#youth & consequences spoilers

[sytoran]

𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

the aftermath of your mindblowingly hot sex with the goddess of lust, natasha romanoff. as it turns out, no one escapes the consequences of their actions.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: once again, howdy, folks! this is the even longer-awaited part 2 to the goddess!nat fic! i am terribly sorry for the wait, hopefully this long chapter will satisfy your needs :)

word count: 3.0k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously...

You, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. The Goddess of Lust, Natasha, granted you one wish as a repayment. You could've had just about anything, but turns out all you need is right in front of you.

Spoiler: It ends up in mindblowingly hot sex with a certain Goddess.

Now, two months later...

"Baby…" Nataha sighs, her eyelids fluttering close as you move under her sheets. 

Or, more specifically, as your tongue moves in her cunt.

There's just something about giving the Goddess of Lust the best head of a lifetime that does it for you. Maybe it's her stupidly sexy moans, or the way she twisted her delicate hands into your hair, or maybe just how sweet she tasted.

Or, maybe, it's the knowledge that you're the only one who can ever make her feel like this.

"Please, oh, fuck," Natasha whines, as you move your tongue in tight little circles against her sweet spot. Not quick enough to make her cum, slow enough to make her feel.

"Oh," she whimpers, hearing the lewd sounds of you eating out her soaked pussy on a Saturday morning. You shift under the blankets, breathing hard as it gets warm.

Worshiping the Goddess as you rightfully should was perhaps your favourite pastime, driving her wild with your fingers and your tongue and your cock.

Which is exactly what you felt throbbing in your pants when a hushed whimper of 'Daddy' falls from Natasha's sweet mouth. Your head spins at the title, just like the first time she had ever called you that.

It was half by accident, really.

On a private rented beach in Malibu, with miles and miles of space and no one else, there you laid under the shade of a palm tree, thrusting into the Goddess with a youthful vigor.

"Oh, you feel so good," Natasha cries, scratching her long nails down your bare back. She shakes with each of your thrusts, melting into your touch like your forgotten ice cream in the Malibu sun.

"Do I?" You tease dangerously, both of your orgasms dangling close to occurrence. "Mhm- Oh, yeah," Natasha responds with a lewd moan, moving her hand down to play with her clit.

That's all the extra simulation the Goddess needs before she's tumbling over the edge, clutching onto you as pound into her cunt.

"Oh, I- Oh, please, daddy!" Natasha shrieks when you harshly pinch her nipple with your free hand. It does wonders for her pleasure.

But as soon as those words fall from the Goddess' lips, she retracts like she's been scorned. You halt your movements.

"Did you just call me daddy?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, as Natasha looks away flusteredly.

"...No."

"Darling."

"No! I mean, well yes, but I didn't mean to!" She tries to move under your grasp, her cheeks turning an incarnadine pink.

You take her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, and use the other to still her moving hips. The Goddess pouts at you, but you know better than to give in.

"Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone 'daddy'?" You ask seriously, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame.

"It's complicated." Natasha states, squirmimg under your inspective look. She trails her hands down to your cock again, but you deny her of that pleasure. "We're not done here, sweetheart."

"Fine," Natasha grumbles. "That's the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

"Oh," you say softly, tracing her rib with a ginger finger. "I think I quite like it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, daddy."

"Shut up, sweetheart."

"Make me."

What pulls you out of that blissful reverie is Natasha's whine. You're not in Malibu anymore, you're under Natasha's sheets. 

Even then, you've never felt more fulfilled with this glorious woman by your side.

"Why'd you stop?" Natasha asks, pulling the blanket away so she can see you.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss onto her inner thigh. "Thinking."

"About?"

"You."

"Oh," the Goddess replies, evidently flustered. 

"What were you thinking of?" she then says, flirtatiously. She adds on the charm of batted eyelashes, prepared for whatever you might do to her body.

What Natasha wasn't prepared for, however, was the tenderness in which you regarded her with, a serene smile and a warm glow on your face.

"What is it?" Natasha says, laughing awkwardly as you litter kisses all over her stomach. You're glowing, sickly-sweet and dumbstruck.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you, Natasha Romanoff. I love you not because you are the Goddess of Lust but because you have the most brilliant heart I've ever had the chance to feel. I love you for everything that you are, everything that you're not. I love you for your bed hair, and your goofy jokes, and your brilliant green eyes I could melt into a thousand times. I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us. And you don't have to say it back, but just know-"

You take in a deep breath, not realizing that you've spoken so much with quavering breaths like you'd die if you didn't profess your love. Like you'd die if you didn't bare your heart to Natasha. You gulp for air, stroke her face. "Just know I love you. So much. So, so, so much."

Oh.

There's silence, afterwards, like the world has stumbled on its axis and the stars have collided. 

Natasha looks at you with an indescribable feeling, like her heart wants to burst out of their seams. It's only when you gently stroke her face that Natasha realizes there are tears on her face. 

Why's she crying? Why do you cradle her in your arms with such a ginger tenderness? What did she ever do to deserve this kind of love?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed it," you mumble, almost ashamed. You press another kiss on her bare stomach as an apology. "I'm-"

"No, I- Fuck, I love you too." The Goddess voices hoarsely, her shaky tone a far cry from what should be expected of a regal Goddess. "I love you too," she says again, with more confidence, almost as if it would make the words even truer.

That stupid smile is back on your face again, even wider than before. Your cheeks hurt and Natasha's heart melts. 

"You love me?" you ask earnestly, and there's such an innocence and genuineness to your question that Natasha almost cries again.

The impact of 'I love you' sinks in. Natasha feels.

She's never felt like this before. She's never loved like this before.

Finally, in the sacred silence, Natasha whispers. Scared to ruin the moment. Scared to tarnish what could be.

"To every universe and back," the Goddess answers, and your world starts orbiting again.

—

Ever since that fateful day of your love confession, the two of you were inseparable. You would look at Natasha with such wonder in your eyes, wonder what you ever did to deserve this, but the Goddess would look at you the same way, and you knew everything would be fine.

She would take you to any universe you liked, across any dimension. From earth-bound lands to intergalactic islands to space. It was as vast as her love for you.

But, you were riding that high with no heed for the consequences of your actions. 

You were foolish enough to stay with Natasha, dumb enough to drown out the warning signs, blindsided by the prospect of loving a Goddess.

You should've known, from the start, that you and Natasha were a race against time.

You should've known that it would end up in flames for you.

You should've known better.

—

Since the very day she was born the Goddess of Lust, Natasha had her life laid in front of her.

To exploit that thrall she was given, to seduce men and the occasional woman, to live above and beyond because she was a Goddess.

That had been her life for over decades, sitting comfortably at the top of the chain on a gold throne; Toying with hearts like it was a daytime hobby, then shattering them like glass. 

She slept around for the hell of it, just because she could. Just because she was the Goddess of Lust.

Then came along a stupidly charming attorney with a coffee stain on her suit and the most unusual request.

Just like that, her world stopped revolving around what she was supposed to do, and it started orbiting around you.

And, you, were definitely not what Natasha was supposed to do.

Despite how incredible you were in bed. Despite the plethora of orgasms you had brought her to. Despite how she felt her walls to her heart tumbling down around you.

When the two of you shared that passionate confession of love in bed on that fateful Saturday morning, the Goddess knew she was done for.

Which is exactly why she's currently under the scrutiny of Supreme Headquarters: Intervention of Extraterrestrial Liabilities Directorate, aka SHIELD, aka she's completely and utterly fucked.

SHIELD was essentially the Gods and Goddeses' version of a monarchy, that was infamous for its cruel ruling and cutthroat decisions.

"You're a smart girl, Natasha, and never would I have expected something so childishly foolish to fall from your lips."

The Goddess stood in defiance. Despite all her power and her status, she seemed so small in the wide hall, paling in comparison to the mighty Gods that surrounded her.

That previous statement had been made by none other than Wanda, the Goddess of Magic. The woman was a stature of power and composure in her throne, hand poised under her chin like it was a medieval painting.

"I'm not a girl," Natasha snapped at the Goddess, fire behind her eyes. "And I'm very capable of making my own decisions, despite how foolish they may seem in your condescending point of view."

The Goddess of Magic was irritatingly unfazed by Natasha's outburst, flicking that poised hand and in a dismissive wave. God, Natasha wanted to crush that stupid hand.

"Steve, talk some sense into her. I can't bear to hear any more of her senseless arguments." Wanda said offhandedly, looking over to the God of Justice for support.

Natasha wants to retort that she isn't just spewing senseless arguments, but a warning look from the God of Justice shut her up. Of everyone in SHIELD, he was the most likely to give her a fair hearing. Hence his name.

"Natasha, we're not saying that you're incapable of making your own decisions." The blonde man reassures, pressing his hands together in contemplation. Natasha breathes harder than she should be doing.

"We're saying that what you're doing isn't the best," Steve continues, and Natasha is grateful that the eyes are not on her anymore. The God of Justice had a presence that simply demanded respect, an impeccable aura that no one would dare deflect.

"Sleeping with someone not godly is one thing, but entering a romantic relationship with a mortal, a human being, is simply…"

"Unacceptable."

Natasha intakes a short gush of air harshly at the interruption. It's Thor, God of Thunder. For a God who had lived centuries, he was painfully traditional. Narrow-minded, even.

Thor's loud, booming voice carried throughout the hall, from his electric-blue throne at the far corner. Mjolnir, his trusty hammer, was held in his big hands with a firm grasp. Natasha forced herself not to feel threatened.

Thor continued, firm and hard and oh so unforgiving. "Do you want to end up like my brother, Goddess Natasha?" 

At that, the entire hall was silenced. The only thing Natasha could hear was her own sporadic breathing.

Everyone, undoubtedly, knew the story of Thor's brother.

Loki, the God of Mischief. The fallen angel, some said. The devil's incarnate, others whispered.

He had used his power for wrong, abused his status to commit the darkest things imaginable. It wasn't before he was banished from the land of Gods, never to be seen again.

Some say he's still clawing his way out of hell. Some say he's destined for a lifetime of hurt.

"Don't you fucking dare compare me to him, Thor," Natasha growls, and the larger blonde man even seems taken aback by the ferocity behind Natasha's words.

"I- I think what Thor is trying to say," Bruce frantically cuts in, in an attempt to mediate the situation. 

The God of Science was a bespectacled man with quirky mannerisms, ever the peacemaker. Logic, to him, was most important of all.

"Is that you, Nat, are a Goddess," Bruce continues. "An all-powerful being that transcends the laws of space and time. You have been blessed with such power, such strength, unfathomable to lesser beings. And Y/N L/N, this earth-bound creature who lives and breathes on the very ground we carved, couldn't possibly be who you want to run off with. I mean, we- you, you're so much more than that."

"You're going to love her, Nat? Give her your heart? You, an immortal being? She's going to die some day, inevitably, and then what will be left of you? A broken, desolate mess, grieving for the rest of eternity?"

Natasha swallows harshly. She wanted to despise Bruce, hate his reasonings and refute his logic – but she couldn't, could she? He was right. Bruce was right.

But there was a part in her heart that screamed, yelled, kicked - she couldn't give you up, now. Not when she'd finally found what she's been searching for. Not when she can feel again.

Not when she's found the love of her goddamned life.

"I'm on Nat's side," Tony says, mouth full of a pink-frosted donut, slicing through the tensed silence. He spews crumbs as he talks, but Natasha doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for the man. 

Tony was the God of Heroes. Brilliant but brash, proud yet arrogant, charismatic and eccentric. He was a God no one could explain in few words, and for that Natasha was immensely grateful he understood.

"True love cannot be broken," Tony says, folding his arms. "It transcends all else, goes beyond our social status and our physical capabilities and who we are as individuals. If Nat has truly found it, then who are we to judge? It shouldn't be criticized, it should be celebrated!"

Natasha locks eyes with Tony, in silent thanks. The two of them may butt heads at times due to their self-righteous natures, but in the end they were always there for each other.

However, the rest of the Gods didn't seem to quite agree. There was quiet murmuring amongst themselves until Steve began speaking again.

"Let's settle this with a vote. If majority wins, Natasha will be able to continue her pursuit of a romantic relationship with the human and mortal Y/N L/N. If not, Natasha will be forced to cut off all ties with said mortal and they are to never see each other again."

The Goddess of Lust felt her heart clench. Of course Steve would choose the fairest way to determine Natasha’s fate. Of course this would result in a losing battle for her, based on the prior reactions. 

“All those in favour of the disallowance of Natasha Romanoff’s and Y/N L/N’s romantic, physical or any other relations, please raise your hand.” 

Thoughts of you swam in Natasha’s mind, of you smiling while kissing her hand, stroking her hair while she fell asleep, trailing kisses up her spine on sinful nights.

Thor’s hand went up first. 

“I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us.” That was what you had said that Saturday morning, with a serene smile, so gentle it caressed Natasha’s heart. She remembers the warm glow of the sun, the temptations of paradise, the falsehood of the promised land.

