#Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jincapableoflove · 3 months ago

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Bloodstained Oath | One-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre: immortal knight! jungkook x vampire queen! reader, vampire au, fantasy, dark romance, SMUT, angst.

Summary: You are untouchable. Feared and worshipped by all. And he's the knight who has sworn himself to you. When you finally call him to your chambers, he offers everything, his blood, devotion, and his very being. After all, you are no ordinary woman. You are a creature of the night, and Jungkook has longed to be yours.

Word count: 5.6k+

Warnings: unprotected sex, bloodplay, biting, devotion/worship, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, jungkook is a sub, edging, slight pain play, marking/claiming, overstimulation, light breathplay. (lmk if I missed smth)

MOODBOARD

A/N: minors dni. count how many times I used the word 'devotion' in this fic lmaoo

Slash.

Your blade cuts through flesh like a knife through wet parchment. The soldier barely has time to gasp before crumpling at your feet, eyes wide in shock as the life drains from them. You don’t stop to watch them fall. Another comes at you, sword raised in a desperate arc, but it’s slow. Clumsy. Predictable.

A flick of your wrist, and your steel pierces their throat.

The battlefield reeks of smoke, sweat, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood. The cries of the dying mix with the clash of steel. The sky above is thick with storm clouds, swirling dark and furious as if the heavens themselves bear witness to this slaughter.

And beside you, he fights.

Jungkook moves like a wraith through the carnage, every strike precise, every motion an extension of his unwavering devotion. His sword is slick with the blood of your enemies, his armor streaked with crimson, but his expression remains unreadable. He never falters. Never hesitates. If you turn, he is there. If you advance, he follows. He is as much a part of your being as the dark and endless power that flows beneath your skin.

And the battle is over before it truly begins.

The last of the opposing army collapses under the weight of your might. Those still standing are stripped of their weapons forced to their knees in the mud. Their leaders are dragged forward, their bodies shaking in fear. The field is silent now, save for the ragged breathing of the survivors and the occasional pained groan of the wounded who still cling to life.

Victory is yours.

It had been inevitable the moment your secret was exposed. Only your inner court knew the truth of what you were. Someone had let the secret slip. Someone had turned the kingdom against you. Whispers of the Queen’s unnatural longevity, of her insatiable hunger, of the power lurking in her veins were well spread now.

At first, they had dismissed it as a myth. But then the whispers turned to fear. And fear breeds rebellion.

So they rose against you, gathering armies under banners of righteousness. They spun tales of salvation, of freeing the land from the “monster” who sat upon the throne.

And now, they kneel. Trembling and waiting for judgment.

Jungkook stands at your side, as he always does. The blood-splattered sword still clutched in his hand, his breathing steady despite the massacre. His hair is damp with sweat, dark strands sticking to his forehead, but his posture remains unshaken.

And even now, with bodies strewn across the battlefield, with the scent of death thick in the air, he looks at you as if you are a goddess.

The captured traitors kneel before you, their wrists bound and heads bowed in fear. They know what is coming. Some weep. Some pray to whatever gods they believe in. None will be heard.

“Please have mercy,” one dares to whisper, voice hoarse.

Mercy? You smile cruelly. “Let this serve as a lesson.”

With a tilt of your head, Jungkook moves. And one by one, the betrayers fall beneath his blade.

His movements are precise, methodical. There is no hesitation, no wasted motion. A sword raised and then a clean, effortless beheading. Blood spills into the soil, pooling at your feet. He does not flinch, does not falter. He has done this before. He will do it again.

Your most loyal knight. A perfect executioner.

But still, you watch him closely. His hands are steady. His gaze never wavers. But would they tremble if he knew you were watching him the way he watches them?

When the last head rolls, silence falls over the battlefield. Your remaining army stands at attention, waiting. The air is heavy, thick with expectation.

Jungkook turns to you then, falling to one knee. His sword rests at your feet, and then his dark eyes flicker upwards to meet yours.

You notice his hands twitch at his sides. Always ready. Always waiting.

A thought takes root in your mind, one that has lingered for far too long. You tilt your head, voice low, teasing.

"Tell me, my knight. Does your devotion extend beyond the battlefield?"

Jungkook does not hesitate.

He bows his head, breathes the words like an oath.

“My Queen, I am yours.”

The air in the palace is thick with the scent of burning incense curling in slow tendrils toward the vaulted ceiling. Somewhere beyond these walls, the echoes of victory can be heard, laughter spilling from drunken lips, the rhythmic pounding of drums, the distant sound of celebration as your court feasts in your honor.

Yet here, within the throne room, there is only silence.

You sit upon your throne, fingers tracing absent patterns against the cool metal of your crown. It is a symbol of power and dominance, showcasing the centuries you have ruled. But at this moment, it is nothing more than cold weight against your skin.

Victory should be satisfying. It should be absolute. And yet… something lingers. Something unfinished.

You know what it is.

With a flick of your wrist, you summon him. The guards bow, disappearing into the halls to retrieve your knight.

Jungkook.

Your most devoted, your most trusted. And yet, the one who has unsettled something within you for longer than you care to admit.

The wait is not long. It never is with him.

He enters without hesitation. His steps are disciplined each movement precise and controlled. He bows low, but his eyes never leave you.

His armor gleams under the dim candlelight, polished as if to erase the evidence of battle. Yet traces remain. Stubborn stains on his gauntlets, dark smudges along the edges of his breastplate, the last remnants of war clinging to him like a shadow that refuses to fade.

There is no fear in his gaze. No hesitation. No uncertainty.

He stands before you as he always has, as if he has always known you would call for him.

His devotion is unquestionable.

But as you watch him, as you take in the quiet intensity of his stare, the way his hands remain at his sides yet never truly still… you wonder if he even knws the depth of his own obedience.

You rise from your throne, slow and deliberate. The faint clink of your jewelry is the only sound as you step forward, circling him like a predator sizing up prey.

Jungkook does not move. His posture remains impeccable, his shoulders squared, and his chin lifted not in defiance but in unwavering submission. His expression is unreadable, but you know him well enough to sense what lingers beneath the surface.

Tension. Restraint. A quiet anticipation that vibrates in the air between you.

You test him. Fingers grazing his jaw, tilting his chin up just enough to force his gaze to yours. A lesser man would flinch, would shy away from your touch, uncertain whether it is a gift or a warning.

Jungkook does neither.

He remains perfectly still, his breath measured and controlled. But you feel the unspoken war raging beneath his calm exterior. His hunger is not for power, not for freedom.

No, it is something far more primal. Far more dangerous.

You wonder if he has spent centuries waiting for this moment. Waiting for you to look at him, not as a knight, not as a tool, but as something more.

