#why do we love our thousands... ancestors... have a little imagination...

[starlitwishforu]

青玉案 · 元夕 - 辛弃疾 english translation (and notes!)

ok well. all this chinese poetry posting has put me on a bit of a translation high so i wanted to share my most recent translation project, which i actually just finished recording and uploading yesterday after two whole months of waffling. the poem itself is SO fucking cute but SO hard to translate and i'm honestly very proud that i stuck with it to the end. it instantly became one of my top favourites the very first time i heard it so i hope other people can also find some joy from it!

here is the original:

青玉案 · 元夕

【宋】 辛弃疾

东风夜放花千树，更吹落、星如雨。宝马雕车香满路。凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞。

蛾儿雪柳黄金缕，笑语盈盈暗香去。众里寻他千百度，蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。

and here is my translation:

Qing Yu An: Lantern Festival at Dusk

by Xin Qiji

Fireworks blossom beneath the touch of evening's eastern breeze; flurrying as they fall, sparks shower like stars. Prancing steeds pull chiseled carriages, sweeping fragrance across the path. The xiao’s decadent notes adrift, the jadelike light’s prismatic shift; the dragon-fish dance as the night-hours pass.

Combs shining in their hair, golden, silver, silken sway; sweet perfume and tinkling mirth linger in their wake. My searching gaze is futile as I scan the thronging crowds; at last I turn, and you are there, in the quiet dark of evening wane.

translation notes beneath the cut! there is a LOT, be warned!

translation notes:

so to start from the very top, let's first introduce the title 青玉案 · 元夕.

青玉案 (pinyin: Qing Yu An, lit. the matter of the verdant jade) is actually the name of a 宋词排名 (song cipaiming, song dynasty poetic/musical form). just as shakespeare wrote sonnets and basho wrote haiku, so the poets of the song dynasty wrote, among hundreds of other forms with fun names like this, Qing Yu An poems.

each 词排名 had a set number of characters per line, set rules for its tone patterns, and even came with its own tune. maybe a better western parallel would be twinkle twinkle little star, which uses the same tune as the alphabet song and baa baa black sheep.

the end result is that there are many titles under the heading of Qing Yu An, and even, according to chatgpt, another 青玉案 · 元夕.

anyway, this one by Xin Qiji, the most famous one, is titled 元夕 (yuanxi); 元 refers to 元宵节 (yuanxiaojie), the lantern festival held on the fifteenth day of the lunar new year which marks the end of the spring festival/chinese new year, and 夕 is dusk. hence a very naturally poetic name, lantern festival at dusk.

before i get into the text of the poem, i want to note that i often sacrifice rhythm/rhyme for precision of meaning. i ✨artistically✨ speed up/slow down some syllables while recording to preserve some sense of metre lol, but it does read quite awkwardly on paper. i'm a very inexpert student and have a lot to improve on!

ok so! line by line!

东风夜放花千树

--is a literally genius pun. it transliterates as: the east wind in the evening blows open the flowers of a thousand trees. very spring, right? haha spring festival get it.

however! its a chinese celebration, so what will there definitely be? fireworks 😎 and it just so happens that one word for "setting off fireworks" in chinese is 放烟花 (fang yanhua). yep, that's the same 花, which means flowers, but when combined with 烟 (smoke), it becomes a "fire-flower" 🎆!!

it's also the same 放, which in the context of actual flowers means the opening of petals, but in the phrase 放烟花 means to set off (the fireworks).

together, this line evokes both the blooming of the spring flowers under the eastern breeze* and the blooming of a thousand fireworks in the evening sky.

*spring comes from the east ofc; this is folklore and not science i think but lends to the spring-ness of the line

更吹落，星如雨

this one is pretty straightforward. lit. blown through the air by aforementioned wind, falling like a rain shower of stars.

宝马雕车香满路

oh boy. when i tell you my mom (who is my chinese teacher) and i got in several petty arguments over baomadiaoche...

so 宝马 (baoma) are just well-bred horses, prize steeds with a pedigree. a 雕车 (diaoche) (lit. carved chariot) is a very expensive carriage carved with lots of intricate decorations. in other words, these ppl are RICH.

however, it was difficult to convey the sheer decadence of 宝马雕车 without either using a miles worth of syllables or entirely losing the original cultural context. carved was too direct and ugly to hear besides, etched was not elite enough, sculpted conveyed entirely the wrong image... also, for some reason, "proud" to describe steeds was vetoed for being inaccurate???? hence the arguments.

in this scenario, the final word choice really is a matter of the least bad option.

at the same time, the second half of this line 香满路 (lit. fragrance fills the path) implies movement: the carriage is passing by, leaving the fragrance of rich people perfume in its wake. for the sake of syllables, i shifted that movement to the fragrance part of this line. i also like that this evokes a high-headed noble sweeping elegantly through the crowds.

overall, this line adds to the picture of a decadent, bustling market street during the most joyous celebration of the year.

凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞

lit. the notes of the phoenix xiao (chinese recorder) move, jade gourd light shimmers, the fish dragons dance all night.

chinese ppl, ok, use two motifs to describe the beauty and virtue of every artistic thing ever: phoenix and jade. phoenix xiao means NOTHING. it's like virtuous xiao. jade gourd is a little harder; some say it's the moon, some say it's the lanterns. jade and light put together kinda implies moon anyway, so i just sidestepped the problem entirely.

as for 鱼龙 (lit. fish dragons), theyre a type of dragon lantern which supposedly has some characteristic of a fish. they are puppet-danced on sticks - dragon dancing, the classic. my mom and i both had a vivid image of this dragon-lantern-dancing, but we couldn't find it ANYWHERE. if anyone knows the right search query to pull this up, please lmk how to tame 谷大哥*. anyway, i left the lanterns implied because idk how the fuck to explain this whole thing in four syllables.

*lit. big bro google. its funnier in chinese

蛾儿雪柳黄金缕

this is the line that, when i finally bothered to properly research it, made everything about this translation click into place. these are all hair decorations. 蛾儿 (lit. li'l moth) are silk moths, 雪柳 (lit. snow willow) are silver tassels, and 黄金缕 (lit. yellow-golden cords) are gold cords lmao. hence golden silver silken sway, which was SO satisfying to come up with.

笑语盈盈暗香去

lit. laughing speech tinkles and faint fragrance goes by. this one is also fairly straightforward. 去 means to go, so we specifically want the image of a group of giggly teenage girls fading into the crowd.

众里寻他千百度。蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。

and finally we reach the most famous line, the 千古名句 (qiangumingju) - iconic line of a thousand histories!

lit. within the crowd, searching for him* in a thousand hundred directions; suddenly the head turns, it turns out that person is standing in the darkness where the lights have gone out.

*"him" is highly debated. 他, used in modern chinese like the pronoun "he", was historically a catchall pronoun for people of any gender. iirc, 她 for "she", and the gendered distinction, was only introduced when china started integrating to the west. in this line, 他 could be the teen girl that just passed by, or her beau. whichever way, one is the searcher, the other is the searched. i chose here to sidestep this by using i and you bc fuck gender.

anyway, when the searcher's head turns - even this bit had to be suitably poetic, a nightmare - they find their lover in the 灯火阑珊处.

灯火阑珊处 this phrase refers to a very specific image. imagine, in the early hours of the morning, a dwindling market street; the stands are closing one by one, lights winking out, leaving a gentle blanket of dark and calm behind. it is the quiet after the rain, the breath after the shout; it is the sigh of closing your front door at the end of the night. it's not the absence or complete lack of light, but rather the exit of it. a place of that just-left-behind dark is a 灯火阑珊处.

this sentence gave me so much grief and i am so proud to have done it even just a little bit of justice.

so after all that, the scene described by this poem is something like this: a lively late-night market street. people from many walks of life fill the path, celebrating the lantern festival, the turn of a new year and coming of spring, a riotous party of light and noise and joy. as the night slips into the sixteenth, the market begins winding down, stalls closing and lights winking out. amongst the teeming crowds ambling their way home, a young person searches for the their lover from whom they were separated; on some sudden instinct, they turn, to find their lover already looking back from the darkness of the fading festival, gaze caught in the divide between light and dark, wake and sleep: a quiet young love on the edge of spring, something fresh and new.

if anyone made it to this point, thank you and i hope this was an interesting read! please feel free to add comments questions and observations!! i would love to discuss at any level with someone other than my mom and chinese poetry truly is one of my passions even when it makes me want to kill, so i'm always down to talk. :] <3

[theeccentricraven]

The 24th Day of Writemas 💚🤍❤️🌟👩‍💻✍️

It is now Christmas Eve! The last day of Writemas is here! Thank you so much @agirlandherquill for making Writemas possible!🫂 It helped me reach my writing goals, be productive, and get creative. I've enjoyed posting snippets of my writing. Thank you to all who have complimented and accepted this gift! 🤗

For the 24th Day of Writemas I chose the prompt "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy it." I liked how this and a couple of the dialogue prompts fit in with my YA Dystopias where a character speaks up against the oppressive region. I realized that it was something my Sanctuary Calling OC Luana would say in the scene where she invites Nari to join her cause, especially with the context of how the two enjoyed VR simulations with historic periods. This was a great excuse to write a scene I wanted to write for so long. I hope you all enjoy this girl 🎀🎁

___________________________________________________________

Luana sits in my tea table chair while I sit in my desk chair. She glances around at the old toys, Korean decor, and plane models. 

She looks at me as she says, "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy it."

I rarely hear something like this, if ever. The WC’s media focuses on the immortality of a civilization they believe will last for thousands of years. They describe humanity’s ancestors as fools who defiled Sanctuary’s beauty as a basis for how the WC will foster a greater humanity. 

“Yes,” I agree. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the hard work and sacrifices of our ancestors. We can’t take life for granted.”

I watch Luana’s face, taking in every detail of her long dark hair, observant dark eyes, floral crown and leis. A feeling tells me there’s something inside her, brewing in her mind. I have no idea. I brush it aside. 

She points at the models of my planes. “Is that why you do what you do? Making the most for our future just as our ancestors did?”

“Of course,” I say. “I mean I love it. From the time my father first taught me. I was really little. And if I can use what I love to create a better life, a better future for humanity, why not?”

Luana nods. “I…I should be honest with you.” Her voice draws melancholy. “I overheard that argument with your parents. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop….”

I sigh. “Oh, it’s fine. I was afraid you heard it. I’m not surprised. Honestly, that’s how it is every night.”

Luana closes her eyes for a second, then opens them. “I take it your parents have a different view of what’s best for the future than you do?”

“Well, yeah,” I say because of how obvious it is. “My parents are biased. They’re from families full of doctors. They believe medicine is superior. They believe I need to save as many lives as my father has to continue the family legacy.”

“I’m sorry,” Luana says softly. “Having to put up with that every night. I can’t imagine.”

I nod. “That's why it’s so important to go to the Lunar School. I’ll finally leave them behind. Do what I want to do.”

Luana tightens her lips. “Will it ever end though? What if five years from now, you’re an aerodynamics engineer and one of the best in the field. Will your parents talk about how proud they are of you? Or will they talk about what could have been?”

I hang my mouth open. I try to process. All that had dreamed the Lunar School would give me seems to drift away. “I never thought about it but…” But yes. For all that I envisioned of going to school, graduating, and designing the flying machines of the future, there’s not a light at the end of the tunnel when my parents are standing where the light should be. I know them well enough to know they will spend the rest of their lives ranting about what could have been, even if I develop the fastest flying land vehicle ever. 

I raise my voice a little. “Why are you saying this?” I almost forget the wonderful day we spent in the simulators with Myeongseong and Liliʻuokalani. I now wonder who this exchange student is who had to come into my life. 

Luana slowly looks around the room.

“Well?” I ask, losing my patience.

“Nari,” Luana says gently. “Are you able to turn off the home AI?”

“Oh, sure,” I say. I’m not supposed to cut Cho off from my bedroom, but my parents won’t notice if it’s only for a few minutes. If we’re going to keep talking about my parents behind their backs, it makes sense. “Jin, turn off Cho’s connection in this room.”

“As you wish!” Jin chirps giddily. 

“Also,” Luana adds, “are you fine with turning off your quant?”

I blink. I’ve never heard that phrase before. I suppose it makes sense for a few minutes if we want a private conversion. “Um, okay. Jin, turn my quant off.” I’ll have to manually turn it back on when we’re done, but I’ll live. 

Luana smiles satisfactorily. “Sorry for the secrecy. I have to be extra cautious with your parents. They’re so close to the Chancellor that I’d say they’re friends.” 

I chuckle. “My mom is friends with the Chancellor!”

Luana nods. “So I had to be careful.” She stands up. “Nari, what if I were to tell you that you have the chance to connect the roots of our ancestors with the present for a better future?”

I tilt my head. “I would ask what does that mean?”

Luana strides around me. I watch. 

“Nari, you are very different from everyone else. The speech you gave at the student aviation show. Everything that I’ve seen you do and say today. You have a good head on your shoulders. And a good heart. That’s why I’m trusting you with a secret. What if I was part of a group who knew a way to free you from your parents while freeing all of humanity? Giving you the chance to live your dreams? Giving your chance to walk where your ancestors walked? Enjoying the beauty of this universe?”

I freeze. I feel tingling. Butterflies in my stomach. Chills running up my veins. “I would ask what’s the catch?”

I turn to watch as Luana sits on my bed. “It doesn’t come free. It comes with a lot of sacrifice, but it’s worth it.”

I peer at her. I’m catching on to what our visitor is really about. I should have known back when I saw her profile’s bold bio line: You deserve to be free.

“Come on,” I say. “If you’re part of the Return to Earth Initiative, just say it!”

Luana laughs. “You’re smart Nari! Nice of you to call us that instead of the not so nice names the WC calls us.”

I tap my knee. “Look, I have no interest in reporting you. But I believe you’re barking up the wrong tree. Whatever you’re asking of me, forget it.”

Luana leaned forward. “I can walk away. I appreciate you keeping this a secret. If you give me a chance to make my case, will you listen? I think you want to hear it.”

“Ok,” I say amused. “I’m listening.”

__________________________________________________________

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and OPEN!

[why-do-cats]

Unravelling the Mystery: Why Do Cats Hate Water?

Why Do Cats Hate Water 🌊?

Cats and water usually don’t mix, as many cat owners can attest. Whether it’s bath time or an unexpected rain shower, our feline friends often react with dramatic displeasure at the mere touch of water. But have you ever wondered exactly why cats hate getting wet so much? It turns out there are several sensible reasons behind this aversion. From their desert-dwelling ancestors to the peculiarities of their fur and senses, a cat’s distaste for water is rooted in evolution, biology, and learned behavior. In this article, we’ll explore each of these factors in a friendly and informative way – and even look at some exceptions (yes, some cats do like water!) and tips for coping with a water-wary cat.

The Evolutionary Background of Cats

Ancestral Origins in Arid Regions

Domestic cats trace their lineage back to wild felines from desert and savanna regions. The small wildcats that were first domesticated lived in places like the Middle East and North Africa – environments where water was scarce. In these dry, arid landscapes, cats never had to learn to swim or adapt to getting wet; it simply wasn’t a part of their daily life. Over thousands of years, our pet cats inherited this desert-dwelling legacy. Their bodies and behaviors evolved with an emphasis on land-based hunting and conserving water, not splashing around in it. With such origins, it’s no surprise that modern house cats aren’t naturally fond of wading into water.

Lack of Exposure to Water in Natural Habitat

In the wild, cats are not built to be aquatic creatures. Unlike some animals that routinely wade or swim, the feline species had little exposure to large bodies of water in their natural habitat. Early cats got most of the moisture they needed from the prey they ate, so they rarely had to seek out rivers or lakes for drinking. Because water was never a big part of their lives, they didn’t develop the adaptations or instincts for swimming or being soaked. This evolutionary history left cats without any ingrained love for water – if anything, water was an unfamiliar element to be cautious of.

Physical and Sensory Concerns

Impact of Being Wet on Mobility

A drenched cat is an uncomfortable cat. Feline fur is not very water-resistant, so when it gets soaked it becomes heavy and cold against the skin. Imagine having to run or jump while wearing a sopping wet coat – you’d feel weighed down and sluggish. For a cat, wet fur makes it much harder to move quickly and gracefully. Cats are naturally fast, agile predators (and also potential prey for larger animals), so anything that hampers their mobility can cause stress. In the wild, a cat with waterlogged fur would have a tougher time escaping danger or catching dinner. No wonder our kitties instinctively avoid getting into situations that would leave them sodden, shivering, and slow.

Importance of Maintaining Scent for Survival

Cats are famously fastidious about grooming, and one reason is that they rely on scent more than we do. Every cat has its own signature smell that helps mark its territory and identify itself to other cats. Being dunked in water can literally wash away a cat’s familiar scent. In a cat’s mind, this is a big deal – scent is key to its identity and security. A cat that smells “wrong” might feel disoriented or anxious until it can lick everything back to normal. Additionally, cats have an extremely powerful sense of smell, so they may find the chemical odors in tap water or pet soaps very offensive. In short, a soak in water messes with both a cat’s personal scent and its sensitive nose, giving them yet another reason to steer clear of full baths.

Behavioral Traits and Preferences

Aversion to New Experiences

Most cats are creatures of habit. They take comfort in familiar routines and environments, and they can be wary of anything new or unexpected. Plunging into water or being put in a bath is definitely not a normal daily occurrence for a cat, so it often triggers their natural caution. Felines also like to feel in control of their situation; when faced with an unfamiliar experience like being half-submerged in water, they may panic because they can’t easily predict or escape what’s happening. Unless a kitten was slowly acclimated to water from a young age, it will likely see a sudden attempt at bathing as something bizarre and frightening. This wariness of the unknown means many cats refuse water simply because it’s an untested, uncomfortable experience from their point of view.

Association of Water with Negative Experiences

Another reason cats hate water is that they may have learned to fear it from past events. If a cat’s first encounters with water were unpleasant or scary, those memories stick. For example, a kitten that accidentally fell into a full bathtub or was once forced into a bath for a flea treatment might remember the terror and try to avoid repeating that situation. Similarly, some cats have been on the receiving end of water as a punishment – such as being squirted with a spray bottle – which obviously doesn’t create a positive association. Because cats have good long-term memory, even one or two bad experiences with water can condition them to dislike and distrust it. So if your cat bolts at the sight of the bathtub, it might genuinely be recalling a prior water trauma and reacting in self-defense.

Exceptions to the Rule

Breeds That Enjoy Water

Not every cat despises water. In fact, some breeds are known to be much more tolerant of water, even playful with it. The Turkish Van is a famous example – this breed has even earned the nickname “the swimming cat” for its love of taking a dip. Large, rugged breeds like the Maine Coon have semi-water-repellent coats and often don’t mind getting their paws wet. Other felines that tend to enjoy water include the Bengal, the hairless Sphynx, and the Savannah cat. Of course, individual personality matters too – not every Maine Coon will swim, and a random mixed-breed house cat might love water. But these breeds show that a blanket statement “all cats hate water” has its exceptions.