Wanda follows suit.

How could Natasha have let it all succumb to this? Why had she let herself grow so soft and malleable around you? The walls around her heart she had spent so long constructing was so easily taken down by you. You, who wormed your way in and made a nest in the center of her universe.

The next hand that goes up is Bruce’s, albeit with an uneasy look from the man, like he didn’t want to be there anymore.

Maybe she shouldn’t have dived headfirst into love with you, professing her feelings so vulnerably. She was the Goddess of Lust, not Romance or any of that bullshit. A long-lasting relationship had been a childish fantasy, much less for someone who was meant to constantly seduce.

Like a final seal of her demise, Steve’s hand goes up, and only then does Natasha realize the tears that have fallen from the corners of her eyes.

There is a deafening silence that follows the grounding decision, and even Tony doesn’t look so aloof anymore. He’s the only one at the table who didn’t raise his hand. 

Natasha swallows harshly, in an attempt to calm the building pressure within her.

She swallows again, willing the tears in her eyes to go away - no way in hell would she openly cry in front of the Gods who put her in this situation.

This time, she wishes the ground would swallow her up instead, to whisk her away from this nightmare of a reality and wake up beside you once more.

“You have until sunset to settle things,” Steve says, a painful lack of emotion in his eyes. “If you don’t coincide by the rules, you know what consequences you will have to face.”

For the first time in an eternity, ever since unknown creatures roamed the multiverse and there was no difference between dark and light, the Goddess felt helpless. 

Even then, there was only one thing on her mind.

How the fuck was she going to tell you that ‘To every universe and back’ had been a bloody lie?

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv

ok i’m literally so tired while posting this ‘cos i just got out of a seven-hour flight like yesterday, but i reallyyy wanted to post this because i haven’t posted anything in so long. anyways I HOPE YOU LIKE THE LORE and just a recap for everyone before part 3: 

anyways it’s all set up for more angst and hardcore smut (yes i promise that is in part 3)

natasha - goddess of lust

carol - goddess of galaxies

wanda - goddess of magic

steve - god of justice

thor - god of thunder

bruce - god of science

tony - god of heroes

y/n - basic bitch

[gayagendaofficial]

i'm already seeing people blame third party voters, but the numbers don't support the idea that the spoiler effect handed trump this victory. trump won an outright majority in PA, GA, and NC, and is on the track do the same in MI and NV; even if every third party voter instead voted for Harris, she still would have lost. hell, it looks like trump is even on track to win the popular vote for the first time. this is entirely the fault of Harris and establishment democrats for having run a shit campaign.

they had so much momentum at the start of her campaign, especially with young people, and they fucking massacred that momentum. they stopped calling maga weird, stopped feeling like they needed to court progressives or young voters, cozied up to republicans, threw trans people under the bus, and continued to side step questions about the ongoing genocide in Palestine that they're funding. hell, they sent Bill Clinton to MI to condescend to the arab community there. they basically said "we don't need the arab vote, we don't need the youth vote; we need the vote of rural white women by dangling reproductive rights just out of reach."

turns out trying to appeal to the "median american voter" doesn't work as well as energizing your base, making at least some concessions to them, which we already learned in 2016. but now trump is going to have a second term, and women, queer people, people of color, immigrants, the entire country, the entire fucking WORLD are going to have to live with the consequences

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A few different people have been observing that Scrooge begins to change more quickly in the book than is often shown in adaptations. The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come isn’t the one crucial factor breaking his obstinacy, but rather a final message to drive home a point that Scrooge had already become receptive to. I want to trace the shape of Scrooge’s progress over the course of the book and see what it reveals. (There will be some ‘spoilers’ here, since the story seems fairly universally known even among those who are reading the book for the first time.)

After Marley’s appearance, he is disturbed and discomfited, but still trying to hang onto denial and not face what he’s been told.

With Chistmas Past, adaptations often treat it like a psych session - see, you hate Christmas because you were so miserable during it. But in the book, that isn’t the point at all. Scrooge sees times when he was unhappy as a boy, but he also sees what comforted him during those times - reading and imagination, which his adult self would dismiss asfrivolous and unprofitable - and recaptures his joy in those things. He sees times when he was happy, like at Fezziwig’s Christmas party. And he sees how he’s become the kind of person who made his younger self unhappy rather than happy, and how easy it would to be otherwise.

He sees himself asan unhappy child, and wishes that he’d been kinder to the young boy singing carols at the door. He sees himself happily employed with a kind, generous and personable employer, who could create a vastly more pleasant workplace climate at trivial expense, and wishes he’d been nicer to Bob Cratchit.

And then he sees Belle, and is shown that his unhappiness is of his own making and the consequence of hus own choices. His being the selfish, avaricious person he is is not the consequence of Belle breaking up with him; it is the cause of it. She saw him already becoming that person, and chose not to follow him in that path. Her choices left her a happy, loving and loved woman; his left him unhappy and alone. Scrooge cannot bear this, and rejects and fights the spirit rather than face it.

But he has nonetheless already begun to change. Whereas he initially did not want to go with Christmas Past (“a night of unbroken sleep would be more conducive to [my welfare]”), he willingly goes with Christmas Present and expresses the desire to learn and benefit. He sees people in all manner of circumstances, good and bad, choosing to take joy in each other’s company and the comforts, small or great, around them. Many adaptations fail in this, focusing Scrooge’s attention on the idea that people dislike him (Mrs Cratchit; his nephew’s joke) but in the book Scrooge clearly greatly enjoys his nephew’s party, the nephew is being good-humoured and generous and expresses his goodwill towards Scrooge, and Scrooge doesn’t mind the joke at all. He sees the Cratchits making the best of what they have, and how he is making their lives harder than need be. He sees, in many ways and places, how he could be making others happy and being happy himself, rather than making evrryobe miserable, and it is an appealing picture. And Present calls him out, several times, on his past words and sentiments, and Scrooge repents them.

By the time he meets the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come, he is already willing and prepared to change, and making deliberate plans to do so. The thing that I think is emphasized through the scenes with Yet To Come, as a driving home of the point, is that Scrooge’s actions up to this point have not only made him and others unhappy - they are an utter failure at getting Scrooge the one thing he had prioritized: wordly security, respect, and dignity. In Belle’s words, his turn to avarice in his youth was in hopes of avoiding the “sordid reproach” that the world has for poverty. He was fine, and even pleased, with being feared rather than loved - what he did not want was to be patronized, despized, looked down on.

And now he sees where that got him! His business partners don’t even care to attend his funeral. Men whose respect he hoped to have gained don’t even give him a second thought, and for the brief moment they do, think ill of him (“Old Scratch” is Victorian slang for the devil). His chambers and even his body are plundered (tomorrow’s reading is even more graphic about this, in some lines, than most adaptations). He’s buried in an obscure, untended, weedy churchyard, because no one cares enough about him to make other arrangements. He has none of the worldly respect, regard, dignity for which he turned to money as a protector. Past and Present showed that he was wanting the wrong things; but Future shows him that he wasn’t even achieving the things he thought he did want, amd was in fact achieving their opposite.

The point of Future, then, is not to convince Scrooge to change. He has already chosen that he desires to change. Future alone, without the earlier spirits, would be supremely ineffective; showing Scrooge that his servant and the people around him hate him, without first showing him that he can be happy and make other people happy, would only make him more of a misanthrope. This is not a “scare ‘em straight,” as some adaptations play it. The point of Future is as a final guard against backsliding, against regret: you are losing nothing by changing, because your current path is losing you even the paltry things you sought to gain by it.

Also, I hadn’t really registered this on previous reads, but this is the very near future - the Christmas one year after the period of the book. This is never stated outright, but Christmas Present says of Tiny Tim, “If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race will find him here” - meaning, no future Christmas. And, in the visions with Christmas Future, Tiny Tim has died only a few days ago. In the words of Dante (paraphrased) “the time was perilously short for turning.” The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come doesn’t teach the lesson - that’s the previous spirits - but he makes sure it sticks.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.1 (Azriel x reader, eventual Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

A/n: hey everyone! so this is my first work on here and I just hope you will enjoy it. Please do not hesitate to comment whether you like it/want more of it or if you have some good constructive criticism to give! I will give some clarifications at the end of this chapter as to not give away any spoilers beforehand:)

Being a female Illyrian with wings was never meant to be easy. Growing up and not knowing your parents was perhaps the greatest pain a child could endure. Especially if that child grows up in a cruel place like the Illyrian camps. For the first 20 years of her life, y/n knew nothing but pain, mistreatment and hatred as she spent her youth at the cruel hands of an old Illyrian bastard. Of course, what y/n went through was never kept as a secret but it is not like anyone cared anyway. This was Illyria, the mistreatment of females was not a surprise. In fact, the vile monsters who called themselves warriors, encouraged it.

And just like any other female unlucky enough to be born in Illyria and have wings, y/n had to get her wings clipped. Even after all those years, that moment that changed everything for y/n is still so vivid in her mind...

The leaves in the forest crunched as his boots kept stepping on them while dragging her through the maze of trees.

"Please, please I beg you do not take my wings!"

He kept on ignoring her. She called him a 'He' because y/n would never willingly say his disgusting name. Not when he was the cause of all her trauma and illnesses. She kept thrashing, begging and trying to get away but it was useless.

"I beg yo-"

Her words were cut short as a slap was delivered to her face.

"Shut you mouth! you useless bitch"

She never begged. No, y/n was strong, even then, at her weakest she was strong. She never begged. Not when he would burn her hands, not when he would whip her back, not when he would beat her up because she forgot to do a chore. But now she begged. She begged for her only form of freedom, her precious wings. At that moment y/n knew what had to be done. This was the last straw.

"Stay like that on your knees and do NOT move, or else you won't like the consequences."

As he turned around to search for his tools, y/n sat there on the ground in the middle of this dark forest just outside the outskirts of the village and knew she could not go down like those before her. For 20 years she submitted to his every will but not now, not again. Weak coward is what she has been and now it was time to change that.

When he turned around, y/n was holding her only form of protection, her pocket knife that she would always hide under her clothes. When he was close enough, y/n gave a final prayer to the mother and attacked him with a sloppy move that would result in either her freedom or death.

"It is time to truly make you bound to me you bi-"

He did not get to finish his words as the knife he did not see in the dark, found its mark in his throat. Crimson red blood was everywhere as that monster choked on his own blood like a damn fool and finally, slumped to the ground.

The rest? Well, the rest became history as y/n left that night with his blood still soaking her own clothes and body and his fresh corpse laying on the ground. She would never let anyone ever dictate her life again. Never would she be weak again. And so, for the next 80 years of her life, y/n went from one place to another and taught herself how to fight and be like a warrior. Her name began spreading around like wildfire, as people started talking of the Illyrian female who not only managed to keep her wings but also killed her abuser.

She helped hundreds, by recruiting victims of different horrible events and teaching them how to fight and protect themselves. Y/n became a legend especially in the eyes of female Illyrians who tried to follow her lead. This was also the reason why y/n one day opened her door to see the High Lord of the Night Court waiting for her. The smile on Rhysands face was blinding as he praised y/n while also telling her about how it was a dream of his to get rid of the old Illyrian traditions and rules set against the females. It was on that eventful day that the High Lord also offered y/n to join his court and make a very impactful visit to Illyria after all these years to help him make those changes.

At the time, it was a huge step for y/n as she delegated her role as a trainer to her first-best student who was more than honored to continue y/n's job in the training academy. When she came to Velaris she was in awe of its beauty and comfort. The inner circle welcomed her with open arms and although y/n was a little distant at first, she soon got along well with everyone and especially Cassian as they trained daily together. It was also the time when the first seeds of her crush on Azriel were planted.

Therefore, by the age of 100, y/n was an official member of the night court, a legendary figure who started to make her changes during her visits to the Illyrian camps. This time, she went in not as a weakling, but as a feared and well-respected fighter, female and most of all, Illyrian. But even with all of the fierce titles that she got, y/n still felt like turning into a small, shy and meek girl whenever Azriel was around. Rhysand sending them together on constant missions did nothing to ease her increasing infatuations with the famed shadowsinger either.

Unfortunately, they got closer during the darkest of times when Rhysand sacrificed himself to protect his court and city from Amarantha. It was then that, Azriel and y/n shared their deepest, most raw and intimate moments with one another while also doing their best to protect the city in which they were locked in thanks to Rhysands wards. Those moments were what led y/n to confess her true feelings to the spymaster during the 4th year of what would be Amarantha's 50 year reign of terror. After that day, they truly became lovers in all aspects that mattered. Even though that unmistakable bond of a mate did not appear, y/n knew it was only a matter of time before they both felt it. There was no other way.

