its predecessor Start Again to a degree) did something really impressive in a video game: making a non-combatant child character not only likeable, but critical to the fabric of the story. Notably, the Kid is not a primary story character. They represent the common folk of the endangered fantasy land; someone whose home and family was taken by the Big Bad, leaving them stranded.

In the core party, we have the Housemaiden, blessed, immune to the worst status effect, bearing a unique elemental type, etc. It's actually very amusing that she is blatantly The Main Character of this story, because she isn't the POV character.

With her we have the Fighter, a good-hearted tank who worked as a Defender in the homeland of the first three; the Researcher, a foreigner traveling the land, who's book-smart and has a wide array of spells, the wizard type.

And then we have the POV character, Siffrin, a classic Improbably Good-Natured Wandering Rogue archetype. You know, the classic shifty thief-type and troublemaker who nonetheless aids the party without thought of reward and isn't actually a criminal despite the vibes? That kind of rogue.

The Kid isn't a playable character. They can contribute to combat, but it's randomized. The most you can do is equip them with gear and skills that affect the frequency of their input, and ask them to feed the party heals (and possibly feed the final boss a bomb).

What the Kid is, what they represent, is in many ways the emotional core of the party (as the party knows it; Siffrin might develop different ideas, but, notably, still cares deeply for the Kid's wellbeing).

The Kid provides snacks, which is partly about their heals-carrying role, but it has a broader application. Between each level in the main dungeon, there's a snack break with three options. As you play the game, looping over and over, choosing different snacks can be the most you can break out at times. Snacktime also creates a narrative and gameplay break, a time to chat with the party one-on-one.

The Kid is the moral support and backbone of the party; it's possible to tell this story without them, but it would, frankly speaking, be a less emotional, less interesting story, with lower stakes. The Kid is at risk when you fight; the adults team up and agree to protect them no matter the cost, and this is not a throwaway line. This has consequences. This creates texture.

Late in the game, Siffrin develops the option to do Party Member Personal Quests, and despite being a noncombatant, the Kid is one of them. All of these Quests are meaningful and important in their way, but the things we learn in the Kid's Quest are extremely important to understanding Siffrin. The other Quests have personal elements that Siffrin relates to, but this one is about him in a very specific way, that could not be fully replicated by mirroring the events referenced onto one of the adults. This Quest pans out the way it does because the Kid is a kid.

It's hard for me to put into exact words, especially when I don't want to spoil things, but there's even more specific details that make them important to the narrative progression, again, without being an "important" person in the context of the game world. By being important to Siffrin and the rest of the party, by having their narrative wound in with the others, the Kid is as integral to the story as any other character.

Kid characters like this in video games aren't often well-respected, and that tends to be for good reason - they tend to represent ludonarrative dissonance, be annoying, or be the product of overcompensation and have their importance rubbed into the player's face. Many of them could be extracted from the narrative without having a significant effect on the outcome, or would destroy the narrative because they're the focus character, borderline Morality Pets for protagonists. The Kid in ISAT and SA fascinates me, because I came to care about them in a very natural manner, not just because their personality and interactions are endearing, but because the way they and the other party members relate to each other has a tangible impact on the story and emotional core of the game.

[crusty-chronicles]

As requested, I present to you ✨

Hiei Bringing His Airheaded S/O To Demon World

Absolute chaos

The entire time he regrets bringing you there.

He only did so because he was tired of you crying everytime he left. Even though he always came back to you no matter what, idiot.

Truthfully, he prefers you staying in the living world because there's less things that could kill you.

No bloodthirsty demons salivating at the scent of you. No carnivorous plants waiting for you to aimlessly stumble into. And no threats of kidnapping and being used for ransom.

It's not like you can't take care of yourself, but the chances of a someone or something taking advantage of your naivety are high

Which is why he specifically tells you to stay close to him.

“If you get lost here, I won't try to find you.” It was a small warning that he'd never really follow through with. But he needed you to take this seriously.

“But you found me when I got lost on my way home that one time.”

“I mean it this time.”

He has to keep a constant eye on you at all times.

Even going as far as holding your hand to keep you in place.

Which is very humiliating for him. The three eyed demon not used to openly showing his affections.

His first stop is Mukuro's base. To which you responded ‘Why is it moving??? I think I'm gonna get motion sickness.’

Because of his constant supervision, he isn't really able to do his job.

And so it begins.

He needs his Jagan, so it's either you or the other poor humans who stumbled past the makai barrier.

Guess who he chooses most of the time.

The few times he does leave you, he makes sure you're occupied with something.

“Go spar with those new recruits over there while I'm gone.”

“Okay!”

Bless those poor demons. They never stood a chance.

Hiei warned Mukuro beforehand about you.

How you're decently strong but don't have a single thought in your head.

She didn't believe him at first. At least, not until she met you in person.

How you managed to bust a hole in the wall by tripping, she'd never know. She saw it happen, but she still doesn't understand how it's possible.

Hiei introduces you to her and immediately regrets it.

“You’re a liar! You said you didn't have any friends.” You pointed out, causing the three eyed demon to tense up.

“I don't. Mukuro's an ally.”

“We both know it's the same for you.”

He's actually mad you're smart enough to figure that out but not why you shouldn't eat glass.

He's pretty embarrassed about your relationship. Not because he's ashamed of you. Couldn't be any further than the truth. He relishes in the fact you're so strong, paired along with your heart that has more kindness than he's able to fathom.

No, Hiei is embarrassed because here he's respected. His reputation is infamous and he's regarded highly. Known to be cruel yet reasonable.

But here he is telling you not to wonder off like some worried parent.

Here he is inspecting the smallest of cuts on your finger and healing it.

It's just so embarrassing for him to be soft in front of others who aren't you.

“So this is the one that has you returning to the human world.” Mukuro teased.

But Hiei wouldn't take the bait.

“I don't know what you're talking about.

Only for you to come up to him with a small gem. Presenting it proudly to him.

“Hiei! Look what I found! Isn't it pretty?”

It's a ruby. Something you'd told him reminds you of his eyes. It makes a tinge of red appear on his face.

But Hiei's a stubborn demon.

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” A tone that would sound cruel to anyone but you.

“Maybe I could turn it into a necklace like the one you gave me.”

“That's a ridiculous idea.”

It was inevitable something would happen to you on this trip. A lot of demons were still bitter about the outcome of the tournament. And with Hiei's involvement with the reform, you were only a huge target.

He ends up wearing it for the rest of the trip. Guarding it with his life. Much to the amusement of the Mukuro and her henchmen.

He came back to the base expecting to see you waiting, but you weren't there.

He didn't waste a second using his Jagan to find you.

He fully prepared to end the life of whatever demon decided to mess with his mate, but when he found you, you'd already taken care of it.

Save for a few scratches on your arm, you were completely fine.

It led to Hiei scolding you for walking off with someone you didn't know. Promising this would be the last time you ever came here for acting so reckless, and that you weren't to leave his side for the rest of the time you were here.

It proved that he was right with you staying in the living world. It was safer for you. And he had Kurama to take care of you if anything happened. You were completely alone here.

“How come you didn't want me to come here?” You asked while he went over your injuries once more.

His answer came immediately.

“Because I knew you wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble.”

“Hey, it's not my fault that guy wanted to fight. How was I supposed to know he wasn't a part of Mukuro’s army?”

He glared up at you.

“You're an idiot.” Then his gaze softened. A look reserved only for you.

“…But you're my idiot, therefore my responsibility. I can't have you getting hurt on my watch.”

What kind of mate would he be if he couldn't even take care of you in his element?

You sat in silence for a while, and he briefly wondered if he went too far. You usually never took his harsh words to heart. He was relieved when he heard you speak again.

“You seem to really like it here. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to stayed after all one of these days.”

You still thought he would just abandon you? Truly your naivety infuriated him.

“In case I haven't made my intentions clear before, I come back for you and you only. Yet you still doubt my devotion. If you expect me to stay in the living world forever with you, you shouldn't.” But I'll always come back for you. Words he'd said over and over again.

An idea struck you then.

“We could stay here if you want. Get all old together. Maybe start a family.”

He couldn't stop the heat crawling onto his face. The way the red seemed to glow from his flustered state. He had to look away from you and move back.

“As if. I have no intentions to keep you here, nor procreate with someone who can't even tie their shoe.”

He heard you laugh and the red only worsened from there.

He didn't like the effect your words had on him.

Tempting him with something so sweet. Something that would inevitably give him even more of a weak spot.

But you weren't meant for this world. Your home was on the other side of this barrier. And his was with you.

For now this arrangement of being with you periodically would work.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Word count: 3.7k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n reflects on her evolving relationship with Tywin Lannister, which transitions from a secret affair to a profound alliance as they prepare to marry, while political tensions escalate with Tyrion’s trial and the brutal outcome of the trial by combat leaves her questioning Tywin’s ruthlessness

Warnings: Mature Themes, Possessiveness, Death, Graphic violence, manipulation, power dynamics, Emotional distress

_________________________________________________

The trial of Tyrion Lannister reached its climax in a flurry of accusations and manipulated testimonies. I watched from the shadows, carefully observing every player in the room. My relationship with Tywin had shifted from an affair hidden behind closed doors to something far more profound. The deeper I waded into the political intrigue of the court, the more I realized that we were bound by something more than just power or lust. We had become partners in the game, each relying on the other for strength and strategy.

But there was one more move left to play—one that would cement our alliance, not just in politics but in life. Tywin and I were going to marry.