Individual Cat Variations

Beyond breed tendencies, individual cats have their own quirks. Many cat owners can share stories of a particular cat who adores water, regardless of pedigree. Some cats will happily play with dripping faucets or bat at water in their bowl for fun. Others might even join their human in the shower out of curiosity! These water-loving outliers prove that felines’ attitudes toward water lie on a spectrum. Your neighbor’s cat might swim in the backyard pond while yours runs from a rain drop – it all comes down to personal preference and past experience. Early exposure can make a big difference, too. A kitten that was gently and positively introduced to water is far more likely to tolerate or even enjoy water as an adult.

Managing a Cat’s Aversion to Water

Gentle Bathing Techniques

Even if your cat hates water, there may be times you have to bathe them (for instance, if they got into something sticky, smelly, or dangerous on their fur). In those cases, proceed with caution and kindness. Here are a few gentle bathing techniques to help make the experience as stress-free as possible:

Prepare the environment: Use a sink or a small plastic tub instead of a large open bathtub. Fill it with just a few inches of lukewarm water before bringing your cat in.

Brush first: Gently brush your cat’s coat before getting it wet to remove tangles and loose fur.

Go slow and avoid the face: Hold your cat securely but gently, and use a cup to slowly pour water over their body, avoiding the head.

Use cat-safe shampoo: Only use shampoos specifically made for cats, and rinse thoroughly.

Dry and reward: Wrap your cat in a soft towel immediately after the bath and reward them with treats and affection.

Introduction to Water Gradually

If your goal is to help a water-shy cat become more comfortable with water, patience is key. Start by letting your cat play with a wet cloth or gently dab water on their paws. Over time, you can progress to offering a shallow dish of water for exploration. Early and positive exposure during kittenhood especially helps reduce fear. Always go at your cat’s pace and keep every encounter positive and low-stress.

Utilizing Waterless Grooming Products

If water remains a no-go, you can turn to waterless grooming products. Cat-safe grooming wipes, dry shampoos, and no-rinse foams can clean your cat’s coat without involving any soaking. These products are gentle and effective for basic cleaning and are often much less stressful for water-averse cats.

[wind-current]

Cosmonaut

The year is 37'037G.E.

I am a 27 year old engineer stationed on a EW11ug Galactic Goliath. For the last 5 thousand years me and roughly 50k crew mates have been in cryostasis, we are headed to a system known as yUmG99p.

897million lightyears away from where it all began.

Growing up I never even imagined being here, in all of this stillness. It can be disheartening at times, especially when I'm ordered to check for obstructions on the outside of the EW11. You're out there all alone, jumping from panel to panel, in the f$&+ing cosmos. Personally I loved it.

Sometimes I'd sit on the last panel I was working on, and just watch as the ship got closer and closer to yUmG99p. This blueish reddish hue in the distance, the only torch in a sea of blackness. There was something so gorgeous about how lonely It was. I mean you could be out there for hours and see nothing, feel nothing, there was nothing. Atleast not for millions and millions of lightyears, and even then that feels like an understatement. The enriching scale of how massive everything really is was illuminating to me. I grew up on a planet not too far away from the milky way, and always wondered what it was like for my ancestors to make such a voyage, I could not have imagined the bleakness, the Godliness in it all.

Every 50 years I'd have to go out and check panels for obstructions or possible radiological damage. Never did we find anything, but it was important that the Engineering division ran it's course. This meant that we along with 3 other divisions; Command, Maintenance, and Medical, all had to wake up every so often while on the initial 5k year plan to check the ship for damages or spacial interference, periodically.

Luckily EW11ug Goliaths are safe guarded by a sentient digital intelligence known as SORA, so the work we had to do was sometimes minimal since we have machines that help us maintain those things when we are not awake. SORA is what connects ALL ships to a massive cosmoradius hive mind. If something goes bad we should be able to contact our closest neighbors, 236million light years away and vice versa. SORA knows the same things we know and more, SORA is in constant communication with all of its counterparts, even if a ship doesn't send out an SOS, SORA should.

You'd always hear tales from the older guys, talking about great huge whale like creatures twirling, almost like dancing impossibly near to the stars, or celestial bodies of light appearing right before their eyes only to disappear back into the nothing. Medical always chalked it up to stress, radiation, and overactive imagination, I mean we'd spend 8-14 hours in the cosmos working. So I'd imagine it would drive you a little crazy being out there for so long, but even though, I never experienced such while staring into the Great Mother.

Maybe it's their stories getting to me, but I swear I saw a person floating in the cosmos while working last. I was out there for no more than 3.5 hours working on an ECG Box that somehow disconnected from the main source, after the job was finished I turned around to admire the cosmos though I couldn't help but notice an outline of a person just f&$+ing floating out there. My blood ran cold, I was petrified, the silhouette started to move, I swear I saw it walk... away...

I never told SORA or medical about what I saw, but funny enough around the exact time I was out working, SORA notified "Ship 9928463626273 b01c". To the Command terminal, and well to any Command terminal within the cosmoradius.

There are trillions upon trillions of ships just like ours roaming the Universe. Sometimes you'd get the odd SORA notification "Ship 4829994994 b88c" b meaning anonymous, 88 meaning entity, c meaning encountered. We never did understand why nebulas were considered entities by SORA, but that's usually the notification that would be sent out if a ship were to go through a solar storm or celestial body like a nebula. It's very rare, but sometimes it happens.

Now b01c is strange, 01 is frequency, which you would only encounter if there were an anonymous satellite or radiological device near by. There wasn't, atleast not one that SORA or Command could pick up on, and even then I mean come on. We are still millenniums away from our destination, which is supposed to be unoccupied by life. Yeah I mean, you can catch the odd frequency that's been journeying the cosmos, but usually those can be traced back, usually. whatever we caught was different: SORA didn't give us a traceback it just echoed "UNKNOWN" for 500 lines. Which creeped out Technicians across the board, our neighboring ship even contacted us to ask about it. We had no explanation.

Maybe what I experienced out there while working was my own tale to tell, maybe the frequency that the Goliath caught made me hallucinate, maybe it was real. Whatever it was, it was scary, but I never told SORA nor did I tell command, and I never saw the silhouette again.

We were now close to yUmG99p, only another 500 years and we were in it's gravitational boundary. I among many others were excited to see this solar system, apparently there are 3 Green Mothers orbiting this star. Green Mother planets are universally rare, and usually uninhabitable for us. To find 3 of them nestled next to eachother around the same Star was absolutely riveting for everybody onboard. Ceremony is held upon every reawakening, to celebrate the human spirit and our efforts, especially our ancestors, we spent the week laughing with eachother and celebrating the stars. I usually stayed in my pod reading, or listening to music during this time. I always found humans to be funny, I mean I liked the connection, but we destroyed our home system with war and hatred, we forced ourselves to scramble for the stars, sure in doing so we achieved eternal peace, but lost everything that we could call our own in the process.

I was often sad thinking about the reasoning to why we studied Green Mother Planets. The human species, my species came from a planet in the Milky Way called Earth, which was a green mother. If you were to visit our solar system today, you'd find nothing but empty space. Our species managed to blow up our own sun during a Galactic war. Killing almost all of us, including all 9 celestial objects. It wasn't very long ago either, though now it may have been forever ago.

The day after, I knew I had to check the panels, I hadn't forgotten about what I saw out there, the SORA notification. Either way my job needed to get done, and so I suited up and waited in the chamber. Normally I'd listen to music inside the ship, but outside I preferred the silence, it helped me think, get the job done a little quicker. The technician gave me the signal and off I went. The bluish reddish hue had become more than just a hue but a bulb, I was awe struck. It must have taken me 16 hours to finish up since I spent most of the time gawking at the abyss. I spent that night in my pod pondering the infinite possibilities, the silhouette, the old tales, the Green Mothers, all of it really.

I drifted back into a 50 year coma poisoned by the cosmos, coming in and out every 50 years to look within the abyss and ponder, each time spending a little more time in the nothingness.

SORA had notified "Obstruction 505 panel 33 damaged" that was my side of the ship. My pod opened up and medical was there, they spent no time putting my suit and harness on, which I usually did on my own everytime until now. I was rushed through the corridors and into the chamber where the technician was waiting, she said "good luck" gave a thumbs up and opened the gravity chamber to let me out.

Immediately I worked my way to panel 33, jumping from panel to panel, something was wrong. Arriving to panel 33 there was a glaring issue, the ECG box and fusion cable was just missing. I sat confused and told command, they told me to come back so I began to make my way back. Something was wrong. As I jump from panel 21 to 20 I saw a burst of light erupt from behind me, I turned around expecting an explosion from panel 33 only to be met with an enormous eye ball staring back at me. I stood up on the ship absolutely stunned, all I could do was stare back, I heard command in my ear urging me to return as soon as possible I asked them "do you see that?" *Static* "see what?" Without hesitation I turned around and hopped to panel 20 then 19, 18 then 17 when suddenly my harness got caught on an antenna. somewhere in my delirium I lost myself, I had taken the wrong route and positioned my harness poorly, I am now stuck on an antenna outside of the haul. Command is chattering to me, but I can't hear them, I'm too busy staring back at the massive eye that seems to be moving. I think I hear things like "he's not on the line" "we lost him" I go to grab my harness but I feel nothing behind me, I go to tug myself back but nothing is working, when I look behind myself I realize in absolute anguish that I am no longer tethered to the ship, but instead I'm hurtling hundreds of feet away very quickly. The chatter is getting harder to make out as I get further and further away. I try not to panic, I know that if I do I'll just make things worse.

"I am EVA." Were my last recorded words before I lost signal to Command. It's been 79 hours, the eye is still watching, I am not in absolute darkness, I can no longer see the Goliath, and honestly I have never felt more at peace.

My name is Mino Vangel Plavko, I am from the 89Hb Engineering Division of the EW11ug Goliath Model# 928T

Born in the year 30'890

From the planet Draith in the 667499493th star system of the galaxy Aracid.

I recorded this message for anything that finds my body, I am sure I'll be floating out here for a very very long time.

Mino Over and out.

[pocket-luv101]

Bigger Than The Whole Sky || CynoNari Songfic

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Tighnari has a miscarriage. (CynoNari)

A/N: warning for mpreg and miscarriage with hurt/comfort afterwards.

Tighnari sat on a fallen tree and nervously watched the path for Cyno to arrive. He sent him a letter and asked him to meet him under the statue of the Dendro Archon. He lost track of how much time had passed while he waited and recited what he would tell Cyno. In his mind, he repeated the words a thousand times yet it still felt unreal to him. To keep his fingers from shaking, he idly twirled his purple belt around his finger. Then, he rubbed his hand over his stomach.

“Tighnari?” The sound of his name startled him slightly. Usually, he would be able to hear someone approach him but he had been lost in thought. He turned to Cyno standing behind him. Cyno kept one hand behind his back as he leaned over Tighnari. “I tried calling your name a few times but you wouldn’t answer. Your face looks a little pale. Are you okay, Nari?”

“I’m not sick.” He said when he placed his hand on his forehead. His answer was short and Cyno could hear that there was more he didn’t tell him. The letter he wrote to him was also vague. He couldn’t help but feel concerned. Tighnari wouldn’t send him a letter while he was in the middle of an investigation unless it was for something important.

His forehead felt cool and Cyno was glad that he wasn’t sick. He knew Tighnari would sometimes ignore his own health when protecting people or the rainforest. His conviction could only be rivalled by how reckless and prideful he was. Those aspects of Tighnari’s personality made Cyno fall in love with him. He scratched his tall ear and noticed how stiff he was. He joked to help him relax: “Do you remember when I bought Collei to you? Our family is going to get bigger again.”

“How did you know I was pregnant? I only found out this morning and I haven’t told anyone about the baby yet.”

After his outburst, they both fell silent. Tighnari watched Cyno for his reaction and different emotions passed over his face. He opened his mouth a few times but no words left him. It slowly became clear that the news was a surprise for him. Cyno took out the cat he had been hiding behind his back. “On my way here, I found an injured cat. I thought I should take it to you and… You’re pregnant?”

He repeated the words in disbelief. Tighnari nodded. When they first started dating, he told him that he could become pregnant because his ancestors, the Valuka Shuna, were blessed by Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. He thought they were careful enough during his heats but he became pregnant. After spending hours thinking of how to tell him, he unintentionally blurted it out.

“I need to confirm it with a doctor but I’m certain. My symptoms match the early stages of a pregnancy. I think I’m three weeks along because that was when my last heat was. We talked about having a baby since Collei is growing up but neither of us expected it to be so soon. I need to talk to the Forest Watchers about my maternity leave and— Dear Archons, Cyno, why are you so quiet?”

He realized that he was rambling while Cyno continued to stare at him in shock. Fear settled into his stomach that he would say he wasn’t ready for a baby. As the General Mahamatra, his work was dangerous and he needed to travel. They planned to have a baby once both of their careers settled down and they had more time to raise a family. “Are you happy?”

Cyno placed the cat on the tree trunk and then knelt in front of Tighnari. He lovingly brushed his bangs from his green eyes. “I hope they have your eyes. I love you so much, Tighnari. My puns are officially dad jokes now.”

Tighnari didn’t know if it was the hormones affecting him but a torrent of emotions overwhelmed him: love, relief and joy. Those emotions formed as tears and Cyno wiped them away. The moment he felt his warm touch, he threw himself forward into Cyno’s chest and hugged him. He imagined himself in Cyno’s arms with an infant between them.

Cyno sat back onto the ground with Tighnari on his lap. His pregnancy was unexpected but he would do everything he could to give them a happy future. “I need to start training my matra to deal with researchers who flee to the desert. That way, I don’t have to leave as often and I can help you here. Maybe I can convince Dehya to join our ranks. She’s strong and I can trust her. I should take parenting classes. Collei was already a kid when we took her in and I’ve never held a baby before.”

“You’ll be a great father.” Tighnari reassured him. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“The sages and Fatui wanted to collect data about Aranara and dreams. Vimara Village will be the best place to start my investigation.” Cyno said. After Tighnari spoke with the repentant sages, he worried about the lingering consequences of their research. Tighnari was the one who requested that he investigate the Fatui but Cyno was hesitant to leave him— especially when he was pregnant. “Tighnari, I can look into this for you but are you certain? I won’t be able to come back quickly if something happens.”

“I don’t want you to go but we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t be certain that the Fatui abandoned their research simply because the sages were captured months ago. The Fatui has the funds to make a new lab in a secret location and continue their experiments. This situation can escalate very quickly. If we wait to investigate until after I give birth, it might be too late.” Tighnari sighed and gazed at Varanara’s dreamscape. He asked Cyno to meet him next to the Dendro Archon’s Statue in Vanarana. Unfortunately, their discussion was solemn compared to when he told him about his pregnancy. “Let’s nip it in the bud.”

“Was that a pun, Tighnari?” He chuckled. Cyno took Tighnari’s hand and lifted his fingertips to his lips. After years of using a bow, his fingers were calloused. If the timing was different, he would be less hesitant about leaving on an investigation. His eyes fell onto Tighnari’s flat stomach. He was only a month along in his pregnancy and the bump wasn’t noticeable yet. “Why did you want to meet in Vanarana instead of your hut? I read that travelling can be stressful for you and the baby.”

“I was researching ways to reverse the damage caused by the Withering. Aether suggested I speak with the Aranara.” He told him. While new Withering Zones wouldn’t appear, there were a few places still affected. “The journey was long but it wasn’t too bad. Karkata carried me most of the time. I wouldn’t have come if it’d risk the baby’s health. Staying here for research is probably safer than working as a Forest Watcher. Aether is here and there are twenty Aranaras who can help me if anything happens.”

During the first twelve weeks of a pregnancy, the fetus was most vulnerable. Tighnari continued to help the other Forest Watchers but he was always mindful of the baby inside him. He lightly laid his hand on his stomach. While the pregnancy was difficult at times, he loved the tiny ember inside of him. He couldn’t explain how he felt a connection to their child even before he felt its first kick.

“I already knew you’ll be a protective Mama and you wouldn’t let anything happen to our baby.” Cyno had to admit that he would feel better if Tighnari was safe with his family rather than in the midst of the Fatui investigation. No matter how many Fatui were still hiding in Sumeru, he would protect Tighnari. “I’ll carry you into Araja’s house. Your legs are probably tired from standing.”

“No cheesy pick-up line about how my legs are tired because I was running through your mind? Your pick-up lines are worse than your puns sometimes.” His quip had an alluring mixture of teasing and impertinence that tempted Cyno to kiss him at that moment. The unique sky of Vanarana framed Tighnari in a purple hue and his skin was already glowing from happiness. In one smooth motion, he lifted Tighnari off his feet and into his arms.

“I’m preparing as many jokes as I can for when our baby is born. They’ll have good taste in jokes if I teach them early.” He grinned down at him. Cyno started to carry him to the house. Tighnari forgot to feel self-conscious that someone might see them. He wrapped his arms around Cyno’s neck. Tighnari thought of how much he wanted him to stay and his embrace tightened slightly.

Cyno would only take a few steps before he felt a light nudge on his leg. Karkata stood next to them and buzzed insistently. While the machine couldn’t talk, he understood its wish and carefully placed Tighnari on its back. The robot was surprisingly protective of him. He couldn’t say whether Karkata should be considered a living machine but he trusted Tighnari’s judgement.

“Be careful when you’re carrying him, Karkata.”

Cyno started to leave but Tighnari took his hand. “Come back soon, Cyno.”

“Valuka Shuna Tighnari smells kind like flowers.” Arasaka told Tighnari excitedly. He walked through the forest with the Aranara in his arms and Aether next to him. The Aranara were small like children and he thought of holding his child one day. It was rare that the Aranara left the dreamscape but Arasaka asked him about different plants he could use for spices. “Arasaka will show you to the Tree of Dreams. The tree remembers everything and they may tell you how to heal the leylines.”

Rain began to fall around them and Tighnari adjusted his white sash over Arasaka to keep him dry. The weather changed with little warning and it made the fur on his tail stiff. He instinctively knew that something was wrong. The rain was so heavy that Tighnari could almost mistake it for a waterfall. His senses were overwhelmed by a flash of lightning. A sense of dread filled him as he remembered when he was struck by lightning at Pardis Dhyai.

“We should find a cave and wait for the rain to stop.” Aether suggested.

“Perhaps you two can take me to Vanarana. My subordinates were utterly useless when I tasked them with finding the Aranara.” A chill ran through Tighnari when he recognized the voice behind him, much colder than the rain. In front of them, Dottore stepped out of the trees. He barely regarded Tighnari and Aether with a glance before he stared at the Aranara in his arms.

“Paimon, Arasaka, run and find somewhere safe to hide. We’ll keep him from following you.” Tighnari placed Arasaka on the ground and lightly nudged it towards the bushes. Aranara were able to conceal themselves but he was still wary of Dottore. He sternly said, “Don’t return to Vanarana in case he has someone nearby who can follow you. Just hide.”

“Arasaka will find Arabalika! He can stop that bad doctor.” Arasaka ran away before Tighnari could argue with him to hide.

“I thought a wise scholar such as yourself would learn to be less stubborn after our previous conversation. Everyone must pay the price for what they’ve learned. Was the lightning not enough?” Dottore echoed the words he told him months ago. He flicked his Hydro delusion, causing the rain to fall harder. It was clear that he wanted to taunt them with the memory of that night.

“The Aranara aren’t test subjects or a way to gain information.” Tighnari steeled his expression to keep himself from reacting. He wouldn’t allow Dottore to taunt him. He summoned his bow. He was confident in his abilities but the top three Harbingers had strength equal to a god. Nevertheless, he would protect the forest.