Today, sitting here on her lovers chair in his office, y/n felt proud of herself and her loved ones for overcoming so much. Rhysand and Feyre under the mountain, the war against Hybern, Nesta and Elain becoming high fae, and the attack on Velaris all left many scars both visible and invisible on everyone. Knowing that everyone has finally found some form of happiness and that her lover is safe with her should have made y/n happy, excited even. But as of late, she could not bring herself to feel anything because Azriel was not the male she once knew.

For a very long time now, the shadowsinger has been distancing himself from y/n in favor of spending more time with a specific redheaded priestess, Gwyneth. What was once called the hour of reading by y/n and Az in the comfort of their home, turned into reading with Az and Gwyn in the library. Even during training, Gwyn would respectfully decline y/n or anyone elses offers to train her and would instead ask Azriel to teach her. He would always happily oblige, leaving y/n alone as Cassian trained with Nesta. At first, y/n tried to understand and reason by thinking that since Azriel was the one to save the priestess from facing a terrible fate in the library of Sangravah, it was only fair that she felt safe around him. However, the other priestesses were also saved by Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand and yet, y/n never saw them be as clingy as Gwyn was towards Azriel.

The final nail in the coffin came when Azriel started coming home late and locking himself up in his office and leaving early in the morning. This meant that y/n never saw her lover, let alone kissed or made love to him. That is how it led to her finally coming to his office to wait for him and get some answers to her questions.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?"

That slightly nervous voice drew her back into reality as y/n looked back from the window showing the beautiful city, to see Azriel standing in the doorway with dishelved hair and a sort of scared look in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to not show it, y/n knew him like the back of her hand. Being together for 52 years does that to you. This was not a good sign then, for Azriel never showed such a shameful expression and his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As y/n got up from the chair and started walking towards him, her mind and soul clinged onto that last thread of hope that the male whom she loved was not unfaithful to her, that he would explain everything and she would see that she was making silly little assumptions out of nothing.

Unfortunately, all that hope came crashing down as y/n got close enough to him and smelled that scent of another female, that scent that belonged to...Gwyn. And if the small dark marks that were peeking above the spymasters shirt were any indicator, they did more than just read together.

Y/n felt like she was drowning, like a huge mountain just crashed down on her and she was left under all that rubble to suffocate and die. She was frozen in her spot, unfeeling and unmoving as she felt her body shut down completely. Clearly, this only meant that she would shatter soon enough but not here, not in front of him. Never would she ever be weak infront of any male. And so, with a voice that conveyed no emotion, she asked, "How long?"

"Y/n ple-"

"How long, Azriel."

Azriel sighed as he looked anywhere but at her when he said, "Since the first time Nesta brought her to train with us."

"But that was 2 years ago."

After seeing him nod very slightly, she reigned in her tears that were burning the backs of her eyes, and asked one simple question,

"Why?"

Now it was the shadowsingers turn to look as emotionless as he could while saying, "Because she is my mate y/n."

Mate, mate, mate ofcourse he would have a mate, no matter how many years they were together, neither of them ever felt that bond snap. Foolish, so foolish to think, to hope that they were destined to be, that their bond would snap any moment. But how cruel can one be to hide the truth for 2 years, To go behind her back, even if Gwyn is his mate, and be unfaithful? To not admit the truth as if y/n wouldn't understand. And Gwyn? how could she never once mention it to y/n during all those moments spent together? How, how how..

As if that pain was not enough, Azriel confessed, "I am sorry y/n but truly, did you think we were fated to be? I always knew what we had was temporary, that we were never going to have a happy end as the cauldron would give us both our own mates. My love for you has always only been platonic...have you not noticed that I never once said 'I love you'? I saw you as a friend, a companion in whom I could loose myself for a while as I waited for my mate to come. Truly, you were good, so good to me, kind and caring and yet, so foolish. You imagined and expected too much of us y/n...for you I was a male whom you desperately loved but for me, you were simply someone who I could spend my time with until my mate arrived. I love Gwyn, I have taken her to the house of wind multiple times and made love to her there, I have spent my time understanding and creating as many memories as possible with her. From the moment I saw her 2 years ago when Nesta brought her, I felt this pull towards her and now...now I could never get enough. I do not say this to hurt you, but to make you see the truths that we were never what you wanted us to be."

Y/n took a deep inhale, the only indicator of her emotions at the moment while still processing his words and asked her final question while still staring at the wall behind him, "Who knew?"

Azriel was confused for a minute because after all that he had just confessed, she only asked that? Not to mention how much it was killing him to not understand her current emotions and expressions as y/n stayed completely unflinching, staring at the wall and expecting an answer from him. So, with a shameful sigh, the spymaster replied, "Everyone knew."

At that moment, y/n knew 2 things with clarity. First, never should you trust someone, no matter how close you are with them. Never should you give your heart to someone because in the end, they shall shatter it anyway. In this life, you are always on your own. Y/n has always been alone even after joining Rhys, y/n walked her own lonely road. Second, her "family" were traitorous liars. For the past 2 years as y/n descended back into her depressive moments, as she got flashbacks of those horrible times from her youth spent in the Illyrian village, as her panic attacks and insecurities started to resurface, the inner circle did nothing to pull her out of it. But what else would you expect from them? of course they would protect Azriel and his actions, no matter how disgusti-

"Y/n? please talk to me, I am going mad here with your lack of words and emotions. Please sweetheart." as Azriel's hand made contact with y/n's wrist, it was as if an electric shock brought her back to life.

Y/n slapped him right across the face as she said her next words in a tone so cruel and unfeeling, her enemies did not even hear that tone before meeting their death's at her hands, "If you touch me again, my knife shall find it's mark between your eyes, so unless you do not want to leave your precious mate a widow so soon, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, shadowsinger."

"Y/n ple-"

"Oh and, since you are such a loyal dog to him, do tell your rotten high lord that I am leaving his rotten court. I shall be gone by sunrise."

As she turned to leave his office throught he backdoor, Azriel did something that Y/n had never known him capable of doing. He fell on his knees as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and begged in a voice so shaky, y/n could only think whether he was even real.

"Y/n I beg you, let us talk properly, Gwyn kept telling me how I must let you know. That she hates being a secret but I was such a coward I-I..plea-"

"I do not care what Gwyn has to say. Save your tears and pleas for someone who cares Azriel, you are right, you are a coward and perhaps you always were one for playing with my feelings in such a cruel way. Do not come after me or I swear I won't hesitate to end you with my bare hands."

With that, y/n turned her back on the male for whom she would once move the mountains for, for whom she would sacrifice herself for. The male whom she loved so much and yet, this whole time he toyed with her, he saw her as a placeholder. What a blind fool have you been y/n.

The second y/n made sure that Azriel left the house, she broke down in tears. For the first time in a very long time, y/n cried unstoppable tears. But that moment came to an abrupt end as she heard a voice. Whether it was within her mind or from somewhere else she did not know and did not care because even though the voice sounded so far away, she got this immediate urge within her soul to go find it.

Deep down, y/n knew she should let it be, that she is possibly imagining things and that she should start packing now but that urge within her tightened as if wanting her to go find the source of the voice. So, with a final wipe of her tears, y/n stood and leapt through her window, spreading her wings and following that string to reach the distant voice.

As y/n began nearing the source of the sound, she realized that it is coming from the house of wind. She should have turned around and left at that second because seeing this house now only brought back Azriels words about how he spent his time here with Gwyn. Atleast that is what the y/n who was not possesed by an urge would do. But alas, this thread only grew stronger within her, leaving her no other choice.

As she began walking down the halls of the house, y/n looked back on all her memories with the inner circle here. Once, those memories would have made her smile fondly but now, they only make her feel anger and disgust. They knew this whole time...such liars, such tra-

No...this could not be it. The urge within her must have been playing a foolish trick because no way was the voice coming from this room. But that urge within her had died down as if finally only the double doors in front of y/n were stopping her from getting to the voice. But this room wasn't just any room. It was the warded room containing all 3 objects of the Trove AND the Book of Breathings.

From here, she could clearly hear the ugly, hissing voice of the book saying, "Welcome, The Terror."

"Why are you hesitating? Open the door child, open it."

As if on cue, the wards around the room disappeared and the doors opened for her. Y/n could only be confused for a second before an unknown power forced her to walk into the area. And there it was, that book sitting on the circular table in the middle of the room, beckoning for her to come closer.

"The Iron Phoenix, you finally came to learn your destiny."

Y/n scoffed as she looked at the silly book from a distance and said, "Did you truly waste my time by making me come to you so that you could spit your nonsense at me? I have enough to deal with already, I do not need another headache from you."

As she turned around to leave, the book hissed loudly, "Do not mock me you fool, I know your deepest secret Winged Fury, a secret so precious not even your once beloved lover knows."

At that, y/n turned around with a shocked expression all over her face and asked, "How? How do you know of it?"

"You can not know more than me, Valkyrie, I am the one who knows it all."

It seems today was the day when y/n had to find out just how little she knows about everything. She had enough, and this stupid book will be the unfortunate one to be the outlet of her emotions. Furious, she took quick strides to reach it as she began, "How dare you?! you call me here to spit nothing of value at me while I just went through the wo-"

A sudden wave of power hit her as y/n felt like she was stuck in one place right in front of the book. Her walls, her mental walls they...they were being melted down as she felt her mind fall into some hypnotic spells.

With a voice so beautiful and eerily soothing, the book says, "Open me, open me Braveheart and see your true destiny."

Somewhere, the last sane part of her was telling y/n that this was wrong, that whatever will happen once she opens the book won't be good. Unfortunately, y/n seemed unable to follow that voice as her fingers made contact with the cover of the ancient book and flipped it open.

The book started flipping its own pages until it landed on the one with language so old, y/n knew that it was not remembered within the past history. Her mouth began moving against her will as she began saying the words on the book in such an experienced manner, it felt as if the ancient object had posessed her.

At some point, y/n could hear distant voices...was that Rhys? Az? Cas? or no, no maybe that is Nesta or another female who is screaming? Y/n could not move, could not think, as if her sole purpose was to finish the spell. She could distantly feel her body loosing its physicality. Was she disappearing? Was she becoming a ghost?

As she was saying the final words of the book, y/n turned around to find everyone from the inner circle in the room trying to get closer to her. Despair was all over their faces but it was Azriels tear striken face that y/n saw for the last time before darkness welcomed her.

"You are home now, Stormbreaker, you are home."

"Now, you shall unfold your true destiny."

With a jolt, y/n shot her eyes open and got up from...was this a grassy hill? as she turned to look behind her, there was a small lake with a white...is that a deer? What is this place? Where was she?

But y/n did not get to explore anything else as she felt the cool edge of a knife press into her throat from behind as a male voice said to her, "You move, you die."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Damn this was fun to write! What secret does y/n have? I did leave a very tiny clue on that for anyone who might find it;) Anyway, I know most of you were maybe expecting Az to cheat with Elain but i am a Gwynriel shipper through and through and just could not think of Elain being such a homwrecker. Of course I am pretty sure Gwyn isn't one either butttt just for the sake of plot ya know. This won't be the last time we see the acotar characters as they will appear hopefully in the later chapters. But for now, sit back and watch y/n's new journey in this new world.

[agatharkn3ss]

This is how Lilia's trial and visions will happen (I think) - Spoilers

TLDR: Lilia will read tarot as her trial and that's how she sends all those messages to her past self (jump to "THE VISIONS" section for the most interesting part).

I have written about Lilia a few times before because I think she's a crucial character in the show, so I'll try to put it all together here into a single post. I believe Lilia is literally the Fate of the coven - she sewn the sigil on Billy and she's going to sew the coven circle together (as per ballad lyrics "Circle sewn with Fate"). She even runs a sewing "side hustle" Lilia's Leggings. So I think her episode is going to be epic and sad at the same time. I think this is the one addressing that "Time slip" hint in ep.1.

I believe Lilia's "blips" fall into two categories - "tarot cards" and actual "messages".

When she says a name of the tarot cards out loud, it has two consequences - 1) is that she clearly alludes to the MEANINGS of the cards, but also 2) notice how they always look like the exact scene she is referring to. So the tarot cards images become what Lilia sees as Fate. She even seals them with her sigil sign in the lower right corner.

The tarot cards she mentioned so far (card meanings from biddytarot.com):

Three of Pentacles - right after she wrote the coven names down (ep.2) - the card looks like the summoning circle scene from Agatha's basement - you can even notice Billy being included there. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Teamwork, collaboration, learning, implementation. REVERSED: Disharmony, misalignment, working alone.

High Priestess - when she meets Jen at Agatha's house and says it almost surprised (ep.2) - Jen happened to be standing in front of a painting in a way that looked like she had rays coming out of her head. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Intuition, Sacred Knowledge, The Divine Feminine, Subconscious mind. REVERSED: Guardian of the Subconscious mind, Teacher of sacred knowledge.