A few days before Tyrion’s fate was to be decided, Tywin met with Lady Olenna in the gardens of the Red Keep. The tension between them was palpable, though I had little doubt that Olenna was enjoying every moment of their verbal sparring. She was the only person in King’s Landing who could match Tywin’s sharp wit and unflinching demeanor, and I knew he both respected and loathed her for it.

“So,” Olenna began, a sly smile playing on her lips as they strolled through the manicured paths. “You’re here to talk about Y/n, aren’t you?”

Tywin’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. He wasn’t accustomed to being read so easily, but with Olenna, he couldn’t help it. “Yes. I wish to discuss the possibility of taking her hand in marriage.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Marriage, Lord Tywin? At your age?”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s a logical step.”

“Logical?” she echoed, her smile growing. “Come now, Tywin. We both know you’ve had no interest in marriage since Joanna. What’s changed?”

He stopped walking and faced her, his expression as hard as ever, though I knew better than to think he was unaffected. “Circumstances have changed. Y/n has proven herself to be more than just a fleeting amusement. She understands this game, and she plays it better than most. Together, we would be... formidable.”

Olenna chuckled softly. “Ah, so this is about power after all. I was starting to think you might actually be fond of her.”

Tywin’s face darkened slightly. “I respect her. That is more than I can say for most women at court.”

“Oh, please. Spare me the stone-faced act, Tywin,” Olenna said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re not doing this just for power. You may be ruthless, but you’re still human. You care about her, and that’s why you’re willing to put your neck on the line by marrying again. And let’s be honest, it’s also why you’re standing here, asking me for my approval. You know as well as I do that Y/n is... special.”

Tywin remained silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less commanding. “I didn’t plan on this, Olenna. I didn’t intend to marry again. But Y/n has become... important.”

Olenna’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Important? Tywin Lannister, admitting something so close to affection? The world may end any moment now.”

He scowled, but Olenna continued before he could respond. “Well, I suppose I could give my blessing. But remember, Tywin, once Y/n is your wife, we’ll be more closely connected than ever. Our families, our ambitions, intertwined.” Her smile was mischievous. “I wonder if you’ll come to regret that.”

The next step was meeting with my father. He had never been as shrewd or calculating as Olenna, but he held influence nonetheless. When Tywin approached him about my hand, the conversation was more direct, as my father, though less sharp, was no fool.

“It’s unexpected,” my father said, sipping his wine as they sat in his chambers. “I didn’t think you’d remarry.”

“I had no intention of doing so,” Tywin admitted, his voice as cool as ever. “But Y/n is not like the women I’ve encountered before.”

My father smiled slightly. “She takes after her grandmother in that regard. I always thought she would find herself in a powerful marriage, though I must say, I didn’t expect it to be with the Lord of Casterly Rock.”

Tywin’s gaze was steady. “I value her mind, her strength, and her ability to navigate court life. With her beside me, our houses will be stronger.”

My father considered this, nodding thoughtfully. “And does she know about this proposal?”

“She will soon,” Tywin replied. “But I wanted your approval first.”

A pause hung in the air, and for a moment, my father looked almost somber. “Do you care for her, Tywin? I know what kind of man you are. I’ve watched you for years. Y/n is strong, but she’s still my daughter. If you hurt her…”

Tywin’s expression remained unreadable, but his tone shifted slightly, more earnest than before. “I will not hurt her. In my own way, I care for her more than I’ve cared for anyone since Joanna.”

My father seemed satisfied with that, though there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes. “Then you have my blessing.”

The night Tywin told me about his conversations with Olenna and my father, I felt a wave of emotions I hadn’t anticipated. Marriage. I had known it was a possibility, even an inevitability, but hearing Tywin speak of it so plainly stirred something inside me.

We sat in his chambers, as we always did, but this time the air felt different—charged with the weight of what was to come. He looked at me with those piercing eyes, always calculating, always watching, but there was a softness there that I had begun to recognize.

“Do you want this?” I asked him quietly, my voice steady despite the swirl of thoughts in my mind.

Tywin didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t want to marry again. But now, things are different. You are different.”

I met his gaze, searching for any trace of uncertainty, but found none. “And what happens when we’re married? Do I become just another Lannister pawn?”

He reached out, his hand brushing against mine. “No. You will be my equal in this. Together, we will command more power than either of us could alone.”

“And your affection?” I teased lightly, though my heart raced. “Will you guard that as closely as you guard your power?”

Tywin’s lips quirked into a rare smile, one that made my heart skip a beat. “Affection is dangerous in our world, Y/n. But with you, I’ve found it’s a danger I’m willing to accept.”

I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Then it’s settled.”

In the days following our decision, the court buzzed with rumors of our impending marriage. Some saw it as a brilliant political move, others whispered about the unusual nature of it all—how Tywin, after all these years, had finally taken a new bride.

______________________________________________________________

The throne room was filled with the heavy, suffocating tension of impending violence. I sat beside Tywin, watching as the trial by combat unfolded before us. The air was thick with anticipation, the entire court on edge as Oberyn Martell faced off against Ser Gregor Clegane. Tyrion stood off to the side, shackled and silent, his eyes flicking between the fighters. His fate was in the balance, and while my heart ached for him, I remained quiet, my hand resting in Tywin’s, our fingers interlaced in a way that made it seem like a casual gesture of solidarity. But I could feel the weight of it—a reminder of where my loyalties lay, even in the face of cruelty.

Tywin’s grip on my hand was firm, and I could feel his eyes on me, even though he did not turn his head. “Don’t look away,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “If you do, they will think you are weak. And weakness, in this court, is fatal.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. I wanted to look away—every instinct in me screamed to avert my gaze from the brutal spectacle before me. But Tywin’s words anchored me, and I kept my eyes fixed on the fight, even as the sounds of clashing steel and heavy breathing filled the air.

I could see the cruelty in his commands. This was the same man who could orchestrate his own son’s death without flinching. Tyrion’s trial, the trial by combat—it was all a cold calculation to Tywin, another move on his chessboard. I squeezed his hand tightly, not out of affection, but out of an anxious need for control. I couldn’t allow my emotions to show, not here, not now.

And yet, the fear lingered at the edges of my thoughts. If Tywin could do this to Tyrion, his own son, what would he be capable of with our future children? The thought sent a chill through me, and I felt a pang of doubt twist in my chest. He was ruthless, calculating—qualities I admired and had even learned to love in him. But would that same coldness extend to any child we might have together?

Would he see them only as heirs, as pawns to secure the future of House Lannister? Or worse, would he show them the same disdain he had for Tyrion, should they disappoint him?

My heart clenched at the thought. I wanted children—many of them. I had always imagined a large family, one filled with warmth, laughter, and love. But Tywin’s idea of family was far different. To him, family was duty and legacy. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, his face unreadable as ever, watching the fight with the same detachment he approached everything.

Could he ever be a father in the way I hoped? Or would he be a tyrant, even to his own blood?

A sickening crack echoed through the room, and my attention snapped back to the trial by combat. Oberyn had struck Ser Gregor down, and for a moment, it seemed as though Tyrion might win. My heart lifted, and I saw a flash of hope in Tyrion’s eyes as well. But it was short-lived. Gregor Clegane, impossibly strong, rose again, his massive hands closing around Oberyn’s head.

The sounds that followed—bones crunching, Oberyn’s final scream of agony—made my stomach churn. I fought to keep my expression neutral, though I could feel bile rising in my throat. My hand clenched tighter around Tywin’s, my knuckles white.

Oberyn fell, lifeless, and the Mountain stood victorious, blood dripping from his hands. The room erupted into murmurs, and I could feel the eyes of the court on Tywin, waiting for him to deliver the final blow to his son.

Tywin rose slowly, his grip still firm on my hand, as though grounding me to the moment. His voice was as cold as winter when he spoke.

“Tyrion Lannister, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt my heart drop. The cruelty of it, the coldness in Tywin’s voice—it terrified me in a way I hadn’t fully realized before. Tyrion was his son, and yet, there was no hesitation, no sign of remorse. If Tywin could be this heartless with his own blood, how would he be with any child we might have?

Would he ever be capable of love, of gentleness, or would he mold them into warriors of his own ambition, just as he had tried to mold Jaime and Cersei?

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to remain composed. The court was watching us—watching me—and I couldn’t afford to appear weak, as Tywin had warned. Still, the weight of my fears pressed down on me like a suffocating fog.

Tywin released my hand and turned to address the court, leaving me to sit silently, my thoughts racing. I wanted to believe that he cared for me more than as a political alliance. He had shown me tenderness in our private moments—moments where we spoke not of politics or strategy but of simpler things. Yet those moments seemed so distant now, swallowed by the brutality of this world.

As the court began to disperse, I remained in my seat, my hands trembling slightly. I couldn’t escape the gnawing fear in my heart. Tyrion would die, and I had done nothing to stop it. I was complicit in Tywin’s cruelty, just as I would be complicit in whatever future we built together.

But what kind of future would that be?

Later that night, I found myself alone with Tywin in his chambers. The atmosphere was heavy, and I could feel the strain of the day’s events weighing on both of us. I sat by the fire, my thoughts still tangled with doubt and fear.

Tywin stood across the room, watching me with that ever-calculating gaze. “You’re troubled,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Tyrion... it’s cruel, Tywin. He’s your son.”

Tywin’s expression hardened. “Tyrion has brought this upon himself. He has been a disgrace to our family since the day he was born.”

I bit my lip, the words catching in my throat. “And if we have children? Will you be just as ruthless with them?”