He has given you everything including his blade, his loyalty, his blood.

But is that truly all he desires?

You do not grant him what he seeks so easily. That would be too simple. Too merciful. Instead, you test him. A test with words.

“Would you give me anything I desire, Jungkook?”

His answer comes without hesitation. “Yes, my Queen.”

His answer is steady and certain. But is it instinct, or something deeper?

You step closer, close enough that the candlelight flickers in his dark eyes. His breath remains even, his shoulders squared, but you know him too well. You see the slightest tension in his throat, the way his fingers flex before stilling at his sides.

“You have given me everything,” you murmur. “Your loyalty. Your strength. But do you give it freely?”

For the first time, there is a pause. So brief, so fleeting, it might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t watching him so intently.

Then, reverently, he answers.

“What is freedom to a man who has only ever lived for you?”

Satisfaction hums through you at his reply. It is the answer you expected, the answer you demanded, and yet it still pleases you to hear it fall from his lips.

Without another word, you turn, stepping past him, knowing he will follow.

He does.

Your steps are slow, deliberate, echoing through the dimly lit corridors as you lead him toward your chambers. You do not look back, yet you feel his presence. There is no hesitation in his footsteps, no question of where this night will lead.

When you finally reach your doors, you pause only to push them open, stepping inside without waiting. He follows as if drawn by an unseen force, as if this is inevitable.

The heavy doors shut behind him, the iron lock sliding into place with a finality that seems to settle between you both.

Jungkook stands before you, shoulders squared, gaze steady. No surprise lingers on his face, no uncertainty. If anything, there is something else in his dark eyes, something like quiet acceptance.

Almost as if he had been waiting for this. Expecting it.

You tilt your head, watching him, searching for any sign of fear. You find none. Lifting a hand, you trace your fingers along the collar of his armor, feeling the warm metal beneath your touch. Then, softer now, more dangerous, you ask,

"Will you give me your body, your blood? Would you let me consume you?"

His breath shudders, but his answer does not waver.

"Yes. Anything."

That’s all it takes before you pull him toward you, baring your fangs.

Your hands move with urgency, pushing aside the heavy layers of armor that shield him. The breastplate clatters to the ground, followed by the straps and clasps of his pauldrons. Beneath the steel, his tunic clings to his skin, damp with the heat of battle, the lingering scent of blood still fresh on him.

Jungkook does not resist. He never does.

His chest rises and falls, controlled but uneven, as you tilt his head to the side, exposing the column of his throat. The skin there is marred with old scars, remnants of wars fought in your name. Yet, he offers it freely, tilting into your touch, showing is full submission.

And then, you strike.

Your teeth sink into his neck, piercing skin and flesh, and a gasp wrenches from his throat. His body tenses, then melts into you as though he was made for this. Made for you.

You feed slowly at first, savoring the way he trembles, the shudder that rolls through his frame. He does not pull away. If anything, he leans into it, his hands gripping your waist, fingers pressing into you as if to anchor himself.

The act is unmistakably intimate. Erotic.

His breaths come in shallow pants, growing heavier as you drink from him, your fangs buried deep in his flesh. The wet, sinful sound of blood sliding over your tongue fills the space between you. You feel the way his pulse flutters beneath your lips, how his body tenses when you drink a little faster.

The hunger in you stirs, insatiable. The blood seeps from the wound, trailing down his throat, and you press your tongue against it, lapping at the warm liquid before soothing the punctures with a slow, deliberate drag.

A shudder wracks his body, a breathless sound spilling from his lips, raw and wanting.

And still he does not pull away.

By now, his arousal is undeniable, straining against the confines of his pants. The evidence of his desire presses against the fabric, aching nd desperate, but he says nothing. He wouldn’t dare.

Your hand drifts downward, fingers trailing along his abdomen before slipping lower, cupping the rigid length of him through the thick material. Even through the fabric, he is burning, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, his body going rigid for a moment before he exhales, shuddering. His hips twitch ever so slightly, barely perceptible but you notice.

His need is palpable, almost suffocating in the way he holds himself back, trembling beneath your touch, yet refusing to beg. He wants more. more friction, more of you but he knows he has no right to ask for it.

So he takes what you give him, whimpering when you press your palm harder against him, dragging slow, deliberate strokes over his length. The friction is both a relief and a torment, not nearly enough to satisfy, yet too much to bear in silence.

A strangled moan catches in his throat, and his fingers tighten around your waist. He wonders how you haven’t reprimanded him for touching you, how you allow his hands to rest upon you so freely. The thought only makes his restraint waver further.

He wants to explore. To let his hands roam, to feel the curves of your body beneath his fingers, to worship you in ways he has only imagined for centuries. But he does not dare.

So he remains still, trembling, waiting, hoping.

You are pleased with his reactions, the way he trembles under your touch yet holds himself back, waiting for your command.

So you decide to be merciful just a little.

“Undress,” you say, voice smooth and commanding. “Lay yourself bare for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. His hands move with practiced efficiency, unfastening the ties of his tunic and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The fabric falls to the floor, revealing the expanse of his chest, skin scattered withth scars from healed wounds.

His fingers work at the laces of his pants next, undoing them swiftly. There is no shame in his movements, only purpose. He is shedding more than just clothing; he is offering himself to you, wholly, completely.

The moment he tugs down his undergarments, his cock springs free, hard and eager, flushed at the tip.

Your eyes trail down, taking in the sight of him. The length is impressive, thick enough to stretch, with prominent veins running along the shaft. A bead of precum gathers at the tip, glistening under the candlelight.

It almost makes your mouth water.

Jungkook lies himself down on the massive bed, his body tense with anticipation. His chest rises and falls with slow, controlled breaths, but you can feel the heat radiating from him, the barely restrained need coursing through his veins. He is waiting for you to take what is yours.

But you are not so kind as to grant him relief so easily.

You climb atop him, your body pressing flush against his, your weight a deliberate reminder of his submission. His cock twitches against his abdomen, but you ignore it, focusing instead on the way his lips part ever so slightly as you lean in.

Then you kiss him hard.

Jungkook gasps into your mouth, and you take advantage, deepening the kiss, your tongue claiming him in a way he has only ever dreamed of. He tastes of devotion, of longing, and you drink him in, reveling in the way he trembles beneath you.

Your fangs descend, sharp and eager, and you sink them into his lower lip, puncturing the soft flesh. A sharp inhale—his body stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away. Warm, coppery blood floods your mouth, rich and intoxicating, and you moan as you suck at the wound, savoring every drop.

Jungkook’s hands hover beside you, uncertain. He has fantasized about this moment for centuries, imagined all the ways he might worship you if ever given the chance. And yet now, with you consuming him, he doesn’t know what to do.