Three of Swords - as Jen is trying to heal Billy (ep.4) - they are on a PURPLE road, in the WOODS, and Agatha is standing in that pose, holding Billy's head. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Heartbreak, emotional pain, sorrow, grief, hurt. REVERSED: Negative self-talk, releasing pain, optimism, forgiveness

Knight of Wands - as Alice blasts Agatha (ep.5) - the Knight has the same stance as Alice in that moment. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Energy, passion, inspired action, adventure, impulsiveness. REVERSED: Passion project, haste, scattered energy, delays, frustration

The Tower [reversed] - during palm reading for William Kaplan (ep.6) Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening. REVERSED: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster

The remaining cards are:

Death - the relevant scene probably comes in episode 8,but Lilia sees it as she finally recognises Rio? Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Change, Transformation, Transition, Ending. REVERSED: On a verge of a meaningful change, Opportunity to embrace change, Massive personal transformation

Queen of Cups and the Tower - the scene will probably come in this episode 7 as flashback to Lilia's youth. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Compassionate, caring, emotionally stable, intuitive, in flow. REVERSED: Inner feelings, self-care, self-love, co-dependency.

Now Lilia's message "blips" are:

shouting and flailing her hands - when Agatha and Teen ask her to join the coven in ep.2

writing the coven names (same scene as above) - this is the one premonition where we see big bursts of power - the electricity flicker around her, the water boils and it all seems really intense.

shouting "Get off me!" and looking like she was pushing someone away - just before the witches begin summoning the Road in ep.2

"I love you guys" - when Jen questions Sharon about her poison symptoms in ep.3

"Try to save Agatha" - when she and Agatha are searching for potion ingredients in ep.3

"Which is it, am I wispy or am i kooky?" - when talking to Alice about her mum during the trial in ep.4

"Alice! Alice don't" - shortly after the one above

"You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now....[Zones out]" - during the campfire scene when she seemingly talks about the vampire scar in ep.4

"I hated this the first time!" - when there are loud, uncomfortable noises at the start of the trial in ep.5. (HOWEVER, I am not 100% convinced this is an actual blip - I felt this was more of a shout out to ep.4 where they also experienced loud, uncomfortable music. It was only Billy who pointed out that "Lilia was being weird again". And yes, if he is able to read her mind, then maybe it was an actual "blip". Or maybe a red herring. )

the palm reading scene and casting the sigil in ep.6. Notice the light was flickering again.

So, with all that in mind, I believe her trial will be something like this:

We know Lilia is the oldest witch in the coven and has lived for some 450 years, through many tragedies and the many ways the women were persecuted. She is also always so vocal about the negative stereotypes that surround witches - she mentions poisoning apples, green skin, broomsticks, talking to goats etc. And in this episode we see that Lilia will be dressed as Glinda (the Good witch), Agatha will be Elphaba (the Wicked witch), Jen looks like the Evil Queen from the Snow White, but in her old hag form and Billy is Maleficent. And even the "yellow" road feels like a call-back to the Wizard of Oz.

So it looks like Lilia, by being the good witch, will need to confront those negative stereotypes about witches yet again. I believe her test will be a tarot reading. Lilia's powers are that she can "read people" and "read time" (ep.5). We also know she was chased out of villages for "accurately predicting tragedies" and I think as an empath, she hates that part of her powers. But through this trial she will also understand that she actually has the power to predict something good and control the outcome, maybe even be able to prevent a tragedy that has already happened in the past.

From the promo material I believe her trial will take place in a tower and that Salem Seven will somehow be able to enter the trial room. There will also be swords sticking out of the ceiling, threatening to fall down and serving as a timer. It's interesting that one of Agatha's posters brings the elements together. The poster imitates the cover of "the Crucible" - a play about the Salem witch trials. So not only another nod to prosecuting witches, but also to the Salem Seven themselves. The elements of the poster also include the swords and the motif of the thread of Fate and how it controls everyone.

Now, look back to The Tower tarot card - roughly, it could also stand for "sudden, disruptive revelation" - kind of like Lilia's 'blips'. Notice on that card there are people in black in the air (Salem Seven?), blasts of electricity and a blue crown falling off the top of the tower. I am not clear how Billy's crown will fit into this though.

So I think Lilia will be doing her tarot reading, slowly uncovering cards and saying their names out loud. This will take her back to the moments in the past that she associates with the meaning but the visual image will become the scenes as explained above. She will realise she can not only transport her spirit into those moment but also be heard, so that she will be able to send messages to the coven in the past - the "blips" that we've seen throughout the episodes. But she might not be able to control it as well as she thinks yet, and some messages will be broken in two, while some will be unintended "unfiltered" things she just says to people in the trial room.

As Fate she will be able to see what could happen if they never walk the Witches Road. She will realise she is the one who has to put the coven together and so she will need to send her past self the list of the witches names. In this, she will also see William's Kaplan death and realise she was the one who has to put the sigil on him, to hide him from Death collecting him - this in turn will allow Billy Maximoff to enter the body and save him.

THE VISIONS

The messages could be in any order really, but I feel each blip can be explained:

As she's tapping into her subconscious mind, the reading could be starting with "High Priestess" [card 2 in the list above] - and she sounds surprised because it is as if she was actually standing back in Agatha's room - the realisation is only now slowly dawning on her.

Maybe one of other witches that are in the trial room with her (Jen in response to the High Priestess?) starts antagonising Lilia's kookiness, because they want her to just hurry up or don't understand what's happening yet. So Lilia, just as she reveals the next card "Knight of Wands", then responds to Jen in annoyance "Which is it, am I wispy or am I kooky?!" [blip 6] (btw, "wispy" also has a nice connection to Air, so I can see this word being used in the episode before because it's Air trial).

But then, as she says this, Lilia realises she is standing in front of Alice from the fire trial (in spirit anyway, Lilia is still physically in the scary room). She exclaims in relief "Alice!" and realises Alice can actually hear her. So this is Lilia's chance to warn her about the events of Agatha's trial. She begins saying "Alice, don't try to save Agatha!", but mid way through, her spirit gets transported to the first trial in ep.3, searching for potion ingredients. So Alice only hears "Alice don't..." [blip 7] and Agatha hears "...try to save Agatha" [blip 5].

At some point Salem Seven break their way into the tarot room and Vertigo releases her cicadas, flying around Lilia's head. She flails her hands and screams, while her spirit is inside her shop where Agatha and Teen just approach her [blip 1].

She eventually discovers her own card - "Queen of Cups". She transports herself into her past and we get her backstory.

But then we get repeat of her nightmare from ep.3 - Lilia uncovers the "Death" card. She sees the death figure approaching her maestra. But with that, the figure comes into light and she finally recognises it's Rio.

The pain of her memories leads her straight to "Three of Swords", momentarily finding the scene where Jen is healing Billy. She realises death was there all along.

She has the revelation that Rio - Death - has been after Billy all along - "The Tower Reversed". The lights flicker. She finds herself in her tent, in front of William Kaplan. [blip 10] She sees his life split in two and puts a sigil on him to protect him from Death.

But with the "tower reversed", the whole room is literally reversed - the ceiling with swords is now floor and Lilia and Salem Seven find themselves drifting towards the blades in the air. One of the Salem bumps into Lilia as they fall and she shouts "Get off me!" [blip 3] as pushes them away (while her spirit is transported to the moment before they opened the Road).

She realises she doesn't have much time left, she knows what the next card is, even though it's floating in the air. She focuses all her energy and channels her spirit to write the list of names herself [blip 2]. It takes enormous effort to stay focused on that one moment, hence the energy around her is bursting. (this could also explain the bolts of lightning on the tower card). She finishes by revealing and naming the last tarot card: "Three of Pentacles".

Finally, as she drifts towards the deadly swords, Lilia, relieved she completed her task, is transported to sitting in front of the campfire with the other witches (ep.4), reminiscing their stories. This is a fond memory so she starts saying "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now.." [blip 8] and before she can finish, she gets transported back to the "Huge tiny lies" house "...I love you guys" [blip 4]. And with that, she dies...

...

Phew. You got this far. So - what do you think?

Bonus: I think there are rumours we will finally hear Patti sing and unleash her full potential.

[edenmemes]

arcane (s2) sentence starters

ep1 - 6. warning for spoilers !

❝ everybody wants to be my enemy. ❞ ❝ you’re our leader. they follow you. i follow you. ❞ ❝ i've seen miracles spring from the hands of mages many times, but so often, they turned to horrors. ❞ ❝ why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? for love. ❞ ❝ in my experience, no one in power is innocent. ❞ ❝ this will have consequences. ❞ ❝ i don't wanna hear another word out of your mouth. ❞ ❝ i keep telling myself that you're different. but you're not. ❞ ❝ i haven't insulted your intelligence. do not insult mine. ❞ ❝ if you see the opening...take the shot. ❞ ❝ it's me. your vile villainess. the author of your nightmares. ❞ ❝ you have no inkling what family is to me. ❞ ❝ our paths diverged long ago. it was affection that held us together. ❞ ❝ i'm done blaming myself for your mistakes. ❞ ❝ your talents can be used to build, instead of destroy. ❞ ❝ no beast is more savage than man. ❞ ❝ the dirt was on both our hands. ❞ ❝ stick your head in the dirt if you want, but this fantasy you've been living out here, it's not gonna last forever. ❞ ❝ now people avert their gaze when i roll by. ❞ ❝ still giving me the silent treatment, huh? ❞ ❝ you think it's so easy? to turn your back while your city looks to you for salvation? ❞ ❝ playing coy doesn't suit you, love. ❞ ❝ is it bad that i'm making friends with my demons? ❞ ❝ can i do the right thing for the wrong reason? ❞ ❝ ever since you dropped into my life, it's like i put on glasses. ❞ ❝ jeez, lady, you crazy? talking to dead people. ❞ ❝ that's a past life, kid. and it was about as sweet as last year's milk. ❞ ❝ why is peace always the justification for violence? ❞ ❝ haven't i done you enough favors? ❞ ❝ i must say goodbye to this place now. to you. ❞ ❝ you got that look in your eye again. what are you planning? ❞ ❝ people have lost their heads for less. ❞ ❝ everyone in my life has changed. promise me you won't change. ❞ ❝ wrath must be met with wrath. ❞ ❝ what you've stolen…is more precious than any gold. ❞ ❝ i apologize for the intrusion. i was attempting to sneak in. ❞ ❝ address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut. ❞ ❝ this is what you asked for. heavy is the crown. ❞ ❝ and then what? you take what you need, hang me out to dry? ❞ ❝ do you realize how easy it was for me to track you down here? ❞ ❝ awful, isn't it? losing a loved one. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry. i’m not comfortable trusting our fates to chance. ❞ ❝ oh, spare the sympathy. ❞ ❝ uh, you do realize code phrases don't work when you make them up on the spot? ❞ ❝ you think it's so easy? to turn your back while your city looks to you for salvation? ❞ ❝ whether i'm pulling the pin or not, everyone who gets close to me dies. ❞ ❝ you walk along the edge of danger and it will change you. ❞ ❝ your youth betrays you. patience is a product of age. both of which i possess in abundance. ❞ ❝ we gotta choose right now whether we're gonna throw in the towel or make a stand together. ❞ ❝ i had a different name back then, you know. ❞ ❝ when will you admit that this is just one of your fantasies? ❞ ❝ my arrogance led me to take on more than i could handle. ❞ ❝ such force must be a final resort. ❞ ❝ in my experience, only guilty men answer accusations with silence. ❞ ❝ every time it seems like we might catch a break. ❞ ❝ you're a monster. why? why do all this? ❞ ❝ i must ask you to surrender your weapons. this is a place of peace. ❞ ❝ i still think it's a dumb idea. but i guess you won, and a deal's a deal. ❞ ❝ it’s nice to know there are still good ones left. ❞ ❝ i promise, it's the last offer you're gonna get. ❞ ❝ no matter what i do, i just can’t seem to die. ❞ ❝ maybe i underestimated you. maybe you have the strength i do not. ❞ ❝ you don't actually need my help. you haven't for a long time. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry i haven’t been around. ❞ ❝ like it or not, we're in this mess together. ❞ ❝ compassion. hate. two sides of the same coin. ❞ ❝ i have a plan. you’re not gonna like it. ❞ ❝ come closer, will you, babe? ❞ ❝ i'd feared i wouldn't have the chance to speak with you again. ❞ ❝ you here to finish me off? ❞ ❝ i thought you were on our side. ❞

[barracuda-shark-games]

Jocosa | she/her | 33 years old | bisexual

Notable traits: Intimidating, clever, diplomatic, merciful, reasonable, compassionate

Description

Despite her relatively young age compared to other advisors, Jocosa has served as Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne since Wilmot ascended to power 13 years ago, when Jocosa was only 20. Her curly blonde hair frames piercing blue eyes, and she keeps it tied into two braids that cascade over her shoulders and reach just past her waist. Her curvy figure is usually adorned by a form-fitting crimson gown with silver and gold embroidery, and accessorized with matching gold and silver jewelry in the form of heavy bangles, thick chokers, and big earrings. She colors her full lips and round cheeks with rouge makeup that embellishes her rosy complexion. At a relatively average height of 5’7 (170cm) and with a deceptively youthful face, Jocosa still makes an imposing figure due to her competency, wisdom, and willpower. She carries herself with poised grace and determination. Some accuse her of having a bleeding heart; whether or not that’s the case, it’s still a heart she keeps closely guarded.

