#with the theme of the winter and nature Can and Will kill you

[universal-consistant]

so good news i actually decided to look up ruined castles and realized i could like. skip the entire upper floor really. so i just have to plan for the bottom layout. this makes my life 100% easier.

[bluecheeseinmyoffwhites]

Hello, saw your posts about RWBY Characters' Allusions. A question, does team rwby have another character allusion?

A lot of characters have more than one allusion, and team RWBY is no different. These allusions often have a character fill a complementary role of a significant figure in another fairy tale.

Let's start with Ruby Rose. She is of course Little Red, but there are also other characters she embodies. The Wolf in the story is known for his big & shiny eyes, a very notable feature of Ruby (that was pointed out by Ozpin in the first episode, just like the fairy tale). She is also her own huntsman, equip with an "axe" weapon of her own.

Weiss Schnee is Snow White, but also takes other roles of the story based on her summons. Her Boartusk represents the huntsman, who killed a boar to spare the princess. Her Knight represents the noble prince who saves her. Her Queen Lancer represents the Evil Queen who plagues her. Weiss seems to take after the Evil Queen the most, with her friends often referring to her as "Ice Queen".

After reading those first two, you can probably now understand why Blake is based on both Beauty & the Beast. She has Belle's beauty, part of her name, her love for books, her relationship to "Adam" and her tendency to run away. But like the Beast, she has animal traits that she hides, is haunted by a rose, prefers living in isolation, and eventually falls in love with a human girl. She is often seen in Forever Fall, a forest with wilting red flowers, representing the wilting rose that curses the Beast.

Yang is Goldilocks with her destructive nature & yellow hair, but can also be seen as Baby Bear, the child of the Papa (Taiyang, blue eyes) & Mama (Raven, red eyes), resulting in Yang being a mix of both (purple eyes). Each parent compares Yang to the other, and she learns to embrace the good and bad traits of both in order to become "just right".

The tale of Rose Red & Snow White, two young girls based on Little Red & Snow White, can be the inspiration for the partnership between Ruby & Weiss. The two were sisters, which is represented by the ever-growing bond between Ruby & Weiss. Weiss's fairy tale, Snow White, could also be the reason for Ruby's theme, Red Like Roses, which is how the Evil Queen described how red she wants her lips in the original tale (in some stories she compares it to blood in the snow, both line up perfectly with the Red Trailer & Players & Pieces).

Weiss also represents the story of the Snow Queen. She is called Ice Queen. She has a male companion (Kai/Whitley) who is cold, distant, & rude. She sets off to find the Snow Queen (Winter) in V5, during her trip she meets a talking corvid (Raven) & a robber maiden (Vernal). Weiss also gets pierced by evil glass like Gerda.

Gerda’s most cherished memories is being young playing in the rose gardens with her friend. They shared many happy memories here. This rose garden takes the embodiment of Ruby Rose, who befriends Weiss & takes her on adventures. Weiss reminisces about Ruby in V4 after the attack on Beacon, missing the days when they had fun together. A frozen rose garden is seen in Weiss Character Short, representing her longing for Ruby (innocence, fun, freedom).

Blake & Yang have so many allusions when it comes to their relationship. Start with Beauty and Beast. Blake already shows traits of both Belle & the Beast, but Yang does as well. Her affiliation with yellow, adventure, bright energy, & beauty is reminiscent of Belle. The Red Trailer even directly ties her with Blake, calling her the beauty to her beast. Yet Yang also displays signs of the Beast, most notably her behavior when she is angry. She sparks fire red eyes similar to the monstrous Grimm they fight, and is the most aggressive fighter of the group. She receives an injury on her arm identical to the Beast. Most importantly, she is abandoned by Beauty in V3. This theme of having similar & different traits within one another ties into another dynamic that will be explained later.

There are two roses that bring them together. They meet through Ruby, the good rose Yang gives to Blake. Adam is the bad rose that Blake tries to keep away from Yang, but he breaks them. Adam starts off as the Beast (Adam) to Blake’s Beauty. Once she leaves him (like the fairy tale) he then embodies the Rose that haunts her. Once he meets Blake’s new partner, he then becomes Gaston & adopts his jealousy. Once Blake & Yang defeat him, they free themselves from the curse and come back to the Good Rose.

Blake & Yang also represent the Yin & Yang dynamic. We have the darkness (Blake) and the light (Yang), with a little bit of each other in each (matching eyes). Many cultures depict Yin as a tiger (Blake's cat ears) and Yang as a dragon (Xiao Long). The themes of darkness and light has been associated with Blake & Yang since their trailers. Blake engulfs in darkness when she leaves, while Yang brings light when she enters (kind of like their semblances). Scenes with Blake & Yang play with lighting a lot (2x06, 6x01, 9x06), and fights involving them often have them circling around each other or moving across each other, just like the Yin Yang Symbol.

Team RWBY as a whole also has references. One commonly known reference is the Wizard of Oz crew, with Ruby acting as Dorothy (who had Ruby/Silver slippers). Weiss is the Tin Man who gains heart while the real one loses it (Ironwood), Blake is the Lion who gains courage while the real one loses it (Lionheart), and Yang is the Scarecrow who learns to fight smarter while the real one acts irrationally (Qrow). These four adventurers set off to Beacon (Land of Oz), meet the Wizard (Ozpin), and get their wishes (graduating). They are told to stay on the Yellow Road, but fail.

The team's respective Remnants also allude to their fairy tales. Ruby sheds roses, representing her red color scheme, her youthful innocence, and the flowers Little Red picks for her grandmother. Weiss sheds snow, representing her white color scheme, her cold attitude, and Snowhite's soft skin that gave her the name. Blake sheds shadows, representing her black color scheme, her dark personality and background, and the Beast condemned to the shadows. Yang sheds fire, representing her yellow color scheme, her bright but scorching personality, and the porridge Goldilocks claimed was "too hot".

Ruby represents multiple figures from others characters’ allusions. Penny is based on Pinocchio, who wishes on a Shooting Star to be a real human. Ruby, who is often characterized as a small flickering light (literally & figuratively) she represents the star that Penny wishes for & makes her feel human (literally & figuratively).

2x07 Dance Dance Infiltration is a retelling of the Cinderella story. The maiden is told she needs to return by midnight, puts on a disguise, & goes off. Ruby tracks her, Cinderella enters the stage, the two dance, and she leaves without a trace. Ruby in this case represents the Prince that wants to find the mysterious maiden he danced with the night before. His only clue was her missing glass slipper. Cinder fights with glass, a point Ruby reports to her professors as information to track her down.

There's a lot more micro references to other fairy tales but these are the most notable for Team RWBY. These references influence how a character is portrayed, how they interact with others, and the actions they take.

[sitp-recs]

15 Christmassy fics to read (or reread) this month

This rec list is for @annakendricks who sent an ask about Christmas reads and also dedicated to @lettersbyelise for supporting this idea 💜 Despite the winter blues, December will always lighten up my mood with the holiday spirit. This month has been pretty hectic for me but I can’t wait to get some time off and indulge my fave Christmassy rereads. Come and join me if you like! Here you’ll find a little bit of everything: soft and contemplative, smutty, crack-y, movie AU, holiday romance and even Gen fic, which is not my usual fare but fit the theme perfectly. Pick your flavour and Happy Holidays!

🎄A Christmas Happenstance by Only_1_Truth (E, 5.5k)

The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls. Both humans and non-humans mingled freely in the surrounding town of Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy, however, isn't feeling in the mood after a rather spectacular break-up.

🎄A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

🎄A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.4k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

🎄Surviving the Horde by FleetofShippyShips (T, 7k)

Draco has managed to avoid Christmas at the Burrow for ten years, but not this year.

🎄Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

🎄Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

🎄break the bad luck in my life by seaworn (E, 12k)

Draco and Harry are both brooding on Christmas Eve.

🎄All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

🎄Love All Lovely by @shealwaysreads (T, 19k)

Draco comes home for Christmas, and discovers that sharing is the best way of celebrating old traditions, and new ones too.

🎄Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🎄I'll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley (T, 39k)

The Ministry Christmas party is the biggest event of the year and Harry absolutely does not want to plan it, and he certainly, one hundred percent, does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

🎄The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 (E, 39k)

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.

🎄December Never Felt So Wrong by @maesterchill (E, 50k)

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

🎄A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

🎄All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (M, 61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

In your opinion which of the Endless do you think has the hardest job and why?

short answer? death

slightly less short answer - either death, dream, or none of them, depending on the angle you're looking at it from

long answer... they're all perfectly suited to the task they were made for, so in the sense of physical ability, none of their jobs are difficult. which means difficulty can only be measured by emotional toll. and that's not really based on the job so much as it is on how much they care

the big thesis in sandman is that life = change. that's an equation that cuts both ways, and a theme that runs through almost every character. the endless, as the fundamental aspects of life, all have power over something that can change people, right to their core

and that's a huge responsibility, which they all have their own ways of coping with

we never learn that much about how it affects destiny or despair, but death had a huge character arc to go through (everything she says in the show is originally in a winters tale, as well as the fact that she stopped collecting souls, because it was getting to her too much - until she realised that was doing more damage), so now she copes by finding meaning and purpose in it, by befriending everyone she comes to take, by living in some ways a human life of her own

desire ignores it, and tells themselves that mortals don't matter to them, so why should they care who gets hurt? they turn it all into a big game and they don't let themselves think about it for even a second, because if they did it would destroy them (the narration tells us this at the end of dolls house)

destruction didn't cope with it, he left, and refuses to let there ever be another destruction of the endless

and del... just observes it. she accepts the difficulty and the responsibility, and sees it with a lot clearer eyes than her siblings. and sometimes that means she's the most fit to cope with it. other times it breaks her too, and that's when she gets her bad days

the reason i list dream as a possible option here, is because dream is not coping. he's trying to do everything his siblings do at once and none of it is working for him. he can't be desire, because he cares too much about mortals to ignore and laugh at them. he can't be death because he doesn't see himself as someone with a life, just someone with a job - that has to come before everything else. he can't be destruction because again, he values his purpose more than his happiness, leaving is inconceivable. and he can't be delirium because that would require him to see the world as it really is - and his nature runs fundamentally contrary to that

so that could be why dream. but this could also be why none of them - because that's not really the job that's hard, so much as it's not working for dream specifically. if he was somebody just slightly different, he'd be able to handle it a lot better

(the other reason i might consider dream is the vortexes - we don't see enough of the other endless to know if this is something they have to deal with (or something similar), it might be, so this might not be a dealbreaker? but it's definitely not easy for dream, overture goes into that plenty, he viscerally hates the idea of killing people, it goes against everything he is, and yet he has to, or the entire universe will die. and that's a tough responsibility to have)

so why death? because she's the only one who will never die. she doesn't, herself, change, not even if you force a reincarnation like with dream. her sigil will stay the same forever, the necropolis only holds six funeral cerements - death is unlike the others, its written in the rules. it's not the only way she's an exception either; it's mentioned at one point in brief lives that the endless all feel uncomfortable in each others' realms, they can sense that this place is made of an entirely different energy to the one they're used to. except death, who can traverse all the other realms as easily as her own, because even her siblings have to die eventually

more people under your charge, more people to care about. the more it hurts if you let it. her job covers every being in existence, and for the most part it involves being something they don't want you to be. she has had every negative emotion people are capable of directed at her, in a much more first-hand way than her siblings may get. and you have to be okay with it, you have to

because the only way to be free of it is to be the only person left in all existence

[marichive]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Catelyn Tully / Stark in A Game of Thrones , the first book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ Where are the children? ❞

❝ Is he afraid? ❞

❝ He is only three. ❞

❝ He must learn to face his fears. ❞

❝ Winter is coming. ❞

❝ The man died well, I’ll give him that. ❞

❝ You would have been proud of him. ❞

❝ I’m always proud of him. ❞

❝ The poo man was half mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him. ❞

❝ It will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners. ❞

❝ He is nothing for us to fear. ❞

❝ There are darker things beyond the Wall. ❞

❝ You listen to too many of her stories. ❞

❝ No living man has ever seen one. ❞

❝ You did not come here to tell me tales. ❞

❝ I know how little you like this place. ❞

❝ What is it, My Lady? ❞

❝ There was grievous news today, My Lord. ❞

❝ I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself. ❞

❝ I am so sorry, my love. He is dead. ❞

❝ Is this news certain? ❞

❝ It was the king’s seal, and the letter is in his own hand. ❞

❝ I saved it for you. ❞

❝ That is some small mercy, I suppose. ❞

❝ His memory will haunt each stone. ❞

❝ She needs the comfort of family and friends around her. ❞

❝ The letter had other tidings. ❞

❝ The king is riding to seek you out. ❞

❝ We should send word to your brother. ❞

❝ And he gives us no more notice than this? ❞

❝ Where the king goes, the realm follows. ❞

❝ Please, guard your tongue. ❞

❝ Kings are not like other men. ❞

❝ Can’t you see the danger that would put us in? ❞

❝ I never asked for this cup to pass to me. ❞

❝ What is it? My Lady, you’re shaking. ❞

❝ There is grief in this message, I can feel it. ❞

❝ This is no time for false modesty. ❞

❝ My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king. He never came home again. ❞

❝ There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. ❞

❝ He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. ❞

❝ He must be ready when his time comes. ❞

❝ You know how he loves to climb. ❞

❝ This is hard, I know. ❞

❝ He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. ❞

❝ He cannot stay here. He is your son, not mine. I will not have him. ❞

❝ A boy with a bastard’s name . . . you know what they will say of him. He will be shunned. ❞

❝ How can you be so damnably cruel? ❞

❝ When the time comes, I will tell him myself. ❞

❝ I can’t leave him, even for a moment. ❞

❝ I have to be with him. ❞

❝ He’s not going to die. ❞

❝ What if he needs me and I’m not here? ❞

❝ I need you too. I’m trying, but I can’t . . . I can’t do it all by myself. ❞

❝ He needs to hear them sing. ❞

❝ Don’t be afraid. ❞

❝ Swear to me you’ll sleep. ❞

❝ It’s good to know my son’s life was not sold cheaply. ❞

❝ What I am about to tell you must not leave this room. ❞

❝ You have my oath. ❞

❝ If this is true, he will pay for it. I’ll kill him myself! ❞

❝ Never draw your sword unless you mean to use it. ❞

❝ I must go myself. ❞

❝ The honor of carrying a lady like yourself is all the reward I need. ❞

❝ The captain was just telling me that our voyage is almost at an end. ❞

❝ I have not been the most valiant of protectors. ❞

❝ The moment we go ashore we are at risk. ❞

❝ There are those at court who will know you on sight. ❞

❝ It’s one thing to be clever and another to be wise. ❞

❝ A man must make his own choices. ❞

❝ Even in a place like this, one never knows who may be watching. ❞

❝ Why have I been brought here in this fashion? ❞

❝ You were not mistreated, I trust? ❞

❝ I am not accustomed to being summoned like a serving wench. ❞

❝ I’ve angered you, My Lady. That was never my intent. ❞

❝ A wife is allowed to yearn for her husband. ❞

❝ Please don’t expect me to believe that. ❞

❝ This sudden trip of yours bespeaks a certain urgency. ❞

❝ I beg of you, let me help. ❞

❝ I know things. That is the nature of my service. ❞

❝ I am soaked through. Even my bones are wet. ❞

❝ There is an inn at the crossroads up ahead. ❞

❝ I hope I have not spoken out of turn. I meant no offense. ❞

❝ Frank talk does not offend me. ❞

❝ You are far from home. ❞

❝ Your home is in my heart. ❞

❝ Take off your helm. I would look on your face again. ❞

❝ I have not been a child in many years. ❞

❝ Suspicion casts a long shadow. ❞

❝ It seems to me she is only playing at courtship. She enjoys the sport. ❞

❝ A woman can rule as wisely as a man. ❞

❝ Pride? Arrogance, some might call it. Arrogance and avarice and lust for power. ❞