But one thing he knows for certain: he must not defy you.

Jungkook waits patiently, his hands hovering just shy of your body as if he dares not touch without permission. You revel in his obedience, but you are not yet satisfied. You lean in, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering dark, sinful things, watching for the cracks in his restraint.

His breath hitches, his fingers twitch at his sides, but he does not break.

Not yet.

His hands finally come to rest against your body, ghosting over the fine fabric of your royal robes. The heavy garment is embroidered with intricate gold patterns, the deep crimson fabric flowing like blood with every movement. It drapes over your shoulders, cinched at the waist with delicate chains, leaving only hints of skin visible. It feels like a barrier he is not yet worthy of removing.

You pull away from the kiss at last, leaving him breathless. His lips are swollen, slick with the remnants of his own blood. His head spins slightly, whether from the loss of blood or the sheer intensity of your presence, he does not know.

You sit up, bringing him with you, guiding him to move as you wish. His hands find their place on your body, worshipful, mapping the curves and dips of your form as if committing you to memory.

Then, he hesitates slightlyhis gaze flickering up to meet yours, seeking permission.

You offer him the barest nod.

Emboldened, his hands cup your breasts through the fabric, molding around them, squeezing slightly. His thumbs graze over your nipples, teasing through the layers of silk and embroidery, but you offer him no further mercy.

You watch as frustration flickers in his darkened gaze. He wants to feel your skin beneath his hands, to see you bared before him. But he knows better than to demand.

He will have to earn it.

Your hand trails downward, fingers wrapping around the thick length of his cock, the heat of him burning against your palm. His breath stutters as you stroke him slowly, teasingly, letting your fingers glide over the flushed tip where precum beads and drips onto your skin.

You spread the slickness down his shaft, your grip firm but agonizingly measured. He groans, hips twitching into your touch, though he restrains himself from outright thrusting into your palm.

"Already so desperate," you murmur, watching the way his muscles tense beneath you. "And I’ve barely even touched you."

A moan escapes him when you finally lower your head, lips brushing over the sensitive tip before you take him into your mouth in one smooth motion.

His fingers clutch at the sheets before moving to the back of your head, hesitant at first, then bolder when you don’t stop him. His grip tightens as you suck harder, tongue tracing every vein, every ridge.

Your pace quickens, the obscene sounds of your mouth working him over filling the chamber. His control begins to slip, hiip stuttering forward, his need overcoming his restraint. He starts to fuck into your mouth, his groans raw, breath ragged.

But just as he nears the edge, just as his thighs tremble and his grip turns bruising, you pull away.

His cock slips from your lips with a wet pop, slick and throbbing, denied the release he so desperately craves.

Jungkook lets out a frustrated, needy whine, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes are dazed, his lips parted, his expression utterly wrecked.

You simply smile, dragging a finger across your swollen lips before tilting your head.

“Are you pouting, my knight?” you tease. “How unseemly.”

You lean back once again, taking your time, unfastening each clasp, each layer of fabric that conceals your body from his desperate gaze. Your fingers move with deliberate slowness, teasing the anticipation that already has him trembling.

The first thing to go is the heavy outer robe, the rich fabric slipping down your shoulders, pooling at your feet like discarded silk. Next, the delicate material covering your torso, barely shielding the bare skin beneath. You tug it down, exposing the soft swell of your breasts, but you not fully, just enough to torment him, to watch the way his cock twitches in response.

His breathing grows uneven, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for you.

“You’re holding back,” you observe, amused.

Jungkook swallows hard, his jaw tightening. “I have to.”

You hum in approval and continue, letting each remaining piece of clothing slide down your form, revealing inch by inch of bare skin. His eyes darken, pupils blown wide with hunger.

And then, as you shift slightly on the bed, his gaze catches on something else. The faint, glistening stain beneath you, the proof of your arousal soaking into the sheets.

His breath hitches.

You smirk, tilting your head. “See what you do to me?”

His cock twitches again, the need in his expression almost unbearable. But he still does not touch. He waits because you have not given him permission.

You spread your legs for him, your fingers trailing downward, parting your slick folds with a slow, deliberate motion. The tiny pink pearl at the center of your arousal glistens in the dim candlelight, and Jungkook gasps, his hands flexing at his sides as if physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse with longing. “May I…?” He hesitates, swallowing. “Do I have the luxury of tasting you, my Queen?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not tonight.”

A flicker of disappointment crosses his features, but he does not argue. He wouldn’t dare.

“This is your reward,” you remind him, tilting his chin up so he meets your gaze. “For fighting so fearlessly beside me. For all those centuries of devotion.”

His breath shudders as he exhales, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as if to ground himself.You spread yourself wider, letting him see every glistening inch of what he’s denied. “Tonight, you take. And I will give.”

You lift yourself onto his lap, your thighs framing his hips as you settle against him. The moment your soaked folds press against his length, Jungkook lets out a strained moan, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. But you don’t grant him what he craves.

Instead, you roll your hips, dragging your slick heat along his length, coating him in your arousal. The friction is intoxicating, a slow torment that has you both gasping. His cock twitches beneath you, so hard it aches, while your pwn need pulses, demanding more.

He groans, fingers digging into the sheets as if holding himself back. “Please…” he rasps, voice wrecked with desperation.

You shush him, pressing a single finger to his lips. “Not yet.”

He exhales shakily, his thighs tensing beneath you. He is so close already, you can feel it in the way his body trembles, in the way his cock jerks against your clit with every glide. He’s terrified he’ll spill before you even take him inside but that’s exactly what you want.

You halt your movements abruptly, lifting yourself just enough to deny him the pleasure he was chasing. His breath hitches, a frustrated whimper slipping past his lips, but he knows better than to protest.

Placing both hands on his chest, you push him backward until his back meets the mattress, his body fully beneath yours. You grip the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your dripping entrance, teasing the head against your slick folds. His breath stutters, muscles taut with anticipation.

And then, slowly, you sink onto him.

The stretch is exquisite, a delicious burn that has you both moaning in unison. He fills you so perfectly, your walls clenching around him as you take him in inch by inch. His fingers twitch at his sides, his restraint admirable, but you can see the way his throat bobs, the way his eyes glaze over as pleasure overtakes him.

Leaning back, you brace your hands against his strong thighs, lifting yourself slightly before rolling your hips. Jungkook lets out a strangled groan, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. His eyes flutter shut, lost in the pleasure coursing through his body.

But that will not do.

“Open them,” you command, your voice firm.

He obeys instantly, dark eyes locking onto yours. They’re wild with hunger, with devotion.

Your nails dig into his thighs, sharp enough to break skin, a thin trail of blood beading at the surface. But if he feels the pain, he does not show it. His pleasure is too consuming, too overpowering. And so, he gives himself to you fully, offering his blood, sweat and tears to you like he always has.