Trivia

On romance: While Jocosa will be available for romance regardless of the MC’s gender, she has never had a relationship nor feelings for another woman before and will, as a result, be a bit shyer with a female MC than with a male MC. That being said, she will fall equally in love with an MC of either gender when romanced.

Favorite food: Grilled salmon; she is a pescetarian

Song: 'Hold Me' by be steadwell

I am breathless weightless in her arms nothing felt so much like home yet I'm restless the parts that I can't trust, the reckless urge to stay alone. she said "Hold me. Hold me, when you start to lose control. When you feel like letting go, baby don't." No one ever could control me, least of all myself, tangled up in consequence. I remember when she told me she would be the one, spoken with all confidence. She said "Hold me, that's all I need you to do. Break the skin if you have to, I can take the pain for you."

Excerpt

Under the cut for chapter 1 spoilers! Keep in mind that this is a rough draft and, therefore, may be subject to change before chapter 1 releases.

Your automaton escort leads you to a set of heavy oak double doors before it turns around and appears to power down.

Okay… You suppose you are meant to take it from here, so you knock on one of the doors.

When you receive no answer, you try again. Once again, nothing.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to opening the door yourself – you were summoned here, after all. The door is as heavy as it appears, and it takes some effort for you to push it open.

You find yourself in a room significantly taller than it is wide, with a winding staircase along the wall that appears to lead to nowhere and functions simply to allow one to scale the bookshelves that line the rounded walls. It occurs to you that this room must be one of the spires you observed from outside of the palace. This room is as maximalist as it can get, with all sorts of trinkets, tools, and appliances you struggle to place the purpose of. The only decluttered space is the polished mahogany desk near the front, which has atop it a quill and inkpot, a clipboard with blank parchment, and a placard that reads “Chief Advisor Jocosa.”

Behind the desk is a high-backed chair in matching mahogany, with red velvet upholstery and a sun carved into the top of its back. A woman sits in the chair with an unreadable expression in her piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through you. Her hands are neatly folded on the desk before her, and even from where you stand you can make out their smoothness. Long, blonde braids frame each side of her soft face, cascading down over her shoulders and chest before disappearing from sight below the desk. Clad in an expensive-appearing crimson gown, the woman’s curvy frame almost appears to disappear into the red chair behind it.

You realize you’re staring, and so is she. You shift uncomfortably beneath her gaze and prepare to clear your throat when she suddenly speaks.

“Please, have a seat,” she says, gesturing to one of two low armchairs positioned in front of her desk. Her voice is smooth and melodic, as if she just wakes up and it’s ready to go.

You oblige and decide to make yourself comfortable, which comes easy given the high quality of the armchair within which you now sit. “You asked to see me?” you say.

“I did,” the woman says with a gracious nod. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet. My name is Jocosa, Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne.”

You introduce yourself before turning down her offer for tea. “Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug and proceeds to pour herself a cup. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? As chief advisor to the throne, you and I will be seeing a lot of each other.” She brings her cup to her bright red lips and blows to cool off her tea. “I thought it only fair for you to know that I did not approve of this marriage arrangement.”

Wait, what? You’re not sure what you expected of this summons, but it certainly wasn’t this.

[simply-whump]

Twinkling Watermelon (반짝이는 워터멜론) - Whump List

Whumpees : Ha Eun Gyeol played by Ryeoun and Ha Yi Chan played by Choi Hyun Wook

Synopsis : In 2023, Eun Gyeol is a high schooler with a passion for music. During the day, he is a studious model pupil...but at night, he rocks out as a guitarist in a band. But when he stumbles across a strange yet alluring music store, he goes hurtling back in time to 1995. Here, he comes face to face with his father Ha Yi Chan – as a high schooler!

Genres : Romance, Youth, Fantasy

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Ha Eun Gyeol

Ep 1 : None

Ep 2 : Punched, falls to the ground, teary-eyed — Crying — Emotional conversation with his father, crying — Overwhelmed, almost destroys his guitar

Ep 3 : In the street with no money or shelter, sleeping outside, cold — Crying — Grabbed by the collar

Ep 4 : Grabbed by the collar — Crying, passes out after drinking, put to bed — Pushes someone out of the way of a moving car, falls on the ground, groaning in pain

Ep 5 : None

Ep 6 : Crying — Sleeping outside — Electrocuted, collapses, brought to the hospital on a stretcher, ambu bag (Gif Set)

Ep 7 : Brought to the hospital on a stretcher, ambu bag — In cardiac arrest, shocked twice — (Flashback) Has a nosebleed

Ep 8 : Panicking, was having a nightmare, wakes up in a bed with an IV drip — Punched, falls hard to the ground, unconscious, he was pretending — Crying — Tripped, falls

Ep 9 : Punched, hair pulled — Hit with a broom, falls (semi-comedic)

Ep 10 : None

Ep 11 : Groaning in pain after eating spicy food, concern for him (semi-comedic) — Emotional, desperate — Gets on his knees to beg someone — Jumps from a cliff into water, saved — Crying into Yi Chan arms — Gets hit by a car, tries to keep going but collapses — Punched, angry, worried for Yi Chan, crying

Ep 12 : Bleeding from the head (consequence form the car accident)

Ep 13 : None

Ep 14 : Crying — Crying (very emotional episode)

Ep 15 : Abducted, restrained, panicked — Saved — Crying — Almost hit by a car, very worried for Yi Chan, screaming, crying

Ep 16 : (Replay of previous scene) — Crying, blaming himself — Crying — Crying — (Lots of crying in this episode, and you’ll probably be crying with them)

Ha Yi Chan

Ep 1-2 : None

Ep 3 : Hit on the head, lightly slapped with a board eraser (semi-comedic) — Looking disheveled 

Ep 4 : Pushed out of the way of a moving car, falls on the ground, groaning in pain

Ep 5 : Pretends to pass out, concern for him

Ep 6 : None

Ep 7 : Beaten up, bleeding on the ground, concern for him, gets up with difficulty, stumbling, teary-eyed, ears ringing

Ep 8 : Found laying on the ground unconscious, concern for him — Doing a hearing test at the hospital

Ep 9 : Punched, has a nosebleed, hair pulled

Ep 10 : None

Ep 11 : Fighting, hit on the head with a wooden bar, collapses to his knees, saved, seemingly unconscious on the ground, concern for him, awake, hugged

Ep 12 : Bleeding from the head

Ep 13 : Gets into a fight — At the police station, scratches on his face

Ep 14 : Emotional

Ep 15 : (Flashback) In a fight — Hit by a car, unconscious and bloody — (Present) Hit by a car while saving Eun Gyeol, unconscious, bleeding, concern for him, hugged 

Ep 16 : (Replay of the car accident) — In an ambulance, unconscious, Ambu bag — In surgery — Lying unconscious in a hospital bed — Woke up, lost his hearing — Crying — Crying — Crying

>> Another Whump List with Ryeoun

>> More Whump Lists

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude's Leg Strength & A Coal Mine?

Forgive this post as it is impromptu, but please humor me for a minute......I was driving home and thinking about Jude's legs (because that IS normal), and in particular about how much Cybird emphasizes their strength. Jude's always on the run, and everyone talks about how strong they are. Under the cut for minor spoilers.

Initially, I chocked it up to something along the lines of, "Well, in Dark IF he was on the run from people who were after him as a little kid, so it may be a hint for his main story as a little kid always on the run." And this may very well be the case.

But then I thought, well that's one possibility, what are some other ways he could've gotten such strong legs that would have to be developed over time. This is how my brain works:

Jude ➡ Strong legs ➡ He's a runner ➡ Running ➡ Running ➡ Running for work ➡ Work ➡ Work ➡ What kind of work? ➡ Courier? ➡ Nah ➡ Servant? ➡ Nope ➡ Chimney Sweep ➡ Chimney Sweep??? WTF? ➡ Ah, Fire ➡ Fire needs coal ➡ Jude's Coal mine ➡ Coal mine ➡ Coal mine ➡

JUDE WORKED IN A COAL MINE?

I got home and looked up 'coal workers in Victorian times' and found this (if you want to read it yourself).

Turns out that children were often employed to work in coal mines as:

Hurriers and Thrusters.

Young children tended to work in pairs pushing and pulling carts of coal together in narrow roadways, the hurrier would pull it, while the thruster pushed it. Older children and women did this task alone.

The tubs could weigh about 600 kg or 1,377 lbs. The height of the tunnels could be between 60-120 cm or 1.9-3.9 ft.

There were also other positions:

Trapper: Reserved for the youngest child in the family, they'd be responsible the entire shift to open and close the door to the mine.

Getter: Usually, this was for the strongest youth in the family or for males. They sat at the coal face with a pick axe and chipped away the coal bits.

The entire family would usually work together so they could make enough money. Typically, a child was eight years old when they started to work in the mines, but could be as young as five. From the photos, it looks like sheer backbreaking, eye-straining hell.

Ah, a law was put into place in 1842 that stated children under the age of 10 couldn't work in the mines, but what if the owner of the coal mine kept it a secret that he had children under that age working, or Jude may have been about 10 years of age (presuming upon Dark IF).

The Theory: Jude may have worked in the coal mines as a hurrier or thruster. It would definitely explain the incredible strength that he's built up in his legs, and consequently crushes people's jaws with so easily. Hmm, and it could explain why Jude has a coal mine or at least has the authority to send someone to a coal mine.

In the switch up story, Jude tells the thieves that he can either sell them or send them to slave away in a coal mine until they die.

Hahaha, wouldn't it be just like Jude to purchase the coal mine that he and his family may have been forced to work in when they were little, and then force the task masters and/or the owner of the mine to work in darkness until they were dead. That is not a stretch to me.

I mean, his family could've likely developed CWP or Black Lung Disease. True, asthma may have run in his family, but inhaling the dust over time would not only aggravate their pre-existing condition, but it would cause them to develop that illness as well. Couple that with weak and tired bodies, with no money for medicine......you get the picture.

Of course, this is just for fun and I could be totally wrong, but it was fun to think more about his past and how he developed such strength in his legs.

Okay, good chat everyone! Now, I'll go translate.

[ableism]

Okay as promised to my instagram followers: My Review Of The Substance 2024 ❇️ Spoilers ahead! Tread carefully!

To qualify myself… I’m a body horror buff. If you ask me to list my favorite movies, 80% of them will be about people experiencing horrific transformations and acts of fantastical violence. Body horror is kind of my whole thing! I love French New Extremity, I’ve seen every Cronenberg, I can only get off if something nauseating happens to somebody’s body. I’m very drawn to body horror as a vessel for visualizing experiences of sexual violence and desire(re: Crash 1996, Titane, Hellraiser) or dysphoria/dysmorphia (also Titane, Being John Malkovich ((I will fight you to death, it IS body horror, die mad)), Tusk) but I think a lot of the genre leans into the ways our lives and bodies are altered by technology and the possible consequences of these extremes (The Fly, Crimes of the Future 2022, Tetsuo the Iron Man, and you guessed it, Titane AGAIN).

Immediately I’m thrilled by how The Substance hits every single one of these genre concepts. It makes the concept feel more suffocating and inescapable than other films that deal singularly with their messaging. Elisabeth is trapped by perceptions of her body on all sides; she takes the drug because she’s been deemed undesirable and devoid of value by the same people who made her famous in the first place. To escape this, she creates (through a disfiguring and grotesque process) a conventionally desirable vessel. The chase to obtain beauty is worth the most violent of undertakings. For her prime self, it generates more self loathing and degradation of her self image. For the secondary self, she continues to experience profound amounts of objectification, still valued only for her desirability, her youth, her performance of childlike naïveté. I saw an excellent review that stated The Substance holds the viewers accountable through the scenes of full nudity and salacious dancing to interpret the way we’ve been trained to default to a sexual view of bodies, physical movement, behavior. We’re made complicit in Elisa/Sue’s dehumanization.

The Substance depicts dysmorphia through body horror in the most articulate way I’ve ever seen. Logically, the viewer knows; This is not how aging works. This woman is not decrepit and wasting away, she’s just middle age. But in the digital age, youth is capital, and youth is sexually desirable and attractive. It may not be the reality of aging, but this is how we’ve been conditioned to feel about the natural course of our lives. The solution is not self acceptance. It is products, procedures, adapting diets rooted in a culture of systemically encouraging disordered eating. Elisabeth’s body becomes worthless, just a source to be used as a fountain of eternal youth. Her pain, deformity, depression, are all irrelevant if it means she can temporarily experience youth. When she tries to stop the procedure, deformed into a funhouse mirror of what an elderly person actually looks like, Sue beats her to death in a blind rage. Her appearance makes her worthless. Her perversely obtained youth is the “only good part” of her. The metaphor frankly could not be clearer and Im not… shocked per se to see people not getting it online, because I know media literacy just isn’t for everybody, but it’s straightforward and concise. That isn’t to say that The Substance isn’t full of other commentary and room for interpretation.

