#and how trying to compare it to our real life understanding of divinity is a bit fruitless

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[khaire-traveler]

I'm so sorry for the unclear question!! I was referring to the connection people feel when worshiping a deity. Feeling their energy, building the relationship etc

I was wondering how you can tell the difference between that feeling compared to the feeling that comes with becoming emotionally attached to an idea of something

eg. Worshiping Apollo and feeling his energy and a genuine connection vs worshiping him and becoming attached to the idea that someone out there is listening to me and helping me

I hope hope hope this makes sense! It's so difficult to explain ;-; Basically how can I tell if there issss a connection building or if it's my own imagination and false attachment 💕

Hey, Nonny, no worries about my confusion! Thank you for clearing this up.

For the past few days, I've been thinking of how to answer this ask, and honestly, I don't really know. These sorts of things tend to vary from person to person, and from what I understand, it requires some level of having faith. It sounds like you may be having a lot of doubts in your practice, and although "having faith" seems like a ridiculously simple answer, it's the answer that's worked for me in these situations.

I've had similar doubts within my deity relationships, questioning if I was making things up or if this was truly happening. What I did was A LOT of divination - of many types - to ask my deities what our relationships were like for them. I also prayed quite often, and back when I could meditate, I'd meditate to discuss things with my deities. The biggest factor that I was missing throughout all of this, however, was faith. Having faith that your relationships are as they seem, having faith that your deities will let you know if anything changes, having faith that your deities care for you in the ways you feel they do. It all comes down to having faith. It's a lot easier said than done, especially if you have prior experience of faith in a deity being broken, but with practice and a lot of hard work, it becomes easier over time.

You will never have faith 100% of the time, and that's not what I'm saying you should do. It's natural to have periods of doubt - ups and downs, peaks and valleys, etc. - but try not to let these moments of doubt ruin your experience entirely. If you find yourself having a lot of negative self-talk like, "My deities actually hate/dislike/don't care about me," or, "I'm making this up and forcing my deities to have a relationship with me," my advice is to examine those thoughts further. Get to the root of them because I'm telling you now that I doubt they're just random. Ask yourself things like, "When was the first time I felt this way?" and "Has anyone in my life made me feel this way before?" Another thing you can do when these thoughts and feelings arise is to acknowledge them like "Ok, I hear me, I hear what I'm saying" and then ask yourself, "But where did I get this information from? Did a deity straight up tell me they felt this way, or did I come up with this thought all on my own? What is my proof that my deity feels this way? What is my proof that they don't?"

Another thing to keep in mind is that a deity probably isn't going to string you along. Sometimes when we think our relationships aren't real, it seriously is just anxiety. If a deity didn't feel a connection with you at all, they are mature and considerate enough to make that clear and obvious to you. I experienced this second-hand when an ex-friend and I approached a deity together (on the ex-friend's behalf), and the deity made it very clear that he wasn't interested. They're not going to lead you on, and you need to trust that. Obviously, that's easier said than done, especially if you have any problems with trust. It's a matter of time and practice, to remind yourself of these sorts of things. Be patient and gentle with yourself.

I hope this helps in some capacity at least. This question was a lot more philosophical than what I was anticipating lol. I may not have answered this perfectly, but I did the best I could. Take care, and have a good day/night. Thank you for being so patient. <3

[yellowcry]

Але обі молодії

Misha had done many exciting thing. Whenever it was stealing a large amount of alcohol. That much that he reasonably couldn't drink it, he just stole it to be in control that his adoptive family couldn't give him. Or fight behind the school with some kids just for the sake of letting adrenaline out. But it was never this knuckles-whitening, what made his knees tremble.

Oh, this was all real. Misha had done many exciting thing. Whenever it was stealing a large amount of alcohol. That much that he reasonably couldn't drink it, he just stole it to be in control that his adoptive family couldn't give him. Or fight behind the school with some kids just for the sake of letting adrenaline out. But it was never this knuckles-whitening, what made his knees tremble. It was hot, Misha pulled the brim of his vyshyvanka, red embrodery gentle under his fingers.

He feels like a cat who got a whole jar of smetana, so much passion it physically hurts. He bows to Tala's babusia, had to he respectful of his elders. It was something he never did in Canada because of how awful were all the adults in here. He still hoped that his adoptive house will break with his adoptive caregivers (he refuses to call them batky) inside. But he can hear a suble shock from the choir. And even from here, Misha can feel korovai heat. The dinky ormanent running on the bread. The fine shyshky and braids decorated it. Oh they didn't stall on the proper welcome. A small reservoir filled with salt was inserted right on the top of it, fixated by decorarions. Misha wished he could make one too. At least it would get for a tradition of the families exchanging.

But at the moment, he stood one step in front of rushnyk. Natalia next to him. Her dress was all colorful. Bright like a pied bird, and if Misha had let his imagination out, he could beautiful imagine wings of an angel. Real, next to him like a dream that came to life

"Okay, you go first!" She let out a short laugh and Misha felt something melting inside his soul.

"No, no, ladies first." He patted Natalia's back. Of course, the traditions were not that important in terms of modern day. But they both wanted a fucking Ukranian vesillia. And after spending years in Canada with nobody caring about his culture, Misha had longed to feel home. And it would be so rude of him to put himself above his love. So they laugh like two kids and pull eachother forward.

The ceremony was so unnerving, even more than paying the ransom. You wouldn't want to leave with a pumpkin. He had practised showering Tala in compliments enough during their online relationship era. Even if most of this was too unpropriate to be told in front of the family. It was a good practice and Misha knew how to properly shower his woman in words she deserved. al. He was here, with the love of his life. On the towel. (Ocean conplained somewhere from the crowd that they would make it dirty. Well, what did she know about traditions?) Table is breaking from the food. Yes, they did take it seriously. 

Misha knew his side felt very underwhelming compared to Natalia. There were some frieds from Ukraine, he got them all the way back before Canada. And who used to be in that stupid choir back in the days. There was something satisfying in watching them trying to understand a word and failing miserably. Misha knew he should've been expecting that to come. But it just made everything so damn funnier. 

"Natalia," He feels light from passion. It streams in his veins like a poison. It rakes him over, and he can barely stand. "My divine Tala, looking in your eyes, I don't see the boy I am, but the man I must become to posess you." He takes her hand, weaving their fingers together. "I wish to take all the pain from your soul, and in the passion factory in my heart transform it into functional joy." Her brown eyes are wide open, suprise, maybe even delightful shock. Misha had prepared his speech a long time ago, not once saying it out loud. "I want to take your hand by the Cheremosh river and with all Ukraine as withness," he spreaded his arms wide, looking around the place, for a moment he catches the older generation of Bolinski. Natalia's tato placed his palm on his wife's shoulder. Silently nodding to Misha, great words getting even more of his approval. "Take you as my wife!" He leans in closer, whispering. "Let rivers run wild, or let them be dawned, I lay my masculinity at the altar of you maidenhood."

Tala's eyes are glimmering bright, like two polished ambers. "Oh Misha," she crounched into his arms, shaking from chuckles. Small tears showed up from the corners of her eyes. "You were always so gangsta-tough on the outside. But also longing for someone close to you." He can feel his hands trembling. Yes, yes, she got it right. "I wish to he the one to hold you in your biggest achievements and failures. When you rise with the heaven's wings or fall down again and again. I will always be here." His heart is ready to commint a fucking marathone across the earth with just one step. It was so cool, Misha found himself sweating buckets. Blinking vecause he was on an edge of physical weeping.

Ring felt heavy. The gold shone on the sunlight, bright. For a brief second, Misha just stared at it, bound in his right hand. A symbol of their lives tied together like a rap chorus. Oh, it was unbelievable, Natalia Bolinska was his zhinka now. Something that felt like a distant dream that he couldn't reach was right in front of him. So what Misha did as a proper cholovik is grabbing his wife, taking her into a kiss. For a long long time that their faces are red. Because he need everyone to see them. For the whole Ukraine to know that Misha Bachinski had the most beautiful narechena in the whole country— No, in the whole world!

Rushnyk is tied nice and tight  on their hands, just like the burning passionate love. "Гірко!" Somebody yells, and soon the Ukranian part of guests repeats in one voice. Some bright, some almost crying. Constance,  Penny and Noel get the rythm and repeat along with everyone with a terrible accent that kills Misha's ears. Part of him wondered if it was how they gelt about his English in Canada. Ocean does slightly so better. Of course, a perfectionist like she is would prepare as much as she could. Ricky claps along with the others while molodi walk hand by hand to the table. Tied together in the fate's embroidery. 

This work is written because the 23th of August is Ukranian flag day AND the 24th of August is Ukraine Independence Day we know how to shift our celebrations. And you know what's the best way to celebrate it? Write a fanfic Some context nobody needs but anyway. Here's your stupidly long end notes Ransom that Misha had mentioned is one of Ukranian wedding traditions. The day of the wedding groom must come to the bribe's family with gifts, where the family stops him and asks to pay for the bribe. At the same time asking questions and making the future husband compliment and praising his love until the bribe is hanged over to him. In the older times this was the way to ask for a hand and propose, if the woman or her family refused, they hang the pumking over so the man wouldn't leave empty-handed. If the marriage was accepted, the woman gave a piece a bread on s rushnyk to her match. Rushnyk (Рушник — Ukranian traditional towel with embroidery) plays an important role too. It was placed in front of the couple,the person who steps first was traditionally considered the leader of the house and who's opinion is valued more. This tradition isn't really popular nowadays, the bribe and the groom are usually just walking hand by hand down the asileas the equial partners. Also stepping on the rushnyk symbolyses future life together. Tying arms on the newlyweds with a rushnik symbolyses how they unite their lives and souls in marriage Korovai is a traditional bread from Eastern Europe. It's most noticeable for its decorative side. It's commonly made for weddings, but in general it's a part of bread-salt welcome and can be given on other occasions too. For weddings, it's traditionally baked by the married women of the bribe family. In the Eastern Ukraine korovai traditionally baked in the bride's own house. In Volhynia and Podolia (geographical regions. They closer to the west, but not the most western parts) korovai is made at the relatives house. Korovai bread is concindered one of the main symbols (if not the main) of Ukranian wedding. Translations Vesillia (Весілля) — Wedding Vyshyvanka (Вишиванка) — Ukranian traditional embroidered shirt for both men and women Tato(Тато) — Dad Babusia(Бабуся) — Grandmother Molodi (Молоді ) — newlyweds Oh, and also the official tag made me doubt in the past fic. But now I can proudly say IT'S MISHA BACHINSKYI not Mischa Bachinski And on more casual note I will repeat that nobody in Ukraine will use Talia as a diminitive from Natalia. The word Талія literally means waist. So unless Misha has some very weird waist fetish (or wants to set up a prank with somebody calling Natalia as waist) There's no chance it would even be a thing.

[scarsandpurpose]

Journal Writing 💙

Hey you. Yes you. Pause and listen. You need to stop feeling unsatisfied with who you are. You are enough just being who you have been this far in your life. Stop thinking you need to look like someone else. Stop trying to win everyone’s approval. What good is approval from those who criticize you? Your body, your face, your personality, and every other trait is yours alone. It is perfectly suited to you. These things were meant for no one else but you. You need to appreciate all the amazing things that make up your soul. These characteristics define you. Embrace your individuality. Be sure of your own worth. Allow your smile to show, it will welcome the right people towards you. You will be happy when you accept your flaws and your imperfections. And when you realize that without these things you are losing what makes you unique. And you as you are, are truly remarkable. Let this understanding fill you each day. Let it be the reason you rise with anticipation. You are amazing as you are. You are unique, a collage of strengths, dreams, and experiences that no one else on this earth shares. Embrace yourself by recognizing that every moment, every phase, is an essential part of your journey, shaping you into a wiser, truer version of yourself. Comparing yourself to others robs you of joy and will distract you from your own growth; your value and purpose are not measured by anyone else’s achievements.

The thoughts and judgments of others hold no true weight, as they reflect their own perspectives and limitations, not your worth or potential. You are enough as you are. You are amazing. You are beautiful. You are one of a kind. Love yourself. Our thoughts have a powerful impact on us. If you want to change your life, you must first change the way you think about your life. Thoughts are not just thoughts. They are bridges and doors and entryways and foundations. They magnetize and repel. They can build a house and tear it down. They can energize momentum or keep you idling within your own little world forever. Thoughts are investments. And they are decisions. The mind will generate an endless series of options, some inspiring and others terrifying. And so, you must choose, you must choose what you will return to, what you will believe in, what you will place weight on. Because thoughts create feeling. And feeling creates desire. And desire creates action. And action creates reward. And reward creates more desire. And before you know it, a thought became the torch that led you down the path that is your life. The way you think is the foundation of how you experience reality; your thoughts shape your perceptions, which in turn shape your actions and ultimately your life. When you change your internal dialogue, you begin to dismantle limiting beliefs and open to new possibilities that once seemed unreachable.

By cultivating empowering, focused thoughts, you align yourself with the energy of growth and resilience, attracting what you need to evolve. True transformation starts within, because the outer world is often a mirror of the inner world; change the reflection, and you will change the life you live. Be mindful of your thoughts. Be mindful of how you respond to your thoughts. And be mindful of how powerful your thoughts are. And as you walk through each day, remember: you are not behind. You are not late. You are on time for your life. Life does not move according to someone else’s clock, it unfolds in divine timing, just as it should. The pressure to “have it all together” is a lie whispered by comparison and perfectionism. Real growth does not scream. It happens slowly, quietly, in the stillness of everyday courage.

It happens when you show up for yourself, even on the days when you feel invisible. When you choose to believe in your own healing, even while your heart is still tender. When you decide to see beauty in the mirror, even if the world has not applauded it yet. Every breath you take, every step forward, no matter how small, is evidence of your becoming. And yes, there will be setbacks. There will be days when the weight feels too much to carry, when old wounds feel fresh again, when the noise in your mind drowns out the voice of truth. But even then, you are not broken. You are human. And that alone is enough to deserve love, grace, and tenderness, from others, yes, but especially from you.

Speak life into yourself. Remind your soul that you are worthy, not because of what you do, but because of who you are. You are not a project that needs fixing. You are a story still being written, a story filled with layers, richness, and resilience. Every chapter matters. Even the messy ones. Even the ones you wish you could skip. They all serve a purpose in the tapestry of who you are. So, keep going. Keep rising. Keep returning to love. The world needs your light, not a dimmed version, not a filtered imitation, your light, in all its fullness. You do not have to wait for permission to shine. Give yourself the gift of acceptance, the freedom of authenticity, and the peace that comes from being unapologetically you. You are not too much. You are not enough. You are exactly right. You are a miracle in motion. So, protect your mind like a sacred garden, pull the weeds of comparison and doubt, and plant seeds of grace, compassion, and possibility. Water them with patience. Feed them with truth. Tend to them daily. Because whatever grows inside your thoughts will eventually bloom in your life.

And while you are learning to master your mind, do not forget your heart. The heart remembers things long after the mind has let them go. It remembers the hurts, the hopes, the silent prayers, the moments that broke you and the moments that rebuilt you. Be gentle with it. Speak life into it. Tell it that it is safe to feel again, to hope again, to believe again. Your heart has survived a thousand storms, it deserves rest, not judgment. It deserves peace. And when the days feel heavy and the nights stretch too long, remind yourself, You have made it through everything you once thought would break you. That is not weakness. That is strength dressed in endurance. That is courage disguised as grace. And if all you did today was breathe, be proud of that. If all you did was hold on when everything inside you wanted to let go, be proud of that too. You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not need to be perfect. You just need to keep going, one thought at a time, one decision at a time, one brave breath at a time.

There will be setbacks. There will be days when you question your progress, your worth, your path. But healing is not linear. Growth is not instant. You are not a race to be won or a problem to be solved. You are a masterpiece unfolding in divine timing. Be patient with the process. Be kind to the parts of you still healing. And above all, remember this: You are not behind. You are not broken. You are becoming. Keep writing. Keep believing. Keep blooming.