His vision turns hazy pleasure clouding his thoughts, but his eyes never stray from you. He watches, entranced, as your breasts bounce with every movement, your body moving above him like something divine, yet here you are, claiming him, taking everything he has to give.

He feels it building, the telltale tightening in his abdomen, the coil about to snap. His breath stutters, his hands twitch where they grip the sheets, but before he can even manage to stammer a warning, his release overtakes him.

His body shudders violently beneath you, pleasure ripping through him as his cum spills inside you, hot and thick, painting your walls in spurts. The sensation is blinding, overwhelming, pulling a guttural moan from deep in his chest.

But you do not stop.

You keep moving, keep bouncing on him, greedily milking every last drop, your walls clenching around his still-sensitive cock. His whimpers are near-pained, overstimulated, but he does not beg you to stop. he wouldn’t dare.

Not when he belongs to you.

The heat of you around him is unbearable, intoxicating. Even as he shudders from the aftermath of his release, his cock twitches, hardening again inside you. The warmth of your walls, the way you squeeze around him, milking every last drop—it’s too much, yet not enough.

He is lost in you, in the way your slick coats him, in the sensation of being fully sheathed inside your tight, wet heat. It is maddening, the way you move, the way your body clenches down on him like you never want to let him go.

His hands tremble as they grip your waist, not to control but to ground himself to remind himself that this moment is real, that you are truly allowing him to have this, even if only for tonight.

The pleasure builds faster this time, his cock throbbing inside you, desperate for another release. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, your own peak drawing near.

“My Queen,” he gasps, voice wrecked, “I’m close.”

Your pace does not falter. Instead, you ride him harder, faster, pushing both of you over the edge.

He spills inside you again just as you come, your walls clenching down around him in a vice-like grip. His moans mix with yours, your cries of pleasure perfectly in sync. The feeling is euphoric, all-consuming, leaving him breathless beneath you.

He has never felt more complete, more worshipful. Even in pleasure, he is nothing but yours.

You pull yourself off him with deliberate slowness, letting his length slip free from your warmth, leaving him raw and sensitive. He barely has time to catch his breath before your mouth is on him again, lips wrapping around his overstimulated cock.

A sharp gasp leaves him, body twitching violently at the sudden contact. The pleasure is unbearable now, his sensitivity turning every flick of your tongue into something dangerously close to pain. But he does not push you away.

His queen, his goddess, the only being he will ever worship, is indulging in him, in his body, in his weakness. He exists for you to ruin.

His hands fist the sheets, muscles locked as his body fights against the onslaught of sensation. He groans, voice breaking, and you hum around him, sending vibrations through his length. He knows he won’t last, can’t last under your relentless hunger.

His hips jerk involuntarily, his entire body shuddering as his release tears through him again. This one is painful, forced from his exhausted body, his cock barely able to keep up with your immortal stamina.

A strangled moan escapes him as he spills into your mouth, the last remnants of his pleasure drawn from him until he has nothing left to give. His vision is blurred, his limbs trembling.

And then you kiss him.

His breath catches as your tongue slides into his mouth, the taste of his own seed spreading across his tongue. A cruel reminder of how utterly you have taken him, consumed him, claimed him.

You straddle him, hand at his throat, pressing down.

His body reacts instantly, his muscles coiling beneath your touch, a sharp inhale drawn between parted lips. But it is not fear that darkens his gaze. It is something else, something raw and consuming. His pulse flutters against your palm, quick and eager, a silent plea without words.

Beneath you, he is utterly vulnerable.

Your grip tightens. He exhales shakily, a strangled sound caught in his throat. You can feel him growing hard again, his body responding to the cruel intimacy of your touch. He doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t fight you.

His devotion is absolute. Even as the air leaves his lungs, even as his vision begins to blur at the edges.

You lean in, your lips grazing his ear as you whisper softly, like a lover’s confession, yet laced with something far deadlier.

"I know what you did."

A shudder runs through him. His breath catches. His fingers twitch against the sheets, as if resisting the urge to hold onto you. To anchor himself.

But he does not beg.

He does not deny it.

Instead, he smiles.

As if this was always meant to be. As if this is what he wants.

Your grip tightens further, pressing deep into the delicate skin of his throat, cutting off the last remnants of air. His body jerks beneath you, muscles tightening, chest heaving in a desperate, instinctual attempt to pull in breath. His lips part in a soundless gasp, but no words come.

His eyes remain locked on yours. Glassy and devoted.

Even as the fight leaves his body.

Even as his pulse weakens beneath your fingers, fading into nothing.

Even as his body finally stills, lips parted, frozen in the ghost of his final worship.

You end him.

Jungkook is immortal but only because you willed it so. He has always been untouchable to the rest of the world, his life tethered to your mercy alone. And now, as you stare down at his lifeless body beneath you, the realization slams into you, cold and final, like a blade driven straight through your chest.

He let you kill him.

He never betrayed you to defeat you. That was never his goal. No, his crime had always been one of devotion, not treachery. He forced your hand because there was no other way. He knew you would never let a traitor live.

A final act of love, masked as betrayal.

And even now, in death, his body betrays his yearning. His arousal lingers, stiff and undeniable, a grotesque echo of his devotion. His final gift to you.

For centuries, he had yearned to be more than just your knight. He had watched you take countless lovers, while he stood guard outside your door, hearing the sounds of pleasure that would never be his. It had gutted him, wounded him more than any battlefield ever could.

You had gifted him immortality as a token of his loyalty, his unwavering service. But in doing so, you had condemned him to a fate crueler than death. To live on forever, knowing he would never be anything more than a weapon at your side. Knowing that no matter how many lifetimes passed, he would never be the one you reached for.

So he did the only thing he could.

He betrayed you.

Because he knew that you would never let a traitor live.

The room is silent. The air is thick with the scent of blood.

Jungkook's body lies beneath you, utterly still, his skin cooling beneath your touch. You should feel satisfied. You should feel victorious.

Instead, there is only a hollowness, a slow, creeping thing curling inside you like smoke.

You stare at him, the man who had knelt before you in unwavering devotion, the warrior who had spilled blood in your name, the fool who had loved you enough to orchestrate his own demise. He had yearned for this, had wanted to be consumed by you in every way possible. And you had granted him his wish.

Then why does it feel as if something vital has slipped through your fingers?

Your fangs remain stained with his blood, the taste of him still thick on your tongue. You should have savored it more. Should have recognized what it meant when his hands had trembled against your skin, not with fear, but with desperate reverence.

Perhaps this had been his final lesson to you.

Perhaps his betrayal had not been a betrayal at all, but the greatest act of devotion.