A lot of people in me and D’s screening were laughing during the Mostro section of the film. I spent a decent chunk of it crying! Again, media literacy isn’t for everybody, and I’m the ideal audience for this one with the existing body of knowledge to appreciate what was done here, but we still found it quite distasteful. It’s terrible and grotesque and is the most robust and “bashing you over the head” part of the metaphor. To make it abundantly clear what was being said: The best version of yourself that you could ever be is the person you are, and the person you have always been, exactly where you’re at.

At her most fantastically deformed (HUGE credit to the practical effect work in this movie, which we’ll talk about a little more in a second), she wishes she could just go back to who she was before any of this happened. None of it was worth the terror, and now she’s trapped in a monstrous body, with the same soul and character she had the entire time. It offers the sense that her body is simply something that is now happening to her, rather than just existing, or being contended over, as previously seen. It’s a level of constant infliction she could not have imagined. Loss of control is a large theme of The Substance, the point being clearly that you cannot stop the natural progression of your body’s changing, and intervention only worsens your ability to perceive your body as your own. She dresses up to perform anyways. She tries to curl her few strands of hair. She stabs earrings through her almost inconceivable skull. She just cannot stop trying to be beautiful. It’s all she’s ever been allowed to be. When she goes to perform, she is screamed at in horror by the audience, while calling out “It’s still me! It’s still me!” to no avail. Nobody ever cared who she was or how she felt, only what her body could do for them.

That’s my general plot analysis but for Other Bullshit… I cannot gush enough about the homages paid to Cronenberg in this film, and the follow through on visual language borrowed from Carrie and The Shining. It was viscerally satisfying and just a lot of fun for horror enthusiasts. The director spends so much time being totally original, while still occupying the sandbox Built by other pioneers of the genre, and I absolutely loved seeing a female director in body horror taking up the space to say “You did this, it was incredible, and here is the fresh and enthralling ideas I’m bringing to the table.” It was a body horror movie my beloved Cronenberg could not have made. That’s not to decry his skill and vision, but to praise The Substance for its bold direction and fierce representation of uniquely woman-centered body horror. To hype up my favorite little things, I adored all the flies buzzing around in the beginning of the movie before she undergoes any transformation, I love that the catalyst for her taking the drug is getting into a car crash, I love that all the sets full of evil male directors are stylized after Kubrick’s Shining (because FUCK that guy! I piss on his grave!), I love love love that the beheading at the end is the same as the head pop scene from the beginning of Scanners, and I just cannot get over the Mostro suit. It’s sublime, and the actresses deserve joint best actress Oscar’s for what they accomplished in them. Holy fucking shit! Oh my gd! Wow!!!! It’s the same feeling at the end of The Fly, but with such a fresh take, the same sharp attention and reverence for practical FX work, and drawn out for much longer, with much more modern capability to enjoy the suit for longer, from more angles, with more gritty detail. It’s not trying to emulate or elevate anything. It’s just a perfectly present and challenging addition to the genre at large.

I love that none of the men in this movie were fully formed human beings. They’re the most uncanny and robotic part of the whole film. They question and belittle the personhood of the women they encounter, so the director takes the time to strip them of theirs. It’s really not about the men here. Hell yeah! I’m also glad that there was no sexual assault scene in this film. I don’t mind this content at all and I’ve seen many done in an incredibly visceral way, I’m pro-depiction of everything and anything, but The Substance didn’t need one. The whole thing is an act of sexual violence. It’s stronger that way and was the perfect decision. And since you knew it was coming… The Substance is one of the best , if not the best, addiction allegory I’ve ever seen. The other you, the real you, is just a life source for the impostor, It takes and it takes until there’s nothing left. I felt it strong and will definitely be looking for more readings on the same page so I can expand more at some point, but I found it very clear through the visual language of IV drug use, tooth loss, aging, etc. that there was a strong point on addiction being posited in The Substance.

So that’s my enthusiasts review!!! If i was unclear: Go see this movie. If you’re a sensitive soul or new to/unsure about body horror and specific types of gore, Please check online for trigger warnings, because it is a very graphic and brutal piece of film. I’ve seen pretty much every indie horror released in 2024 and as much as I did enjoy Longlegs and Cuckoo, The Substance blows them both out of the water. We’re in the age of women in horror and I love it!! It’s fucking awesome!!!! Go watch The Substance and then eat a bug. Stay vigilant I love you 🦩

[animefeminist]

Youth in Revolt: How the late-80s/early-90s celebrated the young rebelling against their elders

Spoilers for Grave of the Fireflies

Between 1986 and 1991, Japan entered an economic bubble that saw the country’s prominence rise sharply. Real estate and stock prices ballooned, and the Japanese people had more money than ever. The economy skyrocketed… until it didn’t. Uncritical faith in the economy eased monetary policy and led to over-speculation until, in 1990, the Nikkei Stock Index plummeted, triggering a decade of decline that many refer to as the Lost Decade. Out of all the people to suffer, the youth of Japan were punished the hardest, inheriting an economy in freefall through no fault of their own.

Around the same time as Japan entered its economic bubble, they also saw a rise in youth biker gangs, referred to as bosozoku, as well as general delinquent criminal gangs, or yanki. Many gang members eventually rejoined society and cleaned up their act once they became adults. A child’s criminal record is expunged in Japan after reaching adulthood, but an adult’s record is permanent and can have serious consequences.

As youths, however, these gangs rejected the conformist ideals of Japanese society, often engaging in violent brawls that left countless people injured. Some estimates determine that during the 80s 15 out of every 1000 Japanese youths were a part of one gang or another. These numbers peaked in 1982, but biker and delinquent gangs continued to be a major presence throughout the 80s and 90s and into the modern day (albeit in far fewer numbers). 

Read it at Anime Feminist!

[rey-jake-therapist]

Warning: this post contains spoilers from the comics The Sandman. I don't know why I bother because these books were written 30 years ago and Google will tell you how it ends in a second, but oh, well, I feel like being nice today.

So many people call Morpheus' death a suicide... And argue that the show should change it, that it should be framed more as an unavoidable sacrifice... Or even "better", changed so it becomes a happy ending.

And good news people! I won't argue with you on that. I'm just posting because I'm wondering: can it be really called a *suicide*? Is it even a death?

Okay, I hear you growl from here. Yeah, I know. Morpheus pretty much dies, he takes his sister's hand and disappears, yada yada. It is a death. Sort of. But then, the Endless are just not... They're not people. They can never die like we die, because they are concepts that wil keep existing as long as there will be living beings who will believe in the existence of these concepts.

So when I see the ending of The Sandman denounced as some sort of glorification of suicide as "the only way out" I humbly wonder if it's not a bit of simplification of what the story has to say, you know? And before my post is taken as a judgement over Sandman fans who feel this way: it's NOT. I actually understand this point of view for the reason that I used to feel that way too. I was terribly tempted by suicide when I was younger, and like an old bad habit it keeps coming back and forth when I'm at lowest; for this reason TKO made me uncomfortable first, and my guts also told me that the show had to, not necessarily change the ending, but at least make Morpheus' death look less like a suicide.

But then I re-read TKO, and I read meta. Doing both made me realize that by sympathizing with Morpheus as if he was a human being, I had forgotten something ESSENTIAL about him: he's not human. And he's not only Morpheus: he's Dream of the Endless before being Morpheus. Morpheus is a persona, more than a person. Therefore I think that his "death" is interpreted wayyyyy to literally by the fandom. Just like the fact that he's "replaced" by Daniel is often interpreted as something negative that implies that Morpheus was not good enough, while I'm convinced it was not at all the intent that Neil Gaiman had in mind.

There's something very important that Dream says at some point: it's that one has to change or die. Morpheus couldn't change, so from his point of view, he had to die. But as I said earlier, Dream as a concept can't die! Of course, he could have chosen like Destruction to abandon his functions, but it's a decision that Morpheus should have taken, and we know he was too binded by the rules and responsibilities to take this decisions. He would have never done that because it was against his nature. Which meant, Dream had to change of persona. Morpheus would die, but Dream would change. And what better to serve humanity, than a being who was as much a human as he was a dream?

We tend to consider Daniel as an entity totally separated from Morpheus, but 1) Daniel was conceived in the Dreaming, making him a part of Morpheus (it's not to be cruel that Morpheus told Lyta her baby was a part of the Dreaming, and that in consequence he would come to take him. He was just stating a fact: everything created in the Dreaming belongs to the Dreaming/him). 2) when Daniel becomes Dream, he doesn't just get a job: all that Morpheus used to be, his family, his memories.... He gets them too.

In conclusion, for me, interpreting Morpheus' death as a suicide is too literal. I think that it's rather a very poetic story that translates the changes that we must all go through at some point in our life, even if it's painful. We, like Dream, must sometimes change our point of view on life, otherwise we will miss what's really important. Sometimes, the change is so big and scary it can feel like a death; the death of what we used to be, the death of childhood, the death of our youth, etc... But it's only a feeling, because like Dream, what we go through is necessary a transformation. We, too, must change.... Or die.

I said in a previous thread that contrary to what is often believed, Morpheus trading his place with Daniel is not a 180° change for Dream: he's the result of a change that started occurring a long time ago. His hair is white because his point of view is new, untainted. He's Dream of the Endless starting anew, but with Morpheus' experience to guide him.

Maybe it's why Morpheus is turned into a star after his death? Is he a guiding star for Daniel!Dream?

Sorry of there's a lot of typos, I may come back to it later for edits but I don't have time now.... I just wanted to say at the end that in my humble opinion, the comics don't spread a bad message that should be changed for the show, because "just kill yourself if you're unhappy" has never been the message of The Sandman. I think however it should be made less confusing than it is for the average viewer, especially since Morpheus!Dream often looks more like a cute blue eyed teenager than like an ethereal immortal being. It's hard to forget he's not "just some lil' guy", so of course his upcoming death will be even harder to stomach...

[buttertheflame]

Persuasion, "We Could Live Together" and Romanticism

"Although things can go wrong, time will not change how I feel about you."

After quite a few years of fic writing under my belt, I sometimes get stuck, feeling like I've changed a lot. But on reflection, I always liked to keep it simple. I use my ASOIAF fics to persuasively argue theories that I have and share what I think the overall main series is about. (It's my humble interpretation, that is.) Another way I approach my fics is to bring in those conflicts and challenges — and have the characters forge intimacy to overcome them together. They get angsty, melancholic depending, as well as lighthearted and warm in other places. 

What does this have to do with Jane Austen? I picked up her last novel, Persuasion, a few years ago because "second chance at romance" is right up my alley. Little did I know that on the third or so read, I'd see a lot of parallels between this touching novel and my Jonerys fic A Long Way Home, which starts like this: After a post-Bolton botched assassination attempt, Dany fished Jon out of the Narrow Sea and gave him shelter on Dragonstone to recoup and heal...he went home to Winterfell but delayed returning to her with devastating consequences. Since readers have long wanted me to continue the story, I wanted to give Austen some homage, define a few Romantic characteristics she uses, and where they have and will fit over the span of the "We Could Live Together" fic series.

*spoilers below*

After some research earlier this year, I learned that for many reasons there's long been contention that she was not a Romantic author, more of a Sensibility author, but some people have put forth good arguments that she was both. Literature buffs have eventually conceded that Persuasion may well be Austen’s most melancholic and romantic story, exploring themes of lost love, missed opportunity, heartbreak, and becoming one’s own person. In Persuasion in particular, like Charlotte Bronte, she tackled these paramount Romantic characteristics: marginalized characters, close relation between the mind and body through emotions and reason vs. feeling (ultimately arguing for feeling over reason).

The additional Romantic characteristics in ASOIAF of religion/the supernatural (the two go hand-in-hand), self-knowledge and 'social energy' jumped out to me.

That said, in Persuasion, here are the main Romantic characteristics:

Marginalized character – Anne “just Anne” Elliot who lived under the “partialities and injustices of her [vain] father’s house knew love with her godmother, simply because she had no one else to love,” has already passed the bloom of her youth, yet finds that despite her social isolation, she draws and is drawn to the reappearance of her ex-fiance.

2. Close relation b/w mind and body via emotions – (Shout out to Mrs. Croft who boasts that even when she travels with her loving husband by sea, she never gets seriously ill)

3. Presentation of Reason vs. Feeling - Mr. Elliot, her cousin/father’s heir, she feels, does not speak from the heart and is therefore untrustworthy. When naval Captain Wentworth is restored to her, what emerges is a return, as close as they can be, in the countryside estates and private solars of Bath’s polite society. They fall in love again due to sheer proximity.