His eyes softened just a fraction, and he crossed the room to stand before me. “Our children will be strong. They will not fail me as Tyrion has.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching. “I want many children, Tywin. But I don’t want them to fear you.”

He knelt before me, taking my hands in his. “They will respect me. And they will have the strength to survive in this world.”

I searched his face for any sign of tenderness, any hint of the man I had grown to love behind the cold mask of Lord Tywin Lannister. “I want more than just strength for them. I want them to feel safe. Loved.”

Tywin’s gaze softened further, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You will be their mother. And you will give them the warmth I cannot. But I will protect them. And I will protect you.”

I held his gaze, my fears still lingering but less sharp now. Tywin might never be the father I dreamed of for our children, but he was a man of his word. He would protect us. And perhaps, in time, he would come to understand that love was as powerful a weapon as any sword or army.

We sat in silence for a moment, the fire casting shadows on the walls. Tywin’s hand tightened around mine, and for the first time that day, I allowed myself to exhale, the weight on my chest lifting just a little.

But the game was far from over. Tyrion’s execution loomed, and with it, a new chapter in the story of House Lannister—and in my life as Lady Lannister.

I would have to be ready for whatever came next. But tonight, I would find solace in the man who had both terrified and captivated me, and in the promise of the family we would build together.

No matter how dangerous that future might be.

______________________________________________________________

The air between us hung heavy with the tension of the day’s events. The words I had spoken lingered—about children, about the future. Tywin’s eyes, still calculating but darker now with something else, studied me intently. He was no longer the ruthless commander of men but a man driven by something primal, something stirred by our talk of heirs and legacy. I could see the shift in him, the subtle yet unmistakable hunger that crept into his gaze.

His hand, still gripping mine, slid upwards to cup my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You want children,” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous, filled with the promise of something I hadn’t fully grasped until now.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling a shiver run down my spine, not from fear, but from anticipation.

Tywin’s lips pressed against mine with a possessive urgency, his hand already moving to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His kiss was not gentle—it was demanding, full of intent. There was no question in my mind now what he wanted, and the thought sent heat coursing through my body.

He broke the kiss and stood, pulling me up with him. His eyes locked onto mine with a fire I rarely saw in him, except in moments of victory or conquest. “If you want children, you shall have them,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands already working to remove my dress. “But not just any children. My children. Heirs to House Lannister. Strong. Unyielding.”

I gasped as he tore the fabric from my body, leaving me bare before him. His eyes raked over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable. He undressed himself quickly, and soon we stood together, both stripped of the layers that had once separated us. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power of his presence overwhelming.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his hands spreading my legs as he loomed over me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You will give me sons,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Strong sons, to carry my name.”

The weight of his body settled on top of me, and I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressed against my thigh. My breath hitched, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and need. I wanted this—wanted him in every way. The thought of carrying his children, of being the mother to the next generation of Lannisters, thrilled me more than I had ever imagined.

He entered me in one swift motion, his grip on my hips tight as he began to move with a steady, determined rhythm. Each thrust was forceful, claiming, and I met him with equal fervor, my nails digging into his back as we moved together. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans that escaped my lips.

Tywin’s hand moved to my belly, pressing down slightly as he thrust deeper into me, his eyes locked onto mine. “You will bear my sons,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You will give me heirs.”

I moaned in response, my body arching beneath him as the intensity of our connection built. His words, the promise of what we were creating together, only fueled my desire. I wanted to please him, to give him everything he demanded. My fingers tangled in his hair as I pulled him down for another kiss, our mouths clashing in a desperate, hungry embrace.

But then, suddenly, the door to the chamber flew open with a crash, and both of us froze, turning to see the intruder.

Tyrion stood in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. His chains were gone—he had escaped his cell, but he hadn’t planned on finding his father in the middle of bedding Y/n Tyrell.

I gasped, my body still pinned beneath Tywin, but neither of us moved. Tyrion’s eyes flickered between the two of us, the reality of the situation sinking in as he took a step back, his expression a twisted mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“Father,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t realize…"

Tywin, without so much as moving off me, locked eyes with his son, his face cold, unyielding. “Leave.”

Tyrion’s jaw clenched. “After everything, after all your scheming, this is what I walk into?”

Tywin narrowed his eyes. “You have no right to speak, Tyrion. Not here. Not now.”

I could see the rage building in Tyrion, the pain and betrayal that had driven him to the point of desperation. He wanted to fight, to lash out, but I could also see the weight of everything pressing down on him. He was on the brink of losing everything, and yet, he hesitated.

I placed a hand on Tywin’s chest, gently pushing him back, and sat up, covering myself with the sheet. “Tyrion,” I said softly, trying to defuse the situation. “Please… leave King’s Landing. Escape. It’s your only chance.”

His eyes shifted to me, his expression unreadable. “You want me to run?” he asked, bitterness lacing his voice. “After everything I’ve been through, you think I’ll just run?”

I met his gaze, my heart aching for him. Tyrion had never been given the love he deserved, not from his father, not from his family. But if he stayed, there would be no mercy. “You must. If you stay, you will die. Tywin will not show mercy.”

Tywin’s hand tightened around my arm, his grip firm, but I didn’t flinch. I looked at Tyrion, pleading silently with him to listen. “Please, Tyrion. Just leave. Find a way out of the city. Live.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it, his eyes flicking between me and Tywin. Finally, he nodded, his expression hardening. “Perhaps you’re right,” he muttered, his voice filled with resignation. “But know this, father—this is not the end. You may have won today, but your victory will be short-lived.”

With that, Tyrion turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving Tywin and me in tense silence.

Tywin exhaled slowly, his hand still resting on my arm, but the urgency of our moment had passed. He pulled away from me, standing up and moving to the side of the bed.

“You showed him mercy,” he said quietly, not looking at me.

I sat up, the sheet still wrapped around me, my heart pounding from the tension of the encounter. “He is your son,” I said softly. “I could not let him die like this.”

Tywin turned, his gaze hard and unreadable. “And what if he comes back? What if he seeks revenge?”

I met his gaze, unflinching. “Then we will deal with it when the time comes. But for now, he is gone. That is all that matters.”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded, as if accepting my words. “You will bear my sons,” he said again, his voice lower now, more thoughtful. “And they will be strong.”

I nodded, my heart heavy but resolute. I would give him the heirs he wanted, and I would be the mother to his legacy. But I would also ensure that our children were more than just pawns in his game. They would know love, and they would know kindness.

And perhaps, in time, Tywin would come to understand that strength came in many forms—some that even he had yet to grasp.

[toutvatoujoursbien]

midnight thoughts (i hope i don't regret this)

Let me preface this by saying that these are just (very, very long) ramblings I’ve had in my head over the past few days and are MY opinions. I never post to Tumblr, but my level of emotional unhinged-ness right now needs an outlet so that I can process everything and feel, well, less unhinged.

I have never been this enamored with any celebrity or promo for a show like I have for this season of Bridgerton. Admittedly, I am a fan of the books and Penelope & Colin are my favorite couple. I’m going to age myself by saying that I read the series almost 20-ish years ago; past me could have never imagined I would actually get to see a Regency romance on my screen. Romances are for the girlies, and what the girlies like tends to be mocked, ridiculed, and not taken seriously - I’ve seen this time and time again across many different fandoms. I also really enjoy the tv series for being its own creative adaptation. I’ve liked many (though not all) of the changes they’ve made to the show; and I’ve liked all the little nods to the books that have been sprinkled in. Are the books or show perfect? Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love them for bringing me some entertainment and joy and escapism. I think that’s the beauty of it, I get to have the best of both worlds, so to speak. And for me personally, it’s been so fun to watch the press coverage over the past six or so months. As a fandom, I think we’ve been EXTREMELY well fed. 

Having Nicola and Luke as the leads has been a true blessing; I think/hope folks can tell how much they clearly love and understand their characters/roles. I know everyone has been talking nonstop about their chemistry and their close friendship, which I think is beautiful, truly unique and special. How can you not enjoy watching two people, who seem to genuinely like one other, talk endlessly about a project that they love and have poured so much into? And the way they have supported one another, not only during promo, but during their years of friendship? Astonishing, really. So while I am old enough to know better than to ship real people, I would’t blame anyone (myself included) if they got caught up in the whirlwind excitement and couldn’t help but wonder a sincere “What if?” (At least that was the case for me.) Isn’t that the beauty of hope and possibility and potential? Like, I knew rationally and intellectually that the likelihood of them being together was low, but damn if I didn’t feel giddy seeing their interviews, reading articles, and watching video after video.

“Oh, but it’s all PR!” they cry. Maybe, but like most of life, I don’t think it’s so simple or clear. I think there’s been a lot of nuance and perhaps some blurring of the lines during this promo tour. As long as we are respectful about it and realize that at the end of the day, the only opinions that matter in regards to their relationship are N & L’s, I don’t think some lighthearted dreaming is unheard of. We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye. 

(And yes, I know this is the internet and therefore everyone has an opinion - again, myself included. But I struggle to understand why some people think that their opinions should be deemed THE most important to the discussion or would have an impact on any type of outcome, especially in this particular scenario… I hope it’s obvious I’m referring to the very vocal people that chose to expend their energy in hateful, negative ways. Aren’t you exhausted?

However, as a longtime lurker, I have to admit it’s been absolutely fascinating reading all the different perspectives and takes on this too. I think reading other POVs and seeing people articulate points that challenge me and make me think is a good thing - again, as long as it’s all in a respectful manner. 