-DC

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[into-daylight-hope]

Qui-Gon Jinn: Certified Hypocrite, Fascinating Failure, Mass of Contradictions

For starters, I am just going to let direct quotes from the man speak for itself.

Some excerpts from Master & Apprentice

Wise words.

Wait a minute...

😯😯 What the hell is happening here? All quotes are from the same man in one book.

Qui-Gon Jinn doesn't have an ounce of self-awareness and it is so hilariously terrible.

What is even better (or worse), this is perfectly in line with The Phantom Menace characterization .

I mean,

Remember when he said all this than spent the rest of the movie obsessing over prophecies, the chosen one and literally the future?

"He still has so much to learn of the living force." Qui-Gon Jinn about Obi-Wan in the council scene

After that scene

"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it why can't you?" Obi-Wan Kenobi about Anakin Skywalker to Qui-Gon Jinn

You see Obi-Wan, Master Jinn here has completely lost any sense of "here and now" between his crusade against darkness and divine mission to save the Galaxy.

This in turn, unsurprisingly blinds him to the fact Anakin is not suitable to become a Jedi. Or at least not ready to directly move on to becoming a padawan.

Anakin himself would suffer in a road that is not meant for him. But he is not planning for Anakin the child. He is thinking about The Glorious Chose One.

He is the chosen one. You all must, see it.

And yet from Qui-Gon's perspective it is Obi-Wan who doesn't understand the Living Force.

I have to say if he is truly a student of the living force as many fans claim he has been failing the class for at least 8 years.

Let's move on to another set of entertaining and horrifyingly oblivious quotes from M&A.

If you look upward you can observe Mr. Here and Now in his natural habitat.

He really acts like future is set in stone than thinks he is the right person to talk about about concentrating in the moment. Unbelievable.

Let's look at this dialogue again. In contrast with the excerpt from above.

He is all about the future when it suits him. But when Obi-Wan makes a remark on it he obviously should just focus on the moment. This is actually the third time in this post where he contradicts himself while specifically chastising or criticizing Obi-Wan for something Qui-Gon actually does.

Now I don't think Qui-Gon acts with malice. But it is important to point out his obliviousness has become a way of ensuring he is never in the wrong.

He suffers from an immense hubris. And a man obsessed with prophecies and chosen ones definitely has some kind of savior complex.

But notably Jinn doesn't actually want to put any effort into enacting real change with his limited yet existent capabilities.

He turns down a council seat in M&A because he thinks it would hold him down. From what? Dear God, the reason they offered him a seat was for different opinions. Qui-Gon can complain all he wants but one time he actually had a chance to make his opinions a reality he freaking bailed.

Why? He doesn't want to face his own limits. He can't bare to try and fail. It is much easier to sustain a superiority complex when you are complaining from the sidewalk.

So he fixates all this belief onto prophecies, visions that will magically cure the Galaxy. And of course his place to help fulfill them. To the point where it is the one thing that keeps him standing.

He has binded meaning of his life and belief for goodness dangerously close to his supposed importance in the Galaxy. (You can feel the influences of his former master)

His absolute refusal to engage with reality turns him into mass of contradictions. Cause he doesn't know what he will find or become if he is mistaken in his belief of himself.

He can't face reinvention on the event of defeat.

But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real.

Oh by the way, it turned out he misunderstood the vision. But when does being wrong ever stopped Qui-Gon Jinn?

No words.

Only Qui-Gon could have come near declaring himself a prophet after making a mistake. Maybe stop and reflect man? Just stop and think about your actions.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Of course you don't.

Honestly he doesn't have much to speak for in the cosmic force department either.

(There is the whole force ghost thing I guess. But I have no idea if that is more connected with living or cosmic force. It seems to be more about spiritual enlightenment. Which is ridiculous when you consider Yoda had go through so many trials, face his darkside, learn to truly let go just for Force priestesses to deem him worthy enough to study immortality. Yes Qui-Gon never became a force ghost but he had started his training before he died. And much of Yoda's tests on TCW was about self-awareness. It is not just about being a good person. How did Force Priestesses approve Qui-Gon "I was meant to misinterpret this vision." Jinn? I would understand if he became wiser after death and faced his flaws and all but he never was on that level before he died. You might say even Anakin became a force ghost. But I would remind you, Anakin in the end broke out of denial, acknowledged the wrong of his ways and took that leap to the light side. Self-awareness seems such an important key to becoming a force ghost. Right there with selflessness. Personally it doesn't quite feel right for a character whose biggest flaws are their lack of introspection and hubris which we never see him rise above to be the one that discovers immortality again. It feels more like a rushed plot point to explain how we get from A to B.)

This post got out of control 😂. I honestly just wanted to point out lack of communication might be one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have trouble understanding each other but it is sometimes even harder to understand Qui-Gon when he actually says something. Cause ration is not what drives him.

Qui-Gon is such a complex character. He is undeniably good especially compared to other SW characters. Yet for all fandom's deifying he might be the most flawed Jedi we see on the franchise. (The ones that fell to the dark side not included.)

It is a shame wider fandom completely write off his flaws to the degree I can't even recognize the character when they talk about Jinn. Cause that Qui-Gon is so hard to feel empathy for.

When people constantly make statements like "He is The Wisest sw character." his hypocrisy stops being amusing. It doesn't end on screen or page instead often used to bash other characters.

An unbelievable analysis from Wookiepedia:

When Jinn saved the Gungan exile Jar Jar Binks, who in turn swore a life-debt to him, his compassionate nature was such that Jinn took the hapless Gungan under his wing, much to Kenobi's dismay. His empathy toward all life forms, including the most pitiful and unfortunate, was Jinn's greatest strength. Additionally, he remained understanding and patient with Queen Padmé Amidala. During the short time they knew each other, he never asked for her to do more than she was willing to.

You know out of the two, Qui-Gon was the one who insulted Jar Jar to his face. And he didn't took Jar Jar under his wing. They forced him to take them to a city where Jar Jar could have been punished for entering. Now it was the pragmatic thing to do. For all three's survival not for their own gain. Understandable. But compassion is just pushing it.

Also he never asked Padme to do more than she was willing to do?

Padmé : Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve.

Qui-Gon Jinn : The Queen does not need to know.

Padmé : Well, I don't approve.

And he is aware she is the queen, herself. Padme was nearly tearing out her because of this man in TPM.

What is weird, Jinn in his bewildering hypocrisy probably thinks he is being admirably compassionate with Jar Jar, highly understanding and patient with Padme. We clearly see he is not.

Out of universe he has been a force ghost for decades now but fandom is nowhere near acknowledging his flaws than he is.

And honestly SW doesn't have that many major morally complex characters. People like Maul, Palpatine, Anakin,Ventress don't think they are serving a higher purpose or oblivious to the evils they commit.

Emotionally complicated, yes. Going through moral dilemmas, no.

Three major characters come to mind who make huge mistakes, condone or commit atrocities while thinking they are in the right/with good intentions/for a greater cause. With varying degrees of culpability.

Qui-Gon. Padme. Dooku.

In that order.

Let these characters be interesting instead of demonizing nearly inhumanly selfless Jedi characters. (They make mistakes too but funnily enough they are still way better beings than most people on our planet.)

By the way I found the epitaph "Fascinating Failure" from the article here. Especially the last paragraphs make some interesting points. ⬇️

👀

This post might seem harsh but that is expected since it focuses on Qui-Gon's flaws.

"People are more than their worst act,” Quote from Qui-Gon Jinn in Master & Apprentice

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Hello :)))))

I am unwell. Legs do not work. Heart is racing. Tears drying on my cheeks. Hands are shaking. Inhaler on standby. But what's the point.

"And with the dizziness comes the feeling, that you're not you, and he's not him. You're both just a single heartbeat in that moment."

Miss ma'am. Let me just say. This is something a lot of us spend our lives chasing. THIS IS WHERE MY TEARS BEGAN.

THE WHOLE MORNING SEQUENCE FROM WHEN SHE WAKES, WHEN HE WAKES. THE SIMPLICITY AND TENDERNESS IN JUST BEING IN EACH OTHERS PRESENCE, BREATHING IN EACH OTHERS AIR. WHEN I TELL YOU I ACHED.

""Mo chroí." he murmurs"

I- I'm not....I can't....I knew but it still stole all the air in my lungs. AND I HAVE ASTHMA. *endless stream of tears*

"The privilege you have to observe him is not lost on you. How could you tell him? That you could stand for ages and stare at him even if he never moved." MY CHEST HURTS BECAUSE I KNOW. I KNOWWWWW.

The little exchange of kisses in bed...I will never recover. So soft, so innocent, but so loaded. How her heart doesn't burst out of her chest is a mystery to me.

THE BREAKFAST SPREAD FIT FOR A QUEEN. THE FACT THAT HE MADE ALL OF THAT HIMSELF. THE FACT THAT HE STANDS THERE SHIRTLESS FLIPPING PANCAKES. THE DOMESTIC BLISS, THE EASY CARE, THE WAY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HER LIFE SOMEONE'S TAKING CARE OF HER. THE WAY I WANTED TO RIP MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST AND STOP FEELING ALTOGETHER.

William's jealousy really did a number on me man, I don't understand how he's so flippant and casual and elegant while also being jealous of the fact that she put on a pretty dress and kissed a silly boy. I AM OBSESSED (but you knew that)

UM. THE SCENE AFTER. YEAH. FILTHY FUCKING WORDS DROPPING FROM HIS MOUTH SO EASILY I- I ASCENDED. I SCREAMED INTO MY PILLOW. MY CAT BIT MY ANKLE BECAUSE I WOKE HER UP. SHE'S NOT HAPPY.

BUT THAT WAS SO SCORCHING HOT OH MY GOD ESPECIALLY WITH HIM EATING. FUCKING. GRAPEFRUIT. WHILE SHE'S- HE JUST- HE'S JUST SO INFURIATINGLY DESIRABLE. IT'S NOT FUNNY. IT'S DAMAGING.

“Ask to touch that which is no longer yours.” HOW ABOUT I JUST FUCKING PASS AWAY WILLIAM, HOW ABOUT THAT

"He raises his eyebrows and puts another grape into his mouth. It was embarrassing to watch him eat so casually while he watched you." THIS HAD NO BUSINESS BEING SO HOT.

"You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to leave the calmness you had found. Your throat closes and you fight the urge to cry....How could real life be so terrible?.....Anything else would be terrible compared to this, you finally decide. Your real life was perfectly alright, but it just wouldn’t hold up against this. Against him." Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. I am perfectly alright. I cannot relate at all. Ha. ha. ha.

The garden. The description of the route to the garden. God Chelsea that was so intricately, exquisitely done. So vibrant. It's like I was there. Transcendental.

"You know that true divinity is standing beside you, with your hand in his. The being that crafted this place with his own hands." SHIVERS. CHILLS. SOB FORMING AT THE BACK OF MY THROAT.

HE SHOWS HER WHERE HE WAS LEFT AS A BABY!!! HE'S BARING HIS HEART WIDE OPEN FOR HER I KNOW THE STORY IS STRICTLY FROM HER POV BUT GOD YOU'RE BRILLIANT IN HOW YOU SHOW US HOW HE FEELS ABOUT HER IN THE SUBTLEST WAYS.

"Before you realise, your hand moves beside you, fingers gently reaching out for him, and you blink when your fingers touch his, because he was already reaching for you and something warm blooms in your chest and you feel like one of these flowers, blossoming silently beside an infant, trying to be worthy of the beauty next to you." I AM NO LONGER HUMAN I AM A MANIFESTATION OF THIS, EQUAL PARTS PAIN AND LONGING.

THE SCENE WITH THE SUNLIGHT ON HIM MAKING HIS HAIR GLOW BROWN. THE WAY THAT SHIT CAUSED A PANG IN MY CHEST CAUSE I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE THAT CAME FROM. I WENT BACK TO STARE AT THAT PICTURE FOR A BIT AND FELT A FRESH WAVE OF HYSTERIA COME OVER ME

His garden 🥺🥺 You can just TELL how much care and effort he put into it, how it's so personal and he's letting her in. HE'S LETTING HER IN. HIS HEART. HE'S LET HER IN EVERYWHERE NOW HE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO WALK AROUND HIS OWN FOREST WITHOUT TRACES OF HER FOLLOWING HIM. HE WANTS HER TO CALL HIM WILL. WILL!!!!! I'M CRYING IM RIOTING GIVE THIS MAN AFFECTION GIVE IT TO HIM RIGHT NOW!!

THE STORY ABOUT WILLIAM BEING STARVED- I WILL COMMIT SEVERAL ACTS OF VIOLENCE I DO NOT CARE IF THEY'RE A GOD NOBODY STARVES WILLIAM. POOR SWEET BOY I- I WANT TO SCREAM.

"Everytime I eat one, I don’t taste the apple, I taste her kindness" You hear that sound? Yeah that's the sound of my heart breaking, AGAIN.

The scene on the swing, them sharing fruit...IT WAS SO CHARGED. IT WAS SO ELECTRIC. The casual intimacy is so profound. I love, love, LOVE, that they did that on his couch, and then now they're here sharing stories, eating fruit. ITS SO SACRED, ALL OF IT. UNTAINTED.

HIS ONE LAST EXPECTATION OF HER OH BOY LKsajdhjkhfgbKJDBJDBJGOODBYE

I'm just gonna say, Grandma, I do not give a shit what he did to you, he could've seduced and left you, he could've murdered grandpapa with his bare hands, I simply do not care. You're gonna get bitchslapped if I have it my way.

IM PANTING LMFAO. Typing this felt like running. The way your writing gets more and more graceful and elegant, I don't possibly know how, is just breathtaking. Their chemistry is insane and the pace of the storytelling is absolute perfection. I'm like reader at the end of every chapter because I do not want the spell to end and have to return to reality. It makes me want to cry too. Which I do.

Thank you I love you <333

Me: sobbing for my life

I love you so much ahdkdbsbsbsakaja

The jealousy would definitely be unlike anything you've seen before, because as an immortal, Will has an extensive concept of patience and he's able to bide his time and strike at the perfect moment. This is bad for the reader because it means his punishment isn't over and you'll see how in the next part.

Yeah, the domestic bliss was too easy to write. You know how you would definitely feel uncomfortable in a stranger's home? I guess Billy makes reader feel comfortable enough that she can relax around him easily.

I don't think William truly realises the amount of intimate things he's shown her. He's never shown his bearded irises to anyone else really, but I think he showed her, not with the intention of sharing his heart with her (though that's definitely what he did) but to simply share. To show her the parts of him that aren't all that human and to have her accept him anyways. Something that probably never happened to him before.

There's definitely something sacred about sharing the same things in the same moment that I wanted to bring into the swing scene. Again we got to see how his immortal experience varied with hers, and how that's not necessarily a bad thing. That they could still share a fruit together. Another way of me bridging the gap.

And again, she doesn't try to judge him, or correct him about his "Some people are unwilling to grow" bit, because in the back of her head, she probably knows that too. She accepts it, accepts him.

I ACTUALLY didn't plan the apple story until I was writing it. But I knew I wanted to showcase his experiences, and that wasn't to show that mortals are better/kinder than immortals- Billy could have easily encountered a mean mortal. But the fact that he can still bite into an apple and have that kindness follow him for ages, just shows how much of an impression people can have on children, you know? Even immortals.

His one last expectation of her: hehe

Please know that there was no romantic interest between William and grandma before, that's not why she hates him 😂 i wouldn't write that 😂

Yeah, Ben has brought out a side of me that I didn't know existed. Thanks Ben, Sorry Ben. 😂

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2020 Day 11

Sapling - Layers

Day 11 brings yet again more of my god AU, following directly after Not dead, just forgotten, and this time Wen Ruohan might just get what he deserves, and it might not be Lan Xichen delivering the blow ;)

The gods are marching for war.