The moment Cyno received news that Tighnari was hurt, he ran to Avidya Forest. His mind was spinning with fear and dread so the journey was a blur to him. The only thing he could think of was reaching Tighnari’s side. He prayed that he was safe. Aether had given Karkata a rushed letter to explain the situation and then took Tighnari back to the Forest Rangers for medical attention.

Finally, Cyno reached Tighnari’s hut. He didn’t take the time to knock before he threw the door open and ran inside. He needed to see Tighnari. Cyno saw him lying on his bed with his back facing the door. The room was eerily silent. It felt as if he was standing in the eye of a tornado, waiting for the wind to break the walls around him. Tighnari was so still that Cyno couldn’t see whether he was breathing. A lump grew in his throat and kept him from calling his name.

Cyno walked to Tighnari’s bedside and fell to his knees. He wanted to gather him into his arms and hold him but the bandages on forehead made him hesitate. He considered him the strongest man he knew yet he appeared so fragile in that moment. Tighnari laid on his small bed, hugging his tail with his eyes tightly shut. Careful not to wake him, Cyno crawled beneath the blanket and loosely hugged him. He tenderly stroked his stomach.

“I lost the baby.”

He thought Tighnari was asleep and he didn’t expect to hear him speak. His voice was hauntingly small and hollow. Then, his words sank in. Silence entered the room and filled the space between them like a wall. Cyno caressed his cheek but Tighnari barely reacted to his touch. “Dear Archons, are you okay, Tighnari? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“I lost the baby.” He repeated. In Tighnari’s mind, he was still standing in the rain and drowning in his own silent cries. He spoke as if he were reciting a report rather than his own miscarriage.

Tighnari sounded hollow, strained and detached all at once. “The Doctor attacked us. There was a fight but we were able to escape with Arabalika’s illusion. But I… Considering that we were facing a Harbinger, I was lucky that the miscarriage didn’t have further complications. I’m fine physically. Depression often follows a miscarriage. I’ll need time to recover from… everything.”

Tighnari was grateful that he was already laying down because his body felt too weak to stand from the mere memories. The ghost of a burning pain erupted in his shoulder and Tighnari felt as if the air had been knocked from his chest. How could memories be so painful? He struggled to catch his breath and they came as laboured gasps. Then, the pain moved to his stomach. The cramps made his stomach coil and they were followed by a wave of nausea.

The more he tried to push that moment from his mind, the sharper the scene became. He closed his eyes and saw the fight. After that, he became numb to the world around him. He couldn’t hear the rain, Aether’s voice or his own scream. His scream was still raw in his throat as he sank into a dark haze. He shook his head in denial and tried to tell himself that the pain was only caused by the fall. Tighnari knew that he had lost his baby though.

There was a vice grip around his heart. His emotional numbness was an armour against the grief threatening to break him if he thought of everything he lost in a single moment. Tighnari couldn’t hold their child, see whether they inherited Cyno’s red eyes and hear their first laugh. People would try to comfort him and say he could have another baby but he wanted the one that was inside him.

“Tighnari, please, look at me. I swear, I’ll find the Doctor and make him pay for hurting you.” Cyno brushed his dark green hair from his shoulder and Tighnari followed his touch. He rolled into his side so they were facing each other. There were streaks of dry tears on his cheek and his eyes were puffy. Protectiveness and anger rose in him. As much as he wanted to fight Dottore, he couldn’t go when Tighnari needed him. He hugged him as close as he could.

“I lost Nawra.” Tighnari whispered the name he would’ve given their daughter. The short name was almost impossible for him to say. He bit his lip so hard that he was surprised it didn’t start to bleed. Tears formed in his eyes and he hid them by burying his face into Cyno’s chest. Even if he wasn’t able to see them, he could feel his burning tears against his chest. Tighnari had cried for hours before Cyno arrived and he was surprised that yet more burst out of him. “I could sense she’ll be a girl. A mother’s intuition, I guess. She would’ve had your eyes—”

The walls Tighnari had formed to protect himself against his own grief crumbled under a torrent of emotions. Within Cyno’s strong arms, Tighnari’s heart allowed itself to be vulnerable even as his mind begged him to stay numb. Tears rocked his body and Cyno held him through it all. “I-I’m so sorry, Cyno. I wasn’t strong enough to protect her. Please, don’t hate me. It’s all my fault that she’s gone. If only I was faster, she would still be here. I should’ve… I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault.” Cyno reassured him. Tighnari wanted to believe him but his grief and guilt almost drowned out his words. He thought of everything he could’ve done differently to protect their baby in the fight. In the end, he felt hopeless and weak. He finally lifted his face from his chest and Cyno couldn’t see the ember his eyes usually had.

“I asked you to search for Fatui. Then I confronted Dottore. Why aren’t you angry with me? Because of me, our baby died.” His voice cracked. Tighnari expected Cyno to be more disappointed and upset with him. He was looking forward to having a child as much as he was. A week ago, he had imagined Cyno next to him as he rocked their child to sleep. That dream was ripped from his fingers.

“I am sad.” He whispered. Cyno tightened his arms around Tighnari, afraid he would slip away from him. He felt as if he were slipping away even though he could feel his weight in his arms. He kissed his hair. “But I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too. I love you, Tighnari. You’re my world.”

Tighnari forced himself to focus on Cyno’s fingers running through his hair. He needed to think of anything aside from the loss of their child. He was exhausted emotionally and his tears drained the last sliver of strength he had. He cried himself to sleep in Cyno’s arms.

Tighnari waded his way through the shallow water and collected lotuses. He didn’t bother to remove his clothes before he entered the water and the wet fabric quickly became heavy. It didn’t compare to the grief that made it difficult to walk. He was only able to push himself a few feet to the next lotus.

While he hadn’t recovered from his miscarriage enough to return to his Forest Watcher duties, he couldn’t stay confined to his bed for another moment. Laying in his room, he could hear people on the other side of the wall discussing his miscarriage. His mind was already haunted by the miscarriage; what could’ve and should’ve been their child. He didn’t want to hear others echo those thoughts.

Cyno offered to go with him but Tighnari told him that he would find the flowers faster on his own. They both knew that it was a lie. Tighnari cupped a lotus into his palm. In the past, he would gather lotuses for Collei’s Eleazar but her illness was now cured. He went to the river out of a habit and as an excuse to be alone. He walked to the riverbank and he dropped the flowers on the ground.

As he counted the lotuses, he thought of when Cyno first brought Collei to him. Tighnari raised her and he considered Collei his daughter. She helped him realize that he wanted to be a parent and have a large family. Did the Archons disagree? Why would they give him the acknowledgement of a vision and then take away the gift of his child? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be? Those questions tore at his heart.

He closed his eyes and listened to the forest. Tighnari thought he heard a baby’s laughter and his heart soared for a moment. That moment was quickly followed by the reminder that it couldn’t be his child. His baby was gone with the rain. Nevertheless, he climbed out of the water and he followed the childish voice deep into the forest.

“Does Tighnari like the colour blue? We can include these flowers.” Tighnari stood at the edge of a meadow where Cyno and Collei were collecting flowers. He didn’t expect to see Nahida and a group of Aranara with them. Nahida added a purple rose to the flower crown she was weaving. “I’ve seen people give their loved ones Sumeru roses.”

Collei said, “Master taught me that Sumeru roses aren’t actual roses because they grow alone rather than as multiple flowers in bushes. He said that a better name for them is Leyline Lodestars. He showed me a picture of red roses. Tighnari is a great teacher.”

“When is it impossible to plant flowers? When you haven’t botany. You know, like ‘bought any’.” Cyno joked. Nahida giggled at his pun but Collei appeared confused. Cyno always spoke his jokes in a flat tone but there was now a melancholy in his voice. The two didn’t notice but Tighnari did. He often told jokes to help people relax around him but, at that moment, he was trying to comfort himself.

From a distance, Tighnari watched them. He would’ve found the scene endearing and quaint if his situation had been different. Tighnari placed his hands on his stomach and his fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt. Longing and frustration made him feel uneasy. When he learned that he was pregnant, he had dreamed of so many things with his baby. They would’ve had picnics, taught her about flowers and groaned at Cyno’s jokes. That future was gone now.

He unconsciously took a step back from the meadow. A stick broke beneath his feet and the soft sound made him flinch as if it were a bolt of lightning. Cyno turned towards the noise and their eyes met. Tighnari couldn’t ignore them so he crossed the field to where they were sitting. As he sat down next to him, Cyno wrapped his arm around his waist and gently pulled him against his side. Collei held out a bouquet of flowers for him.

“This is for you, Master Tighnari. I wanted to give you something after I heard you had a miscarriage. It’s not much but I hope it’ll make you feel better. Don’t worry about returning to work because I’ll take over your tasks! The other Forest Watcher will help too.” Collei said. Tighnari had done so much for her and she wanted to support him now. “How are you feeling?”

Tighnari considered lying and telling her that he felt better because it would dispel her worries. That was impossible though. Even thinking of his miscarriage with others made him want to weep again. He took the bouquet and lifted the flowers to his nose. “Thank you, Collei. It’s an honour to have you visit, Nahida. I’m sorry that I’m not in the best condition to welcome you to Avidya Forest. Last week, I… I was injured.”

“Arasaka is sorry! You lost your baby because you were protecting me.” The Aranara cried and threw itself onto Tighnari’s lap. The other fairies quickly followed and hugged him as well. They only let him go when Nahida lightly patted Arasaka’s back.

“I came to visit you, Tighnari, and thank you for helping the Traveller and the Aranara. Your ancestors have done a lot for Sumeru too. I can’t bring your child back but I want to help ease your pain. If you have nightmares or trouble sleeping, I will give you peaceful nights.” She said. The offer was tempting but Tighnari knew that it was merely a temporary bandage on his grief.

“Flowers are enough for me. Did you buy these cecilias from a merchant? They only grow naturally on Starsnatch Cliff. There are a few families who dedicate gardens to grow them but it’s very difficult.” Tighnari began to list facts he knew about the local specialties in Mondstadt. Collei and Nahida listened to him intently.

Tighnari slipped a Kalpalata from the bouquet and said, “These are often blue but I saw a rare purple variant at the base of the hill. You should go pick them for your collection. Oh, be careful when you go. Collei, can you accompany them to make sure they’re safe?”

Nahida and the Aranara excitedly ran to pick the flowers he told them, dragging Collei along with them. Tighnari watched them until they were at the base of the hill. He liked teaching people about plants but he was more drained than usual. He needed more time before the weight of his miscarriage lifted enough for him to feel like himself again.

He felt Cyno watching him and he turned to him. “You’re great with them, Nari. I already knew that you’re a great mother though.”

“Don’t you mean I would’ve been a good mother?” Tighnari placed a hand over his stomach. Even if he recovered fully, he wasn’t certain whether they should try to have another baby. A part of him was terrified of the prospect of having a miscarriage again. A new baby couldn’t be a replacement for the one he lost either.

“You are a great mother.” Cyno repeated and the unwavering love in his voice made Tighnari’s heart throb.

“Nawra was lucky to have you for her father.” Tighnari wrapped his arms around Cyno and gently pulled him closer. Cyno returned his embrace and buried his face into his shoulder. He knew that Cyno wanted to be strong to support him but they both lost a lot that night.

“Tighnari, I bought us lunch. There was a package outside your door too.” Cyno let himself into Tighnari’s home. His room was messier than usual and he needed to push aside a few books to place the box on the table. He liked to keep his desk organized but he didn’t have the energy to clean. There were piles of schedule reports and textbooks. Tighnari had engrossed himself with work to keep his mind occupied and distracted.

“Is it time to eat already? I’ve been so busy with work. I had Amir take over most of my paperwork while I was recovering but I still need to look them over for approval.” He wrote one final note in the report before he closed the book. The doctor recommended that he rested for another week but Tighnari reasoned that reading paperwork wouldn’t cause him to strain himself.

Cyno handed him the wrapped sandwich. Out of habit, Tighnari mentally went through a list of food that he couldn’t eat while pregnant. The reminder of his miscarriage made him lose his appetite. Each time he believed he had accepted the loss and began to heal, the smallest thing would reopen the wound. He took a bite of the sandwich without tasting it.

“I wasn’t expecting a package today. The label says that it’s from Aaru Village.” Tighnari examined the package once he finished eating. He used an arrowhead to cut the tape and open the package. Inside, there was a collection of colourful yarn and a book.

Cyno saw how Tighnari’s face became pale. “Are you okay, Tighnari?”

“I wanted to make baby clothes with patterns from the desert so I asked Candace for help. Dear Archons, how am I going to send this back and explain my miscarriage?” He bit his lip. Tighnari dreaded having to discuss something so painful and personal. He knew that miscarriages were common and there was nothing he could do. Yet, he felt a little inadequate that he couldn’t protect his child.

“I’ll do it.” Cyno he placed the lid over the package with a light thud. His voice sounded strained and he avoided his gaze. Tighnari knew that telling Candace would be equally painful for him. He loved their unborn child as he did. He placed his hand over Cyno’s and squeezed his fingers gently. Naturally, they came together and hugged each other.

“We can tell her together.” Tighnari was certain that his miscarriage would be more difficult if he didn’t have Cyno. He leaned on him for strength and comfort. “Let’s not send the package back. I was planning to make baby clothes but I can use that yarn for a blanket.”

Tighnari hummed a lullaby to his newborn baby, Zahur, wrapped in the blanket he knitted three years ago. He liked to think his older sister was keeping him warm with the blanket. Time had passed since his miscarriage but the memory made him hold his son a little closer. The rain tapped against the window and the sound interrupted Zahur’s sleep. He stroked his white fur and then lightly covered his ears. “You inherited my hearing but you’ll adjust to all of the noise. It’ll get better.”

Zahur was too young to understand Tighnari but his soft voice was enough to soothe him. He rubbed his tired eyes against his shoulder and began to drift off to sleep. Tighnari intended to take Zahur back to his crib but he found himself walking past it. He carried his baby to the bed he shared with Cyno. Slowly, he lowered Zahur onto the mattress so he could sleep between his parents, safe and sound.

When the bed shifted beneath his weight, Cyno woke up. Tighnari placed his finger on his lips and then he pointed to Zahur sleeping beside him. He whispered, “I thought the rain would bother Zahur. My mother told me that, when I was a baby, I would refuse to sleep if I heard the cicadas buzzing. You can go back to sleep, Cyno. I’ll stay awake and make sure we don’t accidentally roll onto him.”

“I’m not sleepy anymore.” Cyno said and rolled onto his side. Tighnari leaned down and kissed Cyno’s lips before he settled himself onto the bed. He watched Zahur sleep and wondered what he could be dreaming about. His mother told him that she used to spend hours watching him sleep and he didn’t understand why until now. Each time he looked at his baby, pride and happiness filled his chest with warmth. He only looked away when Cyno said: “It’s raining a lot this week.”

“It’s the rainforest.” He said with a sigh. They were safe in their home yet the rain outside taunted Tighnari with memories. He did his best to focus on his family in front of him. Tighnari would fight the gods to keep them safe. As if to challenge his silent declaration, thunder and lightning clashed outside their window.

Tighnari instinctively covered Zahur’s tiny body with his own to protect him from the lightning. Under him, Zahur whimpered in confusion and reached up to Tighnari. His hand could barely stretch enough to touch his cheek. He felt Cyno stroked his hair and Tighnari slowly allowed himself to relax. He continued to cradle Zahur against his chest as he sat up.

“That was a silly reaction, wasn’t it?” Tighnari laughed to disguise the lingering fear of losing another child. He thought he recovered from the trauma years ago but everything returned when he discovered he was pregnant with Zahur. “Do you think I’ll ever get over that night?”

“You’re still a wonderful mother.” Cyno hugged Tighnari and tucked his head beneath his chin. He looked down at Tighnari and Zahur in his arms and wondered how he became so lucky in his life. “I love you both. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[dreamsoflevi]

Love Was Not Enough | Part 1

Summary: A titan shifter is working in the Scout Regiment with a plan. Growing up with hate for Paradis takes a complete turn when falling for a certain Captain and developing friendships. Is it too late to make a change?

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Some fluff, angst, mentions of violence, description of an emotional breakdown, stress.

Author’s Note: My first post on Tumblr! I’m so slow when it comes to using Tumblr lol. Starting off with an angsty story because it's raining and gloomy. It was supposed to be an one-shot but it ended up being super long. There will be 1-2 more parts. Hope you enjoy! ♡

You loved him.

You really did.

You still do.

When you first met him, you were surprised this was the person everyone was referring to when they would mention Humanity's strongest soldier, Captain Levi. His aloof and brash attitude would prove those thoughts drilled in your head about the devils in disguise living amongst the lands as you. He didn't care for anything and he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you of that. “You will become titan shit.” His exact words spat to your face. Who does he think he is?

You were exceptional at what you did, full of intellect and skills landed you on his squad along with a group of newer cadets. The 104th cadets. You were all replacements for his previous squad who were killed by the female titan, your comrade Annie during the 57th expedition. You were trained for this after all. You were prepared and you had a plan along with a few others. Secret glances, nods, and meetings were shared amongst you four any chance you could get.

You ended up befriending a few too. A shy yet wise Armin, an extremely passionate Eren, a wild and resourceful Sasha, and some others. A bunch of children putting their lives on the line for a better tomorrow, a hopeful future. Aren’t you doing the same too?

During expeditions, you would watch Captain Levi swinging through trees on his ODM gear, slicing through the napes of every titan he landed his eyes on. Now you understand why he is humanity’s strongest. Slicing through titans without a struggle and with immense strength and speed.

He'd frantically look around making sure the others were okay. He'd shout the names of his squad and any other names he could remember hoping to get a shout in return. The panicked look on this face when he would hear screams and race to the source of them. Maybe he does care. When returning to the walls, you could see him grimace watching the gates open only for it to quickly change back to his normal neutral expression.

-

“L/N!” A voice breaking your thoughts as you walk back inside the headquarters after training. You turn around to see Captain Levi standing behind you with a small stack of papers in his hand.

“Yes, Captain?” You wiped the sweat off your forehead with your sleeve.

“Are you doing anything after this?”

You shook your head. “No, sir. Do you need anything?”

“Yes. Deliver this paperwork to Commander Erwin. He should be in his office now.” He handed you the small stack of papers he was holding.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded your head grabbing the papers and walking in the direction of Commander Erwin’s office.

Approaching his office, you knocked on his door. You heard a deep voice respond and turned the knob to enter. Opening the door, you see the distressed Commander sitting at his desk. One hand resting on his forehead and the other scribbling away. He glances up and sees the stack in your hands.

“Ah, thank you (Y/N), I was waiting for these.” Raising his hand in anticipation of the papers.

You walked up to his desk handing it to him. “No problem, Commander.”

You look around his messy desk. Papers spread all around, empty teacups resting on the side, and two ink bottles sitting on his desk. Your eyes take a peek at his face, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair slightly messed up. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. No. You try shaking those thoughts away. They are the devils and we are paying for their actions.

But you take another look at him. Imagine being in his position. Are you aware of what your ancestors did, Commander? He’s shuffling through the small stack of papers that were just handed to him. You can see the squares and circles in the form of a large triangle. The formations. The lives and the future of thousands rest upon this single man’s shoulders. Of course, he has to spend hours on end meticulously planning the expeditions and making sure the formations are properly formed. A plan for a better tomorrow, a hopeful future. Don’t you want that too?