As for A Long Way Home, the main Romantic characteristics:

Marginalized characters in their feudal system – at first, neither Jon nor Dany were able to seize opportunities based on merit or achieve accomplishments due to competency; through sheer will, faith and dreams they were eventually made to be the hope of others, then found hope in one another.

Close relation between mind and body through emotions - the sensing of the other’s countenance celebrates the link between their bodies (heh) and hearts; in addition, Dany’s dreams and scrutiny of Jon’s Stark bloodline open up and fill in more magic lore, initiated by the tragedy that is Viserion’s death.

Reason vs. Feeling manifesting in the choices characters make:

Jon is in crisis - Reason (treated the incest discovery by Bran with reason, “I will not tell her yet, I will delay it if possible”) vs Feeling (there are worse things to do, worse things to be) (this won) Dany is the Rock -  Reason (considered, “maybe it is time to take steps away from him”)  vs Feeling (wishing not to be a ball and chain; carry the burden; not blame him) (this won)

As for similar themes in A Long Way Home, I'll drop a couple of lines in no particular order:

Lost Love: "We used to say 'if one of us should leave the other, I bet you'll always love me.'" He wanted a life with her. ... I will tell her when the time is right. Or else I'll lose her and this will have been for nothing. Missed Opportunity: "I know that my delay has cost us so much, but it's not the end is it?" "You've known for months! How could you? It's my right to know I'm not alone in this world!" Heartbreak: Yet not hearing him, now, only served to irk her in a way that felt much like a broken heart. "This hurts me, too." Becoming One's Own Person: "Your sister tried to apologize for you. I do not accept it. You are the master of your own life, Jon." “I am Jon Snow, son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Lyanna of House Stark. Nephew to Lord Eddard of House Stark. And nephew to you, Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.”

Throughout the fic, I had fun touching base on the love vs. duty conflict George weaves so well with Jon. He had used his father Ned Stark's values to parse out difficult but straightforward decisions. Stay or Go? YOU SAID YOUR NIGHT'S WATCH VOWS, SO STAY! Although, like Jaime Lannister, he's realized it's sometimes more important to sacrifice name, reputation, even honor, for a greater cause--many months later in Winterfell, when the discovery of his parentage was made known to him by Bran, King Jon assumed his duty to his House and the North was in direct conflict with his love and sexual desire for Queen Daenerys. It caused him to choke like nothing else had. They entered a period of estrangement and division until he returned to her and eventually let her join in him in his crisis.

In the end... Rather than sticking to his father’s values--Jon takes up the risk of loving Dany as a man loves as woman, for a greater cause. To be a husband, a father, a king. Those are no small things to be. Those are the things that give his life meaning! He does not care about the right or wrong of it, so long as they are together. Dany, of course, happily concurs and wishes to only keep his heart.

And so I definitely credit this line from Persuasion as having pretty much inspired the direction in the continuance of the fic series:

“There they returned again into the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their reunion than when it had been first projected; more tender, more tried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other’s character, truth, and attachment; more equal to act, more justified in acting.” (Chapter 23, Persuasion)

In the end, the time away from each other has caused them to become even more mature leaders, managing realm-wide risks wisely, not risking those responsibilities for the love of one person. However, Jon has still got an inferiority complex and Dany still runs from trauma.

The next fic installment, In Full Bloom, will bring more tests to come, too heavy to carry alone, so they'll get through them together. And though my headcanon endgame is in sight, before then, they will have the chance to live together.

[origami-trust]

Dracula, June 30th (and later spoilers. This one's on the serious side) "I slept till just before the dawn...At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning had come." "There lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed...the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood..."

"I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this be so!...If I only knew! if I only knew!"

I think the dots are certainly there to connect for the reading that the Count fed on him. There's another piece of horror, as has been a defining aspect for Jonathan: not that the reader knows he was bitten, but that he doesn't know for sure, for all the potential consequences of losing his soul that might accompany. He's detailed so much about he's been made to doubt himself and his senses, a thousand times over. Even just the previous night, the same night he knew was supposed to be one of his last, the Count was smiling at him like a friend. When he later sees the Count, his cry of, 'If I only knew, if I only knew' encompasses so much pain- if he knew that what he had been through was real, if he knew that he had been bitten or not, if he could trust his own senses and know that he was seeing the Count, if he only knew what to do.

[chernabogs]

Deepwaters

Inc: Lilia, Malleus, Silver, & Sebek Warnings: Brief mention of blood, implementations of death, mild existential questioning. Some chapter 7 spoilers may be seen, but they're quite subtle (nothing major) WC: 3.1k Summary: 4 brief snapshots to the poem 'What are Heavy?' by Christina Rosseti centred on youth, the ocean, and the consequences of memories. (done for the @briarvalleyarchives 'Summer Shorelines' event :) )

LILIA.

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow; 

“I reckon you would not be able to swim past the rock crevice there.” 

A girl's voice holds pride as she stands on the beach, her hands on her hips and her lips curled into a cocky smile. Before her are two boys—one, who looks irate with her words, and another, who looks as though he wishes to sink into the dusty white sands. The irate boy gives a snort in response before looking out to the waters. 

The ocean is wine red with the setting of the sun and the waves hit the shore like hands grasping forward. The horizon is but a jagged line, as though it’s a starving mouth waiting to see who it will bite. 

“I reckon you want us dead,” the irate boy counters. “If you want to challenge us, Mallenoa, then perhaps you should try it first.” 

Mallenoa’s cocky grin falters for just a moment before she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. In the distance farther up the shoreline, a few guards can be spotted observing the trio as they stand there. 

“I have already proven myself capable of swimming there, Lilia. You and Revan were the ones too cowardly to follow along.” Mallenoa points to the rock crevice again. It’s a few yards out from the shore—not a grand length—but the sea is growing unsteady as night makes her rapid descent. “I dare you.” 

“It will be getting cold soon. Would it not be better if we just wait until tomorrow?” Revan starts to protest, his wiry voice like wind passing through reeds, but his comments fall on deaf ears as Lilia turns sharply to stare out at the water's beyond. His gaze skims over the toiling surface, watching as the waves leave foam to sink back into their embrace, before he snorts and begins walking forward. 

“No coward's soul is mine!” Is all he calls over his shoulder in return. He wouldn’t be called cowardly by the likes of Mallenoa, simply because he knew her to be the one to never live it down. He could hear Revan’s worried voice calling for him to stop, but these words die as the roar of the waves grows louder and his feet plunge into their icy depths. 

For a moment, he looks down and watches as the red waters swirl around him. In his youth, he remains unaware of the foreshadowing this image holds; he knows little of the red waters he will come to wade through in his future, or of the rivers he will craft with his own hands in the name of Queen and Country. He knows not of how he will drown in salt and copper and steel for a purpose that will fail in the end anyway. He knows not of the clock running out on his halcyon days. 

For now, he is just a boy, too arrogant to say no to a friend. 

The sand weighs him down as he moves deeper into the ocean. The waters embrace his legs, and then his waist, and then he’s falling forward into the abyss below. He moves like he’s always belonged in this darkness; the sensation of the tide rippling across his skin and the sight of the dying light reflecting on the surface above is so calming that he almost forgets to break through. His breath escapes in a flurry of bubbles before he breaches and inhales sharply, looking back to his friends on the shore beyond.

Mallenoa is laughing in delight. The childish innocence of joy darkens her cheeks, and he can still see this in the orange light as she watches him with adoration and pride. Revan stands by her side, his hand grasping her sleeve as anxiety is painted on his features. It is how it’s always been; one bravely diving into the dark, and the other trailing behind her, like a comet and her tail in the depths of space. 

Lilia exhales softly and looks around. The water is still now, like his presence has soothed it, and his body rises and falls slowly. Seagulls cry out from somewhere beyond, perhaps on the rock crevice he’s meant to reach. He pushes back his hair and looks towards his friends once more. The sun is setting further, and they’re beginning to look like nothing but two dark silhouettes on the distant shore. 

It feels isolating, in the middle of these waters, all alone. 

Lilia begins to swim. 

------------------------------------------------

MALLEUS.

What are brief? Today and tomorrow; 

“Prince Malleus, do not stray too far out!” He hears the nanny call from somewhere back on the shore as he hurries down the wooden steps of the pier. There is no one else on this beach except him, his nanny, and Lilia, who has volunteered to accompany the restless boy lest he become too much for the nanny to handle. They had cleared any other attendees of the beach for just this one day—for one day is all the Queen would grant the prince’s guardians when it came to taking him out of the security that was Black Scale Palace. 

The sound of his small feet hitting the sand is like a hiss, and he can feel the heat on his bare feet, his shoes having been discarded as soon as they arrived. He looks up and squints against the brightness; it’s rare for the sun to come out in the Valley, but summer days often bring on a drought, and so week-long periods of nothing but light are not unheard of. 

This heat lasts only a moment before something hides him in shade again. When he looks over, he sees Lilia holding a parasol above them, a bemused expression on his face. 

“Goodness, are you sure you’re a dragon and not a sea serpent? You seem quite eager to get in those waters,” he teases as he fusses over a strand of Malleus’ hair. The young prince swats his hand away with a pout. 

“I am a dragon,” he grumbles back, before rushing forward again, all previous slights now forgotten in his eagerness to reach the clear blue waters. Lilia follows closely behind while the nanny hurries after them, holding a basket with lunch in one hand and the prince's shoes in another. 

Malleus had read a great deal about the sea. Of the creatures that reside within it, of the folklore and mythology it holds, of the vastness and the grandeur. He has not, however, read about just how cold the sea can be, and so when he jumps both feet into the water at once, he lasts all of two seconds before he’s shrieking and running back to Lilia. His hands grasp his guardians arm and he seems downright offended as he looks back to the water. 

“It’s so cold!” He cries, stomping his feet in the sand  as though to warm them back up again. Lilia can’t help but laugh at the sight of the young dragon clinging to his arm—the poor boy looks shattered. He moves his hand to hold Malleus’ and clicks his tongue teasingly. 

“My, did you expect it to feel like a hot bath, little prince?” He laughs as his other hand adjusts the parasol. “Come. I’ll show you the proper way to wade into the ocean.” 

Malleus looks prepared to protest, but Lilia hears none of it as he holds the boy's small hand in his own, guiding him forward until they are at the water's edge once more. The waves are a baby blue colour, and they glimmer in the sunlight like glass and pearls. 

“Now, you must move steadily. Let yourself adjust to the feeling, and then continue on.” Lilia hums as he slowly guides Malleus forward. The prince’s expression turns sour again when he steps back into the cold waters, but then it slowly shifts to contemplation, and then a bright smile as his body adjusts to the temperature change. His hand squeezes Lilia’s tight, as though afraid to let go too soon. 

“The sand feels funny,” he notes in that manner that children so innocently do. He wiggles his toes in the clear blue water and watches as the sand slides easily off his skin. He moves closer to Lilia. “Please don’t let me go. I don’t want to get pulled in.” 

“As if I’d ever let that happen to you,” Lilia muses, holding the prince’s hand close. “I’d never hear the end of it from your grandmother if I did.” 

He looks up then, his gaze going to a familiar rock crevice in the distance. The sun beats down but the parasol shields them both as the sounds of the nanny setting up a towel for lunch, accompanied by the ocean waves crashing against the shore, creates a strange rhythm of peace in the air. 

This is broken when Malleus kicks up water onto Lilia’s legs. 

“Malleus!” Lilia yelps, moving back while still holding the prince’s hand. Malleus laughs in delight at his guardian's expense, and his face is filled with unrestrained joy. It’s the happiest that Lilia has seen the prince in a long time—in the palace on his own, he often looks quiet and sullen, as gray as the walls that confine him. This new sight reminds Lilia of a similar face with a similar expression he once saw on this shore, long ago. 

He squeezes Malleus’ hand, and shakes his head with a smile as the boy goes to splash him once again. 

------------------------------------------------

SILVER & SEBEK.

What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;

“Why can I hear the ocean?” 

Lilia’s eyes open slightly as he hears a voice. At first he sees green, and then he sees a scowl, and then he recognizes the inquisitor to be that of Sebek Zigvolt, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with a shell in his small hand. Lilia looks past Sebek, and then to his right, where he spots Silver half-asleep on the beach towel next to him. 

Good. All his children he’s set to watch are accounted for, despite his impromptu nap. 

“What do you mean?” Lilia hums as he sits up slowly. His answer is given in the form of Sebek shoving a seashell against his ear. 

“I can hear the ocean!” The boy declares, louder this time and with more urgency in his tone. Silver mumbles something and sits up as well to look at Sebek with a faintly confused expression. Lilia puts his hand over the shell and guides it away from his ear. 

“Because it carries a part of the sea in it.” Truthfully, it’s the sound of your own ear fluid being echoed back, but Lilia figures that will lead to even more confusion if he were to say something like that instead. 

“How did it get the sea in there?” Silver yawns before moving closer to his father and friend, peering at the shell with interest. He reaches out to grab it, turning it over and letting the light reflect on its rainbow-like surface. “Trapping things is mean. What if the sea wants out?” 