They took just enough time to all get their bearings back, and then they marched to fight Wen Ruohan. He regained his powers too, but Jiang Cheng doubts he’s going to use the ritual of the Divine Harvest again, not after it robbed him of his own powers as well.

So this time, the gods don’t have to fear that, at least.

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng tries, not for the first time, because he doesn’t want to see him fight; doesn’t want to see him get injured or even worse.

He just got him back. Jiang Cheng couldn’t bear to lose him again.

“It will be fine,” Lan Xichen reassures him, also not for the first time, but it does nothing to settle the nerves in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

Wen Ruohan is powerful; he managed to acquire more might than any other god Jiang Cheng has ever heard about, and he has a loyal following.

Fighting him won’t be easy.

“Lan Xichen, please,” Jiang Cheng pleads again, and tugs on Lan Xichen’s arm. “I just got you back.”

“And I will not go anywhere,” Lan Xichen promises him as he covers his hand with his own. “But you’re also not going with me,” he then goes on and Jiang Cheng’s eyes go wide.

“What?”

“Wen Ruohan feared you before. Now he’s going to be furious, because for all that you saved him, too, you came to all of our aide. He will want you dead.”

“And we will fight him,” Jiang Cheng says, because he will not be parted from Lan Xichen again.

Not ever again.

“With you a safe distance away,” Lan Xichen nods and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“I would like to see you try to make me,” he threatens and Lan Xichen’s gaze turns desperate.

“I just got you back, too. Do you think I want to lose you anymore than you want to lose me?” he wants to know, and while Jiang Cheng hates to see him that desperate, he hates being parted from him more.

“Well, then we simply won’t let him kill me,” Jiang Cheng decides and he stands firmly at Lan Xichen’s side. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he promises then, softer, and drags a smile on his face.

“I better not,” Lan Xichen says after a lengthy pause and rests their foreheads together. “Promise me. Promise me you will leave, the moment he starts to come after you.”

Jiang Cheng wants to tell him no, but he knows Lan Xichen would never let him come, if he doesn’t promise at least that.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng finally says and tilts his head for a fleeting kiss. “I promise.”

It seems to reassure Lan Xichen, because he actually smiles at him and then crushes Jiang Cheng to his chest.

“I missed you so much, my beautiful heart,” Lan Xichen whispers, and when he lets go of Jiang Cheng, gone is the gentle god Jiang Cheng loves so much.

Now Lan Xichen is ready to go to war and kill one of their own.

And Jiang Cheng will be by his side through it all.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t really know how it happened, but one moment Wen Ruohan was coming for Lan Xichen, attacking his unguarded back, and the next Jiang Cheng is on the ground, the sword that was aiming for Lan Xichen now sticking out of his ribcage.

It’s not a good day, if Jiang Cheng dares to say so himself.

“No,” Lan Xichen whispers, and sinks to his knees next to Jiang Cheng, completely disregarding the very real danger of Wen Ruohan standing over them.

Jiang Cheng tries to push Lan Xichen away from him, tries to make him pay more attention to his surroundings than to Jiang Cheng himself, but Lan Xichen can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the bloody wound on Jiang Cheng.

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng presses out, his every breath more painful than he ever imagined anything to be, but Lan Xichen’s gaze doesn’t move away from Jiang Cheng’s chest.

It’s only when Wen Ruohan starts laughing that Lan Xichen forces himself to look away from Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wishes he hadn’t, because he has never before seen so much hate on Lan Xichen’s face.

“I knew you would protect him too well for me to kill him,” Wen Ruohan says between his laughter. “So I decided to aim for you. Because he loves you too much to let you get hurt! And now he’s dying,” Wen Ruohan gets out, and Jiang Cheng half expects him to bend over in laughter and slap his thigh.

It irks Jiang Cheng to know that he behaved just like Wen Ruohan expected him to, but Lan Xichen’s life was in danger. Jiang Cheng doesn’t doubt for a second that if he hadn’t moved, if he hadn’t taken the sword meant for Lan Xichen, then Lan Xichen would be on the ground right now, and Jiang Cheng can’t have that.

Lan Xichen will find a new disciple. Jiang Cheng won’t find another god.

There hasn’t been a choice for him.

“Xichen,” he says again, lifts his hand to turn Lan Xichen’s face away from Wen Ruohan, and Lan Xichen follows his movement.

“My beautiful heart,” he presses out, tears already falling, because they both know that this is it.

Even if the sword was located anywhere else, Jiang Cheng would still die. He’s just a disciple. Wen Ruohan is a god. There is no way he could survive an attack with Wen Ruohan’s spiritual weapon.

“It’s okay,” Jiang Cheng says, wishing Lan Xichen would get up and simply stab Wen Ruohan, just to give Jiang Cheng the satisfaction of seeing him die before he himself dies, but Lan Xichen furiously shakes his head.

“It’s not, it’s not,” he mutters. “Why would you do that?”

“You’re the god of loyalty and self-sacrifice and I’m your disciple. If I am not loyal to you, if I don’t sacrifice myself for you, what kind of disciple would I even be?” Jiang Cheng asks him and smiles slightly at Lan Xichen.

“It was an honour being your disciple,” he says and watches as Lan Xichen’s face crumbles. “And you mustn’t let him win,” he pleads with Lan Xichen.

“He already did,” Lan Xichen whispers. “He killed my heart.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng says, and forces himself to sit up, uncaring of the pain in his chest. “Because I saved your heart. It’s still beating and you will not let it die!”

Lan Xichen blinks at him, the tears still falling and Jiang Cheng frames his face with his hands, acutely aware of the danger still lurking in his back.

“Please, Xichen, you mustn’t die.”

“Then don’t. If you die, there’s nothing else for me,” Lan Xichen says as he leans into his hands.

“You survived it once,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and wishes he could kiss Lan Xichen one last time, but he can feel the blood on his lips and he doesn’t want it to stain Lan Xichen. “You will do it again.”

“No,” Lan Xichen shakes his head, and Jiang Cheng wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any breath left to do so.

He’s going to die, and he can’t find it in himself to regret it.

Jiang Cheng’s only wish is for Lan Xichen to survive.

“No, A-Cheng,” Lan Xichen brokenly sobs out, as he lowers Jiang Cheng carefully to the ground again, and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.

He can feel death coming for him, and he’s going to accept it. He is Lan Xichen’s disciple after all, and he lived up to that title.

But just as Jiang Cheng is taking his last breath, new life floods him; it feels like he’s being hit with a ray of pure energy, and it expels the sword from his chest, healing him, making him stronger.

Making him immortal.

It’s turning him into a god.

Jiang Cheng allows himself to enjoy the feeling of unending power at the tips of his fingers for a moment longer, before he stands up.

There is still Wen Ruohan he has to deal with.

“No,” Wen Ruohan breathes out, and Jiang Cheng coldly watches him as he scrambles for his sword.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says behind him and his voice is full of reverence.

The gods around him bow their heads to him, welcoming him into their midst and Jiang Cheng acknowledges them with a slight nod himself, never letting Wen Ruohan out of his eyes.

He can feel the power inside of him, and even though he’s just a sapling, the youngest of all the gods, he will grow, and he will get stronger.

He will be able to protect Lan Xichen properly.

“No,” Wen Ruohan says again, this time much more determined and he moves, brandishing his sword at Jiang Cheng, but this time it’s Lan Xichen who steps into the way.

At least he tries to, but before Wen Ruohan can plunge his sword into Lan Xichen’s stomach, Jiang Cheng catches his hand with his own.

He is a young god, yes, but he is powerful in his domain and Wen Ruohan just threatened that.

“Do you know what I’m the god of?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, and he realizes that Wen Ruohan is struggling in his grasp, but it barely registers for him.

This is Jiang Cheng’s territory, and he will not allow Wen Ruohan to kill Lan Xichen.

“I don’t care,” Wen Ruohan spits out. “I’m going to kill you anyway.”

Jiang Cheng’s domain is small—tiny really, compared to some of the other gods—but Wen Ruohan is standing firmly in it. There is nothing he can do to Jiang Cheng.

“I am the god of protective love,” Jiang Cheng tells Wen Ruohan and he thoroughly enjoys it when his eyes widen in understanding and fear. “And you just threatened the only man I ever loved.”

He gives Wen Ruohan just enough time to process his words, before Jiang Cheng reaches for his very essence. Jiang Cheng strips Wen Ruohan’s powers away from him, layer for layer, until nothing but the bare core is left.

“I will not allow you to do it again,” Jiang Cheng whispers, right before he crushes the core in his bare hands.

Wen Ruohan’s body crumbles just like his core does, and when Jiang Cheng retracts his hand, the broken body falls to the ground.

Jiang Cheng can feel his power receding, now that the threat to Lan Xichen is dealt with, and he likes it much better like this.

The power had been almost overwhelming and Jiang Cheng is glad to know that it won’t always be like that.

“Jiang Cheng?” Lan Xichen asks from behind him and Jiang Cheng turns around to him.

He’s not entirely sure how Lan Xichen will react to the fact that he just killed a man with his bare hands, but when Lan Xichen almost crushes him with the force of his hug, Jiang Cheng figures he can’t mind that much.

“My beautiful, wonderful heart,” Lan Xichen breathes out and Jiang Cheng can feel how he shakes against him. “I thought I lost you.”

“I would never willingly leave you,” Jiang Cheng reassures him and buries his face in Lan Xichen’s hair. “And now I don’t have to.”

He’s immortal now, just like Lan Xichen. With Wen Ruohan dealt with, Jiang Cheng doubts that there’s anything in this world that could take him from Lan Xichen.

“You’re beautiful,” Lan Xichen says, after he pulls away and critically musters Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng knows he’s not really looking at him but as his essence—he knew that all gods could do it, but he never experienced it himself before—and Jiang Cheng can feel the doubt set in. He’s still a young god, but he is already touched by death, and he doubts his essence looks anything but tarnished and dark.

It’s bound to be entirely unlike Lan Xichen’s essence, which glows warm and steady, and feels like a gentle hand caressing his cheek.

Jiang Cheng is going to get addicted to this, he already knows it.

“It’s okay if I’m not,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Lan Xichen frowns at him. “As long as you’re alright and alive, it’s okay. I don’t care what I look like.”

It’s not entirely true, but Lan Xichen doesn’t need to know that.

“But you are,” Lan Xichen insists and he brings their foreheads together again. “You are protective and glowing with your love,” Lan Xichen whispers and then smiles slightly.

Jiang Cheng almost goes cross-eyed in his need to see it.

“You think you’re dark, right?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng revels in the knowledge that Lan Xichen knows him so well, even though he wishes he wouldn’t, just in this instance.

“But you’re a gentle purple, soothing to the very soul,” Lan Xichen goes on and kisses Jiang Cheng. “And you’re all mine, right?”

“Of course I am,” Jiang Cheng pouts, because he did not just kill Wen Ruohan for Lan Xichen to doubt him now. “Who else would I do this for?”

“No one,” Lan Xichen says with a nod, kissing Jiang Cheng again, and Jiang Cheng presses against Lan Xichen.

They didn’t have a chance to explore this fully—only had time for fleeting kisses in the past—but now they have forever and Jiang Cheng vows to make the best use of the time given to him.

And he will stay by Lan Xichen’s side until time itself ends.

Link to my ko-fo on the sidebar!

[angel-tries-to-write]

Sunrise

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Rating: Teen and up Pairing: Shay Cormac x reader Word count: 2344 Genre: angst

Shay is the Templar now, while you’re still the Assassin. Your love is as strong, as it’s forbidden. Yet sometimes the smallest things can mean the most. Inspired by “In The Heights”, this time.

Some people are unable to stay away from trouble by either causing them or finding them involuntarily. This kind of people simply cannot sit still when something is happening, they always have to be involved. Each one of you was that kind of people, you, Kesegowaase, Liam, Hope and Shay. After all, regular and peaceful people don't become Assassins, this kind of job is meant for uneasy spirits who can't stay in one place for long. They also must want to change the world for the better. At least this kind of thinking led you to the Brotherhood and you couldn't complain. You had an adventurous life, you were making the world more free with every killed Templar and you had your friends who always had your back. One of them was even more than a friend.

Shay was always the most energetic and impatient, like a white hot spark popping out of the fireplace. He acted or spoke first, then thought, compared to him you were almost stoic. Yet you had found a common ground easily, a lot like him, you doubted if what your Brotherhood was doing was right. You would've spend hours talking, joking and having fun, which ultimately lead you to develop a romantic relationship. For a very short time your life just couldn't be better. You were young, unstoppable and absolutely in love.

Unfortunately, your doubts turned out to be real. When Shay was sent to Lisbon, you couldn't stop thinking about him, you wanted him to come back to you, despite knowing he was fully capable of taking care of himself. One day, after painfully long weeks, you saw your lover coming back to the Homestead. You missed him dearly and you were pretty sure he missed you as well, yet when you ran to meet him halfway, you noticed he was upset. He didn't want to talk to you, he only said he needed to see Achilles. Soon you got to know what was bothering your man and you wished you didn't. Shay was right, the Brotherhood went away from its own tenants, but unlike him, you believed it could be fixed. You tried to convince him to help you, but he wasn't listening. Therefore he earned himself a mark of a traitor and was presumably killed, while you were punished for trying to protect him. But when you had found out he survived and joined the Templars, you stopped caring about the others. You had to see him.

Hidden in the soothing darkness of the night, when there was no moon and only stars were shining, you snuck out of the Homestead, triple checking if no one followed you. Then you infiltrated the Templars' quarters, where you expected to find your former partner. Finally, after a few hours of hiding in the shadows, you had found Shay's room. But as soon as you stepped in, he pulled out his sword and pointed it at your throat.

“I must admit, I am impressed. It doesn't happen often, that a prey comes to the predator themselves” he spoke trying to be cool, but you could tell his voice was about to crack. He didn't want to hurt you, even if he thought he had to.

“I'm not your prey” you answered, looking directly into his eyes.

“Why did you come?”

“To see you. Whether you believe it or not, I genuinely miss you. It's not a trick and no one knows I'm here. If you really want to kill me, go for it. But I don't think you can” you said daringly. Shay's hand trembled and he bit his lip. He certainly expected a trick, but failed to sense it, because there wasn't any.

“I can. You won't be the first Assassin who fall to my sword” he protested, but you knew he was bluffing. You could see it in his eyes.

“Really? You already forgot what was between us? How I tried to stop the others from killing you, because of my feelings for you? I love you, Shay. And nothing can change that, even if I wanted it more than anything. I didn't come here to kill you, I came here to see you and here's my proof” you exposed your hands proving you didn't have your hidden blade. That seemed to convince the man to lower his weapon.

“You came here unarmed? That's just stupid” he raised his eyebrow in disbelief.

“I'm not unarmed, I have a dagger, a few smoke bombs and some throwing knives. Everything that can provide me escape if something went wrong. But I didn't have to use them and I don't need them for now” you scoffed and unbuttoned your coat, then undid your belt and put them on the floor, clearly showing you didn't take anything from it, then you stepped away from them.

“What game are you playing, (y/n)?” Shay asked and you shrugged.

“I'm not playing any game. I missed my boyfriend who turned out to be not dead, so I wanted to see him. Now, would you allow me to come close to you, or am I supposed to take off something else?” you asked and his eyes lighted with feelings. Just like you, he couldn't simply ignore his heart.

“I have a few ideas” he admitted with a smirk.

“Then come and take it off yourself” you copied his smirk and opened your shirt, exposing your chest. That made Shay inhale sharply and unbutton his own clothes. At the same time he started to approach you and you weren't going to wait patiently. Your bodies crashed with desperation and longing, touch starved skin itched with the lightest brush, your clothes quickly became disturbing, so they had to go. It didn't take long until you both were naked and heavily aroused.