You sit in the silence, staring at the body of the only one who had ever truly belonged to you. And for the first time in centuries, you wonder…

Had you ever belonged to him, too?

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lmk ur thots <3

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shisasan · 2 months ago

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Nikita Gill, “The Moon Goddess” from Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters

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petaltexturedskies · 4 months ago

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You prefer books to people. You are quiet. Always in contemplation,

Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters

#nikita gill #typography

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mikobeautifulheart · 1 year ago

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Intervention

Sukuna x reader

Mentions of kidnapping ig and arranged marriage.

like 700 wordsish (Correct me if u want idc)

NOT EDITED

Synopsis: You were going to go get married off to the Gojo clans strongest, how ever you disappear when your marriage is announced. The only clue anyone has to your disappearance is the monster lurking in the near by woods.

(Set in medieval times with Sukuna's true form)

You sat before your parents respectfully as you were taught, these times were so unfair to a woman.

You were just told that you were going to be married off to the Gojo clans heir and that its an honor to be his wife.

In all honesty, you didn't care. Since the day you were conscious you were reminded not to get attached to anyone because in the end you would always be married off in the end with no say.

You did remember those days where you didn't bother as much with life, the ones where you snuck out and hid in the woods not to far from your family's estate. You went there because no one would go look for you there.

There was a rumor around that there was a beast, a hideous killer hiding out in those woods, one with blood red eyes and a violent nature. You were convinced that it was just another way of scaring kids out of the woods so they wouldn't run away or play in the woods anymore so it never stopped you.

Offten you would get fed up in the day and escaoe in the night, crying silently as you ran into the woods. This was almost every night as a child because of the harsh reality hitting you.

Learning that you couldn't play with other kids because of their status? Crying in the woods.

Being taught hard complicated etiquette lessons as a child? Woods.

Brothers getting better treatment AND getting acknowledged at dinner? Woods.

You learned that the world was unfair and that it would stay that way. Would it?

The night when you were told you had an arranged marriage you thought you would handle the inevitable news fine, but something in your heart throbbed. Something about not even knowing the man you were to marry killed you. You slowly walked into the woods trying to keep your eyes clear so you wouldn't trip over something.

"How do you even marry a man you don't know?" You hicced before stopping at a rock in the middle of the woods and breaking down on it.

"I though I would be okay." You said not even trying to wipe your tears anymore.

The woods were silent until you heard an abnormally loud crash, a whole tree had crashed to the ground. Your head peaked up from your curled up body. In sheer disbelief you saw a tree cut at the stump and something, someone, standing behind it.

You stared waiting for it to move, as it stood still you noticed that it had 4 piercing red eyes and four arms as well as its abnormally large frame.

A chill ran down your spine. This was the monster that they warned you about all those years ago, it really wasn't a myth. Looking at it now you could say they even down played it.

Not even willing to stay any more you slowly turned your back to it and ran off the rock. You tried to munover yourself between all the trees but the forest was to dense. You heard swift wind cutting noises behind you speeding up and it made your adrenaline kick in.

You started to push through the smaller trees and shrubbery but they just ended up slowing you down, you went to finally reach the dirt path out but your foot got hooked on a log.

Just before your face hit the ground you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and hold you up above the ground.

You opened your mouth to scream for help but a large hand covered it. You struggled tirelessly kicking and muffled screams but it was no use.

"Shush brat, I can help you." A low voice practically growled into your ear. You tried to turn your head away but the hands grip was to strong.

"All you have to do is close those pretty eyes of yours and all your problems will go away." This only made your eyes widen, what could he mean? Was he going to kill you? Rip you to shreds and eat your raw body? Torture you to death?

You struggled even harder but still, no use.

"I said I can help you, are you even listening?" It growled.

You only let out muffled sounds, digging your nails into his arm. He didn't even notice.

"You'll thank me later." He said before he started to carry you away.

Half way there you gave up on escaping but that didn't mean you weren't afraid.

You came to a hult abs saw a large shrine like place that you were being taken into. You were more amazed at this point, you were never told what was in the forest let alone what structures hid in the trees.

As soon as he walked under the large gate the strong smell of blood, it was so strong it almost made you gag.

The crunching of bones under his steps were sickening, but it just made him smile even wider.

Eventually he carried you inside where he dropped his hand and practically dropped you, the sheer size of his torso was inhuman.

"Wha-what do you want from me?!" You said moving away from him.

"I'm sure I don't taste good, I mean I'm like old, 20 is pretty old"

"And I'm 530 years old, I'm sure your blood is delicious."

Your eyes went white. Were you actually going to die here? No way in hell were you going to let that happen. But what if you went back? Would you still be married off?

"Why were you so loud today, you usually don't cry that much."

You froze, usually? What dose he mean usually? How long had he watched you?

"I-I didn't want to be married off..." You said.

"I dont even know the man so how can I marry him?" You looked at the mosters face.

Forget it this was not the time, you needed an escape.

"Then don't marry him." He said stepping toward you.

"You-are you serious? You just took me! You kidnapped me and I don't even know you either!" You said walking backwards until you were stopped by a wall.

"Now thats not true, I'm sure the towns people have talked about me." He said with a smirk.

"Yes, that you're a cold blooded killer and cannibal!" You jumped as he put his 4 arms either side of you.

You ducked down and ran past him deeper into his estate. You didn't even know where you were running you just stopped when your lungs felt life they were going to crush.

The strong smell of blood made you fell like you were going to throw up. You put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself before you looked up and saw a pile of bones. Lots of bones. Some of them still had flesh on them and were dripping blood.

Your eyes widened when you looked down at your feet and saw a human arm before your eyes trailed closer into the pile barely just spotting a human face under the bones.

You were about to focuse you attention on the body infront of you before a large hand covered your eyes.

"You weren't supposed to see that" he said in an almost sympathetic tone.

He stood still as he felt warm tears touch his hand.

You removed your shakey hand from your mouth.

"I-I don't want to die" You said unable to stop yourself. This-thing that took you is a murderer, everything they said was true. You were sure he was going to kill you, eat the flesh off of your very bones.

Thinking that this was it you made little attempt to come to peace with yourself.

"I should have just got married off. At least I could pretend to be happy."

The room was silent, all you could hear was the blood dripping. You felt your body being picked up and carried out of the room, but a hand still blocked your view. As if it mattered, you didn't really want to see how you died or know when it happened.

You felt your body being lowered on something soft before there was a sinking feeling on both of your sides. The hand moved off your face slowly to reveal just a tiered you. The tears weren't sad, they were frustrated and now you had no reason to cry as it came to an end.

"You don't have to pretend. Tell me what you want, i'll give it to you, i'll make you happy" The large body said as it hovered over your own.