❝ I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you? ❞

❝ I promise you, my lady, no harm will come to you. ❞

❝ I do not frighten easily. ❞

❝ I am going to die here. ❞

❝ I . . . I cannot do this. ❞

❝ I’ll come back for you. ❞

❝ I don’t want to look. ❞

❝ Keep your eyes closed if you like. ❞

❝ Have you taken leave of your senses!? ❞

❝ Isn’t he beautiful? ❞

❝ The seed is strong. ❞

❝ Not in front of the baby. ❞

❝ These are not times for delicacy. ❞

❝ You’re scaring the boy. ❞

❝ We’re safe here. ❞

❝ Don’t be a fool. No one is safe. If you think hiding here will make them forget you, you are sadly mistaken. ❞

❝ No castle is impregnable. ❞

❝ Tell me the rest of it. ❞

❝ I should have been woken. ❞

❝ Isn’t it a lovely morning? The gods are smiling on us. ❞

❝ Alive, he has value. Dead, he is only food for crows. ❞

❝ It’s said that poison is a woman’s weapon. ❞

❝ He’s too fond of the sight of blood on that sword of his. ❞

❝ Stand and fight, coward! ❞

❝ My son is leading a host to war. ❞

❝ When night falls, there are said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the North. ❞

❝ Remind me not to linger here. ❞

❝ You’ve grown a beard. ❞

❝ You are as fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times. ❞

❝ Can you understand why I might fear? ❞

❝ The real message is in what she does not say. ❞

❝ I know the sound of a threat, even whispered. ❞

❝ They have her hostage, and they mean to keep her. ❞

❝ Our best hope, our only true hope, is that you can defeat the foe in the field. ❞

❝ You cannot afford to seem indecisive in front of men like these. ❞

❝ It is not my intent to linger here long. ❞

❝ I’ll speak any way I like, damn you. ❞

❝ I have agreed to take them as wards. ❞

❝ Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. ❞

❝ You should let the men see you before battle. I will give them courage. ❞

❝ And who will give me courage? ❞

❝ So this is what death sounds like. ❞

❝ I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it. ❞

❝ It is not your sword I want, ser. ❞

❝ He . . . he killed them . . . ❞

❝ If they hadn’t tried to stop him — ❞

❝ Your men did what they were sworn to do. ❞

❝ Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. ❞

❝ Your grief is mine. ❞

❝ I swear it, you will have your vengeance. ❞

❝ Will that bring him back to me? ❞

❝ I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. ❞

❝ I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you? ❞

❝ I will mourn for him until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. ❞

❝ I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. ❞

❝ I want to write an end to this. I want to go home. ❞

❝ Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? ❞

❝ It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead! ❞

❝ There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to. ❞

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 3 “trust me to trust you”

A/N: I sat on this story for awhile as I’m already figuring out how I want to develop the plot. I can tell this is going to turn into another passion project for me as I love the idea of post!outbreak domestic Joel and finding love in his late age. This chapter you get a little glimpse into what outbreak day was like for Beanie. Please remember that the nature of this fic will have dark themes. I will mark the warnings appropriately, but please read with caution. 🖤

~word count: 5.2k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Summary: early winter mornings, fear of the past, a felt fawn, and Maria’s egg casserole.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence from outbreak day, mentions of loss, carnage, brink of death, depictions of a knife wound, PTSD, panic attacks, trigger responses, mentions of a firearm, I am no expert on the subject but I have done some research as I know it’s a delicate topic, angst, Joel is struggling to adjust to living a domestic life, anxiety, feeling like an outcast, grumpy old man! Joel, shy! Joel, kinda mean! Joel, sunshine reader, flirting, fluff, awkward situations, reminiscing on the past, reader has no physical descriptions and is from Texas, reader has a nickname (beanie bc y’know coffee beans) no age gap, vulgar language, slow burn, this is a fic that takes place post-outbreak so please keep in mind that there will be dark/triggering themes, but to also remember that it is not the main plot line for the story. Please read with caution. (+18) minors dni!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

It had been over 20 years since outbreak day, when your world and life as you once knew it, turned to flames and ash before the frightened whites of your eyes. Your coffee shop, Cuppa Smiles, was your little slice of heaven. You had put so much love, dedication, and passion into your establishment. Your coworkers were friends from college that were just looking for a change of pace from their 9-5’s just like the next person.

They all tried to kill you, whatever they were now. It had happened all so fast, and even now on the quietest of nights, you could still hear their snarls and animalistic growls. You could still remember the frightened screams, the chaos and destruction as a Boeing 747 collided into the earth and burst into flames, debris falling from the explosion, hitting those who were fleeing, and those who were no longer living. You remember tumbling along the concrete, rolling like a sack of potatoes as you struggled to breathe. To your direct left was a truck flipped over on its side.

Through the harsh ringing in your ears, you could make out two male voices on the other side of the truck. The one man was holding a young girl to his chest who couldn’t be more than 12-13 years old.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know.” The man’s tone was urgent, rushed and laced with fear as he held his daughter close.

“We gotta get off the street!” The other man shouted desperately.

“Tommy!”

“Head to the river! I’ll find a way. Get her outta here, Joel! Go!”

Joel.

Joel.

Joel..Miller?

The last time you saw Joel Miller, all you could remember was the fear in his eyes, before everything around you went black.

When Tommy and Maria Miller discovered you on the outskirts of Jackson, looking like you were all skin and bones as you slipped off your horse's saddle and into the cool dirt. Your body was exhausted, your resources were spent and now you just hoped that you would die peacefully. That was until a strong pair of arms were gently lifting you from the dirt as your body laid like a limp fish.

“D’ya think she’s still breathin?’” Tommy asked his wife as she was quickly checking your pulse.

“Barely. She must have been riding for days out in this heat.”

“She showin’ any signs of bein’ infected?” Tommy knew the protocol of bringing in stragglers from outside Jackson, and if you were found to be infected..

Maria made quick work to check your body for any signs of a bite mark. She took sudden interest in a large bloodstain through the tattered fabric of your shirt. She gently lifted the fabric from the hem to discover a gruesome sight. What appeared to be done by the work of a sharp blade was a long semi deep, gnarly gash carving from your abdomen, up your torso, curving under your left breast and wrapped around your ribcage to your left shoulder blade.

“Fuckin’ hell. Someone tried to carve her up?” Tommy asked in disbelief as his wife gently pulled the hem of your shirt back down.

“Raiders, no doubt. She’s not infected. I can’t find any bite marks, but one thing’s for certain though, this woman has been through some hell.”

It was well over an hour till sunrise when Joel Miller lumbered out of his home, shovel in hand and bundled up fiercely in multiple thick layers to protect his skin from the harsh biting cold. His plan was simple, head over to your house down the street, shovel your walkway, and ask you to accompany him to breakfast. It really was quite simple, but despite that he was running a script over in his mind on exactly what he wanted to say to you.

Hey Beanie, was wonderin’ if you’d like to accompany me to breakfast?

Wait..what if she declines? Then what are you gonna say?

Uhh..

Oh, well that’s alright! Maybe another time? No pressure or nothin.’

What if..she thinks it’s strange that you’re shoveling her walkway at the crack ass of dawn?

Jus’ doin’ my neighborly duty. Besides, it’s jus’ a friendly favor, y’know cause we’re friends?

I sound like an idiot.

Maybe I should just..start off with saying good morning?

I’m hopeless.

Joel grumbled to himself as he trudged through the snow. The whipping wind bit at his exposed skin but he welcomed the chill without a complaint. The harsh elements were just another reminder that he was still alive and breathing.

The outside of your home was just as he expected it to be, quaint, yet quirky. He imagined that in the summer months your front porch would be scattered with flowers and plants. The mailbox just outside your gate was crooked and could definitely use a fresh coat of paint, and the wooden gate was a little creaky, but nothing he couldn’t easily fix. He was already making a little mental note of everything he wanted to fix on, and around your home.

The snow was a few inches deep, it stopped just below the top of his boots. His back already screamed a dull pain up his spine as he bent down with the shovel and got to work. The pain he felt in his muscles was just another reminder that he was still alive.

He gritted his teeth together, jaw clenched as he worked through the first section of your covered walkway.

You never considered yourself to be a heavy sleeper even before the apocalypse. A door slamming, or pots clinking in the kitchen sink at your long since abandoned apartment was all it took to stir you from your slumber. Now, even in the safety of Jackson, your brain was always ticking. What could be lurking behind that dark shadow across the street? Realistically, nothing. It’s just your brain playing a dirty trick on you. A branch outside your window snaps, it’s just the wind. It’s just the wind because it’s storming out, and a strong wind can break even the sturdiest of branches. That noise you heard in the dead of the night? It was just an animal. Maybe a raccoon or a screech from a barn owl. It wasn’t a clicker. You were safe, so why couldn’t your brain just..turn off? Why was it still stuck in this survival mode when nothing inside Jackson’s strong walls could hurt you.

This sound in particular was different. It was unfamiliar, and unfamiliar meant danger. Scraping, grunts, more scraping; man. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing up as you shot out of bed like a bat out of hell. You kept your shotgun next to your bed because well..you could never be too careful. You never had a reason to use it, but it brought you some form of comfort that you didn’t realize you so desperately needed until Tommy experienced your triggers firsthand when he had accidentally snuck up on you while your back was turned to him behind the counter of your shop. The last time he had seen fear struck that deep inside one person, was the night Sarah died in Joel’s arms. So, Tommy lended you a shotgun as an apology.

He’s out there. He’s trying to get me. I have to run. I have to hide. He’s found me and he—he’s going to take me away.

Your brain was screaming at you as you crept down the steps. Every step you took you feared would be your last. It had been sometime since you experienced an episode as severe as this one. Other times you were able to talk yourself back down to logic. Sometimes you’d resort to unbridled violence, usually on a sack of sugar. This time, you felt as if you had no control over your body's current state. It was as if you were reliving—

Joel had his bad ear facing towards your front door. Between the pain in his back, and the scraping of the metal shovel along the concrete, he wasn’t able to detect the front door creaking open.

His back was facing you as you shakily pointed the barrel of your gun at what you thought was an intruder. Due to the low light from the sun barely peeking over the mountains, all you saw was a darkened figure bent over in the middle of your walkway. Had it been brighter out, perhaps you would have recognized the lone figure to be Joel.

Your ears were ringing loudly as the inner voice inside of your brain was demanding you to shoot. Shoot him and then run, and never look back. Your breath grew shallow as the figure slowly turned around to start on the next snow patch..and then immediately froze.

Joel dropped the shovel with a heavy clank as he slowly raised his hands above his head to show you that he was no immediate threat to your safety. “Beanie? Hey, it’s alright darlin’ it’s just me.”

He’s lying

Your entire body was trembling at the top of the steps as Joel hesitantly took a few steps forward. “Darlin?’” I’m gonna need you to lower the gun now, okay? You’re safe. It’s just me. Nothin’ out here is goin’ to hurt you.” He spoke softly, yet firmly. He kept his hands where you could see them in direct view. He was close enough now that even in the low light, he could see the frightened whites of your eyes as you stood there, unblinking.

“I’m goin’ to take another step towards you, okay? Please don’t shoot me.”

Don’t trust him. He’s one of them. He’s here to hurt you. He’s playing a trick on you.

“Joel?” You stuttered shakily as you finally found your voice.

His heart sunk deep into the pit of his stomach when he picked up on just how terrified you were. He knew it wasn’t directly because of him. Something had happened to you, he knew the look on your face all too well, and it was a good thing he knew how to act calm in a dire situation such as this one.

“Yes, it’s Joel. It’s just me darlin.’” He responded as he took another step towards the foot of the steps leading up to your front porch.

“D—don’t come any closer, please.” You uttered just barely above a whisper as you kept the barrel of your gun trained on him.

“Okay. I won’t come any closer, but I need you to trust me to trust you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you Beanie?” He was careful with his choice of words. Anything too sudden might end up with him potentially getting a bullet to the arm or thigh. Not the chest, please. He silently thought to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I trust you to not shoot me, so I need you to trust me to approach you. Okay? We can do this in baby steps. I just really need you to lower the gun, okay?” His eyes locked on yours as he gave you a reassuring nod.

You blinked a few times as your hands shakily lowered the barrel of the shotgun to the floorboards. Something in you suddenly clicked as the realization of what you had just done, more-so almost done, hit you like a freight train and suddenly you were crumbling right before his eyes.

He let out a visible sigh of relief when your gun was no longer aimed at him, but as soon as your body crumbled to the ground, he jumped into action. His gloved hands were gently wrapped around your shoulders as he spoke softly, yet urgently to you. “Beanie? Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He felt like in those crucial moments it was necessary that he repeat himself just in case you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your eyes were frantically searching his own, pupils dilating under the low light that the early winter morning sky had to offer. He was holding your shoulders so delicately, as if you were fine bone china that would shatter just upon glancing at it. He could feel your muscles trembling under his loose grip. He could feel a hint of anger bubbling in the deep pit of his stomach. The same anger he experienced when he found Ellie— “d’ya..wanna take some deep breaths with me maybe? Or we could count? Sometimes I try’n pick a spot on the wall or somethin’ or count the steps it takes me to get from point A to point B. S’not the best method, but it helps bring me back down to earth.” His tone was so soft, sincere and genuine. If you weren’t such an emotional fucked up wreck, your heart would be melting into a puddle by now.

“Joel..I’m so sorry I-I—didn’t know it was you. I thought you—I thought..” You struggled to articulate a cohesive sentence as his espresso brown eyes bore into yours. He gave you a reassuring nod, and a gentle squeeze along your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s alright. I know you weren’t g’nna shoot me. You were just frightened. Your mind was probably playin’ some trick on you.” He murmured as his thumb was gently stroking back and forth across the fabric of your pajamas on your shoulders. “Y’sure you don’t wanna count?”

“Does..it actually help?” You whispered timidly.

“Sometimes..all depends on what it is that’s triggerin’ me.” He softly responded

“Can you start..please?”

“Course I can darlin.’ We’ll start at Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven..”

“Six.”

“Five..”

“Four.”

“Three..”

“Two.”

“One.” You murmured in unison.