“I missed you so much, love” Shay purred as he kissed your neck.

“I missed you too” you whispered, stifling a moan as he sucked on your pulse point. For a moment the whole world was gone, Assassins, Templars, nothing mattered, only the two of you. It felt divine to feel him so close again, to make love with him, to forget you had any issues. The bliss lasted until the dark room started to light up a little, an inevitable sign that the night was coming to an end. Yet you kept lying in the arms of your beloved one, trying to figure everything out.

“Join me, (y/n)” you heard him say and you sighed. You knew he was asking for too much.

“I can't, my love. I understand your point, I shared your doubts, after all, yet I don't think there's no other option. There has to be.”

“They need to be stopped.”

“They need to be corrected. I believe there is a way to prove them wrong, to make the Brotherhood follow its Creed again. But becoming a Templar is not the solution” you lifted yourself on your elbow. “I respect your decision, Shay, but I also want you to respect mine. I will not betray the Brotherhood. I'm the Assassin since birth. If you're the Templar, that makes us mortal enemies” you stated, fighting back the tears. Shay caressed your cheek and you leaned into his hand.

“You were right. I couldn't kill you. And I will respect your decision, though I do not approve of it. I also can't go back to the Brotherhood.”

“Yes, I know. However this means we have no future together” you sighed and kissed him softly. “I wish we could have our happily ever after.”

“Seems like our fairy tale has no happy ending” it was Shay's turn to sigh.

“We have to catch little moments like this one. Before sunrise. When we are not the Templar and the Assassin, but two people in love.”

“It's sunrise already?” he asked with disbelief and looked at the window.

“It is. And I should go soon.”

“I wish you could stay for longer.”

“Me too. But I can't risk getting caught. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“I don't care. I just want you” he pulled you close again.

“Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise” you smiled and gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth. He answered to that with a kiss.

“Promise me it's not our last encounter. Promise me you reconsider your allegiance. Promise me...” he silenced as he couldn't find the right words.

“Promise me you'll stay beyond the sunrise. That every time you see it, you will be thinking about me. That you will never forget our love. Because I promise I will never forget it. You will always be in my heart” you swore, marking an X on your chest.

“Why does it sound like a goodbye?” Shay looked at you with concern.

“Because I decided to leave the colonies if everything else fails. I'm not sure where should I go, but I decided that will be the best. If they keep ignoring my warnings, I will have to leave. I don't want to fight them and I don't want to fight you. And if I stay, it will happen sooner or later.”

“Maybe the Brotherhood needs a new mentor. Maybe you should take Achilles' place.”

“Would you be able to spare me if I did?” you asked and his silence was the answer you needed. “That's what I thought” you smiled sadly and slipped out of Shay's embrace. He watched you dress up with sadness and adoration.

“Goodbye, my love. I really hope we meet again” he said and you could tell he missed you already.

“I hope so either” you turned to the window and smiled. “Sunrise” you whispered and went outside, sending your lover one last look. Then you snuck back to the Homestead, which was slightly more difficult, yet not impossible.

“Where have you been?” you heard someone asking. When you turned around, you saw Liam.

“Doesn't matter” you answered, not even stopping by. Your heart hurt after your parting with Shay, you didn't care for much. But Liam grabbed your arm and turned you around, so he could look you in the face.

“You seem sad. What happened?” he asked and pulled your collar, to expose red mark on the base of your neck.

“Nothing happened, let me go” you protested and took a few steps back.

“Nothing happened, yet you snuck out, then came back sad and there's a love mark on your neck” Liam crossed his arms in his chest. “Did you meet with Shay?”

“Why would I?”

“You two were close, so I assume you didn't betray us then only to work for him now.”

“How dare you...”

“He's a traitor, (y/n)! You are supposed to kill him, not fuck him! Otherwise you're a traitor as well!” he yelled and you felt anger overwhelming you.

“I would never betray the Brotherhood! I love Shay and he loves me, but we're painfully aware of our allegiances. That night we forgot about them so we could be together, but I came back, because I'm loyal to my Creed. Even if I'm in love with the enemy” you confessed, unable to look Liam in the eye. “I value the Creed more than the man I love and while I share his belief that the Brotherhood is lost and doesn't follow its own tenants anymore, I know becoming a Templar is not a solution. Shay made his choice and so I made mine. I want to try to restore the Brotherhood, but if you keep being so stubborn, I'll have no choice but leave. I'd rather be a lone Assassin than join Templars or support your actions.”

“Then you can pack your bags already, because we're not going to listen to a traitor. If you're not with us, you're against us.”

“Fine” you turned around and ran straight to your room, where you packed your belongings. The sunlight was pouring through the window and you did your best to not cry. You knew however, that it was the only thing you could do to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

“(y/n)? What are you doing?” Achilles asked, appearing in the entrance to your room.

“I'm leaving. I can't stay here anymore. Besides, Liam has just accused me of treason, because I've met with Shay” you closed your bag and looked at the older man. “I'm sorry, but I don't want us to fight. I also don't want to fight Shay. It will be best if I leave.”

“You just want to run like that?”

“And what am I supposed to do? I'm torn between my friends and my lover. I can't join him, I can't betray the Brotherhood, I've been the Assassin for all my life and I can't agree with Templars' philosophy. Yet I can't kill him, both of us had plenty of opportunities to kill each other and we couldn't bring ourselves to do that. Despite our allegiances, our love is strong and we can't help it. That's why I have to leave. Shay isn't going to stop, neither are you. I don't want to be a part of this. I'll do better if I serve another Brotherhood than get myself killed here.”

“Very well. Go if you want to, I can even write a letter that would help you get into another Brotherhood. But you are not allowed to come back. If any of us ever see you again, we won't hesitate to kill you” Achilles said and you nodded. Part of you hurt, it was tough to leave the place you had lived all of your life, you were also never meant to see your lover again. But the other part of you was relieved. You expected to be killed for treason, yet you had a point that exile was wiser. After all you were a good Assassin.

“Goodbye, Achilles. I hope one day you find the way to the Creed again” you said and not waiting for an answer, you had left to never come back again.

[justhewayfaringstranger]

So, I've wanted to address this topic for a while and this post I read this morning while having breakfast is a sort of response from the universe.

I would say to start by explaining a simple concept.

Demons and spirits are not the same thing, but rather, they vary from each other. Likewise, spirits and ghosts are not the same.

• Creatures understood as "demons" exist in all religions; they are supernatural beings, typically associated with the evil, historically prevalent in religions, occultism, literature, fiction, mythology and folklore;

• "spirits" are instead organized energy with at least a certain level of sensitivity that has an energy body and in most cases also an astral body. The Latin word is a translation of the Greek prneuma ("breath", "air", "vital breath") and to some extent it can be seen in the apeiron of the Presocratic Anaximander, who had to some extent dematerialized the archè (Greek: ἀρχή ) of the other Ionian naturalists, the original principle of the universe and of every part of it, impalpable and invisible but still material, as shown by another void that, blowing inside it, fills with air matter. With the Stoics, the term begins to be compared to today's one of spirit. The pneuma belongs to the god who gives life to things and guides them according to his wishes. The pneuma is a force that manifests itself not only in the individual man but is present in all things as the "soul of the world". They are ancient entities like the world itself, part of the primordial chaos and consequently neutral in themselves;

• the term “ghost” refers instead to any incorporeal entity. The term ghost comes from the Greek φάντασμα phàntasma, which in turn derives from φαντάζω (phantàzo, "to show"; from the root φαν-, which expresses the idea of ​​"appearing" and "showing"), and had the meaning of apparition (understood as a supernatural manifestation) and only with time has its meaning been restricted to indicating the apparition of a deceased.

In 1800, with the birth of the practice of spiritism in France, it ended up rendering in the common imagination "spirits" and "ghosts" similar entities, if not true synonyms.

The French pedagogue Allan Kardec after observing a series of phenomena, formulated the hypothesis that such phenomena could only be attributed to incorporeal intelligences (spirits). Spiritual communications took place "thanks to the intervention of a medium", that is a person with particular skills who acted as mediator between spirits and living beings, during the so-called séance. This became a busines for many and most of the spiritualists were actually charlatans who swore to the victims that they could talk to the dead. In most cases, those who could afford to turn to a medium, were economically wealthy and of high rank lost and therefore for the scammer it was certainly not difficult to obtain information (even intimate) about the deceased and those around him, if at this was added some well-orchestrated play of smoke and lights, here is the "grandmother's ghost".

Having understood this, one wonders what it is then what we understand as a "ghost of a person". It is a trace left by the living. On a scientific level, death doesn't exist. From the chemical-physical point of view we are isolated systems that receive energy and produce it. But the universe itself is a closed system. So our energy is the energy of the universe. We are universe. What happens when we die? Our energy returns to the universe system. But as we know, energy is neither created nor destroyed, but it changes. So our energy is energy that has been changed in the past by others, and will be changed by others when we are gone. Death doesn't exist because energy is immortal. The energy that I am using now to tap on my laptop keyboard is the same energy that Gaius Julius Caesar used to pull the reins of his horse and to cross the Rhine. And it will be the energy that in the future a scientist will use to to be able to travel between the various space-time dimensions. Death doesn't exist, and the life of one is the life of all.

To simplify then, what we mean as the ghost of Marilyn Monroe for example, is nothing more than a sort of energetic gif of Marilyn Monroe.

I'll give you another example. Anne Boleyn died by beheading, therefore by a violent and unjust death. In this situation, she is likely to have felt strong emotions and released a huge and consistent huge amount of energy as a result. Let's say that Henry VIII was present at the execution along with a bunch of other people, let's also say that he went back to that place (or others where Anne felt strong emotions and therefore released large amounts of energy) and thought about her, let's say that Elizabeth I also thought of her mother and so many other people. All these emotions have turned into energy. If we saw energy as a palette of colors, it would be as if: the more consistent the emotions, the more intense the color, therefore, the more energy we send (even unconsciously) to the energetic image of Anne Boleyn (the energetic gif), the clearer this will be where most of the energy is concentrated (eg the Tower of London, a room in the building, etc.).

So when we go to a "haunted" place, what we see is not the "person", but a kind of still image. And according to the speech above, it is therefore normal to find this type of freeze frame in places such as castles, hospitals, etc. then if these are found on natural energy centers or lines… bingo!

Speaking instead of spirits, as mentioned before, there are no good or bad spirits. Good and bad as well as light and dark, like day and night, are a contrast present in many traditions, including native ones. This duality can also be referred to the human being and represent a moment of acting or thinking of a person. You can think and act towards the light or towards the darkness and this can also happen to shamans.

Just think of the ego and when it takes over, or when you try to manipulate, at that moment you are not in the light. But it can happen and that doesn't mean being good or bad. Acting, in fact, can also be connected with a person's karma and precisely follow what is required by this spiritual law.

Light and darkness, as in the human world, are also reflected in the world of spirits and even in this case they do not absolutely determine the condition of goodness or badness. Spirits, who in the light can be protectors, guides or allies, can also move in the dark dimension.

And if we think like the natives that everything has a spirit and that it can move between light and darkness, we can understand how there can be spirits that are particularly powerful and able to move very strong energies such as to create an effect in ordinary reality.

It is important to know the distinction between light and shadow because, from an early age, we were educated to separate the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, but for this we have become very sensitive when it comes to going to work on our shadows. As I told you, light and shadow are states of being that we all have within us. Working with shadows doesn't mean black magic, witchcraft or whatever. Simply observe the aspects of light and be able to deal with those of shadow as well. Light and darkness are two sides of the same coin that it is important to integrate.

Being half Latin, therefore leaning towards a culture extremely linked to its roots and above all to the relationship with mental spirits, it isn't difficult for me to understand this concept, and therefore despite being a Christian, I have no problem in defining myself as a witch. Of course, coming to this awareness wasn't easy, as I am partly European and therefore I grew up in a society in a Western society that is scared of what it cannot control. After years of researching my origins, my culture and theological studies, I have come to find my balance.

Returning, however, to the main reason for this post, having made the necessary explanations (and given the tools for a critical analysis of the matter), here are the points on which I personally disagree and why:

Reading books about witchcraft: Knowledge for educational purposes is by no means negative, quite the opposite. The question is whether the aforementioned "about witchcraft" book is a "spell book" or some sort of "sacred book". For example, if I find the Necronomicon tomorrow and start reading it without knowing what it is, it is likely that I will find myself living the remake of The Conjuring in the real life.

Casting most types of spells, including hexes: Same speech made in the previous point. One of the first rules of witchcraft is "know your practice". You must be aware that what you are doing is not a game and every action has consequences, even if you don't believe in the rule of 3 (everything you do comes back to you 3 times). In the specific case of curse and hexes spells, they are the most treacherous and dangerous, because you are working with dark and malevolent energies. This type of practice in particular is a double-edged weapon, which is why many witches advise against them and propose alternative methods if possible.

Practicing divination: It isn't always negative, but in some types of divination the help and guidance of spirits and divinities is sought. For example, I often do bibliomancy with the bible and even if I first ask for God's guidance, in front of each answer I ask for confirmation, because the devil was the most beautiful angel in heaven and just as darkness does not allow us to see. where we go, even a dazzling light can deceive us.

Playing with Ouija or other talking boards: Ouija is not a game and it is an extremely dangerous tool, precisely because what you do is contact spirits and entities and you cannot know who will answer the other side. Nothing good anyway.

Putting up fantasy or non-Christian artwork: Have you ever seen Annabel? Here, the principle is the same. Be careful what you bring into your home, as home is a sacred space, and nothing can enter without you giving it permission. So if you not only invite it, but rather you bring it inside and give it a space, don't come and complain to me if it is difficult to send it away.

Celebrating pagan holidays: If it's a holiday of a closed religion, avoid ruining your life. Holidays basically consist of performing rituals that often involve spirits. Learn about the history of that holiday you want to celebrate, the symbols, the rituals, and why it is celebrated in that particular way.

Celebrating Halloween: The same as the previous point, except that we all (or almost all) know that samahin is the day when the space where the veil falls and the two worlds come into contact.

Watching scary movies and TV shows: I'm not saying that if you watch The Exorcist you will be possessed, but I can't assure you otherwise either. I took The Exorcist as an example because it is known that a real ritual is performed in the movie and a lot of "disturbing" things have happened on the set of the film and to the actors. When you watch a movie, even if it is fictional, if for example it performs an evocation or a ritual you are not only witnessing, you are participating in all respects. Be careful, every person is different.

Reading (horror novels, fantasy books, comics and graphic novels). Playing (tabletop RPGs, LARP games, video games): Same as the previous point.

Listening to heavy metal music, dancing: It goes for any kind of music actually. Do you know how many pop songs I use as a spell?

Dyeing your hair: I'm not saying you'll invoke a demon, but for many cultures cutting your hair makes you more vulnerable to spiritual attack and color is an essential aspect of witchcraft.

Swearing: Wishing someone who has crossed your path death is considered a curse in all respects. Even if done unconsciously.

Drinking: Drinking, smoking… shamans have used alcohol and drugs for centuries to connect with in the spiritual world.

Having tattoos and piercings: As long as you don't tattoo Aramaic words that you don't know the meaning of, everything is fine. Before getting a tattoo in a symbol you saw in a temple in Mexico, find out the meaning of it. I'll give you an example: my cousin once bought a T-shirt with the words "puta madre" (mother whore). He had bought it only because he liked it, without knowing the meaning of the word.

Now, most of these points are mainly related to intention. As I said before, I often use music in my spells, but if for example, I use "can't be touch by Roy jones" for a protection and encouragement spell (eg a manifestation) and a few months later I listen to the same song on the radio doesn't mean it will work like a spell again. In many cases it is a question of intention. Yhat's why it is important to educate yourself.