You internally sigh in defeat. “Um... Commander?” You nervously play with your fingers.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He looks up at you, hand still holding the quill and the other now resting on the desk.

“Do.. do you need help? I just finished training and If you need help, I…” You bite your lip, your nerves getting the best of you as his eyes remain in contact with yours.

The curves of his mouth turn upwards. “If you can, please.” He gestures to the seat in front of him.

You flash him a smile, nod your head and take a seat. He hands you a stack of papers. “For these, you just need to write today’s date under the line where it says date received. Then organize them alphabetically.”

That’s where you found yourself at least twice a week. Helping the commander out whenever you could, organizing his paperwork, and filling them out whenever he needed you to. Sometimes you would work in complete silence. The sounds of pens scribbling, paper shuffling, and the sips the Commander took of his tea. Sometimes he would tell you a little story about his life and of his childhood. He would speak of his father being a major inspiration in his life and the reason he pushes forward every day. He had a sudden death, though the Commander never told you why, you can imagine it was a traumatic one for him.

A couple of months pass by and you are now sitting in the Captain's office. Coming into Commander’s office one day and seeing his surprisingly organized desk for once and him telling you that he didn’t need any assistance today. However, Captain Levi might need help with the reports from a previous expedition. Nodding your head and giving a quick salute, you made your way to Captain Levi’s office.

Working with Captain Levi was soothing. His office was very neat. Paperwork in his office sitting on his desk in organized piles. You can smell the faint scent of lemon which was refreshing. You visiting his office became a more frequent occurrence since he appreciated the assistance he would receive though he’d never tell you that. He would have a stack ready for you set up on the side table in his office. He was not much of a talker like Commander Erwin nor was he someone who reminisces his life it seems.

However, you would still have conversations here and there. He would ask about how you were feeling with training and if you dared to complain about the exercises he was giving, he would simply tell you to get better with the exercises or get eaten. Then realizing his bluntness and the silence that filled the room after, he would elaborate on his statement.

What he means is, he would say, these exercises help with increasing stamina and balance that will aid us on the battlefield. Outside the walls, anything can happen. Titans pop out of nowhere catching you off guard and little mishaps like getting tangled, being too slow, or even aiming your anchor wrong can lead to a fatal mistake. You could agree with that.

“(L/n), why did you decide to join the scouts?” He asked without looking up from what he was doing.

You stilled for a second and looked up at him. His eyes were still on the paper in front of him. This question always catches you off guard even if you rehearsed it so many times. It makes you nervous and vulnerable as if the person asking can see right through you and your facade.

“Same reason as everyone else, sir.” He glanced at you now and you immediately looked back down at the paper in front of you. You tried to avoid as much eye contact as you can.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“F-freedom.. from the titans.” You heard a scoff.

“Now you sound like Eren.” He was still looking at you. You dared to meet your eyes with his. He still had a stoic look on his face but there was curiosity simmering in his eyes. He was waiting for an answer. You had no choice but to give one. How would you say it though? You don’t want to lie. Captain Levi can be very perceptive and you’re sure he could see through your facade.

You bit your lip. “I… I want a better future for myself, my loved ones, and future generations. All my life, I’ve experienced confinement and.. oppression. But I have been given the power- er, the opportunity I should say to aid in defeating our e-enemies and... and I hope to accomplish that to live a more liberating life.”

He remained in eye contact with you without saying anything. The silence was deafening in the room and you hoped he would say something. Each second of silence was building the temperature in your body as your nerves were starting to get the best of you. Your chest was burning and you could feel a bit of sweat forming on your scalp. Did you say the wrong thing? Or maybe you said too much? Why isn’t he saying anything?

Your lips parted in anticipation to say something. But what else were you going to say? Before you can process what you are going to say, he hummed and looked back down at his work.

“You are right. We all have the same reason, more or less. To break out of these confined and oppressive walls and defeat these shitty titans. Whatever is out there must be better than what we live in now.”

You internally sighed. It’s not better but hopefully, it will get better. I guess we have the same mission, just different targets. You and everyone else here being mine Captain. You felt your throat dry up. Can you imagine killing these people? Watching Captain struggling on his last breath? Commander Erwin? Hange? Connie, Sasha, Jean, Armin? But your ancestors... Now you are suffering because of these devils.

Shaking your head of these thoughts, you try to focus back on the paper in front of you. “Ar-” You cleared your throat. “Armin believes there’s a sea out there.”

He snorted. “That kid and his shitty dream...” You could see a hint of a smile forming on his face. “Who knows, maybe there is.”

You come to realize that he’s not rude, he just doesn’t know how to express himself. His actions speak louder than words and you can’t help but grow a lot of respect for him. But he’s still a devil. But he has a heart and he cares for every single person in this regiment, including you. It doesn’t matter. They caused your people pain and betrayed them.

-

A perk of being on Captain Levi’s squad is getting to sit on meetings planning the expeditions. Commander Erwin would call these meetings for input on observations made from previous missions. Armin enthusiastically shares what he learns from the missions. Plans are being formed around Eren and his abilities. He’s learning new things about what he can do every day and recently he learned about hardening abilities from Annie. Working with Hange to train how to harden properly to be able to plug walls in the future.

They have no idea though. No idea what is beyond these walls, where these titans come from, where do they go, or anything else. They are risking their lives for the answers, the answers that you already know.

Walking through the dark hallways, you step into the mess hall. There sitting on a table in the dimly lit corner were Reiner and Bertholdt. The ones on the mission with you alongside Annie.

“Where have you been lately?” Reiner asked as you sat down on the bench. You usually had these meetings at least once or twice a week, but since Annie was captured, things have gotten more hectic. In fear of getting caught or being busy with so many tasks, you haven’t had the chance to meet with them as often as you should.

“Sorry.. I’ve just been swamped with training, meetings, and helping the higher-ups with their paperwork.”

Reiner narrows his eyes at you. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with them lately.”

“Yeah but I’ve managed to learn a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Eren is close to figuring out his hardening abilities. Hange had taken the sample from Annie but she didn’t get far with that. Now she and Eren are working together to see how Eren can unlock his own ability.”

Reiner hummed. “If Eren learns how to harden, he could start landing attacks on me. He’d still be no match for Bertholdt though.”

You nodded in response. There was an awkward silence. No one had much to say which was a huge difference from before when you had to plot your next moves and practice your stories together. Usually, Reiner was the one who would come up with the plans and assign tasks to the rest of you three. This was before the fight between Eren and Annie. You didn’t expect Annie to lock herself into the crystal.

You looked at Reiner who seemed to be deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”

He sighed. “I think another attack is coming soon.”

Bertholdt and your eyes widen. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a little too quick, Reiner?” Bertholdt wearily asks. You nod your head in agreement.

“They already have Annie. We need to get Eren and try to get Annie out of there as well.”

“Yes!” Bertholdt interjects. “We do need to save Annie.” Bertholdt always had a soft spot for Annie. You have an inkling he has a crush on her because he gets flustered and avoids the topic every time it’s brought up.

You don’t know if you’re ready for another attack. The last one was devastating. The fight between Eren and Annie destroyed so many homes and lost lives. Children losing their parents, parents losing their children, lovers lost… It is heartbreaking. You don’t know if you can stomach another attack at this point. What are you saying? That is what you’re here for. You need to do this for your people back home. You let out a long exhale and close your eyes.

“It bothers you too, doesn’t it?” You open your eyes to Bertholdt looking at you.

“They are people… just like us.”

You nod your head meekly. “Just like us.” You repeated in a whisper.

Reiner sighs. “And they have no clue what is happening.”

“No clue.” You and Bertholdt breathe simultaneously. You three sit in silence, all three of you lost in your own thoughts. Why did it have to be us?

-

During training you noticed Captain Levi limping a little more than usual. Since the 57th expedition, his leg has been in bad shape. He still supervises your training and some days, he can walk properly and some days he’s limping. You turn back to your task at hand, slicing through the titan dummies set up.

“(Y/n)! Straighten your back!” He yells from the field and you obey, straightening your back while you and Connie swing to the titan dummy.

“Oi Sasha! You have to aim your anchors a bit higher!”

“Mikasa, don't go too fast!”

The comments usually went like that for the entire training session. Watching all of you train and critique your performances. You’re not going to lie, it was a pain in the ass. But you noticed it does help you outside of the walls. Captain Levi is good at what he does. He’s perceptive and knows exactly what to do and when. He is a natural titan killer. Being able to take down small to abnormal and maybe even ones like you. After you were done, you all were panting and sweating while walking back to the field.

“Phew! That was some training today,” Connie wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

Jean clicked his tongue. “That was nothing! Probably too much for you right Yeager?” He smirked at Eren.

Eren rolled his eyes. “You wish, Jean boy. That’s why you’re drenched in sweat.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

You all groaned as Eren and Jean started arguing for the fifth time today. The first two times Armin tried to interject to try and diffuse the argument but at this point, even he gave up.

“You’re on Yeager. After dinner, we’ll have an arm wrestling match.”

“After dinner,” Eren confirmed. “Don’t horse around Kirstein.”

“Shut up titan freak.”

“Are you ladies done bickering?” Captain Levi glared at them with his arms crossed. Eren clicked his tongue and Jean muttered under his breath. Captain narrowed his eyes at them, a warning to fix their attitudes. They immediately straightened their backs.

“Yes sir!” A few of you silently giggled watching them get scolded by Captain Levi.

Watching them with a smile, you loved the banter between Eren and Jean. Despite the arguments, you know deep down they have respect and admiration for one another. It’s distinctly shown during battle when they are looking out for another. Even during Eren’s fits of rage, Jean is understanding and never attacks Eren for his impulsive decisions. He might get a little bit of teasing though.

They were very friendly with you too. Always giving you a pat on the back or a cheesy grin whenever they see you. Looking back at you when riding through the gates to make sure you’re okay or screaming your name to make sure you are fine when fighting titans. And let’s not forget Jean’s flirty nature. His love for Mikasa is strong but he can’t help it when he sees any walking and breathing female. Just kidding. He’s not that girl crazy.. maybe. It’s too soon to decide that.

I think another attack is coming soon. You heard Reiner’s voice suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly started feeling a bit nauseous. Another attack on these people. These people you are considering your friends. You felt the salty taste in the back of your throat. Trying to calm your nerves, you took some deep quiet breaths. It wasn’t helping. It was getting harder to swallow with your throat tightening. You silently walked back hoping no one starts a conversation with you. As soon as you get back, you were planning on taking a very, very cold shower.

Grabbing your clothes, you ran into the showers. Breathing hard and with shaking hands, you turned the shower knob. The cold water hitting you and startling you for the first few seconds. You can’t. You can. You can’t. You have to. But these people, you can’t do that to them now. Not when they are just started to grow on you. They were normal people with normal feelings. They’re not… devils? Yes, they are.

You remember the attack in Trost. The chaos that spread through the walls. These same cadets hopelessly try to fight the titans. You were all newly graduated. Thomas getting eaten by a titan. Screams and cries filled your ears along with the sounds of loud thumps and bone-crunching.

When you were discussing things with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, poor Marco being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How devastated Jean was losing his best friend and not knowing ultimately it was you three that led to his death. Not only his but everyone else’s. The way Armin looked when Eren sacrificed himself to save him.

Can you do this again?

A sob escaped from your throat. Tears flew down your cheeks getting mixed in with the water. You are no different than them, aren't you? The blood of these innocent lives on your hands. But they were the reason for all this, no? Except they don’t know. Is it justifiable blaming them for something that happened so many years ago? While you are oppressed by the Marleyeans, they are oppressed by these titans. Aren’t you any different from the Marleyans then? Punishing innocent people for things out of their control?

Leaning your head on the tiled wall, you needed to make a decision. Whose side are you on? No, whose side do you want to be on? Do you want to continue the same treatment you received? Do you want to be the reason a child loses their mother? Their father? You need to make a decision and make it quick. You grabbed the soap bar and cleaned yourself off. You will make a decision. You just need time.

After your shower, you remembered you were going to go to Captain Levi’s office to help him with his paperwork. You also remembered how he was limping badly today. Before going into his office, you decided to make a trip to the infirmary.

Asking the nurses for some balm for Captain Levi’s leg, you grabbed a small jar and made your way to his office. What’s the reason for this? Are you trying to relieve some of the guilt eating away at your conscience?

Entering his office, he offered a small greeting before pointing to the paperwork that needed to be done today. Before getting seated at the table, you walked over to his desk and held out the small jar. With an eyebrow raised, he looked at the jar in your hand.

“It’s for your leg. You were limping today and I thought this might help sir.”

He took the jar from your hand. The curves of his mouth turned upward, not enough to call it a smile since he hardly ever did. “Thank you.”

Thank you. You felt your heart flutter. You barely hear words of acknowledgment from him and you can’t help but feel happy that you were on the receiving end of them. So what? Why do you care? Because you do admire him. After all, he was your Captain and you respect him. And he is looking nicer than usual in his black suit and cravat. What? Are you okay? You’re just acknowledging his looks. It means nothing-

Wait, he said thank you. You need to answer him instead of disputing with your own self.

“It’s no problem.” You smiled at him and walked over to your seat and began working.

-

That is how things went for a while. You have been avoiding Reiner and Bertholdt any chance you can get because you were unsure of how to explain the inner turmoil you are having with yourself. You are close to walking away from it all, officially dedicating your heart to the Scouts, to Commander Erwin, to Paradis. You are willing to throw it away. Your family, friends, and everyone else back home. They don’t understand what you’re going through. The struggle you are facing. It’s easy to be on the other side of things but when having to see these losses head-on, it’s gut-wrenching.

You managed to get even closer to everyone. Sharing laughs and jokes with your squad during breakfast and dinner, working with Commander Erwin more closely and offering suggestions when he’s planning the formations, engaging in more conversations with Captain Levi, and even spending time in Hange’s office.

“Oh! Hello again (Y/n)! Guess what Eren is doing today!” Hange exclaimed while wrapping her arm around Eren’s neck. Eren holding onto her arm trying to relieve some pressure on his neck.

“What is he doing today?” You gave Eren a little smirk.

“Drinking a lot of water. We’re testing out his pee!” She shoved a large canteen into Eren’s chest.

“Pee? Wait, why?”

“Because Eren, we’re tested your blood but we haven’t received consistent results. So we are going to try your bladder. So drink up! We need at least a liter.”

“A liter?!” Eren squeaked.

Hange cackled. “A liter indeed!”

“(Y/n), do you want to help Eren out?” She flashed a grin at you.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “What do I have to do?”

“Just make sure he drinks this entire canteen of water. And if he doesn’t..” her smile dropped and she grimly looked at you, “Force him.”

Eren managed to drink the canteen of water and he also managed to give a liter of urine samples. Unfortunately, Eren had to run to the bathroom every half hour for the rest of the day. This resulted in a very irritated Captain Levi and a snickering Jean.

“What experiment did four eyes do on the shit head today?” He asked you when you walked into his office.

“She needed urine samples from Eren so she forced him to drink an entire canteen which is a gallon of water in one hour.” You grinned while grabbing your stack of papers.

He cringed. ��Poor Eren.”

You snapped your neck to look at him in shock. “Did you just have sympathy for someone, Captain?”

“Oi, shut it. Don’t get mouthy with me.” He teasingly pointed a finger at you.

You snickered, taking your usual seat at the table. “I mean… It’s Hange. I always have sympathy for anyone who works with her. Look at poor Moblit.” He chuckled.

His chuckle rang through your head. He chuckled. You quickly caught your thoughts and felt heat rushing up to your cheeks for getting flustered about him chuckling. Why are you feeling like this?

“Captain, what’s the occasion? I don’t think anyone has ever heard you laugh.” You grinned at him.

“That wasn’t a laugh.” He immediately responded while scribbling on papers.

“Fine. A chuckle.” You rolled your eyes and began shuffling through the papers and organizing them.

“Well feel special I guess. You heard your captain chuckle.” He mockingly repeats the word in your tone.

Special. You smile. I do feel special.

[americangirlstar]

World By Us Quotes

I know when we make aesthetics/art pieces, we like to have little quotes from the books below it! Here’s some quotes for the WBU girls– if it’s not said by them specifically, I put who said it at the end in [brackets], and if it’s not from their main book, I made a note in italics at the beginning.

Makena Williams

As I sorted through the new items on the bed, I wondered what kind of statement I wanted to make. I was going to have fun figuring it out!

As I looked at the outfit now, I realized it still needed... something. I closed my eyes and focused on how I was feeling. I was nervous, but excited, too, like something I had been waiting for was finally about to begin.

I added three gold butterfly hair clips to my twists. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation, and I knew today would be full of big changes. When I tilted my head, the butterflies looked like they were taking off.

On my way to the gym, I passed the big mural again. We Walk Together. I smiled, knowing that I had just met two new friends to walk with.

I have four names: Makena means “happy one” in Swahili; Lilias was my dad’s mom, who died when he was a boy; Cook, for Mom’s family, and Williams. They all matter, and they make me who I am.

“Fashion can be a form of activism. And I wouldn’t be surprised if one day that was your purpose.” [said by her mother]

I want to live in a world where who you are inside matters more than what you look like outside.

I rolled over and pressed the pillow around my ears, but Mom’s question was like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. Couldn’t he see that they’re children? Couldn’t he see? No, Mom! I wanted to scream. That’s the problem. He couldn’t see that we’re real people, with real names and lives and feelings. All he could see was that we’re Black. I cried sad and mad tears, because none of it made any sense.

I’m so much more than what you see / Don’t guess- ASK about all the feels inside me / Get to know who I am for real / Then maybe this world can start to heal / See me, hear me, know me!

My name is Makena Williams. Something happened to me, and I am not okay.

I am a person. See me for who I am. Hear what I say. Get to know me before you make up something about me. Judge me by my words and actions, not my race. See me. Hear me. Know me.

Do you see us now? We’re girls. We’re your neighbors.

I ran my fingers across the letters. There was my idea, my first design, in real life. I was so proud.

My eyes went back to Auntie Bling’s word power. Maybe I could give other people the power to tell their own stories. What if kids could show and tell the world who they really are, how they really feel, in any style they chose?

I’m Makena. I’m proud that my family’s roots in Anacostia go back four generations. I came up with the words on my T-shirt because people weren’t seeing the real me. They were only seeing that I was Black– if they saw me at all. I love West African kente cloth because the colors and patterns tell stories. The green in this skirt signifies renewal. I like wearing butterflies because they remind me that though change can be difficult, it can lead to something beautiful. With my fashion, I am always making a statement.

When everyone had made their statements, we all gathered onstage for a bow. The audience was on its feet, clapping and cheering for us. All the other kids hopped off the stage and started mingling. I stood there, watching adults talking to kid and kids from different communities talking to each other. Seeing so many people come together was powerful.

I believe that when you take time to get to know people, you get to see who they truly are.

I was so proud of what we’d done that I couldn’t stop grinning. Just before I went to join my friends and family, I glimpsed my own reflection in the window. It looked as if the river was flowing right through me. Maybe it does, I thought, along with the strength of my ancestors, and the bravery of Black people before and the bravery of everyone in this room who works for change.