“Y’feel alright with me helpin’ you up? We can stay down here. S’alright with me.” His arms were fully enclosed around you now. He smelled better than you expected. Of course it helped that Jackson had an abundance of hygiene products available; soap being at the top of the list. He smelled earthy, rugged with a hint of minty freshness..toothpaste maybe.

“I really wasn’t going to shoot you..something just came over me and..I couldn’t stop myself.” You admitted softly.

“Would have been real hard for you to shoot me with the safety on darlin.’” He stifled a chuckle as he could see from the angle he was crouched down at, the safety on your rifle was in fact on. “Who gave you that rifle anyway? Someone outta teach ya to use it..never can be too careful.”

“Tommy gave it to me a few years back.”

“Ah. That does sound like somethin’ my brother would do.” He slowly stood to his feet as he offered you his gloved hand to help you up. “These floorboards are pretty damn wobbly. I can take a look at them when it ain’t so cold out? They probably started warpin’ from the changes in the weather. Might have a few boards that are rotted out.”

“Anything else you wanna fix on my house?” You teasingly asked as you grasped his hand, allowing him to help you up from the current sitting position you were in.

“Honey, I’ve got a whole mental list goin’ on in my head right now. The flood boards could end up bein’ a safety hazard if I don’t check ‘em sooner, rather than later. Your mailbox could use some sprucin’ up. Nothing a bit of paint can’t fix, and your gate is a little crooked. I’d uh—I’d be happy to do it though.” He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously with a sheepish look on his face.

“A whole list, huh? Is that why you were over here at the crack ass of dawn?” There was a ghost of a smile on your lips as you wrapped your arms around your chest to block out the bitter chill.

“Well, I gotta put my carpenter skills to good use somehow, right? Actually..I just woke up this mornin’ and wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya. Y’know after you came over and returned the mug..plus, I couldn’t really sleep all that much. I rarely do these days. Anyway, I’m ramblin’ yet again. The main reason I shoveled your walkway is cus’ I was goin’ to ask you if you’d like to accompany me to breakfast?” His face was flushed, and his cheeks were rosy, but he was certain it wasn’t because of the biting chill.

“You came all this way to shovel my walkway, and find an excuse to ask me out to breakfast?” You couldn’t help the smile that was slowly forming over your lips. It was crazy to think that just five minutes ago you were a complete cluster fuck of an emotional wreck, and now you were smiling like a fool because Joel Miller was proving to you that even in an apocalypse, chivalry was alive and well.

He ignored your question, at first. It wasn’t on purpose, he just was more tuned into your active shivering, and the way you tightened your arms across your chest in a weak attempt to block out the early morning chill.

“Are ya cold?” He asked with a soft rasp. He didn’t allow you the chance to answer as he was already slipping his warm suede jacket off and placing it over your shoulders.

“Thank you..” you whispered in a soft response.

“Of course. I’d feel pretty fuckin’ shitty if I caused ya to catch a cold out here.”

“And I’ll feel the same exact way if you catch one as well. Do you..want to come inside? I can put a fresh pot on?” You were already gesturing to your front door with a soft tilt of your chin in that direction.

“Let me just finish up with your walkway, and then I’d love to join you for a cup of coffee.” He was already heading down the steps to grab his discarded shovel.

“Wait! Joel, your jacket? Don’t you want it back?”

He glanced over his shoulder at you with a tiny grin playing on his lips. “Nah, s’alright darlin.’ The cold ain’t real botherin’ me anyway. Now please, go inside before you actually catch a cold.”

You weren’t one to argue at this early in the morning, and especially when you had yet to indulge in your cup of coffee. You slowly bent down and picked up your rifle and slung the strap over your shoulder before heading back inside. As soon as Joel heard the click of your front door closing, he continued on with shoveling the rest of your walkway.

The coffee grounds were just beginning to steep when he had quietly entered your home. He politely left his boots along the doormat next to yours. He didn’t want to be a rude houseguest and track in any snow. The first thing he noticed about your interior style was that you were anything but a minimalist. You had all sorts of picture frames hanging on the wall. Some were photographs but the others were paintings. Realism, portraits, landscapes, anything your heart desires, you painted it.

He especially took interest in all your knick knacks that were scattered in a clay bowl on the table in the entryway. Old keys, coins, lighters and paper matchboxes. Figurines, tiny porcelain coffee cups. The pads of his fingers brushed over a tiny felt fawn that was sitting atop of all the ‘clutter.’

“Ah. I see you found my bowl of treasures? Well, some people would probably call them junk, but I’ve always been a collector of oddities. Although, I wouldn’t really call them oddities. I think the proper term would be keepsakes?” You had two mugs of steaming coffee in your hands as you approached him. His jacket was still loosely hanging off of your shoulders as he looked over at you.

“Where did you find all of these treasures? Have you been collectin’ them through the years? Ellie’s obsessed with this kinda stuff.” He set the little felt fawn down gently as he reached for the coffee mug. Your fingers gently brushed against one another as he gingerly removed the mug from your hand. “Thank you, by the way. For uh, the coffee.”

“For the most part I have found all of these pieces on my own. Tommy actually found that felt fawn a few months ago. He knew it would bring a smile to my face. Do you want to take it home? I’m sure Ellie would love it. That’s kinda the whole concept of the bowl y’know? When I have guests over, I want them to pick something from it that really speaks to them. As you can see the bowl is quite full, considering I don’t get much company around here.” You brought the rim of your mug to your lips, softly blowing on the rising steam before you took a cautious slow sip.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that Beanie. I don’t wanna take somethin’ from ya that makes ya smile. That was awfully nice of my brother. Y’guys pretty close then?” He was gently leaning his weight back against the edge of the table, ankles crossed as he took a small sip from his own mug. For a split second you couldn’t help but feel the soothing domesticity from the moment you were sharing. Joel’s thick woolen socks, his flushed cheeks from the cold paired with his coat resting along your shoulders. There was something so tender to it all.

“Joel, I insist. Please, take the fawn and give it to your kid. I even have a little box for it so it looks like it’s a present. I’m sure she’ll love it. Anyway, Tommy and I are close. I suppose you could lay it out that way? I owe my life to him and Maria..they were the ones who took me in. I haven’t been outside Jackson since.”

“‘Course you got a little box for it and everythin.’ Alright, I’ll give it to El. You haven’t been outside Jackson in that long?..” He asked with genuine curiosity. He didn’t want to come across like he was prying either. He wanted you to open up to him not because he forced you to, but because you felt comfortable enough around him to show your vulnerabilities.

“I’ve only been outside the town one another time and that was when we found the coffee bean plants in the Colorado nursery. Tommy and Maria were with me of course and—” You paused, remembering how freaked out they were when you started to panic out of the blue. Neither of them could calm you down, and you passed out in Tommy’s arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t wanna tell me, alright?” He reached his freehand out and gently placed it along the side of your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Let me..go get that box for Ellie’s fawn. Did you still want to do breakfast?” You set your mug along the table, you had barely touched it.

“If you’d like to. I’d thoroughly enjoy your company, and you ain’t lived till you’ve tried Maria’s egg casserole, darlin.’” He was grinning boyishly over the rim of his mug.

Man, was he handsome.

“Sounds like her egg casserole is to die for then. I’ll just grab that box, and then get dressed. You alright with hanging out here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“I think I can find a way to keep myself entertained till then.” He assured you.

“Perfect.”

Joel waited until you had disappeared upstairs before he let out a deep sigh as he looked down at the little felt fawn. His brow furrowed as he was deep in thought over what had possibly happened to you when you went outside Jackson with Tommy and Maria. He could connect the dots and piece the puzzle together, and the blaring answer was something bad had happened. What exactly? Now, that was going to take a little bit of time.

You came back downstairs a few minutes later. Dressed in some worn out jeans and a sweater made of pure sheep’s wool. Joel’s jacket was resting along the crook of your arm as you handed him a little felt box that went along with the fawn.

“Keep my jacket. I’ve got plenty at home.” Was the first thing that he uttered as he took the felt box from you and gently placed the fawn figurine inside before tucking it safely away in his pocket.

“Joel, I can’t do that. I’ve got plenty of jackets here as well.”

He wanted to tell you to keep it because he liked the way it looked on you. He kept those thoughts to himself for the time being.

“Alright, I won’t fight ya on it.” He shrugged.

“Good, cause you’ll lose every single time you try.” There was a playful edge to your tone as you placed the jacket back around his shoulders.

“Is that a challenge?” He mused, with his eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Nope. It’s facts.” You grinned.

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

More of Jackson’s residents began to emerge from their homesteads at the shrill sound of the breakfast bell chiming from the mess hall. Joel had respectfully offered you his arm as you descended down the porch steps, and past your crooked gate. You obliged to his offer, wrapping your gloved hand around the crook of his elbow.

You had never felt so many pairs of eyes on you since living in Jackson. Curious, envious, surprised, disgusted? Those were the types of looks you encountered from a handful of Jackson’s residents. The looks you received were mostly from women, and even though the world had ended, jealousy was still brewing.

It wasn’t everyday that Joel Miller came strolling into the mess hall with a pretty thing on his arm. You stood out like two sore thumbs, but it seemed like neither of you were paying much mind to it. Joel was used to the stares. People around here didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he was Tommy’s older brother and Ellie was..like a daughter to him. They’d see the scars on his hands and arms and split like a sundae. He’d hear the whisperings of who he was, where he came from, and he’d shrug it all off. He much preferred keeping his family close, and everyone else at an arm's reach. He secretly relished in remaining a mystery to most.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tommy spoke in a surprised tone as you and Joel approached the table that he and Maria were currently seated at. “Ya finally get Beanie outta her coffee shell?”

“It appears that I did. Told her about Maria’s egg casserole and she was sold instantly.” Joel reached over and gave his brother a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Ellie stroll through here yet?”

“She came in a few minutes ago with Dina. There sittin’ with their friends ov’there.” Tommy gestured with the end of his fork.

“Thanks. Got somethin’ I wanna give t’her.” He turned towards you then and gave you a reassuring smile. “Why don’t ya go and grab yourself a plate. I’ll come sit with ya in a minute.”

“Do you want me to grab you a plate as well?..”

“You’re a real doll. Thank you, that would be great.” He gave his brother a slight nod before he was sauntering away to where Ellie was sitting. Her and Dina were sitting side by side, shoulders touching.

“Hey, kiddo.” Joel murmured softly.

“Hey, Joel.” Ellie responded, not looking up from her plate. Things between them were..rocky to put it nicely. She loved her dad of course, and after what happened yesterday she thought she’d be okay, but the truth was she wasn’t.

“I uh—don’t mean to bother you and Dina or nothin.’ Jus’ wanted to give this to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little velvet box and placed it down in front of her. “Beanies got this collection of treasures and I saw this..little fawn, and immediately thought of you kiddo.”

Why can’t I just be good with my words for once in my fuckin’ life?

Ellie could feel tears pricking the corner of her eyes as she gently lifted the lid off the box to reveal the little felt deer encased inside. This small gesture meant more than Joel would ever realize..but Ellie kept her poker face strong.

“Thanks, Joel.”

His heart dipped and sunk like dry sand becoming wet and weighed down from tumultuous waves crashing upon the shore. It was a small step in what he hoped was the direction of forgiveness.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He cleared his throat before he ambled away back to the table where the rest of his family were sitting. He had only known you for less than twenty four hours, and he already thought of you as family. He didn’t count all the times before outbreak day only because that part of himself had died along with Sarah. Or, so he thought.

“El..he’s trying at least.” Dina was resting her chin along Ellie’s shoulder as they were both gazing down at the little felt fawn.

“He is.” Ellie murmured softly.

Joel took a seat across from you as you were sitting next to Maria, gushing over her egg casserole, and how Joel was absolutely right about you not living until you tried it.

He thought you looked so pretty with a soft smile on your face as you looked at Maria with genuine adoration.

At nightfall, Joel, Tommy and a few other men were out patrolling. With the winter being so harsh, there were more chances of man wandering through these parts. Stragglers were one thing, raiders? That was a whole other story. Joel and Tommy took to the east on horseback. The longer winter night was dead silent. There was no howling wind to whip against the bone dry branches. No low hoot from an owl. It was quiet, too quiet. Even the horse’s hooves were nearly undetectable from how soft and careful they were stepping into the snow.

The only light source they had was the brightly lit moon shining in the jet-black sky. The stars scattered about weren’t nearly as brilliant as the moon.

Joel broke through the silence as he adjusted the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. “Tommy?..” he started, “do you know what happened to Beanie?..”

Tommy let out a huff of air as the bitter cold burned his lungs. He averted making eye contact with his brother before he was met with no other choice but to finally make eye contact with him. “It ain’t my place to tell you that, brother. I’m sorry.” He sounded defeated with his words because he didn’t want to keep anything hidden from Joel. Not after all those years they had spent apart from one another.

“You better give me a real fuckin’ reason why you can’t tell me. Tommy, she nearly fuckin’ shot me this mornin’ because she thought I was a threat. That I was a danger to her life. You can’t tell me anythin?’” Joel whispered back, harsher than he had wanted but he didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“Joel,” Tommy hissed under his breath, “Even if I knew the exact details of what that woman went through, I wouldn’t be able to disclose them to you.”

“Why the hell not?” Joel quipped back.

“Because, because..she ain’t got’a fuckin’ clue about what happened to herself either, Joel.”

What?

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I will be getting rid of my tag lists in the near future and making a separate account for just my fics. I’ll be making this announcement soon!

Chapter 4:

[horizon-verizon]

People who see the dragons as nukes who must die are completely misinterpreting the story. Let’s apply this analysis to the books though. Does Daenerys receive 3 deactivated nukes as a gift in her wedding day ? Does she press a nuke against her pregnant belly and the chemicals inside of it reach out to her unborn child ? Does she lay 3 nukes in her husband’s funeral pyre to honor him ? Does she lovingly hold and breastfeed 3 nukes ? Does Jon Snow wish that he had a nuke to fight off the freezing cold ? Does Arya consider nukes to be her friends ? Does young Tyrion beg his uncles for a nuke so he can be less lonely ?

Dragons aren’t single purpose objects, they’re living, thinking, breathing creatures, and Daenerys specifically views them as such, she literally thinks of them as her children. Historically, the dragons were essentially enslaved by the blood bond and the problem was that they were used by people who viewed them as weapons first and foremost. Daenerys (a character who is extremely invested in liberation by the way) being mother of dragons, specifically, as in giving them life and literally nursing them herself, is meant to show how her relationship to the dragons is unique from her ancestors. They aren’t just a bunch of flying weapons to her.

Dragons are the living embodiment of a primordial natural magical force (fire), and their extinction was caused by misogyny, human ambition, greed, and by people in the story doing exactly what the “dragons are nukes” crowd does, which is look at them as just Big Weapon (e.g. Aemond and Daeron), and said extinction is heavily implied to be the reason winters are getting harsher (“the summers have been shorter since the last dragon died, and the winters longer and crueler”, “the real enemy is the cold”).  Calling them nuclear weapons is wayyyy missing the point. It was the greater Valyrian sin of trying to control and dominate nature/magic and bend it to their whims that lead to chaos (hello The Doom and hello Valyria Fanboy Euron), which manifested in the dragon lords like the Targaryens as them controlling dragons, but “dragons are nukes” flattens the theme and misses the forest for the trees, and it’s why you get absolutely mind numbing takes like “yeah George brought back the dragons after centuries of extinction just to kill them all off again after two years in existence because Magic Bad”.