[jageunyeoujari]

‘idea’ & self-knowledge as love as freedom

w thanks to @radiatingdyke​​ & henrik !!

so in a previous post, i talked abt spectacle & respect in criminal for context. now starting off w henrik’s thoughts re: plato:

"It’s honestly pretty ambiguous what Plato means by it- at least in the republic- The core theory is that ideal forms are a truer kind of reality than the shadows. The philosopher escapes a cave of shadows projected on the wall by a ruling class, the only “reality” they ever knew and were literally bound to. They crawl through a treacherous passage to find themselves face to face with the dazzling light of the sun which blinds them temporarily, and as their eyes adjust they find themselves in a forest and realize the shadow puppet of “tree” was not the real tree all along! For what the shadows are: Idk how developed popular media/conventional politics were at the time but we (America) based a lot of our shit on it so I think one strong possibility is we find ourselves in a modern allegory of the cave where the shadows dancing on the wall are the world as it’s told to us- through news education and policy and the “real” is personal experience and genuine community. Then shadows would then be actual reality as we know it, including the real trees and personal experience, a veil placed over us by metaphysical forces which can be lifted through Godwork to reveal the true nature of the inner workings of the universe. The last part of the allegory is that the philosopher returns to the cave to free the other prisoners and spread the light”

so while criminal is the revelation in the toxic cycle of the idol culture & mutual destruction & obsession are confused for love, idea is making the decision to learn what true love & connection is, leaving behind the suffocating expectations demanded by the industry, & in the process, become complete in his humanity.

so we first see taemin in jail, condemning himself for his role in the toxic parasocial relations of idol culture, and literally... calling himself out.... altho i would say that this:

in criminal is purgatory proper, the jail may be the end point of his journey there. he confesses his sins, his soul gets purified, & then next we see him in the bar which is confirmed to be heaven (which happens to look much like lee soo man's office) while the flashy models stare at taemin, the walking dead, the posh people in suits (likely executives) ignore him. 

so here we have taemin trying to fit in seemlessly in this world of the elites who have the highest level of control in the idol industry. here, he is assured his status as the best & now guaranteed to be free of pain... but on their terms. there is shallow comfort but nothing else. the others content w playing games & eating delicacies, surrounded by alcohol, but are contained to sitting, indulging in frivolities, & passively looking on but no chance of connection. the bar is just another form of intoxication, but unlike criminal where there is at least an illusion of attaining love, heaven is merely stagnant. this idealized heaven of the elites cannot give true freedom as it is based on sterility & exclusivity, just another form of social control. "the dangerous dream that swallowed me is proven by you." staying here would be another form of self-betrayal & denial of the love he seeks so he rebels against heaven through his dancing, an affirmation of his life.

taemin then being shocked that all these shadow versions of himself are not the truth... silvery dissolving forms... his identity fragmenting............ but still taemin still can't break away from the illusion that the adoration & fame he receives as an idol could be actually hurting him.

as @radiatingdyke has talked about, BoA's 'killing me' line is reminiscent of korean shamans channeling gods. significant that it is BoA who he channels as they are both similar, debuting at a very young age & have been massive stars ever since then. "you are my messiah" BoA cuts him off, speaking the truth. this isn't who he rly is or what he actually wants. he must face himself & the truth or he will die. 

the mirror steps are i think symbolic of plato's ladder of love. to my understanding, the ladder of love is basically about how the aim of life is the ascension of the soul to heaven. the gods can do this as a god's soul is in perfect balance w all the different aspects of itself which makes them necessarily wise & good. humans' souls are in disarray, however, & it is this conflict between all parts of the soul which makes it difficult for us to follow the gods to heaven. to do this, people have to understand the true Form of beauty, by climbing the ladder of love. the steps start from loving a body which one is attracted to due to physical beauty & by understanding the beauty of this body, one can then consider how the beauty of one body is found in all bodies. the progression goes on from loving more broadly until we come to the last step, love of knowledge & wisdom. now one is able to see the actual form of Beauty, bringing harmony to your soul. so in order to taemin to finally know peace within himself, he has to know how to love.

& the progression of the ladder implies for me that by first learning to care for others but understanding who they are in their completeness & beauty, you eventually are able to learn to care for yourself & see the beauty in your own soul. & on the flip side, the better able you care for yourself, the more you are able to care for others. i'll discuss this more when i go into my thoughts on act 2 as a whole but basically, the rest of act 2 has a truly warm & loving atmosphere when taemin speaks to the other. in comparison, act 1 presents his experience of 'love' as enmeshment, painful, confusing, losing his self of sense to cater to the desires of the other. there are feelings of obligation to stay in this destructive relationship bc that’s his prescribed role & anyway, any attention is better than none at all. 

ppl w a poor sense of self can readily suffer mistreatment for the sake of a semblance of connection, confusing obsession for love when what’s rly happening is actually cathexis, an investment of emotions. while care & affection can exist w cathexis, as does happen in fans’ relations w idols, this is not the same thing as love which liberates & cultivates growth in yourself & the other. fans’ obsession w idols quickly flipping to hate when idols stray from the designated persona of perfection is investment in that image but is not real love. in act 1, he does not understand the other clearly for what it is, destruction that must end, & the fact that he is suffering. without such awareness, he is incapable of truly giving & receiving love. 

& while act 2 does have similar themes of taking on other's pain, it becomes a stark contrast to act 1 bc he does so from a place of utter assurance of his identity & true self-love, not from the fear of being left alone. he loves himself for who he is so he is able to love for ourselves purely as well.

& as @radiatingdyke has said (& in much more detail than i can) the ladder reflecting the sky can also be a reference to indigenous korean beliefs where the sky represents the entire universe. the creator god is Hanulnim, literally sky god.  

 also, even tho NGDA as a whole is replete w western imagery & references & v catholic, the overarching narrative of the 2 albums don't feel western to me in that there never is a fight between good & evil. a typical western narrative would be more like there would the defeat of like 'criminal' taemin by 'good' taemin or an obvious redemption arc. & to me, idea doesn't read so much as he confronts & then accepts both the good & the bad in him but that he leaves behind these limited concepts altogether & instead connects back to the true essence of the universe & becomes free to be utterly himself.

he’s struggled so much over the course of his career w figuring out how to reconcile the duality of himself, what it means to be authentic as an idol, wishing for his true self to be seen & appreciated. it’s always been looking outward for that validation but skirting away from revealing the whole truth of himself... & idea is the final answer to all that. no more denial, repression, burning away of the past, configuration to other ppl’s desires, no more use of mystery as a defense against the fear of being rejected if people see him for who he really is. he accepts himself for who he is & that’s all that matters.

in classic gaytholic taem fashion, he compares himself to jesus + mary + other divinity in NGDA imagery but ultimately, taemin is done w being both a god & the condemned. “i’ve finally opened my eyes.” he’s never been anything but a human being & he’s showing us all the beauty in that.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 24: She Mends a Body and a Heart

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4016

Warnings: Language, mention of wounds

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 23: Her Heart Betrays Her

The fires of Hell seemed dull compared to the fires of the forge. 

They were hot. They made you tired. They cast a ghastly glow over the walls.

But there was no place you’d rather be. 

Tony was right; having complete control over your own project was therapeutic. And the project you were working on was even more so.

You were constructing Bucky’s prosthetic arm. 

As an amateur builder, you didn’t know if it was such a good idea to be responsible for such a major task, but Tony had assured and reassured you time and time again that you could do it. He told you that he was confident in your ability and that he would be there to help you if you needed it. 

You worked day and night on your project, sculpting the arm and embedding it with nerve endings and mechanics to make it function properly. Tony helped you with the exact operations to make it like a real arm, but the whole thing was crafted by you. You took the measurements Tony had taken and used them to build his arm. It was surprising how easy it was for you, but you had a feeling that Tony was giving his divine blessing to you to make you more adept and capable. You appreciated this.

You made Bucky’s arm out of vibranium—the rarest metal on earth—and embedded it with rivers of gold. You crafted it with tender care and love, each detail added painstakingly to make it perfect. You would settle for nothing less than perfection. He deserved nothing less than perfection.

You spent a month and a half working. Peggy took over running the Underworld and Clint volunteered to lead all of the dead mortal souls to the afterlife for you while you were in the forge which allowed you to devote all your time and energy to your project. You appreciated them immensely. You needed this break.

You found that Tony was right: working on something you controlled entirely allowed you to cope. With every passing day, you found yourself losing tension in your body. A weight was being lifted from your shoulders.

You accepted your father’s death, finding the strength to move on. It was surprising how easy it was to push past his death, but, then again, you did hate his guts. You’d spent the majority of your life keeping him in the corner of your mind, letting him plague you always. You let the trauma he’d inflicted fester without fully forgiving it and healing. But now that he was dead, you were able to let it go, and, as the month came to a close and your project neared its completion, you felt lighter than ever.

It was liberating.

“Hey, kid!”

You looked up from the arm you were working on. You’d been polishing the metal and buffing out the blemishes with heat. Your hand glowed hot with hellfire embedded in your skin and you pulled it off as you looked at Tony. “Yeah?”

He had his bag slung over his shoulder and a lopsided grin on his face. “I’m calling it quits early tonight. I’m taking Pepper out for a date.”

“Alright.”

“Will you lock up if you leave? I trust you in my forge, but I don’t like it open if it’s unattended.”

You understood this so you nodded. “We both know I’m not leaving, but yes I will if I do go.”

“Thanks! You’re the greatest!”

You heard the heavy forge door slam shut behind him and you were left alone. You almost preferred it like this. 

Left to your own devices, you warmed your hands again and began to even out the rougher parts of the surface. This was the finishing touch, really. It had already been tested for flexibility and function and, after one simple procedure, the arm would be a perfect replacement for the one that Bucky had lost in the battle.

You just hoped he’d accept it. It was crafted to be your apology to him. It was an offering to say “I’m sorry for getting you hurt. I’m sorry you lost your arm because of me. I’m sorry if I’m not worth it.” You hoped that the love you’d put into this gift would be enough to earn his forgiveness and show him that you still cared.

The creaking of the heavy forge door pulled you from your thoughts, but you didn’t look up. “Forget something, Tony?” you called out as you took your hands off it and allowed them to cool. Taking a soft cloth from the work table, you used it to polish the surface of the metal.

There was a pause before a voice that definitely wasn’t Tony’s responded, “No. I have come to talk to you.”

Your hands stilled and you slowly brought your eyes up to meet Winnifred’s.

She looked dressed for gardening in a pair of simple jeans and a green blouse. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose bun. She was pale and dark circles rimmed her eyes. She looked exhausted. She met your eyes without delay, though you could see the slight anxiety in her posture. She was nervous about something, though you couldn’t tell what.

Perhaps it was because your hands were glowing with heat.

You stood up straighter, taking your hands off your project. “Winnifred,” you said, your voice adopting formal diplomacy, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She looked uncomfortable under your gaze as she shifted her weight from side to side. “I… I wanted to talk to you. Privately.” She was quick to add on that last part as her eyes darted around.

“Well, we are the only ones in the whole forge. This is about as private as it gets.” You weren’t going to leave. You were still working and leaving would just disrupt your progress. You looked back down at your project and continued to polish the arm’s surface. “What is it that you need?”

“It’s about my son.”

Your motion faltered for only a second. Anxiety began to bubble up in your chest. “Wh-What about him? Is he alright?” you asked, your voice fighting to stay calm and even. 

“Yes! Yes, he’s fine. Everything is progressing well in his recovery. He’s doing well.”

“Then why have you come?” You didn’t understand why she would come all this way to visit a person she loathed.

Winnifred hung her head as if she weren’t quite sure of the answer herself. “I wanted to thank you!” she finally blurted after a short pause. The suddenness of the claim startled you both and she looked taken aback by her own words. She hung her head.

It was… odd to see her like this, all submissive and repentant. There had been a time when Winnifred was nothing but snarky with you at council meetings or in the streets. She hated you with a burning passion and was never afraid to let you know it. But now she was almost reverent for once. She was tiptoeing around her words and choosing them carefully. She was watching her tongue and actions and keeping them in check. It unnerved you to be treated with such respect by her. You supposed that this was a result of your explosion on her after the council meeting despite it being months ago.

You frowned at her. “For what? I haven’t done anything for you.”

“For saving my son’s life.” She took a deep breath and glanced up. “I… I watched him try to fight the titan to save you, but you dove in front of him in time to stop the blow and when he… when he…” Her voice cracked and she pressed her lips together tightly. Her eyes found the ceiling and stayed there for moments on end. You could see her eyes reddening. “When he lost his arm… You were there to stop the bleeding. You saved his life and I… I know we’ve had our differences and I really don’t like you, but I have to thank you for that. You saved my son and for that, I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing.” You sighed and hung your head. “I would’ve saved him regardless. I couldn’t bear it if Bucky were killed because of me. He’s too precious to me.” You breathed a laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me for something I would’ve done anyways. Besides…” You shrugged and placed your hand on the prosthetic once more. Dragging it against the vibranium before you, you watched your reflection become clearer. “My life wouldn’t be complete if he wasn’t a part of it.”

Winnifred fell silent, her expression conflicted. “You love him, don’t you?” she asked, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

You nodded. “Yeah. I do. With all my heart.”

“I should’ve guessed.” She sounded resigned by your confession as if she expected this. “I really don’t like it, but I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. My son is grown; he can make his own decisions on who he loves.”

“And you really don’t have the power to stop me,” you added nonchalantly.

“Don’t remind me.” She pursed her lips. “You should go to him.”

You paused. “I’m sorry?”

“Go to him. In the hospital. He asks for you every day, wondering if you’d gone to see him. He’ll never ask me, but one of the nymphs brought it to my attention after the tenth time he’d asked for you. He’s quite confused as to why you haven’t gone to see him yet.”

“I did see him… Once…” And he was sleeping. You hung your head. “I can’t face him yet. Knowing what I’ve done to hurt him, I don’t deserve to see him—not until I’ve finished.” 

Winnifred’s eyes trailed down to the prosthetic you were working on. “Is that for him?”

“To replace the one that was stolen by my father,” you confirmed. “I can’t leave until it’s complete.”

“When will that be?”

“Soon.” You paused in your work and looked up at her again, your gaze unsure. “Do you really think I should go to him?”

“I do. I know he loves you more than he’s ever loved another. He needs you, (y/n). Please, don’t keep away from him too long—for both your sakes.”

You frowned at her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugged as she took a step back, beginning to make her way to the door once more. “I’m not sure myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally accepted that my little boy has grown up. He’s going to love you whether I approve or not. I’d rather not lose him over something silly like this. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of him? He’s still so young and I fear for him every day. But… If he had the Queen of Hell protecting him, then I might just sleep a little better.”

You smiled softly at her and nodded. “I promise.”

An understanding between you was forged in that moment—one where she finally accepted you as a part of her son’s life and where you vowed to love him. After years of bickering and animosity, you finally found it in yourselves to tolerate each other.

———

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood in the white halls of the hospital. You felt out of place in your dark clothes and a large prosthetic wrapped in cloth in your arms. It’d been a while since you’d last been here and you wanted nothing more than to get out.

But you had to be here. He was calling you—pulling you to his side.

Behind the door, inside room 107, your love lay in wait for you. He didn’t know you were here, but you figured that he could sense you. Your aura had grown stronger since the execution when you took on another domain and you reeked of death. It was not a good omen for a hospital, but you had to be here all the same. You only wondered how Bucky would react to you after being apart for so long.

You knew you didn’t have to be nervous; this was Bucky after all. You loved him and he loved you. But you still feared the worst. What if he was disgusted by the very sight of you? Appalled by what you had become? Would he send you away? Would he ask to never see you again?

Logically you knew that each situation was more unlikely than the last, but you were still afraid. You were afraid of being rejected by the only man you truly loved. 