Evette Peeters

When we made the sign last year, I painted a monarch butterfly above the words. Monarchs fly thousands of miles. Their strength and endurance remind me of the people who were on the front lines during the pandemic.

The one good thing about not going anywhere was seeing the gardens change. I never knew it could be fun to watch plants grow, but it actually was.

The bridge was coming up. Pretty soon, we’d be crossing the Anacostia. I’d been crossing that river all my life on the way to Gran E’s house. Every time I saw it, the river looked different. Sometimes the waves were rough, but today they were calm. The sunlight made the pale green water sparkle.

Why did people think skin color defines who we are? It seemed so simple: humans come in different colors, just like flowers.

I put them on and hung my heart necklace on my jewelry tree. Next to it was a locket that had an umoja symbol on it. Umoja means “unity” in the Swahili language. Gran E had given me the locket for Kwanzaa last year, along with a card that said, “Promise always to see umoja: unity in the family, community, nation and race.”

Still, I couldn’t help wondering, Is this how a rift gets started? Something goes wrong between people, and before you know it, there’s a rift between them. Was that how it happened with my grandmothers? And the most important question of all: Could a rift between people be repaired?

The grass was trampled, but seeing the riverbank free of litter lifted my heart.

With a day of hard work, we had healed part of the river. If only it could be this easy for my grandmothers to heal the rift between them.

“A world– by us,” I announced, writing it on a piece of poster board. I looked up at my friends. Somehow when I was with them, anything seemed possible. “That’s what we’ll call it– and that’s what we’ll make it.”

What I’m trying to tell you is not to judge a whole person for one thing they said or did. People can change and learn from their mistakes.

Well, we are one family. So we should all act like it, right?

I know the world has many problems, just as there are many kinds of pollution in the river. But with the sunshine and the music and good friends beside me, I felt a wave of hope rise in my chest. As long as we can imagine a better world, we can make it happen. When people come together, we can do remarkable things. The river taught me that.

Maritza Ochoa

from Makena’s Story: Well, we don’t need to wait until we grow up to make a difference. We can start now, making the kind of world we want to live in. 

At school, the girls always play with the boys. The girls are tougher than you think.

Before she passed away, I received a beautiful journal from her in the mail. Inside, she had written inspirational quotes from famous women athletes and leaders. On a note enclosed with the journal, she had written that I should add more inspirational quotes to the journal, because keeping a positive attitude was important when life becomes hard. I had to admit, it was hard to be positive during that time.

I stared down at the salteñas, thinking of what my abuelo said. Prayers weren’t enough, but sometimes prayers are all you have. Was there something more I could do?

The title of the piece was Tu lucha es mi lucha, which means “your fight is my fight.”

Remember, we’re young. Nobody expects us to be leaders, so we must expect it from ourselves.

There was incredible history here, and yet... so much more history to be made.

“She needs me to be her friend,” I replied. And as soon as I said those words, I felt them in my heart.

In soccer, if we see something wrong, we call it out so it can be fixed. I see something wrong, and I want to help.

Tu luca es mi lucha. I will lead with my heart and find a way to help your family.

We don’t just want to talk about injustice. We want to do something about it.

It was as if Tia Mari knew that someday I’d need this quote. Maybe I’m more like her than I even imagined.

All of us are united in our love for soccer, but we are also united in another cause that we want to share with you. Soccer has taught me many things, but most important it has taught me to be a team player and to be vocal if I see something wrong. This past week, I saw something wrong and I want to bring it to everyone’s attention.

If you were here, I would tell you what an inspiration you are to me. I miss you, Tia. I know I’ll always miss you and that’s okay. It will be an extra part of me that will make me stronger and kinder.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

[kikilefangirl]

The Witch Who Won’t Part 4

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

(Word Count: 2064)

You woke up to a flood of texts, calls, and voicemails. Most were from your cousin, but a few came from Marcel. Tossing your phone on the other side of the couch, you rubbed your temple. You hadn’t even made it to your bed last night. Your puff was matted and misshapen.

You rubbed your eyes and stood up. A pounding headache and nausea made you keel over and do a mad dash to your trash can. You yakked up your dinner. After you brushed your teeth, you seized up.

The presence of an Original. Bounding from your bathroom to your front door, you flung it open. You don’t know why you expected Klaus. You had burned that bridge, indefinitely.

Elijah stood at your door offering a handkerchief. You cocked your head to the side and clicked your tongue.

“Whatever you want, I’m not interested.” You spat out.

Thinking back to the night before, you crossed your arms. The reality that Klaus had kissed you, and that he did it to handicap you was too much. Now his brother was at your door too.

“Y/N, would you please invite me in?” Elijah asked. His critical gaze had something else behind it, true concern.

You knew it wasn’t for you. Originals were only truly worried about other Originals. Klaus.

“I imagine Niklaus has upset you. I do apologize on his behalf, he has a, uh, talent for such things.” He said.

Elijah still had his hand out, still offering the handkerchief. You stepped closer, and took it. You wiped your mouth with it and set it on the counter.

“Come in.”

You surprised yourself. The thought of an Original having permanent access to your home made your stomach turn, but this time it was unavoidable. Elijah stepped through the threshold and unfastened his suit jacket as he sat down at the table.

You watched him, cautiously. Elijah wasn’t Klaus. You knew better than to make assumptions about him, certain concessions simply would not be granted.

“I beg you to consider forgiveness. I fear Niklaus requires it.” He replied. Elijah ran a hand across his bottom lip.

“He did what he wanted and now he’s dealing with the consequences.” You were firm.

Elijah scoffed and leaned back in the chair. You didn’t back down. You couldn’t. You sucked in a breath.

“Esther has him,” He ran a finger along the table, his daylight ring more prominent than before, “Aided by our brothers Kol and Finn, my mother has stood against Niklaus.”

Elijah began tapping his fingers. He pulled the corners of his mouth back with thinly veiled contempt. Esther was the original witch. You had learned your history and now it was sitting in your living room.

Esther was the woman who hid Klaus’s true identity, and when it was revealed, bound it from him for a thousand years. The man he had become––the creature that could kiss you one second and shackle you the next was partly her doing.

“She will ruin him. Again. She’ll ruin him again.” Elijah hissed.

On the surface, he appeared perfectly composed. Elijah was the pristine elder brother—the eldest due to Finn’s absence—constantly working for his siblings’ happiness. Klaus too, had his own persona to hold onto as well.

But the truth underneath remained: Where Elijah was cool determination, Klaus was wilder, freer.

“Pass me that grimoire. I’ll see what I can do.”

After a millennia of separation, you knew Elijah was right. Klaus was not going to recover the little bits of him he had left. He had a daughter out in the world who needed him.

“Call Rebekah. She should be here, too. And Vincent.” You said.

Turning on your heel you head down the hall toward the bathroom. Just because you were going to spend your whole day dealing with Originals, your basics weren’t going by the wayside.

                                                         …

Nothing in Gammy’s grimoire could have prepared you for the Original Witch or what she had reduced Klaus to, either.

Esther was in the body of a witch you knew. You flared your nostrils. Dead witches taking the bodies of living ones always made you upset.

“We came here for Klaus.” You announced.

She stepped away from her herbs, though you couldn’t see which ones. Even in another body, Esther was full of the kind of grace and danger you had previously seen with Klaus.

“I am afraid my son is unavailable.” She replied. Her eyes darted between you and Elijah, and even he was stifled by her presence.

“Mother, release Niklaus to us. Immediately.” He said.

“In your custody you and your siblings, especially Niklaus, have been a blight on this earth. You leave nothing but blood and death behind you. I will not be idle anymore.” She let out.

You could feel her anger, and oddly enough her love for her children. Esther was probably a good mother once, but her protectiveness ruined them and her.

You concentrated on Klaus’s familiar aura, drawing it closer and closer to you. Esther must have noticed because her eyes were trained on you.

“My, my, you are powerful indeed. And in love. Nevertheless, the strength in you does not wish to oppose me, nor I you.” She offered. While she spoke you curled your hand and twisted.

The stone wall behind her slid open, revealing a chained Klaus. The bitter part of you that enjoyed seeing him chained after what he did to you was quickly overpowered by a wave of worry. His golden irises burned with rage and hatred even as subdued as he was.

“If you truly loved my son, you would want him to be free of his curse. A pretty young witch like you would want children of your own and a husband capable of loving you without the threat of violence all around you!” Esther continued.

For a split second you hesitated. You did want that and maybe with him. But Esther knew him as a child, and longed for that child. You met the monster first, and loved him anyway. Whatever that made you definitely wasn’t normal.

“You let a man believe the one child he saw true potential in, the one child knew he could mold in his image, was his. And Mikael hated him for it.” You admitted.

Saying the words out loud made Esther pause in shock. Mikael’s name and his function in her life had the same effect on her as it did Klaus. Taking advantage of her vulnerability, you unleashed the brunt of your magic.

Elijah’s expression was cold and unflinching. He knew it was true just the same as you did. Esther may have the title of the Original Witch, but she thrived off the shared power of all witches. Dead and alive. You could draw on them, too. You thought of Vincent, of Gammy and beyond.

Esther flew through the air and slammed against the wall. Elijah immediately went to Klaus, breaking the chains that held him.

Before he was completely free, Esther countered. Her strength coupled with your overexertion made you fall to your knees in pain. You could feel her magic weighing you down. Something wet dripped from your nose. Blood.

You weren’t backing down from her. You felt a tugging in your gut and threw your head back. Esther wasn’t going to stop you from taking Klaus. You called on your ancestors and their power just as she did, with renewed focus. Wind whipped around you, dust swirled at your feet. The jars of herbs and dark objects shook and some shattered to the ground. Letting out a guttural cry, raw power radiated from you and it pulsed through the room and and the entire French Quarter.

You collapsed with exhaustion, your body landing on the hard floor. You were fading fast, you could barely keep your eyes open. As your vision blurred you could see Klaus speeding toward Esther. The chains were still on him, but the ends had been broken off.

Holding a thousand lifetimes of pain and betrayal, Klaus snapped his mother’s neck and she went limp in his arms.

You smiled, as you had done your part. Cold hands were the last thing you remembered before everything went black.

                                                        …

You woke up in a large bed in the Mikaelson compound, completely alone.

You were wearing your pajamas from home. You stepped on the floor barefoot, flinching at the cold.

“Good evening, Y/N. I must say we were beginning to worry.”

Elijah. He offered you his arm and you took it. Your legs still felt like jelly. He led you to another empty room, stopping at the threshold.

“Niklaus, do not be rude to our guest. She did save our lives.” Elijah called out. So this was Klaus’s room.

He did not immediately appear. Preparing yourself, you let go of Elijah and stumbled into the room. You made it to a stool. Nearby were beautiful paintings and three full blood bags. As you admired the artwork, Elijah took his leave. As soon as he did, Klaus finally appeared.

“Careful, love. I did that one in 1823, it’s fragile.” His tone was his usual charming self, but his sunken in eyes, and restricted movements told the story.

“Here.” You slid a blood bag over to Klaus.

He poured it into a glass, but he made no moves to drink it. He swirled the liquid, squeezing so hard on the glass it broke in his hand.

You jumped, but Klaus wasn’t fazed. Instead he was staring at a spot on the floor, expressionless. He sat slack jawed and deflated. He was none of the wild hybrid—whether he was angry or vindictive or proud or jealous.

The man across from you was nothing at all.

“Klaus. You need to drink.” You whispered.

There was something fragile about him you had only seen glimpses of. Klaus always fell back on his default, but this was different.

“Klaus!” You boomed, bolting upright so fast your chair fell to the ground.

You stalked up to Klaus with fear as an afterthought. He was beginning to have that effect on you, which was probably for the worst. You wrapped your hands around his neck and jaw. He wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Esther was right to call you a monster. She was wrong to say that was all you were. Look at me, Klaus.” You pleaded.

You were nose to nose now, and once you had his eyes on yours you wasted no time.

“Klaus! She was wrong! Esther was wrong. You have a daughter who will always love her daddy. Your siblings won’t turn away from you. I won’t, either.” You said desperately.

Esther was a woman whose back was against the wall and Klaus was her secret keeper, her ultimate secret keeper. And he, unlike Mikael’s children, was hers to isolate, a punishment Klaus could never bear from his mother.

You sucked in a breath, and bore your neck out for him.

“Drink.”

The quick pain as the hybrid’s fangs pierced your neck was followed by pure euphoria. You could feel him take every drop of blood that oozed out. Klaus’ arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto his lap. It was as if you two were the only two in the world, and you reveled in it.

Once you began to get light headed, Klaus retracted his fangs and licked the wound. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made you squirm at how close you were to each other. You were hyper aware of his body and your own.

Klaus smirked at your newfound discomfort and kissed you full on. You could taste traces of an iron tang on his tongue, but that didn’t stop you. You kissed him back and your heart was heavy with all the emotion and stress from the day before. He leaned into you, taking care to hold you tighter. It was the reassurance you needed. You broke away from the kiss to breathe, and you drank each other in.

Klaus wasn’t one to say thank you, and you didn’t need it. You flashed him a show stopping smile. You didn’t know what would come from your actions.

All you knew was that you had fallen for this man; you truly and wholeheartedly loved Klaus Mikaelson, and he, in his own way, loved you, too.

END

[ljf613]

Colonization & Imperialism in ATLA

One of the things I’ve noticed in fandom complaints about the ATLA comics-- namely, “The Promise”-- and subsequently, LOK’s worldbuilding, is the way the narrative handles colonization. 

I see a lot about how what the Earth Kingdom chose to do with the former colonies is “none of Zuko’s (or Aang’s) business.” (I also see people talking about how Katara would never support colonialism, in any shape or form, no matter the circumstances.) 

And I just.... don’t vibe with those ideas? At all? 

Like, I definitely have problems with the comics-- especially “The Promise,” where all the drama centers around Miscommunications of Epic Proportions and could have been resolved in Part One if all the characters just sat down and listened to each other (not to mention that Aang would never have agreed to make that promise, nor would Zuko have asked it of him (Sokka would be a more obvious choice, but that’s a different discussion))-- but I never had any issues with their worldbuilding. 

I love the idea of Yu Dao, and the fact that the narrative acknowledges that a new kind of world has new kinds of problems. It makes sense to me that we can’t always just “give back the land we took.” And I found the idea of the end solution being  “give the people who live there their own country” really cool and empowering. 

So I want to talk about why I feel this way. About what kind of real-world parallels can be made here. About some little-known bits of world-history that compare. 

(Please note that for this meta I am only going to be discussing the relationship between Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. As far as I am aware-- and I could be wrong-- there is no real-world genocide quite comparible to what Sozin did to the Air Nomads, and most of the people alive in ATLA were not actually around for or involved in that. And the relationship the Fire Nation has with the Water Tribes-- and that the North and South have with each other-- is worth a whole separate analysis, and doesn’t deserve to just be shoved into this one.)

(Disclaimer: While this is in response to some of the interpretations I’ve seen on this site, it is not meant to discount or invalidate those fans’ views-- I’m just trying to show my take on it. I am a firm believer in the power of active discourse, and the value of looking at the same scenes through different lenses, rather than just getting one opinion and accepting it as Absolute Truth.) 

The main thing I notice in general ATLA discourse-- and not just on this topic, but in any sort of meta about the Fire Nation, colonization, and global impact-- is that the fandom mostly compares the war and its after-affects to real-world Imperialism, the Age of Imperialism, New Imperialism, and Colonization. 

And I understand why that is. In the grand scheme of world history, that era is still fairly recent, and we are still dealing with the afteraffects from it. It has shaped the Western World’s worldview on every level. (Not to mention that the Euro-centric way we’re taught history means that this piece of world history is the one we’re most exposed to, and so have the most understanding of and room to analyze/criticize.) 

However, there are a few issues with sticking only to this perspective. 

First off, the Age of Imperialism was a direct response to the Age of Exploration. This was the period of time when white Europeans sailed around the world acting as though they were discovering new places and pretending that there weren’t already existing civilizations there. 

[ID: Two dots meme, edited so that Guy A says “i’ve discovered a NEW WORLD,” Guy B replies “you didn’t discover ****,” and Guy A insists “i’ve discovered it” / End ID.] 

Now, I’ve mentioned this in passing, but the world of ATLA doesn’t appear to have had an Age of Exploration. There’s no vast “undiscovered” land masses, the four nations have always known about each other, and they all have a shared language. 

The whole foundation for the Age of Imperialism was “oh, look, there are all these ‘unexplored’ lands with resources ripe for the picking (who cares about the indigenous people, they’re just simplistic savages who don’t know what’s best for them), let’s see which European country can grab the most land first.” 

This was a race. This was sudden. This was Europeans coming in and taking over while viewing the natives as bothersome pests. This was about multiple major world powers competing over resources. 

This was not 100 years of active warfare between a single conquering country and the very people they were trying to conquer. 

The parallels don’t hold up. 

Secondly, by focussing only on this one kind of historical narrative, we ignore any others. 

I will admit that I have used the word “imperialism” in reference to the Fire Nation a time or two. However, upon further reflection, I realize I didn’t really mean imperialism, which is actually a fairly modern concept. What I feel the Fire Nation is really an example of is centralism and expansionism-- two ideaologies that have been a way of life for conquering empires throughout history. 

(I am in no way qualified to explain the differences between these concepts-- I recommend doing your own research if you’re curious.) 

The Persian Empire. The Greek Empire. The Roman Empire. The Byzantine Empire. The Mongolian Empire. The Russian Empire. The First French Empire. 

You could take any of these (or numerous others) and make an interesting analysis between the similarities and differences between their behaviors and that of the Fire Nation. And maybe I’ll do that someday. 

However, I started this to talk about Yu Dao and all of the other so-called colonies (I really feel like territories would be a better word, but, again, that’s a whole ’nother discussion), and I’d like to focus on that. 

FYI, here’s a basic history refresher: If two countries are at war, and then they decide to end the war, neither country is required to return captured territories. They can make a treaty and agree to do so, but there is no obligation to. The Fire Nation didn’t just march in and say, “this is our land now”-- they fought for it. They captured that land. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean they need to just give it back. 

Like it or not, that is the way the world operated for thousands of years, and so that is the interpretation I’m working with here. 

In any case, “The Promise” actually presents this as a three-way conversation. There’s Zuko (and, by default, the Fire Nation), Kuei (and, by default, Ba Sing Se and the Earth Kingdom), and the people of Yu Dao themselves. 

(My understanding of the Earth Kingdom’s style of government is that it’s made up of a large collection of different ethno-cultural regions who all answer to Ba Sing Se.) 

I’ll let Sokka explain it: 

[ID: Comic panel from Part Three of “The Promise.” Sokka and Katara are talking, both in obvious states of agitation, while Suki and Toph are looking at something in the background. Sokka is saying, “Let me see if I got this. The protestors and the Earth Kingdom Army want the colonials to go, the Fire Nation Army wants the colonials to stay, and the Yu Dao Resistance just want their city to be left alone?” Katara responds, “Yes!” / End ID.] 

The people of Yu Dao don’t care about the war. They don’t even really care who’s in charge. They just want to be left alone. 

This speaks to me on a very personal level, so I’m going to make another real-world comparison here: 

My ancestors first came to America to escape from the poverty and opression they were experiencing in a place known as “White Russia”-- that is, Belarus. To be clear, I am not talking about the country “Belarus,” but the region, which includes the modern-day countries of Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus, Latvia and Moldova, as well as parts of Poland and Russia. 