I talked about dragons, their symbolism, etc. HERE.

George at one point did compare dragons to nuclear "deterrents" when he speaks about Dany being the most powerful person in the world in 🔗a Vulture article:

When civilizations clash in your books, instead of Guns, Germs, and Steel, maybe it's more like Dragons, Magic, and Steel (and also Germs). There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies. Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world. But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I'm trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn't mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn't give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.

and GRRM does bring it up to express that dragons are so destructive that one can't use their fire for everything, for every problem when it might spell so much disaster. Can you can use dragons more often if the situation will not spiral out of control--Dragonfire does not persist when one attempts to put it out, like with wildfyre, so it's destructiveness is not in the exact same scope or horror as a radioactive nuclear missile that can leave behind radiation/devastation for years afterward...nor does it have the sort of reach these modern weapons have. Dragonfire remains within the confines of its targets unless you got really dry ground and don't put it out in time. The reason why dragonfire is compared to nuclear warfare is because like nuclear weapons now, for the world it exists in, it is the most powerful possible weapon of war.

It's about how Dany or anyone uses and regards dragons and others' own conceptions of magic and strength/danger that will make/break how they will perceive dragons. Not that dragons are innately evil; you sound like an overly superstitious and hypocritical Seven septon/over zealous Christian that way.

[kthyg]

ghoul. — (intoxicated) (m)

[FIFTH INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES: INTOXICATED]

"I'll pleasure you like how you deserved."

or

After dinner, Taehyung brought you to his house and took you like you were his.

pairing: taehyung x reader

rating: M for Mature

genre: tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, smut, gore

disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning: drugging, non con/dub con sexual activities (oral f receiving, fingering, body worshipping, oc is conscious but not really..., manhandling - softly tho), emotional and sentimental tae also ruthless tae, jimin js wants the best but got hurt instead, there's so much gore in this, cannibalism (heavy on this).

word count: 4.2k+

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note from winter 💌:

this chapter contains heavy themes :( i do hope you know your triggers before proceeding. i trust u with ur own triggers so pls, read if comfortable, skip if uncomfortable.

💌 what is winter listening to? : consume by chase atlantic ft, goon des garcons

📝 if you want to know more about this au, you can refer to lexicon & profiles. any other questions you can refer to me !!

dedication: sleep demon pt.3

You weren’t his soulmate.

You weren’t his friend.

You weren’t even his acquaintance.

But Taehyung had to call his chauffeur to bring you somewhere – he doesn’t care where as long as you and he were away from the coldness. He had no idea where your house was, and he definitely didn't want to go through your phone just to call your 'soulmates' to ask for your house location. So, he was bringing you to his house instead.

When his driver arrived, he immediately got in and turned the heat up enough to warm you up quickly. As he laid you on his lap, your cheeks were red from the cold breeze outside. His hands found their place on your cheeks as he helped you warm up. Your chest rose and fell slowly and steadily once your body temperature returned normal. Your breathing was shallow, and it made Taehyung panic unknowingly.

Once he was satisfied with the heat of your body, only then did he let go. He detached his hands from your face and stroked your head, occasionally brushing through your hair when he heard you purring in contentment.

You and his other soulmate, Yoongi, would make a great pair, he thought. Yoongi liked whenever his soulmates stroked his hair.

Yoongi’s true persona was Taehyung's hidden persona. The cold and aloof persona. If you could get used to his, you’d have no problem with Yoongi’s. But then why would he even think of getting you into his relationship?

He knew that you and Yoongi hated each other – from Jimin – although you didn’t seem like someone who could hate on someone. From the previous hours of talking with you, he could conclude that you were a soft-hearted person – being obsequious was your nature, not a façade. But that doesn’t make you any less of a great ghoul investigator. You were an excellent ghoul investigator: an investigator that never hesitated to kill any ghoul in the name of duty, the second woman to have made it to Associate Special Class rank – the first one being Jimin’s younger sister, aka your best friend, Rosé, or Park Roseanne or also Park Chaeyoung – you were a very remarkable woman with exceptional skill in KCCG.

You were very impressive for a pure human, and being in the Jeon clan was a plus point – despite being the adopted child. Your background was honestly fascinating to Taehyung. He knew you were not originally from Korea and were from Japan, but he didn’t know how you were brought here, by who, when, or what happened – he wanted to know that.

He better asked his soulmate, then. Jungkook was extremely close to you for all that he knew.

Before Rosé became the first female Investigator of Special Class, almost all the ghoul investigators were males. There were only a few female investigators during her early years in KCCG and before you joined the organisation. The highest most female investigators have climbed in rank was First Class, and they all retired at one point. Still, Rosé broke the record impressively and earned two honourable titles: KCCG's first female Special Class Investigator and Investigator of Special Class.

She was likely to follow her older brother to become the best of the best, especially when her older sister, the first female born in the Park siblings, could not take up the duty of being a ghoul investigator.

There was a reason why most ghoul investigators retired at the rank of First Class. Associate Special Class and Special Class investigators were both difficult to achieve. They required strenuous efforts and great willingness because not everyone would want to dedicate their whole life to their career, especially if they were mediocre. KCCG gave these ranks to the most robust investigators. They could be earned by a person easily or through ten times the hard work to earn First Class. You would be an excellent example of the latter: you have trained for years in the Ghoul Training Academy. Rosé, however, was exempted from training and jumped to the honorary Rank 3. 

Again, there was a reason for it.

She was a half-human.

Every half-human owned superstrength physical capabilities. Since the Kim clan took over KCCG from the Jung, they have exploited half-humans in their best interest in exterminating ghouls. Take three of Taehyung’s clan members: Jin, his older brother; Jisoo, his younger sister; and Mingyu, his paternal half-brother – They were all half-humans.

“We’ve arrived,” the chauffeur announced.

Taehyung acknowledged with a nod as he carefully adjusted his position while trying not to wake you up. The chauffeur opened the door, and Taehyung got out with you in his arms as he made a beeline toward the building entrance. As he walked into the building, the chauffeur watched him with a look that showed Taehyung’s actions and behaviour were highly unusual.

Taehyung has never, ever carried a woman.

Not even the victims of his cannibalism.

And his mannerism around you? That spoke a lot.

He entered the luxuriously fitted building he had been sharing with his soulmates, but most were not around. He knew because almost every floor was devoid of lights, although it was almost midnight; Namjoon was a work freak – he rarely came home. Hoseok was probably settling the uproar at 10th ward with Rosé. Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi joined the research about the newly found drug that had been spreading in 21st ward at the KCCG laboratory, and Jin had been staying at the Kim Main House for the past few days.

But even if his soulmates were around, he wouldn’t hesitate to bring you in. He could easily avoid everyone except Jimin because he would always barge into his floor, but that was nothing Taehyung couldn’t prevent. Taehyung stepped into the elevator, and the system automatically scanned his eyes. After successfully receiving the input, the screen showed the floor destination, Taehyung’s floor.

The elevator arrived with a ding, and the door slid open.

The veil of darkness obscured his vision immediately after the elevator’s door closed. He couldn’t bring himself to switch on the main hall's power source because he had already strode down the hallway to his room, clearly not minding the darkness. Once he reached his room, he delicately placed you on his bed and knelt next to the bed, his long fingers ghosting the side of your face. Longingness flashed in his eyes as he rested his face on his arms.

You were so beautiful; had he told you that?

His fingers began to trace from your jaw to your cheek and the bridge of your nose. His thumb caressed your flushed cheek softly as if you were so fragile that one rough touch could break you.

It was weird.

It wa weird that touching you felt so normal.

It was weird that Taehyung felt the need to pleasure you to redeem the hell you’ve been put through.

He heard about the rough training session you and his soulmates had last week. At first, he didn’t care, but now that he had quality time with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad about the rough treatment you received from your superiors. He could still see the scar on your cheek that you had covered with the concealer, which you had undoubtedly gotten from the training. Jimin had been so gracious to bestow him the minute of meeting (or training).

Taehyung rose to his feet and sat next to you. The bed dipped to his side once his weight settled on the soft mattress. His hand travelled from your face to your left lumbar region. From what Jimin had described, he remembered precisely where your wounds would be. He pulled up your shirt to expose your stomach to his eyes. He propelled two fingers as if to inspect an injury on the bruised left side of your waist. A pained moan escaped your lips immediately when he pushed. He didn’t let the pain linger longer as he pulled away to leave the room.

He returned with a packet of pills and a glass of water.

You stirred awake when you felt Taehyung lightly tapping his fingers on your cheek and his voice calling your name. It was no different than when your eyes had been closed; darkness still clouded your vision. You could make out the bedroom layout, the furniture, and Taehyung’s unreadable face just barely because of the enormous window that allowed lights from the bright outside city to illuminate the room.

“Take these,” he handed you a laminated packet of pills. “It’ll help you with the pain.”

You didn’t bother to ask what medicine he handed over as you popped it out of its packet. Taehyung brought a glass of water to help ease the pills' movement into your system. “Thank you,” you muttered groggily.

You weren’t exactly in pain.

What pain did he mean?

"I feel funny." You told him.

You saw his soft smile as he stroked your hair. His voice was mellifluously low as he spoke, “Given that you're drunk and all.”

No, it wasn't just that. Of course, the fact that you were in Taehyung's place, drunk as fuck, and on his bed was already funny. You were slowly losing your senses. What pills did he give you? You couldn't feel your limbs anymore.

"I'm guessing you've noticed it by now."

What?

"Tae–"

He quickly shushed you softly as he continued, “Don’t worry. It’s a temporary effect.” He leaned into your face, his eyes looking at you so… lovingly, so full of emotions. The eyes that had been staring at you with nothing but a dull gaze were now looking at you like you were the only person that mattered. Were the pills harmless even if the effect was only temporary?

His palm cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing so gently, so softly that it almost had you close your eyes to enjoy it. You could feel your body slowly burning up as seconds passed. It must be from one of the pills he gave. You cursed at yourself for being so careless and vulnerable. “I want you to rest properly…”

“While I pleasure you.”

Lost in confusion, you only stared at his eyes, trying to understand his meaning. The question was on the tip of your tongue, but Taehyung didn’t seem like he would answer you as he dived into your neck, inhaling vehemently. His hands glided to your wrists. The feeling of his fingers feathering around your pulse made your heart bloom with warmth, as much as you wished it didn’t. Taehyung locked his fingers around your wrists and pinned them above your head.

Your heart squeezed at his manoeuvring; All of his movement was painstakingly tender that your heart hurt.

His hand pressed on your wrists enough to restrict any movement from you. His dark orbs scanned your flushed face and body as his free hand slithered the curve of your body, “So delicate… My dainty cherry,” purred Taehyung.

Your mind was still hazy from the alcohol; you hadn’t had the chance to sober up properly, not now when Taehyung had given you those pills. You could feel your limbs again, albeit not entirely; they felt heavy. You groaned when you tried to move your arm but stood no chance against Taehyung’s grip.

“You don’t need to move at all, princess,” he told you; his palm cupped your sex, eliciting a gasp from you. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

His hand reached to deftly undo your pants and the other piece of fabric under them. The cold breeze against your flushed skin felt like nothing when Taehyung covered his hand around the skin of your thigh. His calloused hand stroked your thigh until it reached dangerously near your heat again, making you squirm in response.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Taehyung cooed. “I barely even started.”

His delicate fingers reached to play with your folds. He spread them and blew air, causing goosebumps on your skin. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you could only think of one thing; you were wet. He traced a finger and dragged it along the line of your vulva.

“Can I kiss you?” He gazed deeply into your eyes. His gaze was nothing short of like a man in love. Whispering, he added, “Please?”

Even so, Taehyung didn’t wait for you to answer as he lowered himself and captured your lips. He kissed you hard, devouring you. His wet muscle intruded your mouth, deepening the kiss. You were out of breath, but Taehyung didn’t seem to care as he continued to fuck your mouth with his hot tongue.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips when you felt digits delve into your pussy. You managed to break the kiss (because Taehyung let you do so), but his lips still hovered dangerously close to yours as he continued to finger you vigorously, forcing moans to spill from your lips. You sobbed uncontrollably when you felt his fingers reach the spot of intense pleasure. Your face was stained with tears and saliva, both yours and Taehyung’s. He sloppily kissed and licked your face while his fingers were inside you, making you a wet, wrecking mess.

“Taking my fingers so well,” husked Taehyung. “Like you were meant for me.”

Moans and whines were spilt uncontrollably from your lips, but they were a beautiful, mellow tune for Taehyung. He got off your pretty voice, crying out his name or just incoherent words.

“Do you like it, cherry?” He asked in between kisses. “Has anyone ever touched you? You’re so tight around my fingers.”

You couldn’t respond to him when you knew this was wrong, but you felt good. You wouldn’t respond to him because it was such a personal question to be asked.

Why would he even care?

If trying to get laid was his objective this whole time, your experience wouldn’t have mattered to him.

You turned your face away from him to avoid any more intimate kissing and licking from him, but, of course, Taehyung wasn’t going to let you. His hand that was on your wrists reached for your jaw and turned you to face him again.

His voice was rough and thick with malice as he rasped. “Answer me.”

“N—No one has ever—” You sputtered.

He seemed satisfied with your answer as he fastened the pace, his fingers abusing your sweet spot, making you see stars. His lips travelled down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the expanse of your skin. His hot breath fanned your ears as he whispered silkily, “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Fire had been pooling in your lower abdomen long enough that when he huskily commanded you, the spring coiled tightly one last time before you shattered around his fingers. Your body dissolved into pleasure as everything cut to white noise, drowning the soft praises that spilt from Taehyung’s lips for you as he slowly pulled out his fingers that were coated with your essence – not before playing with the swollen lips, pushing you to overstimulation and eliciting a string of strangled moans from you.

Taehyung released your wrists, but you made no effort to move them to cover your face even though you desperately wanted to hide your face from his gaze. You could only afford to close your eyes in hopes of passing out – hoping that the veil of darkness would cover you fully, your vision and mind, so you could brush this off as a nightmare. You were embarrassed and humiliated that you had enjoyed having his fingers pleasuring you and giving you an orgasm (after so long). You did nothing to escape him when he had clearly forced his way with you.

Who should you blame in a situation like this?

You almost slipped into unconsciousness when you felt tappings on your cheek, followed by his voice.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Taehyung cooed. “I’m not done with you.”

Before you could protest, he turned your body over, stomach flat on the soft mattress and your back exposed to his eyes. His movement was so fast, and you could finally comprehend his true control over you. You tried to turn around again – to push him away. To kick him off you. To do anything to get away from him and this place.

But the Special Class Investigator climbed on top of you as quickly as he flipped you over.