You glanced down at the white cloth that covered the arm you’d built for him. Would he accept it? Would it even fit him? You’d done your best to make it exactly like the left arm he’d lost, but was it enough? Was it suitable for a god?

There was only one way to find out.

Steeling your nerves and shifting the prosthetic to one side, you slowly raised your fist and knocked on the door of his room.

“Come in!” urged the voice of a god and you stopped for only a second. Gods… How you’d missed his voice…

You swallowed the lump in your throat and slowly opened the door. 

The room had taken on Bucky’s personality over the weeks he’d been here. When you first visited, it’d been bare and sterile. There’d been no color. But now it was lively. Bouquets of flowers filled almost every available surface and the room was bright. The colors made you dizzy, there were so many and so vibrant.

The only occupant in the room was sitting on the bed and your eyes found him immediately. He wasn’t looking at you yet and this gave you time to appreciate him. 

His hair had grown out a considerable amount. At least two inches had sprouted, giving length and volume to those locks you loved. He’d grown a short stubble of a beard as well. You could only imagine how prickly it was. He looked good. His skin was tan and warm and he had a small smile on his face as he looked down at the book that was opened in his lap. His hand fondled the page, rubbing the paper between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand… His other hand wasn’t there nor was his arm. The hospital gown covered the stump that remained, but you could see the bandages peeking out from under the short sleeve. It was pure white and haunting—a chilling reminder of what had provided it. 

Bucky’s eyes stayed on his book as he turned the page. “Is it time for my meds again?” he asked, his voice even and expectant.

You forced your voice to work as you set the prosthetic arm down on a side table that had a bit of spare space. “I… I don’t know. Do you usually take medicine at,” you paused to look at the clock, “1:30 in the afternoon?” You crossed your arms and hugged your body anxiously.

His head snapped up as he heard your voice, his blue eyes going wide with disbelief. His lips parted in a silent gasp. His gaze was filled with wonder as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room. He whispered your name like a desperate prayer. “You came…”

“I came.” You offered him a weak smile as you took a step into the room. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I—”

He was out of the bed in an instant, his legs making wide strides over to you. You had to drop your arms as he engulfed you in a tight hug. His arm clutched you tightly, his fingers digging into your back as he buried his face in your neck. “You came,” he repeated, his breath warming your skin.

You shivered beneath him as you wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him just as tightly if not more. Oh, how you’d missed this—missed him. You clung to him desperately, taking in every inch of him. Your face was wet. Tears streamed down your face, dampening his hospital gown. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to hold him and be held by him.

His shoulders shook with silent sobs as he held you tight like he couldn’t believe you were there. You could only imagine what was running through his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the second syllable. “I’m so, so sorry for everything. For all the pain—”

“Shh…” He shook his head in your neck. “You don’t have to apologize, Doll.” He pulled away ever so slightly, letting his hand fall from your back and rise to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed your tears away and he gave you a watery smile. Tears of his own were starting to fall from his eyes as he gazed at you. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Your lips trembled as you looked him over your eyes falling on his left shoulder. “But… I hurt you.” Your shaky hand reached out to what remained of his left arm but you stopped before you actually touched him.

“You didn’t do this to me, (y/n),” he said taking your hand and guiding it to his arm. He let your hand linger on his wound, not even flinching. You figured that it had mostly—if not fully—healed by now with immortality helping him. “You are not responsible for this. Your father is. But, from what I heard, he’s gone now.”

“He is. I made sure of that.” 

“I’m sorry.” he inhaled sharply and leaned forward to press his lips against your forehead. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I… I wish I could’ve been there for you, but I wasn’t. Now, for that, you will need to forgive me.”

You stared up at him, a soft smile covering your lips. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

He chuckled. “I guess not.” He reached down and took your hand. “Come. Let’s sit down and talk. I haven’t seen you in two months. I missed you.”

You went willingly, smiling at him as you brushed lingering tears away. “I missed you too.”

He climbed back into the bed and slid under the thin hospital blanket before lifting it up for you to join him.

You felt a little squished as you squeezed into the bed meant for one, but it was cozy. With your body pressed against his right side, he was able to wrap his arm around you and pull you in close. You turned into him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. He’d lost some weight. He was thinner around the middle.

He pulled you in close and buried his nose in your hair, taking a moment to simply breathe you in. His body relaxed more and more with every passing second, soaking in the comfort of your presence that only you could give.

In all honesty, you felt more at peace in this moment than you had in months. Being with him had some effect on you that you couldn’t explain. It was lovely and you never wanted it to end.

“Where have you been?” he asked after a while, his voice husky with longing.

“Working,” you mumbled into his chest. “I’ve been in the forges working… I needed to be able to do something productive to get into a better headspace.”

“Is that why you didn’t come to see me?” His voice was hurt but sympathetic. You could tell that it had pained him that you didn’t come to visit him, but he understood needing space. You appreciated him for that.

You nodded. “I couldn’t come until I was done… Until I had something to offer you as my apology for everything I’ve put you through.” Your eyes flickered up at the cloth-wrapped arm still sitting on the table. “I brought it with me.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. I wasn’t sure if I should even come, but then your mother visited me and—”

“My mother?” He was astonished. “You mean the woman that hates you went to see you willingly?”

You couldn’t refrain from giggling. “Yeah. She came in to tell me that I should see you and she gave us her blessing in a weird way. She’s not happy with it, but she finally realized that she can’t really stop us if we want to be together. Anyways, she was the one who really convinced me to come. I wasn’t sure I should until she told me to. But, again, I couldn’t come empty-handed.”

“What did you bring me?”

You smiled softly at him. “Let me show you.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away from him and sliding off the bed. You made quick steps to the table where you’d left your creation waiting. You could see a small sliver of gold shimmering through a gap in the cloth. “It’s not much,” you said, wrapping your arms around the metallic prosthetic, “but it’s all I have to offer.” You took a deep breath and turned to him. “I worked on it for about a month and a half to make it perfect for you. We tried to get all the measurements right.” You carried it over and deposited it on the bed beside him. Taking great care, you unwrapped it slowly. The black metal shimmered in the light and the gold was as radiant as the sun. You heard Bucky’s sharp intake of breath but you couldn’t look up. “It’s not much, but I figured it’s a suitable replacement. Tony helped me with the wiring.” You could feel your nerves growing and you looked down. “A-A simple surgery will attach it to your body and nerves and it’ll be just like the old one only—you know—metal. But you’ll be able to feel things and move it just like you did your arm and I made it from vibranium so it’s indestructible and—”

“(y/n).” He took your hand to pause your rambling.

You swallowed and looked up at him. “Yes?” Did he hate it? Did he not want it? Had you made it for nothing? Your heart pounded in your chest.

His smile was soft as he gazed at you, his eyes dancing with light. “Thank you… This… This is more than I ever could’ve asked from you.” He moved his hand from yours and placed it on the metal prosthetic. His fingers traced over the embedded gold with a tenderness you’d only seen him use with you. “You made this for me… You made a new part of me…” He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

His head snapped up as the words poured out of your mouth.

It took you a moment to realize why they’d shocked him.

You’d finally said it.

I love you.

After all this time, you finally told him. 

His lips were parted in quiet wonder. “You love me?” he whispered softly.

You could only nod. “With all my heart.” It was relieving to tell him. It’d felt like a secret lying heavy on your shoulders and, now that you’d finally told him, you were free of the burden. Because you did love him. You loved him more than you’d loved any other being. You loved him with every fiber of yourself and with everything you had. Why you hadn’t said it earlier, you didn’t know. But you were glad you’d said it now. Now it meant something.

He opened his arms to embrace you and you found a home in him once more. He held you close and hummed. “I love you too.” He pulled away just slightly to place a kiss on your lips.

A kiss that said, “I love you.”

A kiss that said, “I need you.”

A kiss that said, “I won’t ever let you go again.”

And that made you love him even more.

Next 25: She Almost Murders Someone (Again)

[full-of-jams]

Good Riddance #2

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: There were two things life taught you. Money bought comfort, not happiness. And love was always a gateway to pain. When your former best friend Jimin suddenly returns into your life, he challenges your belief and rips open the past you tried so hard to forget.

Genre: heirs au, girl boss, e2l, angst, mutual pining, eventual smut, feat. OT7

Warnings: hints of booty call Tae, uwus!

Word Count: 5k

A/N: And we’re back up to date! The last bit literally made my heart melt. Please feel free to leave me a comment or send an ask! I would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad!

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | [ongoing]

°°°°°°°

[10:13 PM] You: come get me @ cygnus bar

“Here you go miss, our Cygnus signature sake martini. Junmai Daiginjô sake mixed with dry gin and a dash of extra dry vermouth. Crisp and clean with a slight hint of sweetness. And another Old Fashioned for the sir.”

You briefly looked up from your phone and gave the bartender a quick smile, “Thanks, just put the Old Fashioned right here. My guest will be back in a sec.”

The hotel bar of The Cygnus was bustling on a Thursday night. You were dressed in a close-fitted black cocktail dress, embroidered with elegant gold and silver flowers. A demure little thing if it weren’t for the slit that went up your thigh. A freshwater pearl necklace rested daintily around your neck, aptly showing off your collarbones. You were actually quite proud of your outfit for tonight, although if you’d known the evening would progress in this way you may have decided on something more prude.

Business dinners. Always a fine balance between being charming but not overpowering, personable yet professional. Usually an easy balance to strike if your partner didn’t decide to get plastered and become an insufferable flirt.

You really couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with a friend just for the heck of it. It was always either business, networking or the occasional ‘date’ which was nothing more than an ill-disguised excuse to end the night in someone’s bed.

You loved your job, but sometimes you wondered if living and breathing your work and drowning yourself in the company was just a way to fill a void. You immediately shied away from exploring that thought. Let’s first get through the evening without killing Gerard, you could psychoanalyse yourself some other time.

“The restrooms here are really divine! I tell you, D-I-V-I-N-E! Almost as divine as you tonight! I need to know the interior designer!” Gerard proclaimed as he slid clumsily back into his seat.

[10:18 PM] You: now.

“Did you just compare me to a toilet?” you asked incredulously as you finished typing and closed your phone.

Gerard gave you a toothy grin before he took a long sip from his Old Fashioned.

I should’ve started ordering him water after drink number two.

“Not the toilets! Their wallpaper is exquisite! Just like you!” he said happily.   

“Now I’m wallpaper?” you mused and looked down on your dress. You really should’ve worn something else.

Gerard’s eyes crossed in concentration as he realized what he just said. “What I meant was I could definitely use someone like their designer to stage the condos downtown. They’d sell like hot cakes!” he rectified with a snicker.

“I know who designed this hotel. If you want, I can introduce you to them.” You picked up your drink and gave it a taste. It was pleasant and neat. Unlike the drunk real estate broker sitting next to you at the bar. “But in return I expect you to send me a first draft of the listing proposal by Monday.”

“Y/N! Always on the job. You know I’ll do my magic. Here’s to our new listing contract. The Plumeria Offices! Drinks are on me!” Gerard giggled into himself.

You clinked your glass and laughed quietly, “And who’s commissioning your sorry ass? So technically drinks are still on me. You’re lucky you’re good at your job.”

It was time to end this night. You made a mental note to never go out for drinks with Gerard again.

“Then let me take you out to dinner! Not like this, but a real date. C’mon, don’t you ever get tired refusing me? It’s not easy to find an eligible bachelor like me, rawwr!” Gerard winked and clawed the air in front of you.

He was very lucky he was good at his job.

Your phone lit up.

[10:21 PM] Gucci Boy: The Cygnus?

[10:21 PM] Gucci Boy: That’s all the way across town! Ugh -_-;

Plan A seemed to be a dead end; it was time to start thinking about a plan B.

[10:23 PM] You: i’ll blow you

“How about we talk about your feline bachelorness tomorrow? Tonight we should celebrate our contract and the divine restrooms,” you said distractedly as you scanned the room for an escape.

Gerard unexpectedly inched closer and yelled directly into your ear, “To the Plumeria Offices, the divine restrooms and the divine Y/N!” You winced as a hot waft of alcoholic exhale hit your face.

Your patience was waning. You had to get away before you made dead broker meat out him.

Just in that moment you recognized a familiar figure at the hotel bar entrance. You couldn’t even believe you were actually considering this.

It had been a very long and painful past hour. Your rational brain tried hard to convince yourself that you preferred your real estate broker alive and making you money over the instant gratification of nailing his balls against the wall.

What your brain didn’t tell you was how choosing the devil made this situation any better. Here went nothing.

You abruptly stood up and waved, “Jimin! Babe!”

Jimin’s head turned when he heard his name. His eyes briefly widened with surprise and confusion as he recognized you. He started coming over to your spot at the bar and you could see a flash of understanding cross his face as he took in the scene.

“Cheers to my divine Y/N!” Gerard howled as he lifted his glass with one hand and tried to sling his other around your shoulder. You nimbly dodged his arm and moved right next to Jimin as he reached the bar. Your arm slid loosely around his waist.

“Jimin, babe, what are you doing here?” You looked up at him and gave him your most innocent smile.

Just play along.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise he showed no sign of surprise at your unusual behavior. After a brief moment he simply smiled back, pulled you closer into his side and rested his hand at the small of your back. You suppressed a startled yelp.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I had a meeting at the Suthora Lounge. It just finished, so I thought I’d grab a drink before I turn in for the night.” His smile turned into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to this bar tonight, sweetheart. Otherwise I would’ve dropped by sooner.” His term of endearment caught you off guard. There was a teasing glint in his eyes as his thumb gently stroked across your back. You tried to ignore the zing it sent through your body.

“Sorry, where are my manners! Jimin, this is Gerard, a business partner of mine. Gerard, this is Jimin, my…,” you paused for a millisecond as you debated which word to use. For lack of a better idea you lamely ended on, “Jimin.” Jimin shifted slightly next to you.

Gerard stood up and gave the both of you a confused look. Slowly the situation dawned on him and a slight flush of embarrassment crossed his cheeks. He tried to collect himself and stuck out his hand. “Ah yes of course, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jimin shook his hand. “Likewise, Gerard was it? Y/N has already told me so much about you. She often says it’s rare to find true professionals nowadays, but she holds you in very high regard.”

You gave him a quick, annoyed glance. Don’t lay it on too thick, boy. He was trying to hold back his laughter as he quirked his eyebrow in response. What are you gonna do about it?

It reminded you of the days when you used to pull pranks like this all the time.

Gerard’s face turned red like a tomato. Jimin’s words seemed to sober him up a bit. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and replied, “Yes, working with Y/N is great. She’s truly talented and… uh... attractive.” His face blanched. “I mean, not that I find her attractive! I m-mean, not that I find her unattractive…”

Jimin laughed at the man’s flustered state. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what you mean. She’s clever and absolutely stunning. It’s hard to resist.” His eyes crinkled as he gave you another mirthful smile.

Your stomach twisted. He was playing the loving boyfriend part a little too well. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he actually meant it. You immediately dismissed that ludicrous thought.

You could already tell this little stunt was going to cost you.

Gerard downed his drink and started searching for his wallet. “I better get going now, it’s getting late. It was a really good evening Y/N. I’ll give you a call next week when all the listings are sorted out.”

“Monday,” you said with a big smile and a voice that brooked no argument.

“Y-yes, of course. Monday. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take you home. You’re in better hands with your boyfriend anyway,” he sputtered.   You fought your urge to correct him and just gave him a friendly hum of confirmation. Gerard nodded to Jimin and you without making eye contact, put some bills on the counter and quickly shuffled towards the exit.

Once he was out of sight you immediately stepped out from under Jimin’s arm. Your skin tingled where his palm had rested a second before. You sat back down and let out a deep sigh. Jimin slipped into the seat next to you.

The bartender immediately came up to him, “Good evening sir, what can I get you?”