Also I have spent literal years curating and cultivating a social media bubble that doesn’t make me want to cry or give up on life. I don’t seek out negativity and hate - constructive criticism for a thing is a different matter. It may be “putting blinders up,” but honestly, real life can be a shitty enough place that I would like to spend my limited time online looking at cute things and learning or reading about stuff that makes me feel less alone in the world.)

Last week, I stayed off social media to avoid Bridgerton spoilers until I could watch Part 2. I did open Twitter on Thursday to check on something that was entirely unrelated, saw the absolute meltdown of a shitstorm brewing and quickly NOPED out of it. (I was also reminded of why Twitter scares me at times. And I'm not calling it X because that is stupid.) When I finally caught up over the weekend (both with Bridgerton and… all the other stuff 😅), I felt like I was experiencing mental and emotional whiplash.

Look, ultimately, I don’t know them personally and know even less about their private lives. As an outside observer (even though, yes, I have a vested interest in them), Nicola is fucking amazing and Luke seems to be a nice, sweet guy. I think they are each others support, and it has been mentioned many times that she has helped him deal with the intensity/anxiety of being in the spotlight this season. So here are some potentially hot takes: I just think, when they’re together, it’s like he’s a different, better person. When he soaks up even a little bit of her light (sorry, I had to), I can see all the qualities in him that she is constantly gushing about. But, and again this is my take on it, I also think he has a lot of growing up to do. I don’t know much about his supposed “hot/fuck boy summer,” but it seems to me that he’s perhaps going through his own Colin phase, which he can totally do. I genuinely want to see him and Nic succeed. However, I do think he’s got to get a better handling on his media image now (this whole thing reeks of a PR nightmare, but I need to take off my comms professional hat). The way this has all played out has been, imo, a clusterfuck. There are other issues that I’m also not going to get into at the moment. 

The thing that frustrated me the most is the timing of those “leaked” photos. You’re telling me that N&L went through SIX months of a - literal - worldwide promo tour, building up hype, doing countless interviews and appearances, etc., only to have these pap pictures “captured” on the night of the Pt. 2 London premiere??? And yes, while I’m aware there were rumblings of a gf being at various events/locations, I didn’t pay much attention to it (read: my curated social media bubble, lol). And I think the lack of confirmation up to that point from Luke and his team just mades things even more tricky/messy. So when the inevitable backlash played out online, piled on top of the hate Polin seems to get from many corners of the internet (Is it ship wars? Regular trolls just trolling? Polin and/or Lukola antis? People who, for whatever reason, don’t like the actors themselves or, worse, don’t like the creative choices/decisions made by the higher-ups and therefore deem it okay to spread hate online? All of the above, most likely.), I know I felt like I had been hit by a train.

Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together. I was happy with Season 3, which perhaps I will deep dive about in another post because this one has already spiraled out of control. Were there things I wished they had included or, rather, things that could have been left out? Yes, of course. But at the end of the day, I think we got a beautiful story led by two actors who love Polin as much as we do. And I cannot wait to see them back for Season 4. Plus, seriously, those viewing numbers alone should have been mostly what people are talking about. I hope all this doesn’t take away from the overall impact of the show and season.

I think it’s okay to be disappointed by all the stuff that has come out over the last few days. I think it’s perfectly human to want/need to process your thoughts and emotions. What is NOT OKAY is sending hate to anyone, period. And I hope you don’t let all that has happened sour your enjoyment of Season 3 and/or Polin.

Lastly, if you take anything away from this long ass post, it’s that Nicola is a GODDAMN QUEEN. Anyone who says otherwise is speaking slander and we do not stand for that in this house. She has carried herself during this time with grace, charm, and poise, consistently and constantly. And she is always ready for a mega fashion moment. She must be exhausted - already on to her next film/job but also perpetually online, and even stepping up to defend her costar. I may have to do a whole separate post just gushing about her and add to all the people already singing her praises. (And as a big fuck you to all the haters.)

Geez Louise, I clearly have a lot of feelings (more than I allowed myself to believe I did…). But I would love to hear what others think! Please, I need friends with whom I can have rational (okay, maybe slightly unhinged), spirited, deep analyses and discussion of this whole thing, or anything else we might have in common!

[sierrawitch]

Scottish Saining

by autumn sierra

The word “sain” is Scottish in origin (related to “seun”—or the Old Irish “sén”—meaning “charm”), and goes back as far as the 11th century. It describes the practice of purifying and blessing things, people, and places. Essentially, saining removes the influences of malevolent or generally negative spirits and energies and protects against future encounters as well as hexes, curses, mallacht, piseógs, etc. It isn’t necessarily an energy cleansing practice alone, although some might interpret it this way. Saining is known to be one part blessing, one part cleansing, and one part protection, though I would say it weighs a bit heavier in the blessing aspect.

There are also different saining methods by way of the different elements and other items. It is possible to sain with water, smoke, fire, and tar (even written poetry or prayer read/spoken aloud). To do so, one marks the object, person, or location with an equal armed cross turned diagonally in the shape of an “x”.

Although there are a variety of methods to use when saining, I very much prefer using the element I feel most connected with: earth. And I do this by employing different plant spirits.

The most common plant spirit incorporated in this practice is Juniper. When burnt, Juniper was said to ward off witches, evil spirits, negative energies, and keep away everyday pests and disease. Exits and entrances to the home would be closed to allow the smoke to fill each room before it was released outside into the open air, carrying with it everything unwanted. Not only can the fronds be burnt, but the berries as well. And not a lot is needed to reach the desired outcome which is wonderful for maintaining the sustainability of the plant.

Heather, Rowan, Cedar, Pine, Rosemary, and Sage (salvia verbenaca in Ireland and Britain or salvia officinalis on the mainland; not white sage) are also used for saining. In my practice, I personally prefer Cedar or Pine since they are bioregional to my home, and I feel more drawn to their spirits.

Although not commonly used in my personal practice, water is a very popular method by which to sain. Water can be steeped with plants and/or blessed before use. Known for its natural purifying energy, water is very efficient when cleansing and protecting, so it may be arguably easier to notice the effects of saining after its use.

In the end, it comes down to the individual preference of the practitioner to decide which saining method to use in their practice. Take the time to listen to what calls to you, try different methods to see which one feels right. Work with different plants and elements and connect with your land as you do to enhance your practice.

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 02

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

Y/N wasn’t sure what her best option was. She had three running through her mind, trying to decide in just a few seconds what the best possible outcome could be.

One, she could simply act as if she had never read that message. After all, she never opened his texts, she just read them through her notifications on her phone’s lock screen. She could simply reply in half an hour that she didn’t see them on time and that she was already close to her home, and that the show was amazing. 

This way, she’d simply avoid what she dreaded the most; the awkward conversation about how they’ve been. 

Two, she could simply stay in the pit and follow what he told her; wait for a bodyguard to retrieve her to get her backstage. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the difference was that this time, she wasn’t alone, and they weren’t dating anymore. She’d need to tell both Maia and Natalie about the little huge secret she kept.

They didn’t know anything about it because Y/N had become close friends with them until the pandemic ended and life returned to normal —going back to classes on January 2022— and by that time, she had recently ended things with Harry.

They had broken up in December 2021 and throughout that semester (August-December), she had been traveling with him on his North America tour, meaning she decided to take all of her classes online, even though some of them were already offered to be on campus with a facemask on.

But then, after the breakup, she came back to the California campus for her final semester, ready to graduate in the summer, which she did. There was where she became a very close friend to Maia and Natalie, so technically, she never lied to them about it.

She had mentioned months ago that she had an ex-boyfriend, and how they dated for almost two years before things got complicated and broke up. And yes, she had told them his name was Harry, but that was about it.

She wasn’t sure how her friends would react if the Harry she had told them about was nonetheless, Harry fucking Styles.

And finally, her third option would be to tell her friends that she’ll make her way home later and that they should start getting ahead. What excuse was she going to tell them? She had no idea. And honestly… she knew that neither Maia nor Natalie would want to leave her alone, so this option was almost impossible.

“Are you okay?” Natalie interrupted her thoughts, and that’s when Y/N noticed she had been stuck in her tracks, staring at her screen while she tried to figure out what she should do. “You’ve been standing there for about a minute looking at your phone.”

Maia and Natalie were both looking at her with concern, and for a moment, Y/N felt somehow bad that she was ruining their good moods with her own worries. Minutes earlier, they were thrilled, ranting about the show nonstop, and now, it seemed like the mood between the trio died a little.

Y/N was highly expressive with her facial features, which was both a curse and a blessing, and for that, she knew she couldn’t lie about how she was feeling. But, that didn’t mean she couldn’t say a tiny white lie to lift their concerns.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about,” She shrugged their concerns off, plastering a smile on her lips, “I just got a reminder of something work-related, a few things I need to get done before Monday.”

Maia groaned, “I don’t even want to talk about work right now, I miss being a university student, and simply pushing all the work for Sunday night.” Her comment made the girls laugh, remembering the stress they’d feel trying to complete a whole long assignment in just three hours.

“Stressful times,” Natalie commented with a chuckle, before checking the hour on her own phone, “It’s almost eleven, do you guys want to crash over at my apartment, or do you want to go out?”

And that’s when Y/N decided which was her best option, to leave right now with her friends and act like Harry never asked her to stay back to meet with her backstage. Her past relationship would remain a secret, and she wouldn’t have to explain everything to her friends. 