“Tae?” Jimin entered his soulmate’s apartment after he had rung the doorbell and entered the passcode. The first thing he did when he stepped into Taehyung’s territory was to cover his nose. The air was reeking of sex, and there could be only one reason. The space was seemingly endless as no lights were on, looking like nothing but a black hole. Had he not heard the rustling of a comforter from his partner’s bedroom, he would’ve thought no one was home.

Making his way toward Taehyung’s bedroom, he switched on the hallway’s lights. Once he reached the bedroom, he twisted the doorknob and invited himself in without knocking or making his presence known again. He didn’t need to. It was unlike for there to be anyone other than his soulmate.

“Again with new victim?”

Or his soulmate and his victim. Probably dead, or if she was lucky, Jimin had come right before Taehyung ate her. “I restocked your fridge with enough meats to last until the end of this week,” Jimin crossed his arms. Taehyung’s room was so dark that he could barely see the victim’s nor his soulmate’s face. But why did he catch a glimpse of you?

No, Taehyung wouldn’t be so stupid to hunt for doves now, would he?

Sighing, he pinched his temple and walked towards the bed where his soulmate was; hearing that Taehyung didn’t say anything in return – which was extremely odd – he continued, “If you ran out of it early, you could’ve just told–”

The pillow looked a lot like your face now. Has he gone mad because of Namjoon’s drastic decision to remove you from his squad to the point he hallucinated?

Fuck no, he wasn’t.

That was you. (Y/N).

“What the fuck, Kim Taehyung!?” Jimin roared and immediately stormed to the bed, body filled with pure unadulterated rage. “Get off her!”

He kept the thought of sharing you with his other soulmates as a safe notion, but not when he was seeing red: threat and danger surrounding you. It kicked off his primal instinct. You were hovered over by Taehyung, eyes shut and face red like a rose as you lay unmoved.

He must’ve drugged you.

“Another step,” Taehyung said, voice dripping with malice. “And I’ll bite your head off.”

Red luminous glow.

That made Jimin pause his step abruptly. Was his soulmate serious about his threat to the point that he activated his kakugan? He truly didn’t want to engage in a fight at the moment – especially with his soulmate. Taking a deep breath, Jimin tried again, this time with a gentle and slow voice. “Let her go, Taehyung.”

“Get out.” Taehyung didn’t miss a beat, quickly dismissing his soulmate with animosity.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Kim–”

“I said. Get. Out.”

That was enough to snap Jimin’s thin patience as he immediately took another step, disregarding his soulmate’s threat. Still, Taehyung was quicker as his mouth connected to the junction of your shoulder and neck. The crown of his teeth dug into your flesh deeply, blood starting to ooze out from the wound. He tore your flesh, completely detaching it from you. The drug must be wearing off because a painful moan escaped your lips, followed by a soft sobbing.

Darkness started flowing into Jimin’s sclera like ink, and prominent red veins surrounded the eye and the skin around the eye. His iris transformed into bright red, glowing with malice. Simultaneously, a scale-red kagune was generated and pierced through the back of Jimin’s body and shirt. The liquid muscles whizzed towards Taehyung and wrapped themselves around his body, pulling him away from you with mighty force.

“Namjoon will be hearing about this,” Jimin reprimanded his soulmate before he immediately walked towards you with urgency. He brought his hand to inspect your wound and could only sigh at the severity. Taehyung’s infliction of pain on you was a ghoul to human. You were neither half-ghoul nor ghoul, not even a half-human. You didn’t have the ability to regenerate or recover your injury as quickly as the listed species. The only way you could make it out of here alive was to boost up your Rc cells – at least temporarily before he brought you to Namjoon.

Jimin bit off his flesh and lowered himself to you. His hand gripped your jaw to force it open, but the sudden force caused you to thrash around, trying to remove his hand.

“Stop moving unless you want to die (Y/N).” He chided.

Had you not been drugged and half of your body could not move properly according to your will, you would’ve slapped him across the face. Your blood was boiling: the nerve to say that when he was no different than the other guy.

The person that bit off your flesh was apparently his soulmate, and you trusted neither of them equally.

“Fuck off.” You spat as you took out your hidden quinque: Ifraft and Abksol. Summoning any excess energy, you stabbed Jimin’s arm, piercing his flesh so profoundly. Save the guilt and remorse for another time as your body and mind enter fight-or-flight mode.

“Fucking hell–” He lurched back from the sudden attack. “(Y/N)!”

You didn’t just attack because of distrust.

Bringing one of your knees closer, you kicked Jimin off the bed and tried to get up. The luminosity of his red eye increased as he glared at you. He managed to get up and look perfectly unscathed.

“Y–You…” The realisation had you tongue-tied and spluttered as tears coursed down your face, blood still oozing from the open wound. “You’re a ghoul…”

You attacked him because he was the species you dutifully needed to exterminate.

“(Y/N),” Jimin began, voice unwavering. “I really need you to cooperate with me right now if you don’t want to die. It’s only a matter of time before your wound becomes fatal to your life if untended.”

“Thank you, but I can walk to the nearby hospital.” You turned down his proposal with a stern gaze.

“And risk you exposing us?” His voice lowered a pitch, and his eyes darkened. “Not a chance, (Y/N).”

His kagune generated another scaled tentacle and whizzed its way toward you. You were quick to cut through his soft kagune with the daggers in your hands, but just with that defence movement, you were already out of breath. You clutched onto the blades like they were your lifeline.

‘It’s only a matter of time before your wound becomes fatal to your life if untended.’

Fuck…

It would be best if you made it to the door and out of this place, call Mingyu or Minghao and–

“You spoke your thoughts out loud, honey.” It wasn’t Jimin’s voice.

Before you or even Jimin could even turn to the one and only person the voice could’ve come from, a pair of kagune latched itself to your wrists, simultaneously yanking away your weapon. Taehyung had broken free from Jimin’s rinkaku grip by summoning his own kagune. His scale-red tentacles pierced through Jimin’s, and immediately, the liquid muscles disappeared into thin air because the weak bond between the Rc cells in his kagune was disturbed by a sudden greater force.

Taehyung’s movement was fast as he ripped off his own flesh and forced it on you by shoving the piece down your throat without mercy. His voice was rough as he gritted out a command for you to chew on his flesh. His hand covered almost the lower half of your face to prevent you from spitting the flesh out.

The force he put on you was pressuring and suffocating.

You were vulnerable.

Your wrists were held down by Taehyung’s rinkaku, immobilising you at once.

“Eating his flesh one time won’t turn you into a ghoul,” Jimin said from afar. It almost sounded as if to soothe, but his voice was incomprehensible given the situation at hand, and you have long gone into fight-or-flight mode. His whole kagune disappeared into thin air, and his eye was restored to its normal state, leaving only Taehyung in his ghoul form. “It will only boost your Rc cells before we can bring you to the doctor.”

You were forced to accept his flesh with the force Taehyung put in his hand on your mouth. The soft muscle has no way out; way in was the only way. You tightly clenched your eyes as you chewed and let the flesh enter your body. You could taste the blood, thick on your taste bud, and most likely to leave behind a lingering after-taste. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes, and it took you by surprise when you felt something brush the tears away.

“I’m sorry you got to know it this way,” Jimin spoke softly as his thumb gently wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. “Let go of her, Tae.”

Taehyung was unmoving. His gaze was hard on you. It was a gaze of malice that mixed with sombreness. His red scale tentacles let go of your wrists and travelled to your neck – to where your pulse was, just above the wound.

“You took a prevention medication, didn’t you?”

All rights reserved © 2023 kthyg. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost without permission. Feedback is very much appreciated. It keeps me motivated! Send me an ask !!

[calummss]

Reborn in Death | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: things are not always what they seem. behind a happy facade hides the horror of reality not everyone can live with; including you

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 800

a/n: i’m not putting tw just bc i want the reader in the unknown. there’s a theme of death. if you don’t think you can handle it or unsure don’t read.

‘Say goodbye to daddy, Lillian.’ You rocked your daughter on your arm, stepping into the kitchen where Thomas was smoking.

Thomas turned to you before placing his cigarette on the ashtray, his hands reaching out for Lillian’s face, her cheeks never safe from his pinching.

‘Have a good day with mummy,’ he gave her a quick kiss, ‘try not to cry too much.’

‘You’ll be good, won’t you?’ You grinned at her.

Thomas also gave you a quick kiss, reminding you to stay safe on your morning stroll with Lillian.

Lillian loved your little walks. She seemed to be more relaxed when she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the wind, the sounds of chirping birds when they were there.

‘We should be back in an hour or so.’ Another quick smile before leaving the door to place little Lillian inside the stroller. Tucking her in and making sure she was covered, the biting coldness of winter starting to get colder by the day.

The streets were mostly empty. The only ones that found themselves outside were the unfortunate, or workers, forced to take a shift no matter the conditions.

You took the usual route to the nearby park, trying to get Lillian to see the world for the beauty it had. Wanting her to see different things nature had created. Lillian liked ducks. You took notice of it when she started grinning at them, they’re quacks making her giggle hysterically.

The pond was not yet frozen, the water still flowing peacefully. Ducks floating above the crystal waters, their colourful feathers reflecting a beautiful ombré.

‘When are you going to tell her, Thomas?’ Polly took a drag of her black rolled cigarette, her eyes gleaming.

Thomas’ back was pressed against the wall, he inhaled the silver smoke that relieved him of his nerves.

‘You have to,’ she snapped, her voice growing louder, ‘her delusion is starting to spread across town. How will that make us look good? Let alone her.’ Aunt Pol bit her lip, her honey eyes glued on Thomas’ frame as he hung his head, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier as she continued to speak.

‘What do you want me to say, Pol?’ He glanced up, his voice the softest it had been.

‘That Lillian died and that what she is holding is a doll!’

‘You know I can’t do that!’

’You have to!’

‘I CAN’T!’ Thomas shouted back, hands sliding across his face.

Polly marched towards him, her hands trembling. ‘YOU HAVE—‘

‘SHE KILLED HIM!’ He yelled, his face eye to eye with her.

Tommy’s eyes bounced back and forth, unable to focus with the dragging noise of his heart that silently grew louder and louder as he looked at Polly’s face. The horror made him sick.

‘What?’ Her eyes somewhat softened, still wide as her heart stopped beating what seemed to be too long for her to still be alive, her hands no longer shaking. Paralysed.

Thomas’ hand brushed against his lip, turning around, pacing across the living room, his feet moving despite his wish to settle. ‘She was home alone when Kimber came here, the day we sent our men to the race. She hid in a kitchen cabinet when the baby suddenly started crying.’ His voice started shaking, just enough to tell that Thomas Shelby carried a heavy weight in his soul, every word harder to say out loud. ‘She was so scared. So scared to die. She covered Lillian’s mouth and nose to silence her. Stopped her from breathing…when they left, Lillian had already died in Y/n’s arms.’

‘Why did you never tell me?’ Polly asked.

‘Because if I told you, I would have to tell her the truth and I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it again. I cannot put her in that state again. Especially when part of it is my fault too,’ his voice grew quiet, shame washing over him like a wave trying to drown him. ‘I should never have made a move on Kimber. Never have left her alone in that house. I should’ve never done it.’

Polly opened her mouth wanting to respond but the sudden clicking of the door brought her to her feet, her arm brushing against Thomas as your familiar face appeared behind the door.

Closing the door behind you, the family portrait of you, Thomas and Lillian fell over.

‘Shh don’t cry,’ you rocked Lillian, her cries filling your ears. ‘Mummy would never do anything to hurt you. You’re safe with me, I’ll always protect you.’

Polly looked at Thomas, faced with an expression she had never seen on him, patting his shoulder to reassure him. ‘Switch it with a real baby, Tommy.’ She whispered in his ear, helping you with the stroller as you held Lillian on your arm.

Thomas smiled at you, taking Lillian into his arms from you, rushing upstairs, leaving him alone.

I stay where your calendar stopped.

[bestworstcase]

To add to the conversation about the themes of Maidens and Ozpin controlling them being not a good thing, it was only the third Maiden power did we get someone willing to work with the team. Both Raven and her predecessor said no to working with Ozpin. (It's not exactly subtle that Qrow does end up speaking with the not yet known to him or the audience Spring Maiden in Volume 4 and being told no. And at no point does Oz or him talk about convincing someone that doesn't want to work with them.)

hardly a novel thing to point out but it’s so very telling that the conversation surrounding the spring maiden in v4-5 is entirely framed in terms of "raven has spring" and "mounting a retrieval force" because, as qrow puts it, "raven won’t give up her most prized possession without a fight."

the maidens literally just. aren’t people, in the inner circle’s eyes. they’re objects. tools. weapons. something you can possess. it’s not even that the inner circle doesn’t care whether the maidens agree or not; they’re dehumanized to such an extreme degree that the idea of a maiden having the capacity to make choices isn’t recognized at all.

which rwby starts to unpack in atlas. fria is an elderly woman with dementia who isn’t allowed to see anyone but the designated heir—she is being actively medically abused for the sake of destroying her capacity to Remember anyone else but winter. penny, ironwood says, is under his complete control. and then it is her act of disregarding ironwood’s wishes to accept the winter maiden herself (to protect winter! to ensure winter’s safety! this is not only what penny wants but also what she was ordered to do) which leads him to the realization that he was incorrect—that penny is not an object—with the result that nearly every choice ironwood makes in v8 is motivated by his fixation on getting penny back under control. similarly he believes he has winter so well-trained that she isn’t Capable of betraying him, and when she proves him wrong he tries to kill her, and it’s the winter maiden, given to her by penny as a gift, that protects her / allows her to free herself from him.

which is to say, the maidens who choose to help teams rwby & jnpr can do so only after Liberating themselves from the systematic dehumanization and control of the inner circle—consent becomes possible only after the maiden breaks free of her cage.

this is also one of the reasons i think gil is the summer maiden. bc there’s this pattern. the vaults are shackles for every maiden except cinder (who becomes a maiden in defiance of the man who Set Up this system and then immediately kills him). in raven and in penny + winter we’ve had explorations of what this looks like in relation to characters who are notionally on the same side as the vault-keepers (none of them want salem getting her hands on their relic), with the atlas arc forcing the kids into open conflict with ironwood Because they see penny/the maiden as a person who can make choices.

a situation where the summer maiden is involved in the inner circle or even just neutral risk retreading the same ground. whereas. a maiden who is an adversary who (like salem albeit for different reasons) Cannot Be Beaten (because she represents half of vacuo and killing her will make her a martyr, ripping the kingdom apart) feels like the natural place for this narrative to go next. what happens if the maiden says no? for real this time. how do you persuade her, compromise with her, what reason do you give her to work with you?

(<- potential here for a reprise and inversion of ozpin’s advice to ruby in v1: if you’re not always performing at your absolute best, what reason do you give others to follow you? well, if you’re not treating others like human beings whose choices and freedom matter, what reason do you give them to stand with you? as always the curative for the poison of guardians and martyrs is coalition, which is harder in many ways but also healing.)

[adarkrainbow]

The Lost Sister (A)

Let's continue down our road of the "Queering the Grimms" book with an article from the second part, "Revising Rewritings" (which, as you might guess, is about fairytale rewrites and adaptations). This article is called : The Lost Sister ; Lesbian eroticism and female empowerment in "Snow White and Rose Red". It was written by Andrew J. Friedenthal.