“The usual please. Thanks Paul.”

The bartender left and you both sat in silence as you nursed your drink.

“Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

You heaved another small sigh, turned towards Jimin and took in his appearance for the first time this evening. He was wearing a slightly rumpled dress shirt with the top unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. He almost looked a bit out-of-place and tired. You wondered if the project was putting him under too much pressure.

What was wrong with you? Why did your stubborn heart still have a tender spot for him?

“What are you doing here?”

This time it was his turn to let out a sigh. “Do you realize you always ask me the same question?”

“Are you following me? Is this some weird game of yours where you’re just trying to prove a point again?” you tried hard to sound unaffected.

Irritation and hurt flashed across his eyes.

Good.

But then it was gone in a blink, replaced by an unreadable smile, “Get over yourself, not everything in life is about you. I live here.” He took the glass of whiskey Paul set in front of him and clinked it against your martini glass. “Cheers.”

You were about to retort as your phone blinked.

[10:35 PM] Gucci Boy: Fine, will be there in 30.

[10:35 PM] You: don’t bother. matter’s settled

[10:35 PM] Gucci Boy: TT-TT dinner tomorrow?

You decided to ignore his question.

“Is Gucci Boy your boyfriend?” Jimin asked with a skeptical snort.

You glanced up and realized he was looking into your phone. “What Taehyung? No, he’s just whatever.”

Jimin’s brows shot up. “Just whatever? And here I thought you were the biggest romantic on the planet.” You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or not.

There used to be times when you believed in the love of a friend and the love of a mother. Those times were long in the past.

“No Jimin, you’re the biggest romantic sap on the planet. I’m a person who believes relationships are overrated. What do you mean with you live here?” You didn’t want to talk about your love life anymore, so you decided to not-so-subtly change the topic.

You could tell he wanted to push further but then he decided to let it go. “This is our hotel, did you forget? I needed a place to stay when I moved back to the City. I’m temporarily staying in the penthouse suite while I’m looking for a new place.”

“I know this is one of your hotels. That’s not what I meant. Why aren’t you just tiding over at your parents’ or at Jihyun’s? They all live like three blocks from here.“

The edges of his mouth twitched up, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took another swig of whiskey. “For someone who doesn’t want to be asked any questions, you sure ask a lot of your own.”

There was nothing you could argue against that.

You turned your attention back to your drink. “Thanks Jimin,” you said in a quiet voice. No matter how wary you were of him, you weren’t ungrateful.

He didn’t respond. You looked up to see his reaction. This time his eyes were creased in amusement. “I think this is the first nice thing you said to me since I’m back.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

His smile grew wider. Your heart skipped a beat as your friend of your past peeked through.

The moment passed as he responded, “Don’t worry. You owe me one, sweetheart.”

***

The next morning your phone rang. You absentmindedly answered the call while you flipped through some blueprints, “L/N speaking.”

“Y/N, I have a great idea how you can repay me for last night,” a familiar voice purred on the other end of the line.

You did a double take and looked at the caller ID on your screen. Shit.

“Jimin? What do you want?” You muted your phone and let out a loud groan. You knew this was going to happen.

“You know, your work and private persona are really different. Is there a reason why you’re so cold to everyone all the time? Maybe you should go consult a therapist, this could be a serious case of disassocia…”

“Park. Cut to the chase. What do you want?” you tried not to sound annoyed.

The boy on the phone clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now I am hurt. And here I thought you’d be endlessly grateful after I rescued you from your horrible date last night!” he wailed dramatically over the phone. You forgot how childish he could be sometimes.

You took in a deep breath and gathered all your patience in your voice, “First, it wasn’t a date. Second, fine. Let me hear your great idea. What can I do for you?”

“I told you I’m looking for a place, right?” excitement now laced his tone.

“Yes?”

“I want you to find me a new home.”

You were a bit surprised and relieved by his request. “Oh, well that’s easy. I can refer you to one of our brokerage partners…”

“No Y/N, I want you to find me a new home. I want you to go house shopping with me.”

You should’ve known he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.

You let out an exasperated breath, “You want me to play your realtor? Jimin, I don’t have time for this, you know we don’t broker. Besides, my team focuses on commercial real estates. If you insist on us finding you a new place, I can get you in touch with our residential development team. They know everything that’s happening in the City.”

Jimin laughed across the phone, “Don’t give me lame excuses. This request is off the clock. You know this town like the back of your hand, and you know my taste. You’re the best personal shopper I could want. I won’t take no for an answer. Impress me.”

There was an unsaid threat in his words. Take this deal while I’m still playing nice. My next request will be much worse.

Sometimes you hated this game of give-and-take. Sometimes you hated savvy business people. Sometimes you hated yourself because you relished in all of the above.

“Fine. I don’t have time this weekend. Give me the week to pull together some listings and then let’s meet next Saturday. I’ll give you one weekend of my time. Either you take it or you leave it and go find yourself someone else to bother.”

“Deal.” his old eagerness shined through, “Oh, and put some effort into it. If I notice you’re doing this half-assed just because it’s me, I won’t let it count.”

You bristled at his remark, “Don’t insult me, Park.”

Another laugh chimed through the line, “See you next Saturday.”

***

It was Saturday morning and you were late for your appointment. You rushed past your stepmother into the kitchen to grab a piece of fruit and some water.

“Honey, is this your breakfast?” she asked, “I’m making pancakes, you can have some now if you can’t stay for breakfast.”

You quickly scarfed down your banana. “Sorry Ave, I’m in a hurry. I fell asleep last night while reviewing the bid proposal and forgot to set an alarm.”

Your stepmom crossed the kitchen and looked at you with worried eyes, “You seem stressed these days. I have a facial appointment this afternoon for my shoot on Monday. You can take the slot if you want.”

“I’ll probably be out all day, so enjoy your facial.” You finished your last bite of banana, grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and headed towards the kitchen door.

“We could do a girls night in tomorrow? Eri’s off, I can prepare some things for a nice pamper session for the three of us?” she tried again.

You didn’t know why she was fussing. You weren’t even her daughter. “I’m good.”

In that moment your father entered the kitchen. “Bye dad, bye Aveline.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek and rushed out the door.

The traffic gods showed mercy, you miraculously made it 5 minutes before the appointed time. Your development manager Julia was already waiting, coffee in hand.

“Have I told you, that I love you and I want to marry you?” you said as she handed the coffee and the listing portfolio to you.

Julia chuckled at your remark, “Ah, if only you were my boyfriend. I’ll just have to imagine it was him saying that right now.”

“I take it, he’s still being dense?” you asked.

“Super dense,” Julia agreed. “So who are we meeting on a Saturday morning and why the hell are we showing them apartments?”

“Don’t ask. It’s just an acquaintance of mine and unfortunately I owe him a favor,” you said miserably.

In that moment Jimin arrived. “Good morning Y/N, what’s with the long face? We haven’t even started yet,” he said cheerfully until his eyes landed on Julia. A small frown settled on his face.

“It’s 8.30 am on a Saturday morning and we’re in the middle of downtown. The real question should be why are you in such a good mood?” you commented with a scowl.

“You said we had one weekend. Gotta make the most of it. Who’s this?” he asked with a nod.

You realized you forgot to introduce Julia. Why were you so easily distracted by him? “This is Julia, she’s one of our residential development managers. Julia this is Jimin, a friend of the family.”

Julia eagerly held out her hand, “It’s great to make your acquaintance. Y/N never mentioned she had such a handsome friend.”

Jimin dropped his frown and took her hand, “Nice to meet you too. May I ask why you’re here today?” Julia visibly swooned as he gave her a smile. You wanted to kick them both.

“She’s here to assist with the contract. Once you’ve decided on an object, she’ll close the deal for you,” you answered in an irritated tone.

Jimin’s cheery mood returned, “Great, so that means we don’t need her for the actual touring? Apologies to have hauled you out of bed this early in the morning Julia. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to visit the properties in private. I have some catching up to do with Y/N.” Jimin gave Julia another bright smile.

“N-no, not at all. I hope you find something to your liking,” she responded weakly. Julia turned to you with a knowing smile and muttered, “Call me if you need something.” She winked and scurried off before you could protest.

Great. You glared at Jimin, “This was completely unnecessary. We need her!”

“Why? Didn’t you do your homework?” he teased.

You huffed at him, “When did you become so insufferable?”

“When did you become so uptight?” he countered. “We can just call her back when I’ve picked something, okay?”

You refused to respond.

Jimin tried to appease your agitated mood, “Look, I know you don’t like me. But you’ve agreed to this and I need a new place. So why don’t we both stop bickering and act like two civilized human beings for the day?” As an afterthought he added, “I’ll buy you lunch. Your choice.” He knew you couldn’t say no to good food.

It was going to be a long day. And you really didn’t have the energy to stay angry all the time.

“There’s this new seafood place close to the pier that I’ve been meaning to try. It’s on the way to the Spirea Tower,” you considered until you saw Jimin’s grimace. You forgot; he didn’t like seafood. “We don’t have to go there…”

Jimin hastily shook his head and said, “No it’s fine. Let’s go there. If it’s on the way, then even better.” You had to smile at his eagerness.

You cleared your throat and put on your best sales pitch voice, “Very well Mr. Park., welcome to 230 Beech. If you’d like to follow me inside.” You gestured and entered the building behind you.

***

“The highlight of this penthouse is of course the 360° view over the city. You have plenty of terrace space to host outdoor events and the glass windowpanes give you that highly sought after indoor/outdoor living experience. This building has all the amenities you can ask for. 24h valet, fully equipped gym, indoor swimming pool, library, conference rooms, a 100-seat screening room, lounges for hosting events, it even has its own residential barber shop, grocer and coffee bar. It really is a great investment property.”

Three penthouses, three condos and two townhouses later, you finally arrived at the last stop of the day. Your day with Jimin was oddly pleasant yet frustrating at the same time. True to your agreement you both stopped bickering and focused on the task at hand. He took his time inspecting each property, attentively listening to your explanations, asking interested questions and openly admiring features that he liked. Nevertheless, nine properties later, he still hadn’t settled for any of them.

“So what do you think?” you asked him, as you presented him the breathtaking sunset view.

Jimin stood next to you and looked out over the city. “It’s really an extraordinary space, but I don’t think it’s what I’m looking for.”

You were tired, your feet hurt, and you really didn’t want to repeat this procedure again tomorrow. “What do you mean it’s not what you’re looking for? It has everything you can possibly ask for and this district has a forecasted value increase of 20% in the next 5 years. Heck even I bought a unit in this building.”

Jimin turned to you and asked curiously, “You live here?”

You shook your head. “No,” you replied, “I still live at home. There’s no point in moving into my own place when I’m barely ever there anyway. Doesn’t mean I can’t own property around town. Are you sure you don’t want this penthouse? Julia told me there’s already two offers up for it, but I’m sure we can strike a deal with the seller. It’s really a great investment.”

“Y/N.” He sounded strangely solemn. “I had fun today and I feel like this is the only way I can get you to talk to me in a normal way, but I meant it when I said I’m looking for a home.”

You spent your entire spare time of the past week pouring over different listings and registries, trying to find something which you thought suited his taste. No chance in hell was Park Jimin going to walk away at the end of this weekend without a contract.

“And what? None of these caught your eye?” you asked defensively.

Jimin looked at you pensively before he said, “They’re all really amazing, but as you said, they’re investment properties. That’s not what I’m looking for.”

Oh.

He continued in a quiet voice, “You know what I’m looking for, right?”

He was looking for a home.  Somehow this realization made your heart clench.

You contemplated for a moment until you made up your mind, ripped a corner off your portfolio and wrote an address on the paper.

“Meet me here tomorrow at 11.”

***

“This is a deli.”

“Shush. Just follow me.”

You entered the store and headed straight for the counter.

“Y/N!” exclaimed the man behind the register. “You really need to come by more often!” He came around and gave you a warm hug.

“Hi Bodo,” you said in a muffled voice as you awkwardly tried to extract yourself from his embrace.

Bodo finally let go of you and gave Jimin an appraising look. “This is the young man you’re showing around?”

“Yeah, do you have the keys?” you asked.

Bodo grinned happily, grabbed a basket from behind the counter and headed out the door. ”Of course young lady! Everything ready and prepped as soon as you called this morning. Let’s go!”

Jimin gave you a puzzled look, you shrugged noncommittally. Just follow me.

The three of you walked down the street and arrived at an old building which had ‘Cali Soap Co.’ written across its brick wall. You walked up a flight of metal stairs and ended up in front of an insignificant-looking set of double doors. Bodo fumbled briefly with the keys until he unlocked the entrance and held open one side for you. “Voilá! Welcome, welcome!”

A beautiful two-story loft unfolded before your eyes. Light streamed in from the large industrial windows. Plants hung from the ceiling and the window frames. To the left a giant bookcase spanned across the entire height of the loft. The kitchen was situated in a winter garden at the back of the building which opened up to a small courtyard patio.

Bodo put the keys and the basket on the coffee table and turned back towards the entrance. “I’ll leave you two to it. I packed you guys some lunch in case you’re hungry. Take your time. You can come by the shop and drop everything off once you’re done.”

You gave Bodo a small smile, “Thanks.”

As Bodo left you stood uneasily in the middle of the loft. “I don’t know much about this building. It used to be an old soap factory which shut down in the 80s and got repurposed into a living space. The winter garden got added later on, they removed the air vents, cemented it shut and turned it into a patio. The old delivery area is on the ground floor below us. It can be used for storage or you can put in automatic doors and convert it into a garage. The previous owner didn’t have a car, so nothing was ever installed.”

You turned to check Jimin’s reaction.

His eyes were comically wide as he took in the loft. “What is this place?” he asked in wonder.

“It’s a home,” you simply answered. You remembered the first time you entered this place. You expected the sadness, but you didn’t expect the amazement. It was hard to ignore the love and care that was put into it. An eclectic array of furniture decorated the entire space. The bookcase was nothing short of imposing, filled with books over books over books. In every nook and cranny you could either find an ardently displayed old typewriter or some trinket brought back from faraway. This place was well loved and showed the story of a life. A life which you were never a part of.

I never wanted to be your mother. I don’t even want to be your friend.

Jimin walked around and ran his hands over everything. “I didn’t even know a place like this existed in this city,” he said in a hushed voice.

“I didn’t either,” you responded dejectedly.

Jimin shifted his attention away from the loft back to you. He gently asked, “How did you find this place?”

You hesitated, but then you decided to say, “It belonged to my mom - I mean Celia.”

Jimin moved back to your side, eyes soft. “Celia? Did she get back in touch with you? Where is she living now if she’s selling this place?”

“No, I haven’t seen her since the last time,” you said as you quietly shook your head. “She died last year of breast cancer. I guess she didn’t have any family, Bodo was actually her boyfriend. Isn’t it ironic? I inherited everything, including this loft.”

You’ve never talked about her passing until today; not even to your dad or Bodo. You’ve also never shown anyone this place. Not because you didn’t want to, but simply because you couldn’t think of anyone who could appreciate and understand it. You didn’t know why it felt so easy to share those things with Jimin. It always used to be easy with him.

Jimin was stunned, “Bodo was her boyfriend?

“Yeah, why? He comes by from time to time to take care of this place. He’s actually a pretty nice guy.”

Suddenly Jimin bent over and burst into laughter, “Exactly! How did someone so nice end up with someone so horrible like Celia?”

You could see how it was funny. You started to laugh as well.

“Poor Bodo!” Jimin sprawled on the floor and continued laughing. A warm feeling coursed through your heart as you slowly started to see a glimpse of your old friend again.

After a while he calmed down and stared up at the beamed ceiling. “This place is really beautiful. Are you sure you want to sell it?” he asked carefully.

This place was truly beautiful, but somehow it never felt like it belonged to you in the first place. Maybe because you knew it was never intended for you. It would be a shame to let something so precious go to waste. 