I looked up White Russia, trying to find out how much information someone who didn’t grow up hearing stories about what it was like (that is, most of the people reading this,) might have. I didn’t find much. Most of what I found talked about political ideologies and such-- things that your average poor peasant, struggling just eke out a living, didn’t have much energy to care about. So let me paint a(n oversimplified) picture for you. 

Imagine you’re a poor shoemaker in a small town on the Russian border. You spend your days hard at work, trying to earn a living to support your wife and nine children. You’ve never left the town you were born in. One day you get the news: Russia and Poland are fighting again. Your two oldest sons (ages 15 and 17) are forcibly drafted off to fight in the Russian army; you never see them again and have no way of knowing if they’re dead or alive (they’re probably dead). Poland wins-- this time. Congratulations, your town is now part of Poland. 

Does suddenly being Polish make a difference to your life? Not in the slightest. Two or three years down the line, you’ll go back to being part of Russia again. This is the third or fourth time you’ve seen your town switch hands, and you can’t say you prefer one government over the other. It doesn’t really matter who’s in charge-- you’re still faced with crippling taxes, forced drafts, and various other forms of oppression. (It doesn’t help that you happen to be part of a persecuted minority.) 

(This is why I have many ancestors who may never have left the town they were born in, and yet records show that they were born in one country, got married in another, and died in a third.) 

This is the kind of worldview through which I am looking at Yu Dao. (Obviously, it’s not an exact parallel, but neither is the standard “colonizers vs oppressed natives” lens.) 

My ancestors eventually got fed up with the treatment they were receiving from their respective governments, and left to build a new life, in a new place. But the citizens of Yu Dao don’t have anywhere to go. The only two real world powers in this story are the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, neither of which has ever before expressed any true interest or concern in the actual people of Yu Dao. 

The Earth Kingdom didn’t really care about the city before the war-- they were just another poor, struggling town, whose citizens were barely able to make ends meet. And while the Fire Nation may have helped the place grow into a bustling town, they also established a hierarchy that did not serve in the citizens’ best interests. 

And so, in “The Promise,” these citizens’ frustrations come to a head. “Enough,” they say, “we don’t want to be used as a pawn in your games anymore.” 

And Zuko and Kuei (and Aang) actually listen. They say “we need to start thinking about these people as people, not as symbols of one side or the other. It’s time to give them a say in their future.” 

And a new country-- a new way of life-- is born. 

(Is it perfect? Absolutely not. But it is constantly evolving and changing, trying to do better, be better. And that’s more than you can say about most of the other countries in this world.)

[elderbloodlore]

Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS? 

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS 

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often: 

 “As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny. 

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal. 

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong. 

THE DEMEANOR 

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...]  'Hochebuz,'  said Calante, looking at Geralt,  'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.'  The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE 

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves: 

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said: 

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT 

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH 

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had: 

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride. 

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH 

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe: 

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as: 

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

Hey, Just wanted to tell you that I absolutely love your writings ❤ I spent days reading all your cql fics, and I couldn't mention 1 that i did not adore ❤ I was wondering, since I just watched Fatal Journey and have some serious Mingjue feels, if we could get some more Nielan these days? (Or maybe Mingxicheng, 'cause I'm weak for poly, there aren't enough fics about them and yours are wonderful^^) Anyways.... Thank you for writing such amazing fics, can't wait to read your upcoming stories ❤

Way ahead of you but thank you so much for all your love❤❤❤  Fatal Journey hurt so much, that I started plotting a fix-it like an hour later, so have some soft Nielan and the hope Nie Mingjue deserves!!!

Nie Mingjue is sitting in his room, staring at Baxia.

It has been quiet for the last few days since the--the incident, but Nie Mingjue knows it won’t stay that way.

Knows it will overpower him again, sooner or later, and he will wake up to a floor littered with bodies. Again.

Nie Mingjue clenches his jaw at that thought, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Baxia.

He hoped to get it under control, to do better than his ancestors, but he’s just as weak and prone to failure as they were. 

Nie Mingjue misses Nie Zonghui. He would have long dragged him out of his room by now, too familiar with his brooding already to let it go on for longer than a few hours. It’s been days already.

But Nie Zonghui is dead and he’s dead because of Nie Mingjue.

The thought of that threatens to overwhelm him, again, and Baxia quivers in its stand.

Nie Mingjue almost dares it to fly out and attack him. That, at least, would be a quick death unlike the qi deviation that’s waiting for him in the not so far future.

A knock at the door startles him, but before Nie Mingjue can decide if he wants to see anyone right now, the door is already pushed open and Lan Xichen steps in.

Nie Mingjue takes in a shuddering breath at his sight and Lan Xichen is at his side a moment later, simply hugging Nie Mingjue close until he feels at least a little bit more composed.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asks, face still more pressed into Lan Xichen’s stomach and Lan Xichen leans down to press a kiss to his head.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t even bring himself to put his hair up this morning.

“Nie Huaisang wrote me shortly after you came back,” Lan Xichen says. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Nie Mingjue mutters, and pulls away to warily eye Baxia. 

But for now, the sword is still in its stand.

“I don’t want you close when I finally lose to it,” Nie Mingjue goes on and he deliberately doesn’t look at Lan Xichen as he says it, can’t stand the pained look on his face.

“You’re not going to lose to it,” Lan Xichen says, and he sounds so sure. Nie Mingjue wants to believe him, but he knows he can’t.

“It’s getting stronger. Even Clarity did nothing,” Nie Mingjue admits and Lan Xichen frowns at him.

“Nie Huaisang didn’t mention that.”

“I bet he also didn’t mention that I killed most of the disciples that came with us,” Nie Mingjue bitterly says.

“He did not,” Lan Xichen admits and Nie Mingjue huffs out a bitter laugh.

“He said the other sword spirit did it. He wanted to spare me from that. But it’s all coming back,” Nie Mingjue admits and puts a hand to his forehead.

His head has been throbbing ever since he remembered how he cut Nie Zonghui down. Nie Mingjue closes his eyes but that only makes the memory more vivid. 

It’s what he deserves, he supposes.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen softly says and Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I’m not strong enough, Xichen. I tried to subdue it, to find a solution, but I’m not strong enough. It’s going to take me, too.”

“Not if you let go of it,” Lan Xichen carefully says and Nie Mingjue sharply looks at him.

“Xichen,” he warningly says, because they had this conversation, multiple times already, and it’s not an option.

Lan Xichen knows that.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen gives back but he doesn’t seem all that apologetic over what he said. “I mean it. If you let go of it, it can’t take you.”

“I am a Nie,” Nie Mingjue presses out. “We wield sabres.”

“You are the Sect Leader. You could change the ways,” Lan Xichen argues and Nie Mingjue stands up, to pace the length of his room.

“And appear weak in front of the ancestors?” he demands to know and he can tell that Lan Xichen wants to raise his hands in frustration, but of course he doesn’t. 

He is too in control to ever do something as undignified as that.

“How is finding a way to survive weak?” Lan Xichen wants to know. “Mingjue, you’re not the first Nie Leader who tried to find a way around the sabre spirit. Everyone else died. Why do you think it would make you weak if you survived?”

“The sabre is our way!” Nie Mingjue yells out at that, because it’s what his Sect is build upon.

“Then find a new way!” Lan Xichen yells right back and it surprises Nie Mingjue so much that he stops dead in his tracks.

“Find a new way, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen says again, much quieter this time, and Nie Mingjue can hear the pleading note in his voice.

“It’s not that easy,” Nie Mingjue bites out, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Yes. Yes, it is literally that easy. Let go of Baxia. I will take it back to the Cloud Recesses and seal it. And you’ll be free of its influence.”

“Baxia is my sword,” Nie Mingjue tries to argue. 

“And it is killing you.”

“Could you do it?” Nie Mingjue wants to know. “If it was Shuoyue, could you do it?”

“If it was threatening my Sect and my family, my brother? Yes,” Lan Xichen says without hesitation. “I would give up the sword to protect them.”

“Huaisang told you?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, and he feels shame curl low in his gut.

He has attacked Nie Huaisang twice in the same amount of days, and he’s not sure if he can ever face him again.

“Yes, he did,” Lan Xichen says. “He’s scared, Mingjue.”

“Of course he is,” Nie Mingjue gets out, because he didn’t expect anything else.

Who wouldn’t be scared of him.

“Not like that,” Lan Xichen immediately says and puts a reassuring hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm. “He’s scared for you. He says the first time Jin Guangyao barely managed to play Clarity in time, and the second time it was only your stubborn will that stopped you. What if that fails you one of these days?”

“It already did,” Nie Mingjue whispers and turns away from Lan Xichen. 

It failed him when he killed Nie Zonghui without hesitating.

“Mingjue, I’m so sorry. I know he was like a brother to you,” Lan Xichen lowly says and Nie Mingjue closes his eyes against the threatening tears.

He will never forgive himself for killing him. For killing all of them, really.

“You should go,” he tells Lan Xichen. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m dangerous,” Nie Mingjue says and pushes Lan Xichen away.

He doesn’t want to be responsible for his death as well.

“It’s not you that’s dangerous,” Lan Xichen argues and stubbornly stays where he is. “It’s Baxia. It’s the spirit.”

“And I can’t let go of it,” Nie Mingjue mutters..

“Why not?” Lan Xichen wants to know and he grabs for Nie Mingjue’s arm again, but this time his grip is strong enough to hurt. “I can’t lose you, Mingjue, and neither can Huaisang. Please don’t make us.”

Nie Mingjue can hear the tears in his voice even though there is no sign of them on Lan Xichen’s face.

“A-Huan,” he whispers and pulls Lan Xichen close. “I’m here,” he reassures him, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“But you won’t be for much longer, if you don’t change your way,” he protests and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“It’s the way of the Nies.”

“And it can be,” Lan Xichen says. “It can be the way of your disciples. They are not going to die from it. But you, you have to change it. Please, A-Jue.”

“So you suggest I put my sabre down, but expect everyone else to still practice that technique?” Nie Mingjue asks him and Lan Xichen nods.

“Yes.”

“I would lose their respect.”

“They love you,” Lan Xichen tells him and rests their foreheads together. “We all love you, and we’d rather have you around, alive and well, than to cling to something stupid, something that by now is nothing more than a tradition born out of unwillingness to change.”

“Says the guy with three thousand rules and so much tradition I can’t even wrap my head around,” Nie Mingjue says and sighs when Lan Xichen stares pleadingly at him.

“Do you really want to come out of a deviation one day to find that you killed Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asks him suddenly and Nie Mingjue sucks in a pained breath.

Lan Xichen certainly hits where it hurts.

“Wasn’t it already enough that you killed Zonghui? Does it have to be your brother, too?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Nie Mingjue chokes out, and his eyes burn. “I didn’t mean to do that,” Nie Mingjue says, focuses on this, because despite how much it hurts that he killed his brother in all but blood, it’s better than to imagine Nie Huaisang, broken on the floor, his blood on Baxia.

“And he won’t blame you for it, I’m sure of that,” Lan Xichen says but Nie Mingjue can’t believe him.

Of course Nie Zonghui would blame him. Should blame him, even.

Nie Mingjue tries not to think about how Nie Zonghui would have reacted to all of this, but in truth, he knows his stance.

Nie Zonghui had always pleaded for Nie Mingjue to see reason and to put the sabre down and let the disciples uphold the tradition, so Nie Mingjue could be spared this pain.

Nie Mingjue never listened.

“I doubt he would look with anything but hate at me,” Nie Mingjue mutters.

“That’s not true,” Nie Huaisang suddenly says from the door and Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen reluctantly step away from another. “That’s not true,” Nie Huaisang repeats, “and Xichen-ge can prove it.”

“What?” Nie Mingjue mumbles but Lan Xichen is already nodding.

“I mean, I can try. Not all spirits stick around. Especially not when they don’t have unfinished business.”

“He should want revenge,” Nie Mingjue lowly says. “He will be around.”

Nie Mingjue knows Nie Zonghui’s temperament very well and he always hated injustice. And his death was the most unjust.

“If he is around, then it’s for different reasons,” Lan Xichen says, his voice allowing no argument, and he gets out his guqin, settles down behind it and starts Inquiry without hesitation.

“I called for him specifically,” Lan Xichen explains when he sits behind the guqin, waiting. “But if his ghost is still at the tomb, it can take a while.”

And it does take a while. Long enough for Nie Mingjue to hope that Nie Zonghui passed on without having to linger.

But then a single note is plucked and Lan Xichen looks up at him.

“He’s here.”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue immediately rushes out and he falls to his knees in front of the guqin. “Tell him I never meant to hurt him.”

Lan Xichen obediently plucks the notes and he frowns when he gets the answer.

“He says he’s sorry,” Lan Xichen translates for Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue is not too proud to admit that he leans into Nie Huaisang when he sits down next to him.

“What?” Nie Mingjue breathes out.

“Ask him why,” Nie Huaisang suggests and Lan Xichen does.

“For failing you,” he translates the answer again and now Nie Mingjue can’t keep the tears at bay.

Nie Zonghui has never failed Nie Mingjue a day in his life. 

“I should be the one who apologizes,” Nie Mingjue mumbles, his tears dripping hot onto his hands.

“He says there is no need to apologize,” Lan Xichen says after a few notes have been plucked by invisible fingers. “To neither of them.”

“Are the others--?” Nie Huaisang asks when Nie Mingjue’s voice fails him and Lan Xichen nods.

“I do believe they are all here. And they are all apologising to you.”

Nie Mingjue bows low at hearing that. He doesn’t deserve it, and he needs to make sure he properly apologizes to them, gives them the respect he failed to give them in their life.

“Mingjue, they say they love you,” Lan Xichen translates the furious mess of notes that follows. “They stayed around to tell you that you are not at fault. To apologize for not being better and stronger.”

Nie Mingjue is openly sobbing now, because his disciples all deserved a better Leader than him.

“Would they be disappointed if Da-ge put the sabre down?” Nie Huaisang asks and Nie Mingjue turns to look at him from his position low on the ground.

He’s afraid of the answer, and would never have asked the question himself. But Nie Huaisang has always been stronger than he is.

“They encourage you to put it down,” Lan Xichen lowly says and then splays his hands over the guqin. “They want you to live a long life,” he says, and Nie Mingjue knows it’s their final message.

It just makes him cry even harder.

“Da-ge, please,” Nie Huaisang also tries and Nie Mingjue finally comes out of his bow.

“The ancestors--,” he starts but Nie Huaisang doesn’t let him speak.

“They all died,” he bites out. “They all died bloody and horrible deaths and they were weak for not changing their ways. Don’t be like them. Don’t make me lose you like I lost father,” Nie Huaisang mutters.

“Let me take Baxia with me,” Lan Xichen chimes in, and comes around the table to sit on Nie Mingjue’s other side. “Let go of it.”

Nie Mingjue has never seen a future for himself; always knowing that Baxia would one day overpower him and claim his life, like every other sabre of their family had claimed their wielders’ life before.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with the future his brother and his love are proposing now.

But he knows he can’t disrespect his people’s last wish.

“Okay,” he finally agrees, and despite the many fights he participated in--with enemy soldiers and Baxia--this feels like the hardest thing he ever did.

“Thank you,” Lan Xichen mutters and leans in for a soft kiss, while Nie Huaisang clings to Nie Mingjue’s arm, shaking with his sobs.

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue says again, as he slings his arms around the two people that mean the most to him, and he hopes that his people will forgive him for the change he’s about to bring on them.

[jade-masquerade]

Simply Stricken

Written for @tlkfanficfest 2020 Round 2 for the prompt “Stiorra/Sigtryggr and their first kiss”

Stiorra sighed, the book in front of her no longer holding her attention. There were only so many dusty old tomes full of endless burh descriptions and donations made to the church and counts of barley yields she could read, and she glanced away from the words that had long since begun to blur together.

 Instead, her eyes wandered to the most interesting part of this dull, drab room: Sigtryggr himself.

 After Eardwulf had barged through those doors and she’d spent days listening to Brida demanding her head and all sorts of her body parts in turn, Stiorra had admitted in a moment of weakness that she felt safer with him here, and he’d spent as much time in here with her and the books and table games as outside training with swords and shields ever since.  

 She knew she should have hated him. She knew that she should have been angry and afraid. She knew he was dangerous, that he had killed. But so have Father and his men, whispered that conspiratorial voice she fought often these days. Maybe it was her mother’s strength or her father’s impetuousness, but Stiorra found she couldn’t muster a semblance of fear or ire anymore, at least not when they were here alone like this.

Once she’d been certain he hadn’t intended to harm her, she had asked if she was free to go. He insisted she was if she wished, her chambers evidently not well guarded if Eardwulf deep in his cups had managed to stagger served as proof enough of that. In that moment, though, she’d realized the entire city was full of men like that waiting beyond these walls, with nothing better to occupy their time than drinking and whoring and fighting in the streets. Besides, it was far better here than out there where she imagined Brida sat contemplating a thousand ways for her to die, and if she waited here, Stiorra knew somewhere deep down that her father would come for her. And until then, the stories Sigtryggr told were far more fascinating than listening to children whining or watching Finan and Sihtric playing dice for the thousandth time.

 Sigtryggr was an odd sort of Dane, Stiorra had to admit. He strangely seemed to have taken as much of an interest in scrolls and her stories as the sprawling palace and the chests of silver they had gathered from Winchester’s stores. Sometimes he would bring an object—a relic from the chapel, a platter with a verse inscribed upon it, a painting of a saint—from somewhere in the castle, or something to occupy himself, polishing his boots or scabbard, weaving together a hempen rope, the kind of work she’d expect a handmaiden to do, not a warlord, and he would sit and listen to what she had to say, whether it was telling him about the beliefs of the Christian faith, talking about her childhood, or teasing him about if Winchester had turned out to be all he dreamed. He entertained all sorts of her questions in turn, about his homeland and Irland and the sea and all he’d seen along the way, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into his tales of the world beyond the walls of Saltwic and Coccham.

 And she wasn’t blind either, regardless of what Brida threatened. It hadn’t escaped her attention that Sigtryggr was rather handsome, with his long hair and his armbands, clad in functional leather rather than a cape embroidered with gold or jewelry that served to do little other than belie exorbitant wealth. He looked so different from the shorn haired Saxons she’d been raised alongside, and perhaps most importantly, also unlike them he clearly washed.

 “Are you overcome with admiration?”

 She shook her head when she realized she must have been staring. “No. I’m bored.”

He smirked. Then there was that, too, those smiles that would have surely bewitched her in an instant had she been a weaker woman. “So I’ve heard.”

 She rolled her eyes. “My father’s stories made all of this seem exciting. And all that’s here is a list of dead men and their vassals and their lands and who cares.”

 “Lady Aelswith has assured me that her husband was a great man,” Sigtryggr said.

 “Oh, have you been spending a great deal of time with Lady Aelswith now?” She took her turn to smirk now, and then offered mercy at the look of bewilderment he wore. “He was, I suppose. He ruled with fairness and strength and love for his people.”

 “But?”

 She could not deny he was coming to know her well. “But it wasn’t as if he did these things all himself. He didn’t fight the battles, he didn’t bring in the harvests, he didn’t build the burhs. There’s scarcely even a mention of Lady Aelswith, either.”