Over the many years since Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm first collected and published Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children’s and Household Tales), several of their tales have become European and North American classics, adapted to myriad media forms. For example, the Walt Disney Company’s success can be attributed to a great extent to their fairy tale animated films (Zipes 1995b). Indeed, a fairy tale served as the subject for Walt Disney’s very first film, the animated short Little Red Riding Hood (1922),1 as well as for his first feature, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). The latter film has ensured the character Snow White’s endurance in popular culture and imagination. Yet Rose Red, her sister from the Grimms’ tale “Snow White and Rose Red” (ATU 426, “The Two Girls, the Bear, and the Dwarf,” Zipes 2002b, 475–80), may be unfamiliar to most who know Snow White well. Receding to the background, Rose Red has a much lower public profile, despite the sisters’ loyal, loving, ostensibly equal relationship in their tale.

Through close comparisons of the Grimm and Disney versions of “Snow White” (ATU 709) and “Snow White and Rose Red,” and an examination of contemporary reinterpretations of the latter, I tease out subtle themes of lesbianism and female sexual empowerment in ATU 426, comparing its subversiveness to the more heteronormative ATU 709.3 The seeming banishment of Rose Red from public consciousness may reflect centuries old cultural taboos against both lesbianism and free expression of female sexuality, taboos that her story, and thus her very presence, threatens to unleash. This potential, I argue, finds relatively free expression in recent adaptations that play with and nuance the narrative’s queer possibilities.

THE GRIMMS’ TALE

In the Grimms’ “Snow White and Rose Red,” two sisters live in a cottage with their poor widowed mother. The girls “looked like the rosebushes” growing in the garden—one which “bore white roses and the other red.” Snow White is “more quiet and gentle than Rose Red” who enjoys running around outside, surrounded by nature (Zipes 2002b, 475). Rose Red is thus figured from the story’s very outset, in comparison with her sister, as wilder and less domestic. Her free-spirited, untamed ways may seem dangerous in the context of a patriarchal society that idealizes feminine “docility, gentleness, and good temper,” in which “good-temper and meekness are . . . regularly associated with beauty, and ill-temper with ugliness” (Lieberman 1972, 385)

Snow White and Rose Red’s adventures begin one cold night, while the family of three gather around the hearth in their cottage. Suddenly, they hear a knock at the door. They let their visitor, a black bear, sleep by their fire every night for the whole winter, becoming “so accustomed to him that they never bolted the door until their black playmate had arrived” (Zipes 2002b, 477). The bear becomes the girls’ playmate, but when spring comes, he leaves the house to guard his hidden treasure from dwarfs. Later, as the two girls run errands for their mother, they find themselves again and again bumping into a dwarf who has the strange habit of getting his beard trapped in strange places—the cleft of a tree, a fishing line, an eagle’s talons. In order to save him, the girls cut off pieces of his beard. Each time, he expresses anger, rather than gratitude, for their help: “Uncouth slobs! How could you cut off a piece of my fine beard? Good riddance to you!” (479). When he threatens the girls, the bear appears from out of the forest and kills the dwarf with a single swipe of his massive paw, after which he turns into a handsome prince. He explains that the evil dwarf had cast a spell on him, turning him into a bear, and that with the dwarf’s death he is released from that curse. Having regained his human form, the prince marries Snow White while his brother marries Rose Red, and the sisters, princes, and widow all live happily ever after.

“Snow White and Rose Red” deals with many of the archetypes found in better-known Grimm tales, concerning societal roles accorded to individuals based on age, sex, gender, class, and so on (see, e.g., Holbek 1987). Virginia Walker and Mary E. Lunz’s study of schoolchildren’s reactions to fairy-tale imagery examines these shared archetypes’ roles in ATU 426 as well as in the broader corpus of the Grimms’ work. They see the basic conflict in “Snow White and Rose Red” revolving around the lack of a masculine element/entity at the story’s opening, which when added restores psychic balance. The feminine household triad of Snow White, Rose Red, and their widowed mother gains an element of masculinity with the intrusion of the bear, unwanted at first but ultimately accepted and even welcomed, literally joining with the girls via marriage. This union “is the completion of the tale and symbolizes the most important psychic process, the restoration of unity or wholeness to the self, accomplished by the unity of the masculine and the feminine aspects of the personality, creating psychic balance” (Walker and Lunz 1976, 96–97).

This process of coming to balance, concluding when the sisters release the bear/prince (“the positive state of the animus”) from his imprisonment in animal form by the dwarf (“the negative animus”), leads to a kind of self[1]reintegration prefigured and symbolized throughout by the rose, arguably the tale’s central metaphor. A dual-natured symbolic vehicle, white and red, the rose represents both wholeness (due to its spherical nature) and femininity (as a “vessel-like flower”). The sisters are tied metaphorically and by name to the roses, which are agents of transformation from (one-sided) femininity to wholeness. These flower symbols quite literally come to full bloom at the tale’s conclusion as the two rosebushes are transplanted to the palace: “The marriage of the two sisters to the two Princes offers the promise of wholeness suggested by the symbol of the rose in the beginning of the fairy tale” (Walker and Lunz 1976, 97).

This analysis assumes that the white and red roses, and thus the White and Red sisters, are fundamentally the same and their color differences only superficial. Yet the meanings of the hues engage the tale’s symbolism and semantics. Snow White, associated with the color of cleanliness and innocence, of inexperience and childhood, is, literally, pure in essence. Rose Red, in contrast, is named for the color of blood and passion. Her name invokes a stain on the whiteness, the menstruation that signals a girl’s blooming, and the awakening of her sexuality as she becomes a woman and loses her innocence to sexual, hormonal desires (see Heather 1948). While the girls’ story affirms their common qualities—“they were more pious and kind, more hardworking and diligent than any other two children in the world” (Zipes 2002b, 475)—their names discriminate between them. One sister receives a pure, clean slate, cleared of all wrongdoing and sexual knowledge, while the other has the sins of womanhood thrust upon her. The link with heteronormativity in this color scheme is introduced when the bear arrives, and his connection with Snow White, who “was very sad about his departure,” emphasizes her orientation toward heterosexual desire (477).

Throughout the story, from the opening emphasis on Snow White’s quiet gentility to the happy ending of marriage(s), Rose Red plays a secondary role. It is Snow White who sees the foreshadowing “gold glimmering through the fur” when the bear leaves at the end of the winter, who first thinks to cut the dwarf’s beard in order to free him, and who ultimately marries the prince (Zipes 2002b, 477). Rose Red, on the other hand, becomes her sister’s sidekick, even to the point of her marriage at the story’s end to the prince’s hitherto unmentioned brother (480).

Sadly for Rose, her plight as second fiddle within the tale reflects her current standing in popular culture. Snow White is best known as a character from a different story, one featuring a wicked stepmother, seven dwarfs, and a poisoned apple, rather than one about two sisters, a bear, and a single dwarf. Rose Red features only as the bad sister, the whore to Snow White’s virgin, as the sisters act out a contrast between purity and—often sexual—corruption. Why must Rose Red live in Snow White’s shadow? Can it be only coincidental that the innocent persecuted heroine (see Bacchilega 1993; S. S. Jones 1993), “Snow White,” instantiates the heteronormative moments that constantly reassert patriarchy, while Snow White and Rose Red’s narrative is riddled with the serious societal transgression of female sexual empowerment and, even more troubling, sisterly homoeroticism?

A TRANSGRESSIVE READING OF ROSE RED / A HETERONORMATIVE READING OF SNOW WHITE

Though the Grimms’ “Snow White and Rose Red” may lack overt expression of incestuous lesbianism, the entire tale centers on a series of queer images and symbols. The main figurative element of the tale suggests a subtle sexuality—the two sisters are associated with two rosebushes, one white and one red, in front of their widowed mother’s house (Zipes 2002b, 475). The rosebushes, with their thorns, recall other fairy-tale pricking objects, especially the needles associated with the fabric that ultimately results from spinning, an activity that Snow White and Rose Red themselves engage in as a part of their everyday lives.4 Sharp items serve as recurring motifs in the Grimms’ tales concerning young ingenue females. The act of pricking may invoke the penetrating male penis, or it may symbolize stimulation of the blood flow that results from menstruation, the blooming of womanhood, and, ultimately, female sexuality. A widow living in a lonely cottage with two daughters named after thorny rosebushes suggests a simmering sexuality at work in the heart of a home characterized initially by the absence of male figures. From the very beginning, then, a queer dynamic manifests in this story.

As ATU 426 continues, the sexuality moves from the blossoming girls in the cottage and out into the world. The girls often wander alone together in the forest gathering “red berries,” emphasizing the menstrual/sexual connotation to their activities (Zipes 2002b, 476; my emphasis). Their “sisterly” love for each other often finds physical expression: they “loved each other so much that they always held hands whenever they were out”; they swear never to leave each other as long as they live; and they sometimes “would lie down next to each other on the moss and sleep until morning came.” Their mother recognizes their closeness, telling them that “whatever one of you has, remember to share it with the other” (476). The sisters’ actions and their symbolism suggest an equal division of sexual knowledge and growth and explain the sudden appearance of a second prince for Rose Red at the story’s end, when by implication they (separately) share sexual experience with their husbands. The atmosphere of sisterly affection taken into the physical realm permeates the tale, until the entrance of the bear. As the heterosexual romantic interest for Snow White (despite the potential unruliness of interspecific human-bear love), he offers a preternaturally powerful representative of heteronormative society invading the cottage.

When the sisters leave the cottage to play in the physical realm of the woods, fecundity and fertility surround them—a hare eating a cabbage leaf from their hands, a roe grazing by their side, a stag leaping about them, and so on. So in tune with the natural world and its rhythms are they that a (super)natural figure saves their lives when they sleep at the edge of a cliff one night. In the morning, “a beautiful child in a white, glistening garment” saves them from falling, a figure their mother assures them was “the angel who watches over good children” (Zipes 2002b, 476). The natural world in which the girls are enmeshed even follows them home, first in the form of a lamb and a dove who listen to stories with them at night and ultimately and most significantly in the figure of the bear

Once the bear enters the household and is accepted as a well-meaning figure rather than a dangerous one, the girls’ interaction with him becomes overwhelmingly physical. He displays his masculine power by stretching his large body by the fire and growling “to show how content and comfortable he was,” and Snow White and Rose Red literally crawl all over him: “They tugged his fur with their hands, planted their feet upon his back and rolled him over, or they took a hazel switch and hit him.” When this violence becomes too rough, the bear cries out, “Snow White, Rose Red, / would you beat your suitor dead?” (Zipes 2002b, 477). The girls’ intensely playful, active, equal participation in this primitive flirtation with the bear creates a sensual tension he identifies by declaring himself their “suitor.” As a flirtation between human and animal, this relationship, in its playfulness at the tale’s beginning and ultimate consummation at the tale’s end, is a queering in and of itself, if not a homoerotic one

The sisters differentiate their romantic desire for the kind of powerful masculinity embodied by the bear through their complete lack of desire for the tale’s contrasting masculine figure. The dwarf, small in stature and decrepitly old, is a “little fellow” with an “old, withered face and a beard that was snow white and a yard long.” Rose Red calls him “little man” (Zipes 2002b, 477–78). He is distinguished from the bear’s large, powerful, and youthful physique and, later, from the prince, “a handsome man clad completely in gold” (480). The girls, attracted to the physicality of the bear/ prince, demonstrate sensual desire in a way that the passive Snow White, in her solo tale, never does. In “Snow White and Rose Red,” the sexual interest and interactions—both queer and straight—derive from a female source

Note the contrast here with the Grimms’ “Snow White.” Its protagonist not only lacks any sexual initiative or affectionate relationship with women, but her own stepmother tries to kill her out of envy for her beauty. Just as the White sister is lauded for her beauty in “Snow White and Rose Red,” so too in “Snow White,” she is “the fairest of all” and is compared with her jealous stepmother rather than her loving sister (Zipes 2002b, 181). The queen’s envy of her stepdaughter’s appearance drives the narrative, making Snow White’s beauty her defining characteristic. Snow White, in fact, rarely does anything; her beauty is primarily what lets her survive. Instructed by the queen to kill Snow White, the hunter takes pity on her “since she was so beautiful”; a fact also immediately noted by the dwarfs in whose cottage Snow White takes refuge (182). They see Snow White as “a beautiful child” (183). The prince whose actions ultimately save Snow White from a deathlike state is also obsessed with her beauty and physical appearance, saying, “I can’t go on living without being able to see Snow White” (188; my emphasis). Snow White’s few and rare actions are located in the traditionally feminine realm of home and hearth. In order to stay with the dwarfs, she promises to “keep house . . . cook, make the beds, wash, sew, and knit, and . . . keep everything neat and orderly” (183–84). Yet these same domestic proclivities ultimately put her in danger of the queen’s machinations. She gets taken in by the promises of “staylaces in all kinds of colors,” a comb that “pleased her so much that she let herself be carried away and opened the door,” and, most destructively, an enticing apple, twice described specifically as “beautiful” (184–86). This apple that nearly kills Snow White shows beauty as a double-edged sword that initially destroys but then saves her.

The masculine realm of work and the men practicing it serve purely as a saving grace to Snow White. The huntsman helps the girl to escape by engaging directly in his trade, killing a boar and using its lungs and liver “as proof that the child was dead” (Zipes 2002b, 182). The dwarfs, hardworking men who “searched in the mountains for minerals with their picks and shovels,” offer safe haven for Snow White. Protectively, they tell her, “Beware of your stepmother! . . . She’ll soon know that you’re here. Don’t let anybody in!” (184). When the queen first deceives Snow White, the dwarfs again caution her, “Beware, don’t let anyone in when we’re not with you!” The second time, they warn her “to be on her guard and not open the door for anyone” (185). With each volley from Snow White’s stepmother, the cottage’s realm of masculine protection, depending on the dwarfs’ labor as miners, is endangered when the daughter allows its breach due to a desire for feminine wares.