You tried to cover your face with your arm but his hand held it away.

"I just want to be happy, I just want to be free." You said feeling the tears falling again.

"I can't set you free." He sighed

"But I can try make you happy, you just need to stay here forever."

It was a long shot but you already knew there was no escaping.

You just looked up at him and nodded ad he wiped your tears away with one hand.

"Fine, I'll stay."

It's not like you had anything to lose anyway.

THANK YOU FOR READINGGGGGG ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: I hate how its only good at the end, maybe that means I need a part 2. Well...yeah. Have a good what ever time.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader

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littlejazzy · 9 months ago

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👻 Spooky Shows For Spooky Littles 👻

The season is changing, and with it, Halloween approaches! Here's a list of shows that are thematically appropriate, viewable for free on Archive.Org or free with ads on Tubi! It's organized kinda sorta from shows for the littlest little to things that might be more appropriate for middles - but don't let that stop you from exploring anything that looks interesting!

Super Monsters (2017) [S1] [S2] [S3] [x] [x] [x] [x]

The children of various monsters learn lessons and how to use their monster powers! (The [x]s are various specials that occur after the main series)

Ruby Gloom (2006)

Staring the titular Ruby Gloom, this is a really cute show about her and her slightly spooky friends!

A Pup Named Scooby Doo (1988)

Adapted for a younger audience, Mystery Inc. is similarly aged down in this extremely cartoony and silly animated series!

Sabrina The Animated Series (1999)

Admittedly, Sabrina is pretty cutesy, but she is a witch, so watch as this fact gets her into hijinks and adventures with her friends and talking cat! (Tubi Mirror)

Tutenstein (2003)

A 10 year old mummy is brought back to life after 3,000 years and has to adjust to modern day! Heavy focus on Egyptology and fairly accurate portrayals of Egyptian deities and myths!

Growing Up Creepie (2006)

Adopted and raised by a family of bugs, Creepie is a girl who's entering middle school and learning how to interact with humans! There's a heavy focus on bugs and fun facts about them!

Bump in the Night (1994)

A stop-motion cartoon, Mr. Bumby is a monster that lives under the bed, who at night has adventures with Squishington (a slime monster who used to live in the toilet tank) and Molly Coddle (a ragdoll)! (Tubi Mirror)

The Addams Family (1972)

An animated adaptation based off of the original comics, watch the spooky family and their kooky adventures!

Beetlejuice: The Animated Series (1987)

Follow the adventures of Lydia Deetz and her best friend from the Netherworld, Beetlejuice! (The archive is only for the first season - as of posting this, the full series is available to stream, with ads, on Tubi)

Freaky Stories (1997)

An animated anthology show hosted by two, gross live-action puppets!

Scooby Doo, Where Are You? (1969)

(Only available on Tubi) The original show that started it all, watch Scooby and the gang explore spooky places and solve mysteries!

Making Fiends (2009)

Follow Vendetta as she makes fiends, while Charlotte makes friends!

The Real Ghostbusters (1986)

This show follows the adventures of the Ghostbusters after the events of the original film! Some episodes are silly and cartoony while others can get a bit more intense and serious. The last few seasons are a spin-off show for younger audiences.

Extreme Ghostbusters (1997)

Follow-up to The Real Ghostbusters, this show follows the adventures of a new team of 'busters... in the extreme 90s!

Archie's Weird Mysteries (1999)

Watch Archie and his friends explore the strange and sometimes spooky secrets of Riverdale... but, erm, not like the latest adaption, lol (Tubi Mirror)

The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy (2001)

After losing a bet to two children, the Grim Reaper is forced to be friends with them - mayhem ensues! (due to how the files are named, the series is scrambled, but is otherwise all there)

Tales from the Cryptkeeper (1999)

Animated anthology series of kids and teens facing spooky situations! (Tubi Mirror)

Nightmare Ned (1997)

Ned has frequent nightmares based off of what happened to him during the day!

Monster Force (1994)

A group of teenagers from the futuristic year of 2020 fight monsters and creatures using high tech gadgets!

Roswell Conspiracies: Aliens, Myths and Legends (1999)

(Only available on Tubi) Aliens live among us, evolving into what we know to be monsters, myths, and legends - A man named Logan joins the Global Alliance, a shady government organization, to unravel conspiracies and to do good!

GhostWriter (1992)

A live-action show, a team of children gather clues and evidence to solve neighborhood mysteries and crimes... with the help of a ghost who can only communicate with them by altering written text! (due to how the files are named, the first 9 episodes are out of order)

Gravity Falls (2012)

Twins Dipper and Mabel Pines explore the mysteries of the titular town of Gravity Falls! (if you have the space, probably make a copy of this one, lol)

Eerie, Indiana (1991)

Live-action show that follows new teenage resident of Eerie, Indiana, Marshall as he finds out that his new town is, well, eerie!

Goosebumps (1995)

Each episode/two-parter is based off of R.L. Stine's books, this live-action anthology show will give you, well, goosebumps! (as a bonus, here's pdfs and e-pubs of every single book - enjoy!)

Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1992)

The live-action spooky anthology show of all time, this show is perfect for middles ready to get scared! Listen and watch the Midnight Society gather around the campfire to tell spooky tales!

📼 Enjoy your shows! And remember - if you really like something, you should probably back it up! 📼

#spookyre #alt agere #totre #agere #age regression #middle regression #spooky agere #(me b4 making this post: oh it'll be fun to make a list of spooky shows that anyone can watch! maybe 10 or so?)#(me as i finished up: 25????????)#(also im sorry that og scooby isn't on archive. i could've sworn it was there but it probably got removed 😔)#also!!! use adblock if you want an ad free experience on tubi!!!!!!!!!#mine #toddler babbles #also ive only watched less than half of these btw. hopefully they're all good but idk #i wanted a nice variety and i think i delivered :)

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duckprintspress · 3 months ago

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Read Our Favorite Queer Poems for World Poetry Day!

Happy World Poetry Day! Poetry is a gorgeous, versatile, evocative medium, and we’re delighted to share some of our favorite queer poems with y’all. Note that some of the links below are to the poem’s full text, others to the source book; we did our best to provide useful links, but sometimes finding the link for a specific poem out of a collection is challenging. The contributors to this list are: Rascal Hartley, Sebastian Marie, YF Ollwell, Meera S., Shannon and an anonymous contributor.