 “Would there be? She tells me Wessex has no such thing as a queen. Aelflaed tells me different, of course.”  

 “Does it matter? Being a queen seems utterly boring, too.”

 The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t all girls wish to grow up and become queen?”

 “No,” she shuddered. “I certainly didn’t. It seems awful, to do nothing but spend your days bowing and curtsying locked up in some palace. And I don’t want children, much less a kingdom.”

 “Oh? Have you discussed this with your intended?”

 She wrinkled her nose. “My intended?”

 “The man to whom you are betrothed. That’s what Saxons like to do, is it not? Find someone who can make them richer, give them power, or grant them lands, and marry their daughters off to them in exchange for their favor.”

 “Yes,” she admitted. It all sounded rather crude when he put it that way, and she supposed it was. Her mother had told her once of the man she’d nearly been forced to marry, her father’s cruel uncle who had stolen Bebbanberg, and how her brother, Guthred, arranged the match to solidify an alliance and receive reinforcements of men with no regard for his sister’s well-being or her wishes, and how her father had returned in time to disrupt the completion of the ceremony. Knowing her father, Stiorra suspected she left out some of the gorier details to make it fit for the ears of a child, but the passion of the act had always stuck with her, the reminder of the fierce devotion and the love they shared, and how so few were ever permitted to follow their hearts as they had. “Sometimes.”

 “So your betrothed…?” Sigtryggr prompted.

 They had spoken at length about family, hers and his alike, but this was the first time their conversation has strayed into this territory. “I don’t have one,” she said. “There’s no husband waiting for me. I’m not sure I even wish to marry, either.”

 “Ah, so you have preferred to take lovers instead, Stiorra Uhtredsdottir,” he said, winking.

 She felt her face flame. “No, I never even so much as… I’ve never taken a lover.”

Stiorra expected him to laugh, for him to look at her as a child just like everyone else, maybe to tease about her evident prudishness as she’d seen her father’s men rib each other often enough. But he only nodded, though he must have read her embarrassment, for he asked, “Are all Saxons so shy about these matters, too?”

 “I’m not a Saxon,” she said for what must have been the thousandth time, but this time she said it with a smile.

 “Then your Danish mother did not tell you of the joys that can be found with another?”

 “My mother died when I was still too young to talk of such things,” she said. “And the nuns and priests in Saltwic only droned on about purity and maintaining virtue… which makes Lady Aethelflaed herself quite the deviant if half of what they say about her and my father is true.”

 She grinned, though such a secret was scarcely one anymore, not for anyone who had seem them together with their own two eyes, and she flushed at the memory of how she had stumbled upon them kissing one time when she had come to bid him a farewell on his visit to Saltwic. Stiorra turned and ran before they noticed her interruption, and while it had been a bit awkward, she owed much to Lady Aethelflaed’s kindness and wished only happiness for her.

 “Lord Uhtred and Lady Aethelflaed? The daughter of King Alfred and Lady Aelswith?” Sigtryggr seemed amused at the prospect.  

 Stiorra nodded. “My father loved her, and she him. But they say before, she loved a Dane once. That he truly fathered her daughter, not Lord Aethelred.”

 She had never been bold enough to ask Lady Aethelflaed of it, but hearing of the tale had always excited her, and retelling it now was no different. She couldn’t help but think it romantic, despite its beginning and end and the loss of what could have been.

 “A smart woman, then,” Sigtryggr said. “Except if she loved your father, then why do they whisper he waits outside these walls when he could be the ruling Lord of Mercia?”

 “Lady Aethelflaed promised to remain chaste to placate the ealdormen and their god too, I suppose.”  

 He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Their god truly wants piety and obedience rather than free will and happiness?”

 “I don’t know what their god wants,” she shook her head. “For me to devote my life to a nunnery? Or am I instead to save myself for some repulsive old man and his bags of gold? Or some cruel lord with the right name and advantageous lands?”

 “You do not believe in their god?”

 She’d long ago lost faith in the god the Christians worshipped, the one King Alfred had tried to impress upon her to punish her father, but she’d also lost count of how many times she’d asked him, pleaded with the gods of her ancestors, begged anyone who was listening to free her from the boredom of first Coccham and then Saltwic, for someone to come along, anyone, and take her somewhere else, anywhere else, back to Winchester or Northumbria, and bring her adventure. Sometimes the gods had a funny way of showing their will.

 “I don’t want to believe in the existence of a god who takes that much interest in my cunt,” she said bluntly.

  He laughed, and soon she found herself laughing along with him.

 “It’s true,” she insisted. “I don’t care what they say about pagans, if we’re barbaric and wicked. At least our gods are not petty and selfish.”  

 “Our gods don’t care so much what we do so long as we entertain them,” he said.

 “Then they also must be rather bored with this siege,” she said, though she felt anything but now with the way she felt the air shift between them.

 Sigtryggr stood up and walked towards her slowly, nearing where she sat upon the table, books discarded at her side that couldn’t hold a candle compared to the way he seemed to study her now. “Then perhaps we should take it upon ourselves to amuse them?”

 She was struck by how he was even more handsome this way, stunning, strikingly. He was utterly compelling this close, tall, imposing with his scar streaking past his eye, and strong, her gaze following the muscles from his shoulders down to his forearms. At this distance, he was only himself, not a warlord, not more god than man as some of the others seemed to tell it.

 He hadn’t touched her since he’d taken the broken glass from her hand and talked her down from using it to mar her face, but she still remembered the way his skin felt against hers, warm and rough. He was even more hesitant this time as he reached first for her hand, and when she let her fingers thread through his, he brought the other up to stroke her cheek.

 It was nothing, really, no more than what perhaps a hundred other men had done to her, claiming they wished to admire her beauty or looking for a shadow of her father in her face or attempting to evoke a memory of her mother, yet the simple touch sent heat flooding through her.

 Stiorra wondered what he would do if she was bold enough to do the same to him, and gathering her courage, she decided to find out. She began with tracing over his scar, her fingertip lightly following the curved line, skirting around the edge of his mouth, skimming along his jaw, and then continuing over the hair that brushed his shoulders until her fingers slid against the leather covering his chest and curled around the hammer of Thor he wore.

 She found herself drawn to funny things this close: his eyelashes, the bob of his throat, the wisps of a beard gracing his chin, and when she had looked her fill, she brought her eyes up to meet his. She felt as though he saw her—not Lord Uhtred’s daughter, whether that was for good or for bad, not a captive or an enemy, and certainly not a child.

 “May I…”

“Yes.” She didn’t entirely know what she was agreeing to, nor did she care; she only knew that she wanted, anticipation thrumming beneath her skin.  

 The touch of his lips to hers was softer even than the feel of his hand on her cheek. It was strange at first, all of this, the way it felt, how he moved firm but gentle, slow and deliberate, even the fact that they stood in a room where King Alfred’s scribes had written of her father’s victories and the conquests of the Saxons.  

 It was nice, though, even as she wondered how she’d know, given she had nothing with which to compare it. She felt as though she was fumbling through the motions at first, merely attempting to mirror what he did, but then it smoothed into something even more pleasant, something synchronous as they found a sort of rhythm, and she paused only when she was certain she needed to breathe.

 This time she initiated as they resumed, one of her hands winding around his wrist, the other still entwined with his coming up to rest on his chest between them. Their kisses grew quicker, deeper, more desperate until he slowed the pace again.

 He lingered there against her, and seconds or minutes or hours could have passed, but Stiorra still was not expecting it when he pulled away, and it was so sudden she didn’t even have a chance to mask her disappointment.  

 Perhaps he’d stopped for an entirely different reason, though, and before she could stifle them, the words escaped. “Was I awful?”

 He grinned at her, his eyes darkened, and when he spoke again, his voice was deep, a low rumble in his chest, and it made her want more. “No. I simply find myself stricken.”

Stiorra nodded in understanding, her breath catching as his free hand slipped from her cheek to her hip. It had been just a kiss, but it didn’t feel like just anything as Stiorra reached up and swiped her finger over where his lips had touched hers. It felt like it could be something, could be everything.

 All her life Stiorra had been told of how she resembled her mother—in her looks, her strength, her wit—and she’d been told, too, of the gift of prophecy she’d possessed, of how Gisela could cast her rune sticks and see fate in the way they fell. That had always seemed like a strange business to Stiorra, but in that moment she wondered if she had inherited something else from her mother after all because as she looked back up at Sigtryggr again and returned his soft smile, she suspected she could see a glimpse of hers.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

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

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

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

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

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

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

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

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

[exedworld]

EXED WORLD ALMANAC

11th ANNUAL RECAP ISSUE MAXIMUM DELUXITY EDITION!

JUNE - ISH 20 YRS FROM BABL

NOTE: it is highly recommended that while reading through this you scroll along with the original material (x) because things like tomsen’s illustrations and the actual Energy of her writing is lost in this simpler format.

Once again once again, another year of rushing through the asphalt veins of this great nation, little blood clots waiting to get stuck, but hold the embolism, don’t break out flow, we’re not braindead yet.

A strange year in a strange century of strange years. What’s going on in you, exed world? Do you feel ok? Do you feel something building? Is it cry or laugh? Vomit or orgasm? Can we help you get it out?

Barbara’s getting tired. She complains louder every mile/day but hard to blame her. This year we completed 1 full perambulation of the Benighted States of America. Several zigzags through the interior but we never find much in that heart of darkness. America is scooped out hollow and nightmares Lurk in the VOID: You know about it don’t you? If you ever leave your circle of firelight you know about it. Reality’s only as hard as we make it and we’ve made it melty sherbet. We learned that when DAWN OF THE DEAD crawled out of our screens and heads.

But we’re not here to recap The Suggestible Universe. You all know the new rules. We’ll just say this to you fantastic voyagers who dare to tread the Midwaste.

DO NOT TREAD LIGHTLY. Stomp and kick and shout. Make every step hit hard, make every breath a declaration that you’re here, that you’re real.

Stay close to your friends if you have them. Find a mind to confirm that you’re standing on the earth, or you might just fall through it.

Learn from our mistakes. You don’t wanna see the things so soon.

BUT HERE WE ARE. FILLED TO THE BURSTING WITH ANOTHER YEAR THE HOURS SPRAYING OUT OF US THROUGH THE HOLES IN OUR SOULS.

Where to begin? Where did we begin?

It’s all starting to look the same. Forests eat cities. Deserts eat forests. Detroit is sinking, almost gone, just a few decades to become ancient beyond ancient. What was ancient to the pharaohs? What great deeds were done in history’s history?

What primeval heroes did Gilgamesh admire? Did he remember his cave crawling ancestors? Did they remember the trees? The muh? the sea?

WE ARE THE NEWEST THINGS ON EARTH. WE ARE THE BLEEDING EDGE. WHAT A PRIVILEGE AND A DUTY! AND ALL OF THEM WATCHING US. LET’S NOT DISAPPOINT OUR PARENTS.

So! You know the state of the union. If you’ve been paying attention, if you haven’t skipped any issues, you know what’s going on. We told you what we found in the cities: X after X after X after X after X xxxxxx

No time for lists of nothing in the annual recap. What GOOD have we gathered in all these miles? What have we found besides DUST and DEATH?

Whispers...

Rumors...

More and more every day. Since we left the west coast.

Something HAPPENED. Something’s HAPPENING. Something’s GOING TO HAPPEN

BUT WHAT????????????

WHY???

Wild reports of recoveries. Rememberings. THEY LIVE. Can it be TRUE? It’s can’t! Can it? HOW??

Consider the data: Hive dissipations. Wandering Dead. Irregular behaviors: reduced aggression increased confusion, mass migrations to parts unknown.

We are dubious.

Rumors say it spread from Cascadia but it was status quo when we left the coast early summer. How much can change in two months?

AND YET: OTHER ODDITIES OF NOTE: Ossie swarms gathering in the Midwaste.

We saw them by the thousands, like squirming nest of ants. PUREST HORROR.

BUT WHY? No Living prey. Dying in the desert. Why? Are they broken? Who broke them? Or did we imagine the whole thing?

IT WAS ALL A DREAM

Vacillations increasing in quantity and intensity, while cities blinking ON and OFF. All fine and good, we welcome the flux — but we question the synchronicity because flux is EVERYWHERE. RUMBLES AND GRUMBLES FROM ALL DIRECTIONS.

DID YOU KNOW? Axiom is stirring.

Oh yes Cascadians very sorry but the Axiom Group is alive and well despite the precious dreams of your shadowed corner of the world. We didn’t have the heart to tell you while we were visiting but now that we’re far away and you can’t at us... WAKE UP! They’re back.

Did you really think they left? Remission is not cure. Guessing you’ll learn soon enough Cascadia. Rumors of westward expansion. Dusty offices reopening. Ribbon cuttings. Fundraiser galas. Decapitations. We saw it ourselves, Exed World! Convoys en route.

WISH WE COULD RADION A WARNING but you know how that is. We’re working on it. BUT FOR NOW... TOO LATE. Cascadia (if it ever does, if any one’s even reading these) whatever’s going to happen WILL HAVE HAPPENED X X X

So sorry, Cascadia. Hope it worked out.

But for the rest of the “world”, TAKE NOTE. Nature hates a vacuum, Power Vacuum most of all. Only a matter of before something fills it so the question is WHAT? Watch the madness on your screens. Chew the Lotus. There’s your old world. Your good old days.

Is that the filling we want in our donut? IT’S STALE. It’s SOUR. It’s FULL OF WORMS. DON’T LET US REGRESS TO THE MEAN. DON’T LET US REGRESS TO THE CRUEL.

FORESTS EAT CITIES. DESERTS EAT FORESTS. THE MOUTH BEHIND EVERYTHING EATS THE EARTH. THE UNIVERSE. ALL OUR FEARS AND DREAMS... Sorry. sorry. Getting negative again.

The bright side. The bright side. Must remember there is one.

Because LOOK: Axiom is closest living link to Old Gov. It’s the chicken to Old Gov’s dinosaur and with a little digging, a little bribing, a little marijuana and alcohol, one can REVERSE ENGINEER THEIR DNA AND SNIFF THE DINO’S BREATH.

No, we haven’t found the tower. No big teary confessions in our interviews. But clues emerge. Bread crumbs drop. For the first time in forever, we have a trail to follow.

So we keep heading east. The bomb is ready. All we need is a place to drop it. Perhaps New York? Back into Axiom’s loveless embrace? Wherever the trail l e a d s . . .

Maybe this will be the last issue! A good one to go out on. LOOK HOW PRETTY 😍 Maybe we’ll topple the tower and open the airwaves and put ourselves out of a job. WE CAN DREAM. And if it happens you’ll know it. You’ll feel it. And if you don’t feel it you’ll HEAR it when the static stops and we scream into your radios.

“HI!” we’ll scream. “HELLO EXED WORLD! LET’S BE FRIENDS.”

So I say this very very literally: STAY TUNED. Keep your eyes and ears on those rivers of madness for as long as you can stand it because REAL NEWS is about to break. We feel it. The ground is hot under our feet. The rain feels like tears, the sun feels like love, the air hums like harp strings.

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS WHEN SOMETHING BIG IS COMING.

THE GRAVITY WELL OF IMPORTANCE. THE ATOMIC MASS OF MEANING. BIG CHANGE DISTORTS TIME AND WE REMEMBER BEFORE IT HAPPENS.

So hold on a little longer. Stay alive and keep living. EAT A RIPE PEAR. PET A CUTE CAT. MAKE LOVE TO A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. We want so badly to sleep forever, to drown in our tears and sink to the bottom but NO. NO!!

We’re holding in our spilling guts and lapping up our bleeding blood and squeezing the mess of use together because WE WANT TO STAY. WE WANT TO BE HERE WHEN IT HAPPENS. WE WANT TO SEE WHAT’S NEXT.

WE LOVE YOU EXED WORLD!!!!! — DBC

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 21: Life is Magic, Part 1

Just moments after Spike’s birth mother Jennesis’s spirit was sent back. Twilight got set to create another gum portal to get between the palace and the cave faster.

Malakhar: Mind if I come with? I’ll help getting Kubuya here

Twilight: Sure thing. Just follow me as soon as I’ve made the portal

Malakhar nods, then Twilight makes a portal back inside the palace. They then head over to where Malakhar and Kubuya’s shared room was. They open the door quietly in case Kubuya is still sleeping, and indeed she is. Malakhar leans in closer to Twilight’s ears to whisper.

Malakhar: I’ll go wake her, Be right back.

Twilight nods and Malakhar approaches the bed quietly. Malakhar gets to the side of the bed and lightly shakes his to-be wife in two days. Kubuya starts waking up but still a little groggy, she looks over and sees Malakhar there and smiles.

Kubuya: Oops, did I oversleep a bit, honey?

Malakhar chuckles

Malakhar: Kind of! But it was a long, fun night yesterday. So it’s understandable

Kubuya sits up, stretches her front hooves and yawns.

Kubuya: So what’s the plan for today, we’re still two days away from our wedding...

Malakhar: Believe it or not, Twilight’s just outside our room and she needs you to help out with something important.

Kubuya: Huh? Why does Twilight need me? What can I do that’d be so important?

Malakhar: You’ll see in a moment, just trust me and her that it’ll be something special.

Kubuya: Well… ok... if you and her truly think I can help with whatever it is. But I’m not sure I can think of anything else other then knowing how the city library organizes the books *giggles*

Kubuya follows Malakhar out of the room and as Malakhar states Kubuya finds Twilight waiting for her.

Twilight: Good morni… or well I guess... it’s already close to noon at this point. But regardless... hello Kubuya. Hope you had a good rest.

Kubuya: Same to you, Twilight.

Twilight: Now we just need to get Somnambula for what we’re doing next.

On Twilight’s suggestion once Starswirl spread the word to them, the Pillars of Equestria attended the ball and had their own fun if lowkey time together at their table. Most of the pillars choose to go back once it was all over, however Somnambula happened to be the only one to decide to stay a little while longer. Either through more affinity for Saddle Arabia, or perhaps as some respect for her friendship with Jinn to see the wedding of her friend’s descendent.

Twilight, Malakhar, and Kubuya eventually find Somnambula who is talking with Princess Luna.

Malakhar: Hm, I wonder what Princess Luna’s doing here.

Twilight: I’m not sure, but I wonder if we should have her along as well. You told me she saw Jinn before right?

Malakhar: I’m not sure she’ll be able to help summon Jinn, as I’m not sure meeting her once as a filly is criteria for the friendship requirements to summon Jinn from Spike’s dragon tear. But it couldn’t hurt to have her see it as well, she’ll probably go if she knows her sister is there too.

Twilight: Yeah, sounds like it’s at least a good idea for her to see our discovery too.

They approach closer and call out to the two.

Twilight: Hey Somnambula! Princess Luna!

They turn towards the voice and see Twilight walking along with the soon to be married Malakhar and Kubuya

Luna: Ah, Princess Twilight, Malakhar, and Kubuya. Hope you all had a good night at both the ball and a nice rest.

Twilight: We certainly did, but we need you and Somnambula to come with us. We have something you absolutely must see, I promise it will be worth going. Princess Luna, your sister is there too.

Somnambula: Oh you found something I might be interested in seeing?

Twilight: Very, you could say… I found a great source of hope.