“I’m sure the sea is quite happy in there,” Lilia replies as Sebek comes to sit down on his other side. Both boys are now up and active, and although today is meant to be a break from learning and training, it doesn’t seem like this will be the case. Silver shakes his head. 

“But what if it isn’t happy? What if the shell just thinks the sea is happy, but really, the sea is sad?” Silver presses the shell to his ear, and his expression becomes a bit more concerned as he looks back to his father. “I don’t want the sea to be sad.” 

“The sea isn’t sad. The sea can’t feel anything,” Sebek counters with a scowl before looking back to Lilia. “Right?” 

Lilia has to admire the fact that both boys manage to have such polarizing views on the matter. Youth never fails to amuse him. He carefully takes the shell back from Silver and turns it over in his hands. The shell is frail—he can see chips in its surface already. It isn’t a young shell, that’s for sure. A faint breeze passes over the trio, carrying the scent of ocean water and blossoms from the trees that they sit beneath.

Lilia glances up. Apple blossoms, it seems.

“Shall I free the sea, then? That would mean shattering the shell.” Lilia glances between the two boys. “Would you like me to break such a pretty shell?”

Silver looks uncomfortable with the question as his hand comes out to grasp his fathers arm. “I think… I think we should. The sea should be with the rest of itself, not locked away in a shell. That isn’t fair.” 

“But who are you to decide what’s fair and what isn’t? Who are any of us to decide?” Lilia hums, a small smile playing on his lips. Perhaps there’s time to still sneak a few lessons in here for the boys to keep knowledge down the line. Silver looks more concerned as he glances at Sebek to answer. 

Sebek puffs his cheeks out for a moment as he looks at the shell. His hands clench and unclench in his lap before he looks at Silver, and then to Lilia. “If it’s stuck inside, it’s our job to let it out, even if we like the shell. It isn’t right.” 

“It isn’t right?” Lilia turns the shell over again, and then glances between the two boys. “Well then, if we’ve all come to a decision.” 

He clenches his hand, and the shell snaps in half like it’s nothing. A trickle of water runs down to the grass beneath them, and then towards the sandy beach just beyond, as though travelling to the ocean it came from. The two boys watch it go as they stay sitting beside Lilia. There’s silence, broken only by the faint sighs of the wind brushing against the blossoms above. 

“,,, did we make the right choice?” Silver then asks, looking at Lilia expectantly as Sebek quickly does the same. Lilia brushes his thumb across the shell fragments for a moment, studying its shattered opal interior, and then he simply shrugs with a smile. 

“We won’t ever know if it was the right choice, but it was the choice that we made, nonetheless, and it’s the one that we shall have to live with. That’s just how it goes.” 

------------------------------------------------

OUR FAMILY.

What are deep? The ocean and truth. 

The scent of the ocean is too strong. The sun is too bright, the sand is too perfect, and it’s the only way that the three of them know this is another illusion they’re trapped in. The faint cries of seagulls in the distance and the waves crashing against the sand fill the otherwise stagnant painting they’ve been etched into. Silver looks around in worry, as does Sebek, but Lilia’s gaze is fixated on the rocky crevice in the distance.

It looks jagged, and blurred, as though someone blended it in with the horizon in a mock attempt to make it exist. 

“You look concerned.” 

And then he’s there. Tall, with his expression unforgiving as he stands in the toiling waters, looking back at them with faint indifference in his gaze. The sea kisses his boots as though worshipping him, and the breeze rustles his clothing slightly. Lilia exhales softly as he senses Silver and Sebek tensing by his side. 

“Is it not right?” Malleus looks back out at the deep waters beyond. The sky is the gentle pink of dusk, and the sun is hidden in a painted haze as the silhouettes of birds fly in the distance. The horizon blends together and makes the ocean look as though it’s never-ending. This entire experience has been never ending so far—a dream upon a dream, a nightmare upon a nightmare.

Lilia is tired. He’s sure that the others are, as well. 

“You’re close, but the crevice is off.” Lilia points out at the rocks beyond. Malleus follows his direction and hums thoughtfully. 

“I couldn’t quite remember what it looked like when I was little.” Is the explanation he gives. “It all blurs together in the end anyway, doesn’t it? The memories, the moments. So easily tossed aside without a single warning, without a single goodbye.” 

“Malleus,” Silver begins, but Malleus turns and raises a finger to his lips, hushing the younger boy softly. Sebek looks uncertain as his hand grips his magic pen. Malleus looks as he always has; there is no black ink dripping into the waters he stands in, there is no oppressive presence, no crushing weight of magic. He is as they remember—as their memories painted him to be. 

“I’m adjusting to the waters,” Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Remember how you taught me that?” 

Lilia’s brow furrows. “Malleus, this has gone too far out of line. You must—”

“Would you like to come in?” Malleus cuts him off and holds a hand out. There’s a smile on his lips, but it fails to reach his gaze, which remains as lifeless as the scenery that surrounds them. “I promise not to let you get pulled in.” 

Lilia falls silent as Malleus pays tribute to the conversation they had many, many years ago. The hand he once held now is extended as a mockery to that brief, tender moment between guardian and child. Silver looks to his father and notes the expression on Lilia’s face before glancing towards Sebek. His own hand moves down to grip his magic pen. 

“Sebek,” he calls softly, drawing the other boy's attention for just a moment. Malleus’ gaze turns sharply towards him and darkens. The sky begins to grow a deeper red colour as dusk approaches faster. The waters become a wine red once more, their tide increasing as though to offer an omen foretelling what’s to come. They’re restless, clashing against the sand like blood spilling on a pale earth. “Is the sea sad?” 

Sebek looks confused for a moment, and then the memory dawns on him, and his expression shifts to that of an uncomfortable understanding. He exhales slowly, and the subtle nod he offers is enough for Silver to know that he agrees. Lilia’s attention is still locked on Malleus, on his extended hand and the dark, cold expression he’s giving the other two boys. 

Silver’s hand tightens around his magic pen, and Sebek’s does the same as the sea toils before them, and the sky descends into the blackness of night. If something is trapped, it’s one's duty to let it free, even if it means shattering something that they love dearly. 

They won’t ever know if it’s the right choice, but it’s the choice that they’re going to make, nonetheless.

[pranaextirpated]

in the fullness of time

genre: romance, angst pairing: jing yuan/reader word count: 1.4k

tags: gn/m, emotional hurt/comfort, crying, bathing, happy ending (?), mild spoilers with jing yuan's lore

a/n: yeah. sorry

jing yuan was a precocious individual in his earlier years. he hated to read but loved to pick up a wooden sword instead. he cherished living a life that wasn’t constrained to his family’s expectations. at times, jingliu viewed him as a little butthead and allowed his ego to get the best of him, but he donned the same toothy grin every day. things have changed since.

now, every stride he takes is powerful and resolute, whether he’s surrounded by the lush flora of a garden or the piling corpses on a devastating battlefield. he bloodied his hands and they've become calloused as a result. old, harrowing memories serve to haunt him then and there, either through uninvited flashbacks or dreadful nightmares. but he doesn't cast them aside and treats them in the same manner as his pleasant ones. jing yuan doesn't forget easily; if he does, that's what diaries are for.

as for you, you terribly love jing yuan. perhaps too much than you'd like to admit, but there's never a consequence to what is considered "too much," if love can even be quantifiable. with his generosity, he reciprocates that love to a greater degree (in other words, he spoils you) and reverts to his former, youthful self again. jing yuan can be quite the sappy lovebird behind closed doors— maybe too cheesy due to his "old" age, as you'd tease him, but he wouldn't trade you for the world whatsoever. your love is a breath of fresh air; it rejuvenates his body and mind, allowing him to escape the confines of the horrors he's faced, for just a while.

or maybe there is a consequence after all, because good things don't seem to last forever.

as droplets of water patter onto the warm bathtub, jing yuan notices you lost in thought. the reflection of your face in the rippling water reveals a tinge of unease.

"my dear, is something on your mind?" his voice disrupts your ruminations from snowballing in.

"sorry," you shake your head. "it's nothing important." jing yuan could clearly see through your white lie. a part of him contemplates accepting your falsehood for your comfort, but his curiosity nudges him forward.

"please don't hide from me," he gently implores. "speak freely so that i can help you."

not even jing yuan, the wise and brave of luofu, can prevent such a misfortune.

with no meaningful reason to continue cowering, you summon the courage to speak, though a lump forms in your throat.

"jing yuan," you start, words beginning to stale on your dry tongue. "what would you do if i were to leave you?"

he gazes at you, a mix of concern and confusion etching his features. he pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist while attempting to fathom the significance behind such an unexpected question.

"why do you ask this?" he softly inquires, rubbing small circles against your hipbone. "is there something troubling you that i am unaware of?"

you swallow empty. "i've been pondering... our time together. it seems as if we have only a fleeting amount of it," you trail off, your voice filled with the weight of fading into the annals of time.

his heart freezes cold, then sinks. the insinuation settles within jing yuan like a festering plague. still, he takes a deep breath, leaning momentarily against the tub to consider your words. to you, the time you've shared feels insignificant in the grand scheme of his longevity. the thought of you leaving weighs heavily on his soul.

"i understand your thoughts," he treads carefully, his hand now stroking your waist. "however..." he pauses, sighing to recollect himself. "please know that you are here, in this moment, with me. i couldn't have wished for the heavens to bring someone like you into my life."

jing yuan is well acquainted with loss, in all of its forms. comrades and subordinates, once present in his life, have met their fate— many perished, others captured, and a few simply vanished without a trace. you would become just another tally mark to his list.

a flux of emotions threatens to overwhelm you. you berate yourself for it. "i know," your voice quivers. "i know that, but how can i bear the thought of dying— of leaving you so soon?" your breath hitches, the gravity of your words fueled by fear. "you'll still look the same even after a hundred years, but i—" the sight of your reflection intensifies the unbearable ache in your heart. you wrench your eyes shut, desperate to hold back the tears.

"i'm scared, jing yuan."

he gently turns you around, witnessing the tears glistening on your eyelashes like dewdrops on petals. it embarrasses you to cry before him, and your emotions churn like an ocean's riptide that swells every ticking second. jing yuan leans in as his warm breath brushes against your lips.

"let us focus on today," he murmurs, running a hand through your wet hair. "for tomorrow will take care of itself."

perhaps it's true that what exists between you and him is merely temporary joy, as everything transient tends to be. yet his words assuage the fear raging within you. the tears continue to trickle down your stained cheeks.

jing yuan presses a tender smooch upon your forehead, intertwining his fingers with yours beneath the water's surface.

"i don't want to leave you, jing yuan," you sob through fits of despairing cries. "i don't want to, i don't want to." it deeply pains him to see you like this— to confront another tragedy fate has imposed upon him.

"you will never leave me," jing yuan assures you, tightening his clasp on your hand for emphasis. "in times like these, we should always enjoy what we've been given. you may not have my lifespan, but you share my heart. every moment with you is worth being loved."

unable to find your voice, you can only sniffle quietly as he consoles you. you feel like a restless child being cradled by a man who is going to outlive you. this man, who has willingly shouldered the weight of martial duties in service of his people, carries the burden of an ongoing war against immortality. each contour and scar on his body stands as a testament to his valor and the trials he has endured, some of which you may never fully comprehend.

jing yuan leans forward again, placing featherlight kisses along the gentle curves of your eyelids. his lips collect each streaming tear before descending to caress yours in a loving lock, and your arms instinctively snake around his back in solace.

"even if i'm no longer here, i hope to see you again in my next life. whenever and wherever that may be," you whisper with yearning desire.

his gaze intensifies as he locks eyes with you, his heart stirred by the sincerity in your words. he gently cups your face to brush his thumb against your cheek, and any lone teardrop is wiped gone.

"i will wait an eternity if necessary. i have faith that our paths will lead us back to each other," profound devotion evident in his hushed whisper.

as tears ebb away from your eyes, you plead to jing yuan with a trembling voice, seeking a heartfelt promise. "please, jing yuan, promise me."

his smile is so warm, so fulfilling. "i give you my vow," he declares with unwavering commitment. "know that my love for you will always remain eternal, and i will always stand alongside you, forever.”

"i'll miss you then."

suddenly, you lunge towards him, bridging the remaining distance, and wrap your arms tightly around him. you cling to jing yuan as though your fragile life hangs in the balance. his presence reassures you of his enduring existence, his bare skin a tangible reminder of his permanence to your heart.

and in every instance, jing yuan will eagerly await your return and greet you with open arms. he will regale new anecdotes, recount moments that transpired during your absence, and relive the shared moments of the past, breathing new life into them. in this lifetime and hereafter.

and so, the final pages of this chapter will end in a bittersweet note, leaving an indelible mark on both of your lives. however, it is not an end that signals the cessation of all, but rather the turning of a page, welcoming a new chapter to unfold.