If Amram’s Son by anonymous from The Book of Tahkemoni: Jewish Tales from Medieval Spain by Judah Alharizi

someone will remember us, I say, even in a different time from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho by Sappho

How to Watch Your Brother Die: A narrative poem by Michael Lassell

Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters by Nikita Gill

The Torso by Robert Duncan

Many Loves by Allen Ginsberg

If Your Heart Is Burning: Selected Poems and Artwork by Felix Vanasse

The Inn of Dreams by Olive Custance

I Want A President by Zoe Leonard

The Humbled Heart by Siegfried Sassoon

Jesus at the Gay Bar by Jay Hulme

The giver (for Berdis) by James Baldwin

I Watch Her Eat the Apple by Natalie Diaz

Wanna chat queer poetry and books? Come, join the Book Lover’s Discord server!

Can’t get enough poetry? Check out our post from two years ago for poetry month, with Tiktok recordings of us reading a few of our favorites, and last year’s roundtable chat!

#duck prints press #world poetry day #poetry #queer poetry #poetry recommendations

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wizarddilaudid · 7 months ago

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wizard101 headcanons

Scars. pt 2

The Young Wizard carries many. Some visible- some faded- some never meant to be seen. Silvery lines etched into their skin, leaving their mark, leaving a reminder.

Myth Wizards scars tend to be faded- though almost shimmering in the light. If you don't take the time to look, to search, you wouldn't see them. The thin, discoloured lines travel up their arms, tracing like paths of their body. The most visible of the scars often come from the most real of monsters. While some are only seen by those familiar with Myth magic themselves.

Life Wizards cannot scar. In a constant role of providing health and vitality through their spells and mana, it overflows to their own body. What was a cut from slicing fruit has healed over without notice. A bruise- a gash- a stab- a slash- unseen history upon unmarred skin. Is the pain still there when your magic won't allow the reminder to be?

Death Wizard scars come bone deep. A blade to the skin will bleed, and a scar will form over with time. But that cut will remain fresh against the bone. Etched into the skeleton, were it will remain with all the rest. Scratching away until there's little left.

Balance Wizards- what is Balance if not an eye for an eye? Equal compensation is a painful lesson for a Balance Wizard to learn. Sometimes its the cost of a small cut above the eye. Sometimes it's a broken bone. At worst it is their life. The scars that do remain are one of a pair.

#wizard101 #w101 #writing #writeblr #headcanons #and here's the philosophical fuckers

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jedimandalorian · 2 years ago

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Ahsoka Episode 6 “Far, Far Away”: The Story, the Symbolism, and the Score

Episode 6 of Ahsoka begins with the sound of distant purrgil calls as Ahsoka and Huyang travel through hyperspace, crossing the void between galaxies. During their discussion of the tales Huyang used to tell the Jedi younglings there is no music.

I loved that Huyang said such an iconic line in this episode, reminding us that this is indeed a fairy tale, a children’s story.

The Title Card for Ahsoka appears, and then the episode title, “Far, far Away.”

We hear ominous music when Sabine is in the brig onboard the Eye of Sion. The window to her cell is shaped like an upside down triangle.

The sinister music continues during the scene with Baylan, Shin, and Morgan on the bridge. Morgan’s Theme (the Nightsister theme) is heard when the Eye of Sion exits hyperspace.

The line “Peridea is a graveyard” reminds us that this is indeed a “descent into the abyss” a stage of the hero’s journey which I have discussed on this blog before. Ominous music plays here.

The characters who are aligned with the dark side are on a quest for more power to dominate others. They have followed the Path to Peridea as a kind of path to perdition as I have mentioned in my previous metas. But Sabine, our heroine, is descending into the Underworld on a more noble quest. She hopes to find her beloved Ezra Bridger, echoing the story of Orpheus, the hero of Greek myth who descends into the Underworld to find his beloved Eurydice.

Morgan’s Theme continues when they board the shuttle and descend to the planet Peridea.

The landscape of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth is suggested by the giant statues and the Nightsister fortress, which resembles an evil version of Minas Tirith.

The characters encounter three Nightsisters, analogous to the Three Fates of Greek mythology, the Moirai. (Note the similarities between this word and the name of Ahsoka’s owl, Morai, a creature I predict that we will be seeing again soon.)

The three Fates were the personification of destiny in Greek mythology. The three sisters were known as Clotho (the spinner), Lachesis (the alotter), and Atropos (the unturnable, a metaphor for death). The end credits for this episode name these three Nightsisters as Klothow, Lakesis, and Aktropaw, clearly indicating the intended symbolism of these three characters. As George Lucas said back in the late nineties, “Well, when I did Star Wars I consciously set about to recreate myths and the — and the classic mythological motifs. And I wanted to use those motifs to deal with issues that existed today.” (From billmoyers.com) Lucas’ apprentice, Dave Filoni, has learned this lesson from the master himself.

The music is quieter in this scene, with sounds of low vibrations being heard. Morgan’s Theme continues when Sabine is imprisoned by the Nightsisters’ three orbs, which held her bound within a triangle made of red cords of energy.

Outside of the fortress three wolf-like creatures howl as ominous music plays. Choral music suggesting the mysticism of the fallen Jedi Order is heard as Baylan speaks of Peridea being a realm of “dreams and madness” from old “children’s stories come to life.” Once again, the viewer is reminded that we are being told a fairy tale, a myth. The musical score subtly teases the listener with three notes from Ahsoka’s Ronin theme in this scene.

Sabine is imprisoned inside the Nightsister fortress as the Chimaera arrives with the sound of ominous metallic rumbling. Thrawn’s flagship Star Destroyer was named after the female fire-breathing monster in Greek mythology which was part lion, part goat, and part dragon.

I am no Freudian, but the Chimaera’s open docking bay hovering over the phallic tower of the Nightsister fortress seems to be the most overtly sexual symbolism I have seen in Star Wars in a long time. However, I’m not here to discuss that visual metaphor.

Organ music which anticipates but does not present Thrawn’s theme is heard as the Nighttroopers muster under Enoch’s command. These undead stormtroopers have cracked armor repaired with golden seams suggesting the Japanese art of kintsugi, as well as armor pieces bound with bands of red cloth. They are heard chanting “Thrawn! Thrawn!” as the Grand Admiral makes his dramatic entrance. For me this chant was reminiscent of how the orcs in Return of the King chanted “Grond! Grond!” when using their mighty battering ram against the walls of Minas Tirith. (You can do your own Freudian analysis of that scene. I’m not going there.) What was Grond?

“Grond, also known as the Wolf's Head, was a one hundred-foot long battering ram with a head in the shape of a ravening wolf, used in the arsenal of Sauron in the Third Age. Though named for Grond, Morgoth’s warhammer, it was created in the likeness of the Wolf of Angband, Carcharoth.”—from lotr.fandom.com

Creepy music accompanies the Nighttroopers as they transfer of cargo from the catacombs beneath the fortress. What is inside them? Dead Nightsisters, waiting to be revived by dark magic?