Later in the night, she’ll simply reply that she didn’t see it in time and that the show was amazing.

“Even though I’m just 23, I’m tired already. So much jumping, dancing, and screaming.” Maia replied, to which Y/N agreed. “I’d love to crash at your place and just order some takeout.”

“Perfect,” Natalie replied, and hooked both of her arms with her friends, “Shall we?”

As the three girls resumed their way to the exit of the pit —which was already more on the empty side— they talked about the number of feathers that decorated the floor. It was crazy, really, the number of colors that fans brought to each show.

Y/N loved it.

“Wait!” Maia stopped the girls, and turned to look at them with a grin, “let’s record a quick Tiktok! The one where you stand in the pit with a straight face, and the song Static plays up, and you’re like ‘the concert ended, what now?’” 

But before Y/N could say that she wasn’t sure about it, due to the fact that she wanted to leave the place as soon as possible and avoid the bodyguard who’ll come to retrieve her in a few minutes, Maia was already pulling both girls to the barricade alongside her.

In the blink of an eye, Maia had already handed her phone to a random fan who was standing nearby, and the three girls stood side by side. Y/N was wearing her green and black outfit, while Maia wore pink and Natalie yellow.

“Three… two… one!” The girl who was recording them announced to them that the Tiktok was now recording, and the three girls remained serious, their eyes locked on the camera as the girl recording took a few steps back, just like the trend. “Done! I loved it.”

“Thank you so much!” Y/N replied, taking Maia’s phone in her hands. She was beginning to feel nervous, the quicker they left, the less probability there was that she would be approached. The girl simply smiled at her, mumbling a ‘you’re welcome’ and went with her friend, leaving the trio behind.

Y/N handed Maia her phone, and the short-haired girl was quick to post it, typing a quick caption and adding the harrystyles and lotnight5 hashtags, along with tagging Natalie’s and Y/N’s users.

“Okay, now let’s go!” 

And as the trio started to take steps away from the barricade, Y/N let out a deliberately quiet exhale, relief filling her body a few seconds later as she finally crossed the exit doors from the pit and unto the outside of the Kia Forum. 

But, that relief she felt for those few seconds didn’t last long. 

As the girls started to make their way unto the hallway that led to the parking lot, the girl in the green outfit felt a gentle, yet sturdy hand on her shoulder, making her turn around to look for the owner of the extremity, who was now looking for her attention.

Y/N swore she felt her heart falling to her feet as she saw who was now in front of her. It wasn’t a regular bodyguard or another fan that had stopped her —no— it was none other than Jeff, Harry’s manager and someone she had many conversations with (both pleasant and non-pleasant) in the past. He was a friend to her, but he was still Harry’s manager, and he needed to take some decisions from time to time that she didn’t like.

He wore a facemask that covered half of his face, and to disguise himself, he wore a Kia Forum Staff vest, just like the people around the place who worked at the arena. Obviously, he wasn’t dumb enough to come out to the hallways of the Kia Forum with nothing hiding who he truly was, since he knew he’d be surrounded by fans who would recognize him.

“Y/N?” He asked lowly, trying not to raise suspicion or catch fans’ attention. 

“Hey Jeff,” Y/N exclaimed, using a low voice too, putting on a forced smile on her lips. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him, she used to get along really well with him, but the circumstances were the ones that she didn’t like much. “How you’ve been?”

She knew that there was no escaping now; she’ll face her ex-boyfriend after one of his concerts.

Great.

“I’ve been doing really well, thank you,” Jeff replied and pulled her in for a friendly hug, which she reciprocated. He hadn’t seen her in quite a while, the last time had been almost a year ago when Harry and Y/N had broken up. “How about you?” 

She could see the concern in his brown eyes, knowing that his question didn’t mean just how she had been feeling lately, but how has she been ever since the breakup. 

“Doing much better now.” She replies honestly, making him nod. “What about you? How is everyone?”

Jeff smiled, and even though she couldn’t see his lips, she could see the way his face changed behind the face mask, “Glenne and I have been great, now almost two years since we got married, time flies.”

Glenne was Jeff’s wife, and Y/N loved the woman. The four of them would hang out from time to time, and even though there was a slight age difference between the two women, they got along really well.

“It truly does, I still remember those few days before your wedding when both Glenne and you couldn’t stop rambling about your special day.” As Y/N said those words, she couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet sensation. 

She had attended Jeff and Glenn's wedding back on January 2021 and she had been Harry’s official partner to it, yet it was almost like she hadn’t been. Instead of standing by his boyfriend’s side during the ceremony and holding hands with him, she had been on the opposite side of the place, standing alone as Harry held hands with Olivia.

When the ceremony had ended and everyone moved to the party, her boyfriend finally spent the rest of the night with her. Since it had been in a private location, there were no more public appearances that needed to be done, and Olivia had finally gone home. 

It was until the party then that Harry was by her side all the time, dancing and singing, constantly telling her how much he loved her. 

Y/N had enjoyed that night so much, yet at the same time, she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I remember.” Jeff chuckled, and after a few seconds of comfortable silence, he glanced towards a door a few meters away that said ‘Staff Only’, where two guards were standing, checking that nobody tried to sneak in backstage. “He told me to look for you to get you backstage…”

She felt her nerves increase, knowing that it was all getting very real now. “I know.” 

“If you don’t want to meet him, I’ll tell him that I didn’t find you.” He gave her a way to back out of this, knowing that the ex-couple hadn’t seen each other in a very long time, and the last time they had, it had been filled with pure heartbreak and tears. “I’m still your friend.”

She let out a deep breath, weighing down her options. 

And as she did, she felt a hand squeeze her arm lightly, making her remember that she wasn’t alone. Talking to Jeff had filled her mind with memories of the countless days they had spent joking around on tour. 

Y/N turned to look at the two worried and confused faces of Maia and Natalie, slightly turning her back to Jeff.

“You okay?” Maia mouthed to her, not wanting to cause a scene if her friend didn’t actually know this man or wanted to converse with him. 

She nodded, “Yeah, he’s a good old friend.” Y/N gave them a reassuring smile.

Natalie quickly glanced at him above Y/N’s shoulder, and smiled playfully, “If he has access to backstage, tell him to get us Harry’s autograph, and we’ll pay him!” She jokingly (which wasn’t much of a joke) whispered to her.

Y/N stayed silent for a few seconds, knowing that there was a small, deep part of her that would hate herself if she let this opportunity pass. Even though she was scared to talk to him, to see him again after everything, she knew that she’d regret not doing it.

Besides, her close friends deserved the truth about her so-called ex. 

“Yeah, about that…” Y/N turned to look at Jeff, and gave him a quick nod, telling him in a simple gesture her final answer, before turning to look at her two friends. “You’re about to meet him.”

sorry it took so long! but finally, here is pt2 to 'begin again' :)

taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @itsjustsel @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate 

[acourtofthought]

Things said about Lucien by SJM (receipts available upon request "

"Lucien has always been one of my favorite characters"

Lucien - "My love <3"

Lucien was "originally based on Sam Heughan's Jamie Fraser" (SJM is obsessed with Outlander)

"happy to be out in nature the most"

"there is someone special for Lucien. At some point further down the road" (said in April 2015, before ACOMAF was released in April 2016)

"I always kind of thought he'd be with Nesta.... until I realized that he and Nesta would shred each other to pieces, and not in a good way - like in the kind of way that would only worsen the deep, unhealed wounds they both have"

"I realized that Elain was kinda the person both Lucien and I didn't see coming - and without getting too spoilery, there was actually a great deal of tension, growth and healing to be found for both of them (together)"

Three possible outcomes for those who are given a mating bond:

Rejected Bond -

There will always be a … tug.

The males … It can drive them mad. It is their burden to fight through,

But it will still be a bond, however weakened, that will trail (them) for the rest of (their) existence.”

Accepted but Poorly Matched Bond -

Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.

Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.

“My mother—she loved my father deeply. Too deeply, but they were mated, and … Even if she saw what a tyrant he was, she wouldn’t say an ill word against him."

My father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time—but never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished.

Soul Bonded Mating Bond -

“High Fae mostly marry,” he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. “But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way. High Fae wed without the mating bond, but if you find your mate, the bond is so deep that marriage is … insignificant in comparison.”

Knowing what we know about SJMs personal thoughts on Lucien, which option is most likely? Would she give one of her "favorite characters", "her love", a male who she didn't want to end up with someone who would cause him more pain, her "Jamie Fraser inspired male":

1) A rejected bond that will always trail him and cause him suffering? Something he'd always have to fight through and that "CANNOT be broken"(confirmed by Amren and in the CC series) no matter what some anti's think Lucien will be capable of with his day powers?

2) A poorly matched bond where after giving things a shot he'll find out years later that Elain wasn't right for him?

3) A bond that is so deep, marriage is insignificant?

[aventvrina]

Z you should be sleeping (I KNOW!!)

this is still by far my fav trailer of his it encapsulates him so well UGH "Let's assume-just assuming now- that every time i roll the dice there's a possibility of achieving this particular outcome, then I would be quite happy to make that wager."

This statement is what encapsulates his whole cognition. Lemme explain.

tw: su**cide mention, religion & existential philosophy

I've seen some takes saying that Aventurine embodies Absurdism and I agree completely. Even though he has his own need to search for the rain even knowing it's end, there's still the underlying doubt that it's somewhat pointless. He still hopes for something, a revelation of sorts, even if very buried in deep skepticism, there's still a part of him that wonders if the he's really destined. And for all intents and purposes he should believe it given that whenever he attempts the near impossible, he somehow always manages to escape.