The dwarfs’ warnings unattended, Snow White apparently dies, and they decide to keep her in “a transparent coffin so that she could be seen from all sides” rather than to bury her (Zipes 2002b, 187). This action, once again influenced by the girl’s beauty, ultimately leads to her salvation, as it allows the prince to become enamored of her. Before he can possess the coffin, however, the prince and the dwarfs must engage in another quintessentially masculine practice—bargaining and negotiating prices for goods and for women (see Rubin 1975). He asks, “Let me have the coffin, and I’ll pay you whatever you want,” to which they reply, “We won’t give it up for all the gold in the world.” The love-struck prince then somewhat pathetically begs, “Then give it to me as a gift,” and the dwarfs take pity on him. The prince then “ordered his servants to carry the coffin on their shoulders, but they stumbled over some shrubs, and the jolt caused the poisoned piece of apple that Snow White had bitten off to be released from her throat” (188). With the apple gone, Snow White returns to life, marries the prince, and enacts revenge on her stepmother. Yet at no time does she express any desire for the prince or indeed for any man. Snow White’s resurrection, marriage, and denouement are enabled by the masculine bargain between the dwarfs and the prince, as well as by the prince’s wants, rather than by any desire or action of her own. Her apparent lack of initiative and sexuality alike starkly contrast with “Snow White and Rose Red,” wherein the White sister’s marriage arises from clearly expressed mutual desire

The Walt Disney animated movie Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs takes this dichotomy of female beauty versus male work even further. The storybook montage that opens the film lists beauty as Snow White’s defining characteristic. As in the Grimms’ tale, her loveliness, coupled with naive innocence and kindness to animals, changes the hunter’s heart and keeps him from killing her and causes the dwarfs to become enamored. When she first arrives at the dwarfs’ cottage, she cleans it while singing a song about her housework; the dwarfs also sing about their toil as miners. The film’s songs, then, invoke the contrasting fields of masculine and feminine jobs

The songs also serve to hypersexualize Snow White. In the opening moments of the film, she sings to herself about her wishes for a man to love. Her hope is granted in the form of a prince who shows up and sings a duet with her. Having escaped from the castle and now living with the dwarfs, she longs to be rescued by him and find true love:

Someday my prince will come / Someday we’ll meet again / And away to his castle we’ll go / To be happy forever I know.

This song, reprised at the film’s end as the prince and Snow White literally walk off into the sunset toward a glowing castle, reminds the audience that Snow White’s destiny is fulfilled. Her prince has indeed come.

The romantic series of events in the Disney film contrasts sharply with the Grimm tale, where the servants’ (accidental) jostling of the coffin knocks free the apple in Snow White’s throat. Perhaps taking a page from the Grimms’ tale “Brier Rose” (ATU 410),5 Disney ends the story with a kiss from the prince awakening Snow White (see Zipes 2002b, 171–74). Their relationship’s sexual undertones are subdued, but their heteronormative longing for each other (explicitly expressed through song) allows them both to find a happy ending in each other’s arms

Snow White’s beauty and femininity are her primary attraction for all the males in the film, but the wicked queen, consumed with jealousy, sets out to destroy them, and her. In the Grimms’ version, the stepmother costumes herself in disguise as an “old peddler woman” (Zipes 2002b, 184). In the film, she casts a magic spell so that she appears as an “old hag.” Unlike Snow White, the queen has supernatural power and active capabilities, yet neither is a virtue for her as it is for the male characters. Snow White is “killed,” in both the film and the tale, by an apple, given to her by a temptress. The evil queen evokes the danger of female empowerment associated with Eve in the Garden of Eden.6 An aged, powerful figure, the queen of Disney’s film is destroyed while engaged in physically potent labor (attempting to dislodge a boulder to crush the dwarfs who chase her from their cottage after she has “killed” Snow White), literally struck down by the forces of the universe, in the form of a bolt of lightning. In Snow White, a woman who is too powerful and active must be destroyed by the hand of fate

Again, this perspective contrasts with “Snow White and Rose Red,” where the girls perform the story’s primary actions. First described not only as beautiful but also as “more hardworking and diligent than any other two children in the world” (Zipes 2002b, 475), the sisters initiate interaction with the bear (encouraged by their mother); they take care of and play with him; they go to the woods both to frolic and to run errands for their mother; and, most important, they take direct, physical action in the narrative by snipping the dwarf’s beard, saving him from being trapped while simultaneously emasculating him, symbolized by the loss of his (facial) hair (see Synnott 1987). Their play with the bear, rather than demurely feminine, is characterized by (tom)boyish enthusiasm and horseplay. Furthermore, through their errands for their mother, they perform actual physical work and labor. Without a male figure in the household, they do “masculine” chores, such as “gather[ing] firewood” and “catch[ing] some fish for dinner” (Zipes 2002b, 477–79). Thus, when compared with the weak, passive Snow White of the film and solo tale, noted solely for her beauty, the sisters of “Snow White and Rose Red” are active and adventurous and perform quite outside the bounds of the patriarchal ideal for well-behaved, demure girls. Similarly, while the Snow White of her own story is overabundantly demarcated as heterosexual, the sisters of the shared tale are queered. Perhaps it is no coincidence, then, that contemporary culture favors the more conventional tale of Snow White, sans Rose Red and sans homoerotic overtones.

[tsibeyantiger]

It is time. Welcome, everyone, to my GrishaVerse wildlife analysis!

First of all some disclaimers. My comments are based on the books and since we are talking about a fictional world, not every rule from our universe must apply there. I remember a post about how it's stupid that Game of Thrones has got pumpkins because Westeros is European-themed and I call this bullshit. Westeros is inspired by Europe, but it IS not Europe, so pumpkins can be native there. Applying this logic, my assumptions about the GrishaVerse nature are limited. Just because Fjerda is inspired by Scandinavia, it doesn't necessarily have all the animals and plants that live there. But to make it easier, I will assume that Leigh Bardugo mentioned every animal she invented and everything else that lives there is a creature that exists in real life. And also, this is waaaaay too much stuff for just one post, so today, I will be only analysing Fjerda. The other countries will follow.

The Seawhip: Certainly the most spectacular animal, but actually kind of boring. It is unclear if dragons are a species in GrishaVerse or if the Seawhip is just one of a kind, just as the Firebird. Does it belong to the same species as Juris? Probably not, because they are pretty different. One must assume that there is only one Seawhip and this limits the influence it can have on an ecosystem. It uses to live in the Bone Road and preyed on probably anything. That's it.

Whales: There are at least two species of whales in the True Sea, but probably a lot more. They have dolphins that might even live as far north as Fjerda and are MAYBE hunted. But there's no doubt there is at least one big species of whales that is hunted by the Fjerdan and maybe also the Ravkan and Kaelish for probably centuries. A habitat as big as the True Sea allows much diversification and there will probably be whales that prefer deep waters as well whales that live close to the coast. These will have been the first one to be killed by humans, just as the right whales in our world, and they are probably already close to extinction during the time of the books. Hanne mentions whales in the bay of Djerholm. Whether they belong to the already rare species that lives close to the coast or to the one that usually prefers deep waters, they are probably unusual guests to Djerholm. The whales migrate, probably spend the winter somewhere south of Kerch, give birth and then swim north. The Bone Road carries ice even in summer, so it must be totally frozen in winter. This limits the range of the whales territory.

Bears: What kind of animals do live on the ice? Does the GrishaVerse have polar bears? We know that there are white bears in Tsibeya, but they probably aren't polar bears. They couldn't survive there. It is pretty likely that brown bears live in Fjerda, Ravka and Shu Han, with several subspecies. Ivan mentions a kodiak bear, probably from Tsibeya. Sankt Grigori also came across bears. The white bears might be a exceptionally bright subspecies of brown bears or there are two different species of bears in Tsibeya. If this is the case, it would be interesting to know the differences between their niches. Either way, it's safe to say Fjerda has got brown bears. Polar bears are more speculative, but I think they exist, too. There are many seals in the sea and something must prey on them.

Reindeers: It is canon that there are reindeers in Fjerda, and this totally fits to everything else we know about this country. The North of Fjerda must be tundra, it's too cold for trees. Reindeers migrate through the whole year, so they are probably roaming the tundra of Fjerda all the time. The sea must freeze in winter, so it's possible they spend the summer in Kenst Hjerte and move south as soon as the island is surrounded by ice. They are probably kept by the Hedjut, there isn't much else in the tundra a culture can subsist on. And THIS is really interesting, because you cannot force reindeers to stay at the same place all year. You must follow them. If they have got reindeers, the Hedjut are nomads.

Wolves: There are two subspecies of wolves in Fjerda. Grey wolves life in the south while polar wolves, the wild brothers of the Isenulf, follow the reindeers. The end of the forests probably marks the frontier where the land of the grey wolves ends and the land of the polar wolves begins.

Deers: How many species of deers can be found in Fjerda? The answer depends on Morozova's stag. The stag itself is apparently very old, but are the other deers also nearly immortal or are they just a population that survived since the days of Morozova? They are white, but they are no albinos. The one-million-kruge-question is: How do the other deers of Fjerda look like? Are they white, too, and this is just one population? Or are they brown and Morozova's herd is unique? Either way, there is at least one species of deer in Fjerda (wapitis?), maybe a second one, and they also have a lot of mooses. These might also be found in northern Ravka, or maybe Ravka had mooses, but they are extinct now. The deers do live in river valleys and light forests, but won't be found in the tundra, the Permafrost and Elbjen.

Seagulls: There are a lot of seagulls, probably more than one species.

Rodents: There a small rodents in the woods, probably mice and rats, also squirrels, because Fjerda's conifers offer them a lot of food. I'd also expect lemmings. There are also muskrats. Fjerda is also a great place for beavers, though we don't know if they actually live there, as well as groundhogs.

Fishes: The northern sea is very eutrophic and this isn't only appreciated by the whales and seals, but also by tons of fishes, squids, mussels and clams. Fish plays a huge role in the Fjerdan society. They've got herrings, squids, oysters, codfish, pollacks, salmons, haddocks and devilfish and perches, eels and sturgeons from the rivers. But apparently, they also eat narrow-banded mackerels, which is interesting, because these fish prefer warm water. So either there are warm currents in the True Sea or they import the fish or Fjerdan fishtrawlers navigate as far as the southern seas.

They must have owls and also birds that feed on fir cones such as red crossbills. There are probably eagles in Elbjen and maybe also in the west.

There are a lot of foxes in Ravka and they will probably also live in Fjerda. Maybe arctic foxes in the tundra. There is also certainly at least one small predator, such as a marten. Elbjen is a good place for chamois, ibex or mountain goats. We know there are lynx in Ravka, so they probably can also be found in Fjerda. As long as there are no very big predatory fish, there must be otters in the rivers.

The Fjerdan have got honey, so there must be bees. Fjerda cannot be a frozen country for the whole year. In spring, there are a lot of flowering plants blooming. It is canon that Fjerda has got lilies and I also expect lupines. Much of the landscape must look like a meadow in Sweden or Canada. There are mountains in the east and the northwest and in the North we have nothing but the tundra, but especially the area between Djerholm and Halmhend is probably pretty mild and has got a lot of agriculture.

The forrests are coniferous with a few broadleaf trees and include firs, larks and pines, but also willows, birchs and of course Djel's sacred ash.

And finally, since the Fjerdan use wool, there must be sheep. Fjerda doesn't offer particularly amazing meadows for sheep, but it could be a good place for moorland sheep or something.

A big thank you to everyone who kept on reading! Next time, I'm gonna analyse Shu Han.

[dragongirlpoet]

Eterna

Hero x villain original story (Sci-fi, horror)

Witch x human | Word count: 2K

Themes: Betrayal, love, revenge | TW: Violence

Wrote this for a friend. She’s a badass, just like all you girlies here :)

Winter - present day

“I could never love you,” the words wailed through her like a death knell. She remembered the quiet loathing in his eyes, as if she were nothing more than dust fragments on an old window sill.

It was a cold night. Smoke radiated off the exhaust of her blacked-out motorbike, casting more fog in the already murky street. The impending storm started to pelter frigid rain on her leather overcoat, chilling the metal of her revolver. Maybe the Gods too, could feel her grief, and sent the torrent to stand in unity with her disposition. Or had she summoned it?

As frost bit into her, she conjured coils of heat and sent them thundering through every neural-pathway in her body. A witch like her could never get cold. A witch like her could defy nature. A witch…

Summer

Yes, a witch. For years, she had been living in the shadows, far away from prying human eyes. Some days she was lucky. She could tread through the city of Pungothia undetected, her Mark of the Halfling — black outlines etched into her right forearm — entirely obscured by the long leather tunic she was so used to wearing. She had foraged enough Demusker, a potion used to mask the scent of her true identity — a hybrid human witch.

If she was fortunate, she was the only one, for Halflings were spat on in this city. They were seen as nothing more than abominations, a sorry product of weak humans mating monsters. They were a contamination, a plague to be exterminated.

Yet the only plague she had known was Hefix. Nobody knew who ran the pseudo-pharmaceutical organisation, and so for decades the building sat nondescript between towering skyscapers — an incalculable tempest amongst the drizzle.

Humans, if there were any good ones, remained oblivious to the sinister dwellings that happened beyond the concrete walls. Halflings shackled to grills. Halflings drained of their power. Halflings a shell of their former self.

Humans can be so blind.

It had been just over a week that she had rescued the last Halfling from that heinous hell — a young girl of barely 16 — skin pallid and eyes empty. There was no thrum of power in those veins — she could sense nothing there. As the young Halfling choked in her last breath, the older witch sobbed. 53 Halflings, she counted, and only five had survived. If only she had been stronger, more powerful…

“Are you okay?”

Had it not been for the shadow that loomed over her, she would have been certain she was hallucinating. Through tear-soaked lashes, she glanced at the man that stood before her.

Human.

“Get away from me,” she seethed.

“Please, let me help y…”

The human was sent crashing into a wall, shattering glass capsules of preserved hearts in the process. He lay bleeding on the ground, his chest a frantic cacophony of ups and downs. She was about to leave when guilt gnawed at her. There had been one too many deaths. If she had left him there to die, was she so different from the humans who killed her kind?

Fall

“Do you remember how we met?”

“You mean the one where I threw you into a wall? How can I forget?” she had smirked, her dark eyes bright as stars. It had been a long time since she felt so at peace, since she had been in love.

“You’re always deep in thought. You ought to stop that, you know? I’m right here,” the human soothed. His voice jolted her back to the present, to him.

“It’s…nothing. I’m just so lucky to have you, Arnedass. You wanting to save the Halflings, speaking up for them when no one would…You see me for who I am.” She never spoke truer words, for she never felt safe enough to be vulnerable, with a human no less. She caught her own relection in his obsidian-framed spectacles, her Mark of the Halfling on full display. No more hiding.

As they lay tangled in the bedsheets, she allowed herself respite from years of feeling alone and expending her power for others. It was time she did something for herself. And so, in that comfort, she drifted into a dreamless sleep with her lover’s arm wrapped around her.

Winter - present day

The heat raged through her like a relentless beast. Her raven hair was sodden with rain water, spilling streams of it onto a silver necklace she held in her hand. That thing was the reason she hadn’t felt the desire to use her powers. That thing was a conduit that had drained her powers. That thing was a gift from Arnedass.

Tears stung her eyes until all she could make out were fuzzy shapes and lines. “This is the last time I’ll cry for you,” she made a silent vow to herself.

She recalled the day she found out — one minute she had been cooking up a storm for his birthday, the next she was gasping for air, phantom hands choking her, willing her to give in to her last breath. There, lying utterly helpless, she tried conjuring a spell to counter whatever forces were against her.

The necklace Arnedass had given her burnt molten against her skin. Standing outside the main door, Arnedass was a frightening vision of the man she loved. The whites of his eyes enveloped his pupils as tendrils of smoke and power emanated from him, towards her.

“What..are you…do…ing?” she managed in between gasps.

“Frankly I thought you were smarter than this. You were so desperate to be accepted that you failed to realise I’d been siphoning your powers. You’re the last Halfling of the Carugy bloodline, the most powerful lineage of heretic witches.