Thumps and low pitched sounds accompany Thrawn’s conversation with Baylan.

Thrawn speaks of Sabine’s desire to be reunited with her long-lost friend. (The word desire is a very intentional word choice, with the connotation that the connection between Sabine and Ezra has potential to be more than just friendship.)

Sabine: I’m sure he’s doing just fine.

Thrawn: You gambled the fate of your galaxy on that belief.

Sabine: You wouldn’t understand.

Thrawn: Perhaps not.

Evil does not understand love and loyalty. (See my previous post about the Path to Peridea.)

Enoch returns Sabine’s weapons to her, and she is provided with provisions and a wolf-like howler for a mount. He tells her to “die well” as she embarks on her “fool’s errand.”

The line about a “fool’s errand” calls to mind this scene from Tolkien’s novel, The Return of the King:

'Tell me,' he said, 'is there any hope? For Frodo, I mean; or at least mostly for Frodo.'

Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's head. 'There never was much hope,' he answered. 'Just a fool's hope, as I have been told…”

“A Fool’s Hope” was also the title of the penultimate episode of Star Wars Rebels final season.

Once again, Thrawn’s theme is only hinted at by the organ music at the end of the scene.

Sabine’s scanner is destroyed during her fight for her life with the red-armored bandits in the wastelands. Her life is saved by her Mandalorian armor and weapons, Ahsoka’s training, and Ezra’s lightsaber in this action sequence.

Baylan and Shin ride out on howlers. Nighttroopers load coffin-like cargo containers onto the Chimaera as uneasy music plays. Thrawn decides to dispatch only two squadrons of Nighttroopers. His disdain for Jedi, light or dark, is apparent: “It matters not whether Wren and Bridger are killed or stranded here. The same can be said for your two mercenaries.” Ominous music plays.

The scene with Sabine and the howler is accompanied by gentle music played upon wooden flutes. Sabine processes her abandonment issues and her complex feelings for Ezra in this scene by taking out her emotions on the howler. “You. You abandoned me. I should have known you are a coward.” She tries to make the howler stop following her, but the loyal animal comes back as soon as she walks away. “Okay. Fine,” she says. “I’ll give you another chance, but you better not bail on me this time.” The gentle flute music continues. A motif of ascending perfect fifths suggests Ezra’s Theme.

The howler stops to drink water and sniffs the air. The thing that Sabine and the audience assumes to be a rock is revealed to be a sentient little hermit-crab-like creature called a Noti. Gentle music plays when Sabine kneels, puts down her blaster, and extends her hand to the creature. The Noti recognizes the Rebel Alliance symbol (an evolution of her own Starbird design) on her pauldron. The creature has a medallion of his own, marked with a similar symbol.

“Do you know Ezra Bridger?” Sabine asks, touching her heart. “He’s my friend.”

Ominous music plays as Baylan and Shin discover the dead bandits. Once again choral music is heard when Baylan reminisces about the Jedi Order.

It is also revealed that the Nightsisters are fleeing from a power that is greater than their own.

Baylan and Shin see the red Bandits in the distance. “The enemy of our enemy is our friend,” says Baylan, “for now.”

Peaceful and noble sounding music is heard when Sabine sees the Noti encampment. She smiles at the mother Noti rocking her baby in a hammock.

With Sabine in the foreground, the camera pans to show a now adult, bearded Ezra Bridger wearing a red robe and leaning against the wall of his home. “I knew I could count on you,” he says as joyful music plays, music which features the piccolo, flute, and other woodwind instruments.

The closed captioning for this episode says that there is captivating music playing when Sabine and Ezra finally embrace. We hear a beautifully orchestrated rendition of Ezra’s Theme on the French horn with a new countermelody in the strings to heighten the emotional impact of this long-awaited scene.

Ezra’s Theme is heard again when he says “Sabine, thanks for coming. I can’t wait to go home.”

When we return to where the Chimaera is docked with the Nightsister fortress, a suggestion of Thrawn’s Theme is heard at a quick tempo suggesting the urgency of the situation that is about to unfold. Ahsoka Tano is coming. “The thread of destiny demands it” is a line that further emphasizes the three Nightsisters playing the role of the three fates. We finally hear Thrawn’s Theme presented in an obvious way as the episode ends.

I have blogged about the magnificent end credits music in previous blog posts, so this time I am going to discuss something different: the alchemical symbolism in Ahsoka.

The central focus of alchemy was to transmute base metals into gold and create the elixir of life, as any aficionado of the lore of the philosopher’s stone knows. The process is a metaphor for the purification and transformation of the human soul to a state of perfection.

Three colors symbolize this process, black, white, and red.

First there is the nigredo (blackening) stage of the alchemist’s work, representing the breaking of the human spirit. This is where both Sabine and Ahsoka are at the beginning of the series.

Second is the albedo (whitening) stage, which involves washing away impurities or vices, and being ready to grow and learn again. This is most clearly illustrated by Ahsoka the Grey’s “death” and transformation into Ahsoka the White.

Third is the rubedo (reddening) stage, which is where we are in the story right now. It represents the purified and awakened spirit reaching its highest and purest form.

“The symbols used in alchemical writing and art to represent this red stage can include blood, a phoenix , a rose, a crowned king, or a figure wearing red clothes.”—Wikipedia.

The color red, of course, is symbolic of Nightsisters and their magic in this series, as well as symbolizing the red thread of fate.

Baylan Skoll’s line about having to “destroy in order to create” is an example of the alchemical concept of “solve et coagula” meaning to separate then join together. Nothing new can be built without destroying the old. Perhaps this is really telling us about the destruction and rebuilding of the Jedi Order.

In the completion of the rubedo stage there must be a union of sulphur and mercury, also known as the wedding of the Red King (the sun) and the White Queen (the moon). Sulphur represents the masculine principle, the soul, and the fire of life. (Remember Ezra’s red robe?) Mercury represents the feminine principle and the mind, flexible and changing. (Sabine is a clever young woman who lives inside her head, sometimes too much. Lately she’s been distracted by her heart.) Mercury also represents a state that can transcend death.

Is the much-discussed Ezra and Sabine hug the union of Sulphur and Mercury? Or should we expect something more than that?

Much has been written about Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati as the mythological wolves who chase the sun and the moon. This episode ends with the pair in pursuit of Ezra (sulphur, the Red King, the sun) and Sabine (mercury, the White Queen, the moon). When Skoll and Hati catch the sun and the moon, Ragnarok begins.

Besides sulphur and mercury, there is another element present at the rubedo stage of alchemical transformation: salt.

Ahsoka the White is coming.

Please reblog and comment on what you think of my musical and literary analysis of this episode of Ahsoka. I am looking forward to reading your replies.

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