However that's where the rational kicks in, and the perfect lining of events unfold as according to the plan erasing whatever factor of luck may have been present there. As he accepts both fates, he is ready to roll and adapt with whatever outcome, denying then the actual point of "chance" as most bets are binary and easy to assert each possibility. If you bet between red and black, the answers will always just be red or black.

Where the blessing shines though is on what he cannot predict. I'll use his rescue from Nihility as example cause it's the easiest illustration of this. The outcome of going through the Nihility was either to survive or not. Possibilities that he assumed would be done alone, as his talk with Acheron suggest that there is a chance he'd make it on his own. Argenti finding him while in Nihility is the true surprise factor, it's no longer red or black, it's off the table. A possibility he did not consider and that forces him to accept the luck factor.

So yes, in this sense, he embodies Absurdism as even in a setting where there should be a fixed outcome, the absurdity happens to undo it and denies him of his rational conclusions. But there's more factors that add up to this philosophy. Some responses to "combat" Absurdism is to either a) suicide, b) seeking religion or c) fighting the absurd.

Throughout the Penacony story we see him go through all three. His plan is suicidal, even if heavily planned and curated, it was meant to end with his death one way or the other (and i did already discuss the death of "Aventurine" over him but that's just one of the outcomes he was aiming for, the chance of his actual death was still very much there). We then see him going through a religious journey, be it through Xipe, forcing him to accept a path between death or Harmony, or through Gaiathra, as he's reminded of his original beliefs and all that it entails to it. And then, finally, we see him go through the fight against the Absurd, via an acceptance of it on his talk with Acheron in the Nihility, and him choosing to still attempt to succeed through his own accord when the answer still remains unclear.

The last option is the one that is optimal when fighting Absurdism as it fully accepts it and addresses it for what it is. The willingness to accept that the answer exists but is still not within reach. The other two deny Absurdism, thus letting it win by default as it either it prevents the existence of an answer or offers an answer that may not be correct. When i speak of Aventurine being somewhat of an atheist this is what i mean.

He doesn't deny the existence of a higher power (that's almost impossible in the HSR verse since the Aeons are physical). However, the notion of fate and destiny is paradoxical enough to be contested as the Aeons play games without regarding humanity and "luck" exists. And he understands this, which is what makes him skeptical. He often clamors words like "cog in the machine", "humble servant", and these are very easily applied to him in the IPC system, but also to how he views himself in the grand scheme of "destiny".

He never once out right says that he his blessed. He does say that he is lucky, something that he only starts saying after his talk with his sister, who chastises him for putting his life on the line.

"You're a child blessed by Gaiathra Triclops and can lead the clan to happiness. So, always remember to protect yourself and never resent the pain and poverty you're going through…"

This line is very significant to him. While his sister does start with worry for him as he is her last living relative, the following scolding by reminding him of the blessing strikes him fully. It reduces him to be only valuable because of this "blessing", even if he clearly states that it was his smarts that had him winning. And this is where he starts counting luck as a factor in the universe. Because he figures that if his smarts isn't what the blessing is, then it must be something that he cannot control and that acts in favor or in detrimental of himself. Something that is beyond the justification of "this is all Gaiathra's plan to you."

Being lucky is what he interprets as the blessing, but even he cannot fully accept this answer when luck contradicts destiny. Even if the outcome can be perceptible, true pure and unadulterated luck, denies the existence of a pattern and thus, it should mean that he should be able to veer between paths and have several outcomes. But he does not.

He's still very much destined. We see it in his gambles with life, we see it in his last chat with his "past" self. He accepts that there is something that is waiting for him, in this case, he accepts that it's his family, he accepts death as the final destination.

"So until the time comes...I should be preparing." "Preparing for what?" "Preparing to face them, Kakavasha, and to make them proud."

But he also accepts that there may be something else that he'll only unlock as he gets to his destiny. That one thing that will make his family proud. And this is the part where he actually accepts Absurdism and faces it. Because even if luck is present, there is still something that he will learn, regardless of outcome, when and as he walks to meet his end.

I still stand by my stance that the whole trial with his kid self and other self are just character affirmations rather than renewal of faith. Because even after the whole ordeal, he does not mention anything other than the horrors of Nihility. And while we can excuse that as him not being close enough to anyone to share what transpired during his trial, as no one but himself (and partially Acheron (maybe Sunday?)) should know what happened. The fact that he was brought to a Doctor of Chaos says that Nihility revived Absurdism rather than smash it. So even if he did arrive at an "answer", since this answer is vague enough to encompass Absurdity with it, it did not prevent him from falling victim to Nihility's corrosion.

To seize fate by the throat, we have no choice but to stake everything.

Another point of agreement of him being the embodiment of Absurdity, is the mention of him being invited to the Tavern. The Masked Fools live in Absurd, choosing to laugh at the possibilities and toying with the strings for the funniest outcome to them. Aventurine has this potential, as he is "blessed" without being blessed, and is smart enough to make plans that can bend the outcome to his side.

The way he incorporates what is actually part of himself with his Aventurine persona is also a factor to have him join the Tavern. Mixing the gambler with the corporate and the survivor, making it be a mask without it being one. He chooses to maintain parts of his past on display, parts that should be buried, but when faced with them it's just acceptance. He is the kid of the desert as much as the slave who killed for his freedom and the gambling liquidation expert. But he is also the "lucky one" who is tearing at the IPC from the inside.

However, people only see what they wish to see in him, and he allows this to work in his favor. Whether proving them right or wrong it doesn't matter, it's all still a part of him, a part that they have to accept. He's unapologetic being himself without being himself, the greatest charade that is enough to warrant an invite from the Tavern.

Absurdism does fit Aha's stance in some degree, but I won't discuss this as I'm not as familiar with the Masked Fools nor Elation. But this would fall in line with why Aventurine would have been given the invite.

One thing i wanna quickly mention. Even though Absurdism is a strain of Existential Nihilism, it is not the same as Nihility in the game. Nihility in HSR is in it's pure form, not taking a stance as it does not even know of it's own existence. HSR seems to be adopting the strain of Cosmicism as the existence of Aeons and their behavior are echoing this ideology more than Absurdism. Absurdism denies the existence of higher powers as a whole while Cosmicism embraces the possibility of such, only it doesn't categorize it as higher, but as another species that coexists with humanity on a macro scale. While Absurdism can somewhat cover the existence of other entities, it does not factor them as coexistent in causality, as it does not contemplate the consequences of interactions between these beings and humanity like Cosmicism does.

[creatorbiaze]

General information about Xalau's worlds!

Xalau is the One and Only Major god; Xalau's Multiverse is the only one where Incarnations aren't considered part of the Pantheon. They're a rank below Xalau, alongside Timorós. Below them are unofficial gods like Illios and Themis.

-The most known Incarnations are Phobos (fear) and the Incarnation of Hatred and Death (sometimes simplified to just the domain of War), who remains nameless (humans often call them Ares, though). The Incarnation of Hatred was also Themis's inspiration for Xalqikenxes (murderous shadows) in Saliirvelm, one of Other-Realm's worlds. Other Incarnations include Loimós the incarnation of Plague and Famine, Óllumi incarnation of destruction and (political?) corruption, Zoí the incarnation of Life, and Penthos the incarnation of Grief.

Xalau, and by extent his Multiverse, has been around for 76 billion years.

Xekolus (false angels) protect and bless people, but have very strict rules. They cannot interfere with any major events, regardless of the outcome for the person they guard. If they break this rule, they will be cast out and Fall, in which they get deathly sick and slowly die, unable to be cured.

-If a Xekolu does not take their job as Protector, they cannot fall. It is possible for them to be banished or shunned without Falling, but it's uncommon; many Xekolus have a strict moral code of good vs evil, and they highly dislike causing harm.

Xealruqs (false demons) enact Vengeance, choosing someone who has greatly hurt others, and hunting them down until the person's death. Since Xealruqs do not follow Xalau and are quite far from him, they do not have any rules other than to not directly kill their target. If this rule is broken, they are not allowed to be a Vengeful for the rest of their life.

-Xekolus & Xealruqs have an average lifespan of 800,000 years due to aging incredibly slowly. Due to this, Mortals believe they're all immortal, especially since the major positions change very rarely, if at all.

-Both are incredibly hard to kill, normally only dying of old age, being decapitated, or having their heart destroyed. Technically they could survive their heart being removed if it stays intact.

-Both species have other jobs they can do. The majority of Xekolus choose other professions than their Main Purpose due to the many restrictions, ranging from jewelry making to guarding Xalau to farming to working in the Library, the culmination of most knowledge in Xalau's worlds.

-Xealruqs rarely follow other professions, and most that do are ones who are banned from being Vengeful due to breaking the one rule. There's no societal backlash against those Xealruqs, though. Xalau's Multiverse is highly dystopian, most Vengefuls wish they could kill their target.

-hybrids between the two are uncommon, but possible. They are capable of following either Guardian profession, though it's common for them to choose Xealruqs. There's no societal backlash against hybrids or their parents, especially since the first Xealruq and Xekolu were lovers.

-Both of them can also produce hybrids with humans, but it's very rare and the children tend to be 'weak' by Xek & Xeal standards, both physically and magically, and therefore someone that needs to stay within their Realm and be protected.