Why do you think you were never captured by Hefix? Because I willed it!” his shouts turned into something ear-splitting, guttural, infinitely more sinister.

“I had to save the best for last, didn’t I? All that power I drained from your wretched race, they were nothing compared to the power you hold inside you. Yet here you are — weak, defenseless and begging for mercy.”

If dying rendered one immobile, the pool of tears that shrouded her vision proved otherwise. Still, she managed to sputter, “I d…don’t believe y…you…p…please, Arnedass…”

“You must be a fool to think I would ever love somebody like you.”

Between struggling for air and trying her utmost to summon her power, she felt something break inside. No, it wasn’t the feel of her ribs crushing against her, nor was it her neck bent at an inhuman angle. It was the sound of her heart shattering — shards of it cut into her like a poison blade, paralysing every vessel, extinguishing every hope.

She forced the memory shut. As if in silent command, the silver necklace curdled up in flames, the red specks of fury quickly defused by the stinging showers. The rain had reached her ankle now, and she withdrew her gun, walking in uncanny defiance towards the empty street.

Empty — save for a silhouette of a man thrashing about in the distance. Ahead, Hefix stood dilapidated and drab, devoid of any colour or life. In fact, every building along the street looked like it had the life sucked out of them. They remained stoic, decrepit — a graveyard.

All could be heard was the sound of her onyx boots against the waterlogged asphalt. As she got closer to the human, the face of the man she once loved came into view. Arnedass was lashing out at nothing — grasping at invisible assaults, clamouring at spectral voices. His face was cadaverous.

“How do you like this little fortress I’ve built for you?” her question was calm, taunting.

Arnedass spun around to his ex-lover, his expression nothing short of incredulity.

“What have you done? Let me out and get these things away from me!”

“Poor human. All that power you siphoned must have made you delirious. There is nothing or no one here. Just you and your decaying mind,” her words came out more composed than she warranted.

“I could’ve created a new race of sub humans. A puritan state, all doing my bidding. I would’ve offered you the choice, had you not been such a killjoy. You just had to be the hero, the saviour to your cesspool of Halflings. You…”

She watched, indifferent, as the skin on his lips started to tear — each section of skin slowly fusing together until they were glued shut. His eyes flew open, torn between trying to keep his face intact and ripping the epidermis apart.

“It’d hurt less if you stop struggling, though I assure you if you try undoing the spell, you would rip more than just your face.”

Arnedass was livid. Never before had he been challenged, bested, as he had now. He did not come this far to be humbled by the same race he sought to eliminate.

Unwilling to submit, he tried, though meekly, to invoke whatever remnants of power he had straight at her. She ducked the shots as quickly as they came, effortless as a leopard evading capture. They landed instead, at buildings and street lamps, subsequently setting off a chain of explosions.

As the night transpired into a dark void plummeting rubble, rain and rage, lightning soon joined the deathly dance between hero and villain. Wrath quickly consumed the formidable witch, and she aimed the barrel of her revolver at Arnedass, pulled the trigger, and fired.

The shot rattled him, but she missed her target on purpose. She fired once more, twice, thrice, the bullet each time barely missing him.

“I could kill you right now, end your miserable little existence, but death is too gracious a sentence for you,” she hissed.

“I let you in, let you see all the broken parts of me, loved you with whatever fragments of tenderness I had…” her voice faded into a rasp at that last word. “And you lied to me, about everything.”

Arnedass remained unmoved, shooting orbs of light at her, the look in his eyes nothing but aversion. It was as if all of autumn spent in his warm embrace accounted for nothing. To him, she was all but a blight — a stranger he’d met in passing, a chance he’d never take, a bygone he’d never keep.

“Kneel,” almost instantly, her command compelled him to drop to his knees. Another stretch of her hand sent torrents of power — this one more merciless than the last — and he writhed in pain. Veins of ashen green became more pronounced on his body as the human convulsed in agony, tormented by an impalpable affliction.

She watched as the body she once called home contort at odd angles, tortured splayed all over his face. Guilt had far left her, for she knew this was a small price he had to pay for obliterating her kind.

“Tomorrow, and every other day, the sun will rise and the birds will sing. Humans will go about their lives, and you will watch them laugh, learn and love. But all you’ll feel is the creeping death that awaits you in this eternal hell. You’ll never get out, you’ll never escape the penance of your sins and you will never possess power.”

And with that, she sealed shut the alternate dimension she had locked him in, along with apparitions and screams of all the Halflings he had brutally murdered. The street would be as it was — full of life, and not a single soul would know of his existence.

The last Halfling of the Carugy witches revved the engine of her motorbike and rode off into a new hope. Behind her, the last dust fragments of forgotten nightmares disappeared into the dusk.

[cryptid-pet]

CAN YOU PLS FO A FEM KANATO??😍😍

A lot of yall really like these dayum

Fem Kanato Headcanons

Nothing will guide you other than the smooth sensation of sewer buttons

Four Measurements >>> Height 165 cm, Bust 50 cm,Waist 52, Cup AAA

🧸 Kanato has the smallest chest within the family, but has the longest hair and palest skin

🧸 Always has her hair either in pigtails or half up, very silky hair

🧸 Her doll-like eyes are her best feature, nice and round that go with small and pink lips

🧸 Has a collection of these old porcelain dolls that she takes the limbs off of to glue them to other parts of the bodies on said dolls

🧸 Hates the color pink, but enjoys the color in a tinted shade through her room

🧸 Holds a grudge against Azusa for having a mature body yet an innocent mindset

🧸 ALWAYS has a pair of scissors on her and has it hidden away in a garter

🧸 Loli//pastle//gothic theme dresses are a MUST have

🧸 Kanato doesn’t like cutting her nails UNLESS it’s to shape them, so her nails are always fairly long and healthy looking

🧸 DESPISES any or ALL piercings, but debate whether to get a tongue one or not

🧸 Excellent at sewing, duh, she makes the dresses for her waxed figures

🧸 Has a natural scent of raspberries and sweets that is sickening to take in

🧸 Can hit very high ass notes, not because of the singing she has done as a kid, but from all the breakdowns she has had with horrific screams

🧸 Has a strange things for doves, enjoys catching them when it’s physically possible and stuffs them to make a collection

🧸 Laito got Kanato in makeup and the kid wears it on a daily

🧸 Kanato looks much mature when she wears her glasses, she take overall takes offense when people mistake her for being a little girl//kid

🧸 Unlike the traditional black stockings and tights, Kanato wears white stockings with her school uniform

🧸 Not the most feminine body, lacks hips and a chest but her thighs and tone stomach pull it off

🧸 Laughs like Yuno Gasai from Mirai Nikki and can get very psychopathic with her laugh easily

🧸 Only good thing she gets from being short is that men will accuse her of being a lesbian, meaning they won’t bother here where they do with people like Laito, Kou, Azusa, Yuma, and Ruki

🧸 Actually vapes, but she’ll only vape to calm herself down knowing Reiji will be up her ass with causing a ruckus

🧸 She has a strange aura during the winter, looking very majestic in the snow

🧸 Actually kills more females than males, however drinks more blood from males than females

[yourantag]

From Winter to Spring

AN: This fic is actually pretty different from my other ones since this is intended to be more like a letter. I listened to a song called "Magic Lily," which inspired me to write something in the perspective of Ithaqua's mother. The song is meant to be romantic, but I interpreted it as a mother waiting for their son to come back from war. Naturally, with themes of winter and suffering, I think Ithaqua, so here we are. Word count: 1.6 words Summary: A carefully written letter, multiple pages long, is stuffed inside an envelope. It doesn't seem like it was ever meant to meet its recipient, yet it resides within his hands. The delicate papers seems to weigh heavy with the love of a mother.

My dearest dove, 

It has been a long time since I've last seen your face. It's like it was just yesterday that we went to forage together. You had looked at me with such pride in your eyes, having picked two whole baskets of barberries. We had planned to turn them into jam with honey, a small luxury. You had smiled so brilliantly, so happily at that. To be able to make you happy like that made me feel whole, complete. The fondness I felt overwhelmed me, it almost made me want to cry.

I had never understood when other women spoke fondly of their children. They sacrificed their bodies, health, mind, their everything for them. Yet, children will never completely understand that sacrifice. Oftentimes, they take it for granted. They forget it. But you? You made me understand.

It's odd to think of loving someone more than yourself, but that is exactly how I feel. The stars could disappear from the sky, the heavens and earth could collide, and yet, I think I would not mind for as long as you were alive.

So, tell me why, why would you do this to me? Why have you left me like this?

Once we came back, setting aside our foraged goods, I felt an impending sense of doom. My throat tightened, heart racing as I felt unadulterated fear roll through me. Perhaps it was an instinctual thing, like how many of life's creations can sense death. I could tell my demise was near, be it in one way or another.

You had looked at me with worried eyes, asking me what was wrong. You have always been a sweet child, caring and attentive and so, so very smart. No matter how much I tried to hide my feelings, you always seemed to know when something was wrong. I sometimes wish you weren't such an intelligent boy, but that would be cruel of me. I love you for who you are- to remove any part of you would mean taking away who you are now. I could never do that.

I had forced a smile to my face as I told you I forgot something in my room, something important. You didn't believe me, but you did not pry. Thank you for trusting me, even when you knew I was lying. I know it's horrible to lie to you, but I had to do what I did.

I had ran to my room, throwing aside a cloth to reveal a crystal ball. Divination is not my specialty; it was the specialty of my mother. However, I am still above the rest when it comes to reading fate. What I saw was exactly what I had anticipated, something I hadn't feared before. Now, however, I was. I was beyond scared- I was downright terrified.

Before, I had nothing. My mother had been killed in a witch hunt, my home had been razed, and my friends and fellow villagers had turned their backs on me. I was consumed by rage, sorrow, and despair. I had nothing to lose but my life, I had no one to love but myself. 

Still, I could not hate people. I was human as the rest, but I was shunned. I was hated for my hair, for being a woman, for existing. Still, I could only hope, I could only live. To die would be to give into their hate, to throw away my mother's sacrifice for me to live.

Thus, I lived. Out of spite, out of grief. I lived because of love, because my mother would want me to. And, on my travels, I found God. I found peace. Life seemed less like a punishment than it had before.

Then, I found you.

At one point, I had wished my mother hadn't sacrificed herself for me, I wished she had lived instead of me. However, I understand now. I understand why she did what she did. As a mother, you are willing to do anything for your child. Even if it means becoming a monster, even if it means killing someone, you would do whatever it takes to protect your child.

In that moment, watching the future in which not just I would die, but you as well, I made up my mind. 

I cannot lie and say I did not want to live. I wanted to watch you continue to grow, to become a lovely young gentleman. I wanted to watch you become an adult, to love, to live. I didn't want to miss any moment of your growth, of you becoming your own person. However, I was willing to give up everything if it meant you'd live.

I got a glimpse of my fate and I couldn't help but shutter. Tortured till my mind broke, till I was no longer human, till I was no longer me. That was my fate should I sacrifice myself. But, was it worse than if you were to be tortured with me? Killed with me?

No, nothing could be worse than that.

So, knowing what kind of fate awaited me, I stood tall and put on a brave face. We didn't have much time, after all.

I asked you to hide in the closet, the men already knocking on our door. They banged against the wood as though it owed them money. The sound was like the call of death, a scythe hovering over my neck. But what can a mother do? I could only smile through the thundering of my heartbeat, through the tears that were rising in my eyes, the tight compression of my chest.

I was scared.

For me? Maybe. Mostly, it was for you. If they found you, I don't know what I would do.

The door swings open and I meet a painfully familiar face, as well as many armored ones. His arrogance is unlike your humility, the way he smiles is so different from your own. It's like a bearing of fangs, like a predator that had found its prey. It's horrible, terrible, what he does with your face. Your brother he may be, if only in blood, but he could never compare to you.

His words are laced with malice and self-importance, his finger pointed at me. I had braced myself for when the armored men would drag me away, manhandle me as though I were a fugitive and not just a lady, a mother.

Then, you came out of hiding.

Looking at your back, so small yet wide, I truly wanted to fall to my knees and weep. Your arms spread out, shielding me, you had stood. 

Ah, is love meant to hurt like this? Be difficult like this? Or, perhaps, is it just me?

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard you bargain with them, begging them to take you instead of me, to leave me alone. Words were clogged in my throat as you spoke, everything you said hurting more than any wound I'd ever had.

He had a contemplative look, that child. Then, like a cruel judge, he gave his ruling. He gave into your will, even going so far as to promise he'd place me somewhere I'd never be hunted again.

I had wanted to cry. I had wanted to scream. However, when you had turned to me with a smile so kind, so sweet, so sad and knowing, not a single sound could escape my lips.

You promised to come back to me in spring, like the flowers that withered in fall. You held my hands even as tears fell from your eyes, even as I tried to hold you back with all my might.

Yet, it was not enough.

You were taken from me.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did we have to suffer like this? Was this retribution? Punishment? For not having followed God sooner? For living? For existing?

My anger towards that boy, towards God, and towards the world, none of it could compare to the anger I feel towards myself.

This arduous path which I had to take, covered in thorns and decorated with hate, why did you have to take it too?

Ultimately, I believe it is because of me.

(There's darkened circles upon the paper, some smearing the last few words.)

It's been 5 years since then. Every time the snow melts, ushering in the coming of spring, I wait with anticipation. I wait for the sound of footsteps, for the sounds of life.

I wait for you.

It has been 5 years of fluttering frost, blossoming flowers, sunny fields, and bountiful harvests. I've seen the seasons come and go, the birds leaving for winter before returning home. Yet, the most important bird of all, my dearest dove, has yet to return.

There's a special kind of sadness that comes with spring. It starts with joy, which turns to immeasurable sorrow. I always wait, yet you never come.

Are you alive? Are you well? I've been taken to a place where no one despises me, where everyone accepts me, yet I'd rather be pelted with stones than part from your side. I would give up everything if I could just see your face once more.

Is it just me? This spring feels a bit worse than the last. I hope without hope, though I know you won't come. Not knowing if you're alive or well, it drives me mad. My divination has failed me, not allowing me to see anything beyond the veil of reality.

But, I want to believe. I have to believe. You always keep your promises, so I must believe it, believe that you will come back to me. I must weather the seasons, the storms, the sun, the snow, all for the day you return.

Yet, I grow tired of waiting. My heart is heavy, and my soul is weary. My eyes are always full of tears, constantly worried about you to this day.

How many more springs must I wait?

My dear child.

My beloved son.

*****.

Please.

Please.

Come home.

[dualityvn]

Keith my beloved I would die AND kill for you pls marry me do you want a winter wedding? A spring wedding? Do you want it on the beach or in my backyard I have a bunch of flowers and chickens would you like that? I think it would be fun :D Do you want to wear the dress or the tux or a mix of the two? What would you want me to wear? Please Keith I love you please don’t leave me ever :DD

"It makes me impossibly happy to hear that, love. But I'd never let you die and you can leave the killing to me. To answer your question, I'd love a spring outdoor nature themed wedding, but I'd marry you anytime and anywhere. I'll wear whatever you'd find prettier." - Keith