You gave the boy lying on the floor a tender smile. “Does that mean you want to buy it?”

Next >>

°°°°°°° 13/04/20

Copyright © 2020 full-of-jams. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

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@l4life​

[heartofnopal]

First of all, kudos for representing your culture ♥ I wanted to ask you though: As someone who shares a similar background with you, I was genuinely conflicted when I first saw your MC, I think I was worried about misrepresentation? Since finding out you're channeling your own culture though, I do feel a bit better, yet still conflicted... Maybe I'm still afraid of doing the same, y'know? How do you feel, genuinely, about sharing yourself like this? [1 of 2]

Going to add your part two: “And, I'm really sorry about the heavy topic of this ask. It's just been weighing on my mind for a good while now and I've only finally mustered up the courage to visit your blog and send it. I'm not sure what I'm feeling and I was hoping you might understand, haha. Please feel free to ignore. [2 of 2]”

Hey there, definitely not gonna ignore. And don't be sorry about the heavy topic. I'm genuinely glad you asked this question and it's something that had been weighing heavily on my mind before I decided to finally make content for the character I've had in mind for so long.

Gonna start by introducing Quetzalli and what it means for someone like this in the Arcana world. Because it's a fictional universe, there's no such thing as Mexica. Same goes for all other canon characters, we know the cultures they were influenced by, but the people don't actually exist in this world. But I absolutely love that characters do have influence from our real world cultures and I wanted to share that of my ancestors because all of our cultures have a right to influence fiction just as much as any other. And when I realized Nopal is influenced by modern day Northern Mexico/Southwest US, I felt so happy to think people inspired by ours could exist in this world because they're ignored in every other fantasy.

One other good example I can think of is Avatar the Last Airbender which has nations and people inspired by real-world cultures. Inuit, Chinese, Japanese, and Tibetan cultures are among them yet even then there are other elements and no one nation is strictly influenced by one culture alone nor do they completely mirror them. I was also happy to notice that the Sun Warriors were primarily influenced by Mesoamerican civilizations including Mexica, Incan, and Mayan with some Southeast Asian influences as well. On the other hand there are movies like the Road to El Dorado that has established itself in a real-world setting and so I’d be very strict on how the culture is represented. 

As you probably figured, Quetzalli is influenced by the Mexica (Aztec) culture as it used to be before La Conquista. And the Mexica as the people they were haven't existed since then, but instead have changed with time. Yet I've grown up surrounded by their legacy and that of the Chichimeca people in my town in Mexico, particularly the Zacatecos, Caxcan, and Guachichil (Quetzalli's mother is influenced by Chichimeca peoples who would likely be placed in the Catclaw desert in the Arcana world). But honestly, what has pissed me off so much is the way our people are seen and treated. Even many people in Mexico are racist and still look down upon those of indigenous descent. But we should be proud and I wanted to create a character who is proud, brave and powerful because that's what I feel like when I embrace that part of me. Thus Quetzalli was born!

But integrating the character into the Arcana universe is tricky. There are many elements that I could keep and some that I couldn't because not everyone will understand some concepts. Death is a tricky subject and even in the Arcana universe, it's heavily influenced by western concepts of death in which death is like some ultimate scary thing and that's that. While of course I don't take death lightly, even as a child it wasn't ever truly scary. I was raised to believe it's a cycle and death is not feared but honored and respected. So when I was taught about Mexica sacrifice as a kid (most people only know about sacrifices like some bs to justify la Conquista while there’s SO MUCH good shit like public education and genius engineering)  although I don’t agree obviously, it makes sense to me because I could understand how a people would view it as a cycle that must continue. The sun rises and falls, seasons change, people die, people are born. Even enemy war captives who have a sliver of divinity that allowed the capture. It's all a cycle where life and divinity must be returned in order for it to be given back. There was never enough blood to give to everyone that is and will ever be and so much be returned.

This is one of the things I'm leaving out in Quetzalli because it's a delicate subject that I know people won't understand. And because she's a fictional character only influenced by the Mexica in a fantasy world, I feel okay leaving the bloodshed out (also people might vilify her and the Mexica people for it like they already do). If I was to make her a character in a real world scenario, then nope, I'll need to be strict and include everything whether everyone likes it or not. Other things about her that I've stretched is the fact that she's an Eagle Warrior. Although women had more independence over their work and finances (compared to many European women at the time) and that it was believed women could be powerful leaders (depicted in stories and history) they weren't allowed in combat, at least in the last 200 years of the empire. I'm not counting the time women joined the struggle under Huey Tlatoani Cuauhtemoc because that was a desperate last stand.

But if you read my short story "the game begins" it's known that Quetzalli cannot become a warrior and thus will listen to Huehuecoatl in hopes he'll help her get there. Another thing I stretched is her coliseum outfit. I wanted to incorporate some essential parts of the Eagle Warrior's uniform: the greaves, the chimalli, and especially the cuacalalatli and feathers lining the leather so she may embrace the eagle's fighting prowess. Those parts are there but I also wanted to keep in with the theme of the Arcana coliseum outfits in that they are very revealing and made for show over function as we've seen with Julian and Asra. I also wanted to share the cuacalalatli and I think the idea of embracing an animal's prowess is beautiful in that one looks up to nature to feel strength.

I try to add Mexica elements where I can because I love to share more and so few people know about Mesoamerican cultures. But I also try to keep it on the same level as the other Arcana characters who show their real-world cultural elements while not making that everything there is to know about them. I want her to still feel apart of this world and story, she’s a character like all the others. So sometimes I’m limited to clothing, tools and weapons, language, flowers and plants, motifs, her hummingbird familiar, even the appearance of the “Ascending Eagle” but I think references to our world’s Tonatiuh is as far as I can go while maintaining Arcana universe. 

But to summarize what I feel about it. Indigenous american cultures are widely ignored among Arcana apprentices and I honestly feel that we should not feel ashamed to include them, especially if they're our own. And I do understand the feeling of not wanting to misrepresent cultures, it IS important to avoid stereotypes even if it's a fantasy setting. Also one thing some forget is that indigenous people are PEOPLE like everyone else and have every right to exist in media. We don't have to adhere to every aspect of our culture nor should we be ashamed and hide it away. Quetzalli is influenced by Mexica but she's a normal person in this world with every right to be there like any other character, wear her clothes, speak her language, get upset, be sensual, kick some ass, hate and love... None of this says any less of her or her culture. 

The things I've included in her has been a monument to the power she feels and that of the people she's influenced by, the same pride and power I feel when I embrace my roots. It took me a while to finally get around to sharing her, but I'm glad I am. Thank you so much for this ask. 

Si quieres hablar mas, o si todavia tienes miedo de crear un personaje como este, dame un mensaje? Nuestra gente y nuestros ancestros tienen derecho a existir aqui. :D 

[autumnblogs]

Day 44: Preoccupied about the same things as Trolls, revisited

Welcome back y’all! Before we get into this, I want to talk about the Condesce/Meenah as a parallel character to Mom Lalonde/Roxy. You can read a bit about @mmmmalo​‘s takes on Openbound, and why they think that Meenah is symbolically Roxy’s Doppelganger here.

I want to call attention to some specific similarities between them, and while I think it’s a bit of a stretch, Homestuck draws parallels between characters all the time.

Both the Condesce and Mom Lalonde are matriarch figures estranged from their potential offspring by dire circumstances and servitude to a patriarchal authority and his time-spanning plan - for the Condesce, that’s English obviously, but for Mom Lalonde, that’s Grandpa Harley - servitude to his design renders her a wreck of an alcoholic forced to endure the end of days with no means to stop them from happening, living with a daughter who wants nothing to do her.

Both Meenah and Roxy are rebels against a repressive order, inclined to shirk their assigned Role in service to someone else’s master plan, but ultimately, through some roundabout means or another, give service to it anyway (for Meenah, scratching the game, and ultimately ending up English’s glorified slave for eons in the end; for Roxy, at first refusing to play Sburb in hopes of spiting the Batterwitch, but ultimately ending up playing into her schemes anyway).

They are both rebellious spirits who are repeatedly forced to participate in Paradox Space’s Alpha Timeline all but against their will by hegemonic forces, slaves to a system that they exist in perpetual rebellion against, and by the end of the comic, they both get to help strike a decisive blow against the ultimate foe. Unfortunately, unlike Roxy, Meenah is ultimately the kind of person who chooses at practically every occasion to continue cycles of abuse instead of breaking them. There is ultimately no possibility of reconciliation between these estranged sisters.

So, I see a lot of the Alpha Kids in the four Alpha Trolls who appear in this flash. As the Faux Heroic Himbo, the parallel between Rufioh and Jake is obvious. I don’t think that it’s fair to characterize Jake’s relationship with Dirk as being “cheating on Jane,” though that’s probably how Jane feels about the whole situation; I’ve always gotten the impression she feels entitled to him.

More after the break.

The imagery here is an obvious parallel between Jake and Dirk’s big damn kiss, and Rufioh and Horuss’s - but between Rufioh’s bravado and general obliviousness, and Horuss’s clear triangular parallel with Dirk and Equius, we should expect that the situation is switched here - Dirk = Horuss, Rufioh = Jake.

While it could easily just be a bit of extraneous characterization, I’m inclined to regard Rufioh’s characterization of the women in his life as “Dolls” especially because of his symbolic proximity to Lord English. (He is at best one degree of separation from him, as Jake English’s Alpha Troll Doppelganger) - and the fact that Puppets and Dolls are pretty much synonymous with each other in terms of the way that English interacts with them.

More extremely obvious parallels.

Both of the Zahhaks have hangups about dating down the Hemospectrum, and as long as we’re examining Dirk through the lens of the Zahhaks, allow me to speculate; I think that part of the reason Dirk chooses not to directly identify with the label of gay is less aloofly progressive futurism, and more that he is uncomfortable with his own sexuality.

As a guy who repeatedly appeals to reactionary ideals and rhetorical devices like “Western Civilization,” “Reason,” “Logic,” maybe there is a degree to which we can read Horuss and Equius’ self-repression through the haemospectrum into Dirk suffering from internalized Homophobia.

This is a real long shot, but I’ve always gotten the impression that Dirk is a bit of a bottom. Maybe his desire in building up Jake into a powerful counterpart, like English’s desire to transform Jake into a powerful rival, is built out of a desire to be Oedipally usurped by a former pupil - to have his Eromenos turn the tables, and become the Erastes in turn, in power-dynamic terms.

In Classical Civilization, homosexual relations weren’t unheard of, and were pretty reasonably common, but it was seen as shameful to bottom, especially for someone of a lower social standing than you were (Julius Caesar was mocked as the Queen of Bithynia when it was rumored that he bottomed for Nicomedes IV, which was a serious attack on his political career).

Wild speculative tangent over.

Now this is interesting; Meenah is unwittingly drawing a parralel between Damara and Vriska. The main commonality between them is that, like Vriska (and also like Rose, and also like Jane - who is the fourth and final character in this particular set) her spite and resentment is used as the vector for English’s manipulation of their setting.

Like Vriska, Damara deliberately sabotages the ability of her session members to win, helping to create a powerful foe who forces a session to be scratched.

Like Rose, Damara descends into nihilistic substance abuse to cope with feelings of emptiness.

Like Jane, Damara’s actual feelings of emptiness come about as a result of feelings of rejection in relation to betrayal from within her close friendship circle.

Ironically, while Damara’s reaction is far worse than Jane’s, her anger is actually probably far more understandable - Jane is not entitled to Jake.

The situation between Horuss and Rufioh is also similar to what will resolve between Jake and Dirk shortly - they are just basically incompatible, or at least they will be until both parties do some work on themselves, but a combination of an oblivious party who can’t stop talking about himself, and social timidity on the part of the other prevents the situation from resolving amicably.

“As Long As I Know That I Am Free”

Sometimes, encountering our ancestors doesn’t have to be a source of tension, anxiety, expectation, and fear. Porrim models parental love for Kanaya in a way that, unusually for ancestors in Homestuck, is purely beneficial for her younger counterpart.

It’s okay to identify with roles and identities that have been corrupted or hegemonized by our culture. There’s nothing intrinsically bad about being a man, or about being a woman, as long as our embodiment of those roles is emancipatory to us.

Kanaya can still be a Mom, if that’s what she wants to be. Violence and money aren’t the only form that power can take.

Sometimes, learning the right lessons is just a matter of pausing for a second and being critical of all narratives; deciding for ourselves what we want to be. It’s the lesson that Porrim has to teach Kanaya.

This is just objectively true.

Aranea positions Rufioh as both a foil to Cronus, and to herself, further strengthening the Jake as Rufioh parallels.

What I think is really interesting about all this, is if we want to read the other three trolls as Jake, Dirk, and Jane, that makes Meenah the Roxy of this group! And while Roxy has never been vicious or deliberately cruel, there’s a certain resonance between her persistent hassling of Jane, her meddling in the Jake English Sweepstakes, and the disaster that it provokes, and Meenah’s bullying - I even early on in my first readthrough took a disliking to Roxy because of what I viewed as exactly that - bullying her counterparts, assertively trying to get them to behave the way she wanted.

https://homestuck.com/story/5401

Oh man, where to even begin with Karkat riding off into the Penis Sunset. Like, the Sun in relation to Dave is persistently an icon of Bro’s surveillance of him, and then there’s his burgeoning affection for Karkat (he mentions story time with Karkat in the third Openbound suggesting that he actually took Karkat up on his offer to read through trashy Troll Romance).

Like, there’s probably something in Dave’s troubled psyche that’s on display here but damn if I know what it is. Maybe he’s ruminating on the fact that Bro would probably not be too accepting of his relationship with Karkat, hence the juxtaposition of the symbol of Bro’s hostility with the imagery of Karkat riding a dick?

https://homestuck.com/story/5404

I don’t really need to explicate much on what Rose is trying to say, I think but just in case, here’s a little rundown of what she’s trying to explain.

The apple is a symbol of an irreducible idea. Many ideas are reducible - as molecules are reducible to atoms, and atoms are reducible to quarks and stuff, so are ideas reducible to increasingly more abstracted and basic units.

The closer to notionally irreducible a thing becomes, the more difficult it becomes to express an idea, until at last, that which is truly irreducible resolves, and reveals to us the true, intrinsic nature of reality. For every complex idea, we can refer to more fundamental ideas, until at last, we arrive at an idea, which when probed, responds back simply, “It just does that.”

This, I think, is that to which we ought to give the name of God; that force so fundamental that it truly does just do that.

In the world of Homestuck, Symbols, and with them, Rituals - stories! Are manifestations of the primeval and irreducible ideas. Everything else is a universe in orbit around the Divine - the Aspects themselves, perhaps, or something more fundamental than the Aspects even.

What makes reducing these stories to the irreducible principles that they allude to so difficult is that you’re effectively trying to explain the electromagnetic force by comparing it to rubber bands, when in fact, the electromagnetic force is what makes the rubber bands behave that way in the first place.

As a Ritual, Rose’s drinking is pretty similar to John’s Dad roleplaying - an attempt at unity with Her Mom. Another empty signifier.

https://homestuck.com/story/5405

Dave is already really embracing his new role as the actually most sincere and straightforward member of the party. Lovin’ it.

It’s kind of nice that Aradia and Vriska are getting along now. That’s gratifying for personal reasons.

Ah yeah, I forgot that was ever addressed officially.

https://homestuck.com/story/5435

The man

HASS the ring.

https://homestuck.com/story/5440

And with the depressingly empty Void session established via a single flash, we shall conclude for the evening.

Tomorrow, we’ll get to know our little villain.

For now, it’s Cam signing off, Alive, and a little Annoyed that I wasted a couple hours playing the Outriders Demo this afternoon. Seriously, what an aesthetically bleak and kind of mediocre-looking class-based cover shooter.