Timorós and Phúlax were the first Xealruq and Xekolu respectively, created by Zenza after Xalau. Phúlax was a Guardian, while Timorós was a Vengeful. Phúlax was killed in a rebellion against Xalau after Zenza left, and her death sent Timorós into a blind vengeful rage, where he destroyed several Realms while trying to get to Xalau, before being stopped and banished to an isolated Realm.

-A few hundred years ago, Timorós had returned, and has stayed in the Judge's palace since.

Xekolus and Xealruqs technically live in the same Realm; a large mountainous Realm with incredibly tall mountains. Xekolus live near the peaks, and Xealruqs live in ravines, caves, and the sides of cliffs. Their realm is called Quenvelm. The foot of the mountains have very dense forests, so they're normally avoided.

The Judge, who essentially takes care of important events regarding the Mythical entities, changes around 50,000 years and is chosen via voting. The Judge has to remain completely unbiased, willing to see all sides, and act with everyone's best interests in mind. There's an interval at 25,000 years into term where they can be voted out if people believe they became corrupted. Every cycle, it changes between a Xekolu and a Xealruq. If someone has been elected before, they cannot be chosen again.

-The previous Judge was Themis, a Xekolu, but her term got cut short because of her increasing bias in favor of "good". Xeqivu (commonly called by their last name, Zalzol, due to their own personal preferences) is the current judge. Zalzol is 12,029 years into their term.

-Themis fled Xalau's Multiverse via a small break in the barrier that separated it from Other-Realm and Drakerivelm, and currently resides in a barely functional world in Other-Realm that she had created.

Plague Wolves are one of the most well-known multi-realm Mythical Creature. They were 'created' by Loimós, and are commonly called Loimós Lykos by Mythical entities. They follow major catastrophes, like wars, plagues, volcanic disasters, earthquakes, and other natural disasters. They are considered mostly harmless other than the plagues they can transmit, and are normally not hostile.

-Plague Wolves feed on carrion, and are sometimes kept as pets by Xealruqs.

The Afterlife is vaguely similar to the Greek Underworld, often considered as somewhere deep under the surface of the Xekolu & Xealruq's home realm. It has a palace in the middle, home to the Thanata family, and has vague sections for 'good', 'bad', and 'neutral', though the sections of the Underworld have blended together over time. Outside of the gardens and villages that make up the Underworld's living space, there's just solid, dark rock, around and high above the domain.

-The Thanata family rules the Underworld. Many generations ago, the matriarch Eirene, child of Xalau and Illios, got exiled. She took over rule the Underworld as she Fell, passing the throne to her only child Hades (who is also the first known Xealruq-Xekolu hybrid in recorded history) after she succumbed to the illness. The members of the Thanata family still never look exactly right, and tend to have powers specific to Xekolus despite being almost entirely Xealruqs for generations. They also almost always have magenta eyes, instead of the normal orange eyes.

-The eldest child of the Thanata family who holds the Throne inherits the generational power The Martyr's Crown. It grants them the ability to force anyone who has purposefully harmed them to obey their command, even overriding other mind control abilities. It visibly manifests as a glowing red cracked crown on the user's head and semi-transparent black feathered wings on their back when activated. The first holder of the Martyr's Crown was Hades, and it's one of the oldest Vengeful powers.

-If the Heir to the Throne dies, other members of the Thanata family can inherit the throne, but they have to be of the Thanata bloodline (siblings, aunts & uncles. the Non-Thanata family members cannot inherit the throne.). The new ruler does not gain the ability to activate the Martyr's Crown power, but their first born child will inherit the power and be able to use it.

-The Keres family used to be Guards of the Underworld, but drifted away to other professions over time. They are still quite close to the Thanata family, and oftentimes when a Vengeful Keres dies, their spirit will guard the Thanata palace or watch over the spirits.

-Spirits, instead of fading based on who remembers them, simply fade after around 2 times the length of the lifespan of their species. Xekolus & Xealruqs fade after 1,6000 years, humans would fade after around 140 years. In most cases, spirits stay the age they died. The exceptions are young children (infants to 19 years old who will grow until they are 30) and elders ( 50+ year olds, who can age down to the minimum of 30 if they wish to.)

There are four major Mortal Realms; Caerevelm, Ajorlvelm, Xelrovelm, and Zeluvelm, listed from least mythical to closest to a Spirit Realm. No one remembers what the Realm prefixes translate to.

-Caerevelm has the least Mythical influence, mainly being a futuristic science-focused dystopia. Most major cities are nearly uninhabitable due to pollution and corruption, and residents mainly stay inside. The only supernatural entities are ghosts that barely even exist and are generally considered not real.

-Ajorvelm is a false-utopia. It's highly developed and better environmentally than Caerevelm, but the government has special science sites to experiment on the few supernatural entities that do show up, including Celeste, the time-warper.

-The most well-known experiment (to the Supernatural Entities, most humans are unaware) is the Chrone Experiments, which started with the first overseer employing Celeste Chrone, a time-warper capable of reversing or accelerating the time of an object or place, to try and save lives. The experiments were handed off to the new Overseer, name unknown for privacy reasons, who had more self-centered goals. Celeste ended up snapping, accelerating the time of any scientists who went near her until they died. Eventually the base was abandoned, and currently it is unrecognizable due to accumulated time-damage changing the corridors, rooms, and exits.

-Felrovelm rejects advancement further than functioning cities similar to modern day Earth, but less polluted. The power belongs to disguised supernatural entities and rich humans, though, so society is not ideal. Some humans are capable of using magic here, but they are feared and chased out. Most Mortal residents live in fear, since it's also the home of the Incarnation of Hate, making it an immensely dangerous Realm at night.

-Zeluvelm has many supernatural entities, including the "Seasonal demigods" (Anthos, Spring, Seirios, Summer, Aster, Autumn, and Krúos, Winter.) Zeluvelm is home to many fae-like entities, and is made up of villages and kingdoms. Phobos lives here due to the mortals' fear of the Mythical (which also causes them to worship them in a desperate attempt for mercy) as well as the harsh seasons. If a human is capable of using magic, they are seen as a prophet or divine entity, both loved and feared.

-The 'seasonal demigods' are fae-like entities that mainly show up during their season. Their main priority is food, but humans have mistaken them as brings of or incarnations of the Seasons.

[empressofthewind]

Hello! I’ve been reading some of your meronia fanfictions and wanted to say you are an incredibly skilled storyteller and really make the characters feel true to their canon counterparts. Thank you so much for your absolutely amazing writing, you are a blessing in this fandom ❤️

There was a question I’ve been wondering about if you don’t mind. In a few of your AU Mello lives and begins working in partnership with Near fics, it’s mentioned that in the outcome of the Kira case Mello lost completely and Near was the winner.

I was curious in your AU what happened at the end of the Kira case that made it turn out this way?

And why do you position Mello as the full-out loser instead of something more similar to the OG canon where his skills and ability to see and contribute something Near couldn’t was the only reason Near won?

If you are willing to share I would love to know your thoughts! if not it's oc totally fine and understandable so feel free to ignore haha

Hello! First of all, thank you very much 🥺🫶 this is really really kind!! Second of all, this is an excellent question and you are perfectly welcome to ask - I'm always happy to answer questions about my fics :-)

My best answer to this is that the way I characterise the ending is highly dependent on the specific POV I'm writing from. I write all my fics in third person limited, which is structured in such a way that it gives a glimpse into the character's inner world. As a result, there's always bias in the way they perceive things. My interpretation of Near is that he's wired to view things as objectively as possible in most cases, so his narration is generally trustworthy. Mello's inner workings are a lot more chaotic, and I tend to write him as a fairly unreliable narrator. On that basis, the idea that he would have "lost" after the Kira case is entirely his perception. His goal was always to catch Kira and bring an end to the case with his own hands, as exemplified by the line "If you can do that, then I'll get Kira myself", which he says to Near in Chapter 79 (in reference to their interrogation of Mogi). At this point in the narrative he's directly working with Near, but he never thinks of it that way. He rationalises this as "using Near", and the competition as far as he's concerned is still alive and well.

He definitely has some character development by the end, but I don't think enough has changed for him to accept the idea of a joint victory. Rather, the development that happens is in him accepting the idea of losing. As much as I do think he kidnapped Takada with the intention of saving Near's life and ensuring Near's victory, I tend to assume he saw this as surrendering, not as a collaborative effort like Near does. I very strongly believe that if he had survived long enough to see the end of the case, he would have considered himself the loser. Ultimately, Near was the one in the warehouse, Near was the one who got to put Light in his place, and Near was the one who ended up with L's title. To Mello, that's more than enough to constitute a loss.

I hope this answers your question!!!

[singshoutshaxx]

Can D2 Guardians Have Kids?

((this is all from memory with a bit of searching myself))

((im open to corrections, discussions, references, and questions thank you))

((WARNING: SPOILERS AND SOME KINDA OFF THINGS ABOUT BIRTH AND UN BIRTH))

Dear @hive-31real (sorry for being late)

To answer your question:

As far as I know, I don't think so but people have debated about it from what I can read about. I'm on the 'Guardians are possibly Infertile' team.

Specifics on Guardians in relation to children:

The thing that would come to the top of my head would be Zavala. He was the stepfather to Hakim when Zavala was with Safiyah. (I cant find a link video for the cutscene)

There's a small discussion about it on Reddit

In the comment section of the same post, they mention how Saladin's Ghost a couple of times, in the Iron Forerunner Armor Tab.

From what I'm understanding, Shin Malphur was revived as a 10 year old Gaurdian...? with Jaren's Ghost in Confession of Hope Part 1 & Part 2. They discuss about it in this Reddit Post, and here's his Destinypedia page if that helps. (This is the closest I got relating to a Hunter and Child)

(Other links that might help:) Destiny 2 Lore - The Origins of Shin Malphur! The Child Guardian of Palamon! by My name is Byf

Destiny 2 - THIS CHILD IS ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL GUARDIANS! by Evaze

Destiny 2 Lore - Can children be Guardians? by Myelin Games

and here are some reasons why they might even rez a child

On Theory Food:

People have talked about it whether a Guardian's are rez sterile because they technically died already but it doesn't mean they don't function. (Pretty straightforward)

But for those who do believe that Guardians can reproduce, why we don't see them having kids can be funky:

Some Guardian's believe that you don't get rez with the baby (if your female and pregnant), since your Ghost only has the full data scan of you. So some think Guardians aren't even aware that they conceived considering the action packed lifestyle of Guardians. (Which is a very....cruel thought process to think about)

I acknowledge that there are Guardians who don't die often and even one who hasn't died at all, they live pretty distant lives as far as I know.

Some also argue that Guardians would prefer to not have children, since there is no record of a Human/Awoken/Exo child and the uncertainty of what the outcome may be. There's no guarantee if the child will be blessed by light or if they will be immortal or live long. They could just be born regularly and the toll of that personal connection would be heavy....

Yes, other races, such as the Fallen do have children and make it very well documented. It makes you wonder why big or important figures such as Zavala, Shaxx or Saladin wouldn't have children to grow a form of legacy considering how long they've lived right? You can also say this about other Guardians as well of course.

If Guardians were capable of having children, the concept of creating a bloodline and a form of legacy would be heavily and even well documented. (Cayde's broken Debt file I'm looking at you)

Even if they were civilians in the City, they would grow to be powerful noticeable elites or nobles, maybe even visiting the Tower occasionally but we don't hear from that. We have had multiple regular non-Guardians such as the Guard's around the tower, Amanda, Eva Levante and Hawethorn.

(if there's anything more I missed I would appreciate the feedback, thank you :))) )

[halfetirosie]

✩‧₊˚ Let's Get Confused!!! :D ✩‧₊˚

(Star Message 01 - 05 React-os!)

1) Wait, so you're telling me that Blade's storytelling put kids to sleep???

That's quite odd!

I mean, yeah, a lot of what he was saying was confusing the kids. But I would think that, with how animated Blade was being, it would still be entertaining enough to keep them awake. 🤷‍♀️

It's funny how polite Olivine is being about it---spinning it into a positive outcome. Bless your little heart!

2) Uh-oh! My workaholic wife is back at it again! 😂

My mans really does overwork himself...

If I were the Captain, I would've forced a ton of vacations onto him, too! :D

I personally can't really relate to this side of Edmond's personality---the obsession with his work. I'm the kind of person that has had to do way more work than I was comfortable doing in the past, to the point that my personal life was non-existent, but as soon as it wasn't necessary to have such a large workload I didn't push myself to keep up that insane schedule.

Edmond, on the other hand, has just gotten so used to constantly working, that at this point it's difficult to stop...

Maybe it's because he had that sort of schedule for even long than I ever did, since he's a noble? That, combined with his natural integrity/work ethic?

3) Eiden out here validating the fans' comments about the space-appropriateness of their clothes---

---and Blade giving a very reasonable explanation---

I like to think the the tailor also has a devious mind, determined to bring out the maximum sexy-potential of each project they receive (even if their "added elements" will require them to do an additional wardrobe-change later)!

It's also very possible that Eiden's collaborations with them have tainted their formerly-innocent tastes...

😈😈😈😈😈

4) Edmond, sweetie---no offense, but HOW is this any more scandalous than your usual outfits??? 🤨

Is it because your stomach is showing?---No, that can't be it, because the ceremonial clothes in his Knightly Night SSR show his stomach.

Is it because your shoulders are bare?---No, because the shirt in the prison guard outfit of Vigilant Observer is sleeveless...But then again, perhaps the guards are expected to keep that jacket/overshirt on over the sleeveless shirt, so maybe that really is the reason???

I AM CONFUSION!!!

EDMOND, PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT YOU CONSIDER "MODEST!"

It is quite nice seeing Blade and Eiden being so supportive to Edmond, tho.

They see him feeling a little uncomfortable, and Blade immediately reassures him [of the clothes' utility] while Eiden hypes him up. It's so sweet!!!

5) Blade and his not-at-all worrying ideas °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Can I just say---I LOVE the fact that Edmond takes Blade's question seriously.

I (along with many other fans) see Blade as strong representation for neuro-divergent individuals; and IRL, many such people act "eccentric" or ask questions that people think are "silly/weird."

So, Edmond taking Blade seriously---just like he treats everything/everyone seriously---without getting angry or annoyed is such a delight! We love to see it!

6) I love it when Blade hops into Robo Mode at the most unexpected times!

It's funnier when the situation is less serious than this, but hey, I still enjoyed it!

Also, the voice-acting bit during this part was fantastic. Blade's voice sounds so cool!

7) Blade, honey---are you telling me you can catch a FUCKIN METEOR all by yourself????

BRUH.

I knew he was built to be a hella-strong sorcerer-murderer robot, but putting his strength in the context of earth-science terms makes it even more insane.

8) It's quite impressive how nonchalant blade is being about all of this... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Like, he and Edmond just stopped a FUCKIN METEOR from crashing into the tower and killing people, and he's over here cracking little jokes!

What a legend!

9) So, as soon as I saw this---

---for some reason, I immediately thought of this;

Which is a fine and dandy meme, but I'd say that Blade is completely justified in his assumption that the thingy from the sky is alien tech; it isn't a crackpot theory, an thus, I wouldn't say this meme is completely applicable... But maybe I'm just being too picky with my meme-etiquette. :D

10) Wait, so this isn't even the first time that "starscape creatures" have sent a message to Klein?

🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

But from what I've gathered so far, the message is just supposed to be a sort of audio message---so how does he know about what kind of environment the starscape creatures live in???

Does the audio talk about where they live??? Do they speak the same language as they do in Klein, or is it somehow possible to interpret the alien language when given no context/prior exposure to that language????

11) Rei, no offense, but you kinda suck at explaining things....

Seriously.

WAT? ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?

Am I just stupid, or did Rei just say the same thing twice but in different ways?

I can't be the only on that doesn't get it, right?

Would this make more sense if I knew more about audio transfer, or like, how radio works???

12) *Voice dripping with sarcasm:*

Oh boy, how reassuring! 😂😂😂

I know for a fact Rei is perfectly capable of making people feel better, but I guess he ain't feeling very charitable right now! (Which, I would think he would be, since they brought him an interesting new thing to research...)

★ End of report! ★

[ririnya7]

Why I think Qian is demisexual and demiromantic

(from an aroace person)

Disclaimer: none of what I claim are confirmed just headcanon

⚠️Spoilers Ahead⚠️

So this confused lil bby girl is (according to me) asexual. But not only that but also demisexual and maybe aromantic as well.

And I have proof to back this theory up.

So starting off, our dear Qian doesn't seem to be interested in relationships at all. I feel like this is common sense for every viewer. It's simply one of his characteristics.

Whether it's because of his rough upbringing, multiple traumatic experiences he's had, both mental and physical or not, he doesn't seem to actively want to search for partners and/or a relationship. It doesn't matter anyway. That's just how he is.

Exhibit A

The only time that changes is when San Pang urges him to seek a partner with the intention of marriage for conveniences sake. He doesn't want to do it for himself. He does it for his sister and Zhiyuan's 'sake'.

But ofc he makes excuses for himself (which spoiler alert: is a common experience aspecs have)

But he agrees to the match making process but during it he feels such aversion (which is linked to trauma) and it's so severe that he physically and literally feels sick to his stomach.

Exhibit B

The other time I felt a particular kinship to Qian was when Zhiyuan came out to him. Qian seems extremely confused by Zhiyuan's serious tone and intense feeling he seems to be harbouring. While there is an obvious homophobic sentiment mixed in his words as well, his overall confusion resonated with me.

Bless his soul he doesn't understand alloromantic people 😭

Exhibit C

Same scene as the previous one. Zhiyuan tries to literally and figuratively fish for information on Qian's relationship status and/or history.

Of course Qian doesn't take the hint and responds in the most acearo way possible.

Zhiyuan tries again (bless his soul too) but gets an even more acearo response in return. For anyone who might not be familiar with the aspec community this response is one way most of us fend off invasive questions like those. We shrug off curiosities by claiming life is too busy to fall in love. (Again this is not the case for everyone but it can be pretty common as an experience)

No Qian, a movie star doesn't count you silly bean 😭

Exhibit D (and most concrete in my opinion)

Confession 2.0

This is a pivotal moment for our protagonists. Zhiyuan wants confirmation of the status of their relationship but Qian hesitates for a number of reasons, namely, their brother status but also his romantic orientation.

In this is a scene many felt confused or frustrated by Qian's delayed actions. But to me it made perfect sense. He's literally spelling it out for us. He can't see himself being in a romantic relationship much less with Yuan. So he makes a choice and it's the right one for him in the end.

Exhibit E

For this example we have Zhiyuan stating the obvious for everyone 😅

My dude wanted a big fancy restaurant, flowers and a kiss at the end of their date. Qian on the other hand doesn't seem to realize or prepare for that. Instead he makes due with what he had on hand which creates a hilarious outcome 🤣