Somnambula smiles

Somnambula: Well, I’m alway up to see something that can provide hope! Sure, I’ll come along.

Luna: I will come along, too. I trust you and my sister have found something of great interest.

With that Twilight, Malakhar, and Kubuya are now accompanied by Somnambula and Princess Luna back to the portal Twilight left originally, and they’re all soon back in the cave. 

((Story continues after the break))

Somnambula and Luna look around, Somnambula in particula thinking that they were going to see the very thing that Twilight was hinting at once they got past the portal looks a little confused.

Somnambula: Um, Princess Twilight. I’m not sure a huge dragon skeleton in the middle of the desert is really a source of hope…

Twilight: That’s not it, well technically it’s related to a little earlier. But look, I need both you and Kubuya to touch the dragon tear on Spike’s necklace.

Kubuya and Somnambula look at each other before shrugging and then heading in front of Spike to touch the Dragon’s Tear

Twilight: Now I need you both to think about Jinn. Imagine that inside your head, you’re talking to her, even if it sounds silly. If you could send a mentally-sent message to Jinn, what would it be?

Somnambula goes wide-eyed

Somnambula: Wait, are you saying you found a way to contact the deceased?!

Twilight: You... could say that…

Kubuya: Twilight… if this is true… this is the most amazing discovery in perhaps tens of thousands of years! In other words, one of those too good to be true kind of stuff…

Twilight: Just trust me on this, Kubuya. I wouldn’t have gone through the effort of finding you and Somnambula if I hadn’t seen how this works firsthoof. Even if you find it hard to believe, speak to the Dragon’s Tear through your mind, as if you got a chance to speak with Jinn. Of those I know personally, only you two can do this.

Both Kubuya and Somnambula think for a moment then about what they would say. They still have one of their the hooves on Spike’s necklace, they close their eyes, and in their heads say what they want to say.

Somnambula: (Jinn? If you can actually hear me… this is your friend Somnambula. I just want to say I miss you, and would do anything… to somehow see you again… I was in limbo for a very long time, and I never got to say goodbye… so I’d very much appreciate that, if it’s possible…)

Kubuya: (Erm… hello… Jinn? My name is Kubuya, i’m… a descendent of yours. I don’t know where you are, or if this even works. But supposedly, I can contact you like this… I have always been curious at what you were like. And I would love to see you for the first time… you mean so much to my family history and all of Saddle Arabia itself… it’d be an enlightening experience just to even see you, let alone being able to speak to you…)

Spike then puts his own hand over the Dragon’s Tear to activate it. The process can work with just pony thoughts, but it still needs a Dragon to sort of be a conduit to use the Dragon’s Tear and send whatever thoughts or desires a pony has. Soon the tear gem starts glowing just as it did when Spike unknowingly summoned his mother. Twilight smiles.

Twilight: Looks like it’s working!

Kubuya and Somnambula still rather confused about all this, just either keeps an eye on Spike’s glowing tear or looks around the cave for whatever this was supposed to do. Soon, another white energy comet comes down from the sky towards the inside of the cave. This time much smaller then the one of Jennesis’. Mostly because this is a pony spirit, it’s just naturally a smaller size. Once again it becomes a sphere that floats in front of the group. Somnambula, Kubuya, and Luna all awestruck at the sight. Luna looking at her sister as it appears, noticing Celestia has a smile watching what’s happening. Meaning obviously Celestia saw this already a little earlier.

The sphere soon shifts into the form of a pony, the clear shape of hooves, mane, and tail. The silhouette then makes way for some color and specific details, just like with Genesis the spirit is outlined by a white glow. Jinn herself is also white but thanks to the transparency of her spirit, it is dull enough to make out despite the white glow, her mane is round and very light blue, both the mane and tail end in a hook of a mane that sort of resemble the end of a genie tail on it’s own. Her actual pony tail also light blue and decently long, She even has her genie attire on. Her eyes are closed as she fades in, but once everything has settled. She opens her eyes to reveal the light purple shade of her eyes. She tilts her head and smiles in front of the group.

Somnambula can’t believe her eyes, Jinn was truly in front of her. Her tears welling up with joy, and despite the transparent look of Jinn’s body she couldn’t resist and decides to try to hug Jinn’s spirit.

Twilight: Wait! Somnambula you’ll just fall thro-

But to Twilight’s surprise, Somnambula actually does manage to get a hoof around Jinn’s neck to hug and sob joyful tears into Jinn’s shoulder. Her tears fall through Jinn’s spirit, but otherwise Somnambula is actually physically touching a spirit. Giving the rest of the group even if they were here when Jennesis was first summoned, a bit of another surprise. Meanwhile, Somnambula’s just having a joyous reunion.

Somnambula: Oh Jinn! I missed you so much! I can’t believe you’re actually here! As a spirit, but here nonetheless!

Jinn: It’s good to see you too, Namby!

Twilight: Whoa… you’re actually touching the spirit! I was so sure you were going to fall through…

Kubuya taps her hooves together a bit, and asks Jinn something.

Kubuya: May I… give Jinn a hug, too? We are family after all…

Somnambula lets go of Jinn and lets Kubuya give Jinn her own hug. Kubuya also manages to give her ancestor a hug. Twilight is kinda curious herself and sees if she can give a hug as well.

Twilight: So uh… can I give you a hug from one genie to another?

Jinn slightly giggles as if she knows something, but she outstretches her hooves as if to call Twilight to do so. Twilight approaches, and she decides to try a jump hug in confidence after seeing two previous hugs work. But instead of jumping into Jinn’s hooves… she falls through and faceplants on the floor. 

Jinn laughs, having known that was likely going to happen. Twilight a bit dazed but she gets back up.

Twilight: Hey… Why couldn’t I hug you, when Somnambula and Kubuya could?

Jinn: Hehe, sorry. Only those who are capable of summoning the spirit are actually able to physically touch them. Looks like we’re not related, and we never met when I was alive so…

Twilight: You knew that? Then why did you outstretch your hooves to anticipate a hug?!

Jinn: Just a little prank on my end *giggles*

Twilight: From the stories I hear about you, I never imagined you were the pranking type... I thought you were simply a benevolent genie that sort of responded in a sage-like way to everything.

Jinn: I may have tried to be a bit of a fuddy-duddy so I could be responsible with my wishes at first. But I eventually relaxed and allowed me to be myself what with some of the silly things we genies could do *Jinn spins her eyes* Some reason no history writers ever wanted to write about my sense of humor, my own book explaining about Genies I even had to tone the comedy down, unfortunately. *Jinn spits her tongue out*

Malakhar and Sultan Theandri suddenly get a little closer and just sort of kneel before Jinn.

Malakhar: Jinn… it is such an honor to meet you. Much of Saddle Arabia still reveres you greatly.

Sultan Theandri: Even as a Sultan, I feel to be unworthy in your presence Jinn. You are not just a legend here… you are THE legend here…

Jinn shakes her head and laughs a little

Jinn: Oh come now, yes, I’m the first genie. But you don’t have to kneel to me or say you’re unworthy in my presence as if I created the entire world. If there’s one thing that Anti-Genie regime was actually right about, we genies are ponies just like you. We were fellow friends, powerful friends with crazy amount of magical power yes, but friends nonetheless.

Both Malakhar and the Sultan sort of surprised at the adherence to modesty. Like Twilight they’ve always been led to believe some rather exaggerated view of Jinn as more omniscient and/or quite a level above everypony. Perhaps they just read too many books that sort of depicted her as some god.

Jinn: Guess, that’s just some sort of air about me I may have to keep dispelling, if I’m summoned here more in the future.

Princess Luna suddenly approaches.

Luna: I… remember you… I was a filly… lost in a forest… but after giving me 3 wishes… I ended up back home…

Jinn squints a bit given Luna is so large she is probably decently different from how she looked as a filly.

Jinn: Ah yes, you are the filly I helped out that one time aren’t you? You’ve sure gotten so much bigger!

Luna: I actually thought the time we met was only a dream. But I guess I was really lost?

Jinn: You were a pretty scared little filly, I sort of set things up to make you thought it was all a dream to sort of comfort you. Your sister didn’t even know you were gone for too long.

Celestia: If that is the case, thanks for helping out my sister when she got lost.

Jinn just smiles at the Alicorn sisters. Then Twilight finally starts speaking again to Jinn.

Twilight: So… Jinn… we spoke with the dragon Jennesis before you were summoned…

Jinn: So this is where she went from where we were, huh?

Jinn looks behind her.

Jinn: Wonder if that was a little awkward for her to be spawned where her skeleton is…

Twilight: Huh? Where you and Jennesis were?

Jinn: Yes, where we go when our souls have left our bodies AKA when we died.

Twilight: Well… I guess that works into getting into what my first question was going to be. Summoning you and Jennesis has proven without a doubt, some kind of afterlife exists in our world. Are you willing to tell us, what happens to the souls of the deceased?

Jinn’s general happy demeanor suddenly reaches a more serious expression that stares at Twilight. She said that she’s a pony that likes to have a little humor, but even she understands that there are times to give a serious look, given the stuff she’s about to say.

Jinn: Before I directly answer this question, I need to tell you some facts about the way our world works. Twilight, have you ever wondered why we ponies need to move the sun and moon every day?

Twilight: Huh? Well… I guess in my younger years I was curious. But I’ve just generally accepted that’s just the way it is. No specific reason why, it just is.

Jinn: There in fact is a reason for that, and not even the sun and moon princesses themselves know why.

Celestia and Luna go wide-eyed that Jinn is claiming there’s something about the Sun and Moon they don’t know.

Twilight: What?! How can Celestia and Luna not know everything about the sun and moon?!

Jinn: Simple! Nopony, not even the Alicorn sisters have been far enough up in space to see!

Twilight: Wait, that’s not true. Luna was sent to the moon!

Jinn: Ah, moon banishment… (Things must of really got serious between the two at one point to resort to that… looks like thankfully they’ve made up) That however doesn’t send a pony to the outside of the moon, they’re sent INSIDE the moon.

Twilight: …I guess that does make sense… the tale was Mare IN the moon… not ON the moon. But what exactly is up in space that we haven’t discovered? Don’t tell me that like… those crazy ponies who think the world is flat are actually right or something?

Even though Jinn has been serious, she can’t even stifle her laughter at the thought of Flat-Equestrians.

Jinn: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaha. Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself. That was just funny. No, those flat-equestrians have never been correct. There was a lot more of them during my early time as a genie, but even as far back as then most knew our world was round from as simple as Pegasi going pretty high up in the air in all corners of the world, and seeing the same round shape wherever we go

Twilight: Hehe, yeah. At this point they’re like a fringe group of less then a dozen ponies, mainly cutoff from much of the country.

Jinn: Hehehehehe, I guess I should actually back to explaining things, but just to say it. Yes, our world is round and has always been round.

Jinn tries to get back to her serious explanation but still kinda breaks composure every so often to laugh again.

Jinn: Alright then… as much as I laugh about the flat-equestrians, ahahaha. There is perhaps one thing in their theories ahehehe, that is just about near on-the-money. And thats the way our Sun and Moon act are quite strange. 

Going back to what I said, we ponies for some reason have to move them whether it’s a whole group of unicorns like the old days, or currently the Alicorn sisters. But do you know what would happen if Celestia and Luna just decided to like… not move the Sun or Moon for a full day? A week? Months? Or even years?

Twilight ponders for a moment in a scenario where Celestia and Luna just decided not to raise the sun and moon each day.

Twilight: I imagine our planet still rotates? But maybe a lot slower? In other words, day and night cycles would last several days or even weeks?

Jinn: Nope… the Sun and Moon would just never move at all!

Twilight goes wide-eyed with her mouth agape

Twilight: WHAT?!

Jinn: Yes, without our magic. Our Sun and Moon would just stay where they are on the sky. And what’s more, our planet does not rotate at all. This is also why Pegasi control the weather in most places without rotation… Clouds can’t quite get there by themselves without a rotating world.

And if the Sun and Moon does not move, nor does the planet rotate. It would result in half the world becoming a frozen wasteland. While the other side becomes a large desert if left like that for long enough. The only solid habitable areas would be the areas just between the two sides that would be under an eternal Twilight or Sunset essentially.

Twilight muses to herself for a moment

Twilight: Well, I guess I know what would be the result if I went with my own “Eternal” time of the day like Nightmare Moon did. *giggles* Though Jinn, if you spirits go up in space. Are you able to see if other planets in our universe are like this?

Jinn: We don’t know if it’s like this in other potential planets with life in our vast universe. This could be very well normal in the universe, or we could even be some strange anomaly. But either way, us spirits can plainly see our world where we go to.

Twilight: Then I suppose this is a good time as any to finally explain where the deceased go?

Jinn: Ok… so anyone who has ever lived on our planet that had an average, normal life or better all end up as where we are. All kinds of life: ponies, dragons, wild animals, and even the souls of plants end up there.

Jinn winks and leans in closer to Twilight

Jinn: However, the plant spirits aren’t exactly very talkative. *giggles*

But ahem… when someone... or something in the case of the plants… the spirit inhibiting the body out of our planet and stops and joins all the other spirits encircling our little space in the universe,we spirits flow around our planet and the Moon. We are entirely invisible to the living. But we are all there, most creatures and plants that have ever lived on the planet… Has been around us the entire time. Just invisible, and way, way, way, up in space that no pony alive has ever reached before.

Twilight: Fascinating… but does this shield made by the streams of life in all our history, have a purpose?

Jinn: Yes, we spirits protect our planet from the most dangerous objects in space reaching us. Whether that’s large meteorites, or stray solar flares that might heat up our planet, melting the ice caps, and flooding the planet.

Twilight: I see… now… I noticed you said MOST life that dies ends up up their in the soul shield up there… are there exceptions?

Jinn: Yeah… anyone who was evil or otherwise generally unhappy doesn’t go up there. Instead, their spirits become some sort of dark magic that cause havoc on the planet. And in some cases, damage our shield up there temporarily. An example of said dark magic… are the Windigoes. They’re actually formerly a type of extinct prehistoric horse closely related to our own prehistoric descendants but instead of working together and making up the core values that would later become our world’s friendship. The horses that would become the windigoes depended on hate, rage, and violence in a world ravaged by ice and snow.

In fact, you know when I said what would happen to the planet if the Sun and Moon never moved for a longtime? That was actually once the norm for our planet. And our prehistoric ancestors were at tribal war with these horses for their very survival in some of the deepest parts of the planet where only the moon shined. Our own land of Saddle Arabia, actually started because a few tribes that befriended each other decided to try move in to the warmer part of the planet to escape those prehistoric horses. Those horses had lots of fur and tougher-built bodies that gave them an advantage in a world of ice an snow, but it becomes a weakness when they tried to attack in the warmer areas of the planet. The side where the sun only shined came with it’s own dangers as well, but for many of the first settlers in the land that would become Saddle Arabia. It felt much safer, then the moon’s side of the planet.

The Windigoes are the most well-known example of the dark magic that came after the death of those who were evil. Though they may certainly be other examples even if it’s perhaps unknown what exactly was the evil that died that contributed to such areas, the Everfree forest for example may be such an area. The dark magic collected there may be why it’s one of the few places where clouds move on their own and often are bad news, such as uncontrolled thunderstorms.

While I’m not sure if many civilizations understood why, executing and/or otherwise killing threats ended up biting the land in the flank later. That’s actually why… perhaps subconsciously… our society tries to instead turn enemies into friends… or failing that, trapping them in a sort of permanent state of still technically living, but unable to die, such as being turned to stone or otherwise trapping them in places they’ll never return from.

But regardless, the more evil a threat was. The more consequences there were, if they died. Granted, with a dead villain of the magnitude that reforming isn’t an option. It was still better to contend with the consequences of killing them of it compared to what they were trying to do when they were alive. But the result of killing threats just got to a point it wasn’t advisable. As aside from their death unleashing consequential dark magic to fight, but often killing only made them martyrs if they had any followers and/or others that would be inspired by villainous acts. Some taking the acts of dark magic, as the result of the death of such villains as righteous retribution and a sign that the forces of nature was on their side.

The good news however, is the opposite is also true when it comes to the good. The more someone was a good and powerful hero, the more strength they provide our shield up there. And often said force of good inspires their own friends and family still living, to be strong forces of good that leaves the living prepared against the wreckage of dark magic. Size also matters as our shield would not nearly be as strong as it is now without dragons like Jennesis. The reason why she couldn’t be the one to explain what I’m telling you now even though she would be quite capable, is it’s actually somewhat of a risk for her to be down here, because when she came down it leaves a hole in the shield that even with all the life up there, we have to work overtime to try to make sure nothing dangerous comes through the hole. When you summon me, even if I’m a pretty strong force of good myself. It’s a much easier patch up, then a full grown dragon that lived a full life and found friendship.

Twilight just sits there trying to digest all this new information in her mind. She’s close to an epiphany, of what this all means.

Twilight: This is all amazing information… so villains that have died wreck havoc on the world in different ways… and those who are good or at least had normal lives patch up a shield that protects our planet. The good are actually rewarded for their service by continuing to protect our planet… and now we know Dragon Tears can allow us to contact the dead. Or at least, the dead that are personal friends, lovers, or family… I feel like I’m close to realizing something… but I think I may need to ask one more question before I really say it for absolute certain…

Jinn: Anything, shoot me with whatever ya got.

Twilight: What… exactly is a Dragon’s Tear? Why is it so powerful?

Jinn: Very good question, Twilight. I’m glad you asked that. As you’ve heard, the Dragon Tear’s often only come from dying dragons. Though not all dragons who died left one, it takes a dragon having found friendship within their lives to make it more likely they leave one. And also as I’ve told you, dragons who found friendship absolutely offer the most support up in the shield. But if they’ve left a tear, it meant they had so much excess soul magic, that some of it had to be left on the planet.

Twilight: I actually have a bit of an addendum about this… you see… Spike cried a Dragon’s tear. However, he’s still living because he managed to use it to save himself and my friends. Is there an explanation for that?

Jinn: …Oh wow, Spike had to been through a real emotional scene to have done that…

Yes… it’s technically possible for a dragon to drop a Dragon’s Tear and live. But… it has to be basically a near-death experience and the dragon has to have fast reflexes and amount of love for those he wishes to protect to just manage to use their own Dragon’s Tear to save others.

Twilight: And that’s basically what happened… I can give the details about what happened a little later… you may continue answering my Dragon’s Tear question.

Jinn: Right, but basically all I have left to say… is that the Dragon’s Tear contains excess soul magic of the Dragon that passed. Most of the soul magic is what makes up the Dragon’s spirit that heads up in the shield. But a Dragon’s Tear contains within it the power of a Dragon Spirit that can either be used to protect with powerful magic shields around the living and/or contact deceased spirits when used by a dragon

Twilight gasps, knowing that’s the reason why the main use of the tear was a shield that protected her friends and Spike himself from the blasts that Zathir made Twilight while hypnotized blast at them. Though she is also affixed on Jinn saying soul magic.

Twilight: Jinn… you mentioned soul magic��� multiple times now in fact… Is every single spirit in the shield up there made of this same soul magic?

Jinn nods vertically to indicate a Yes

Twilight: Then… are our souls… magic?

Jinn: You are sooooo close to getting it! Think a little more broadly then souls…

Twilight: More… broadly… then souls…

Twilight suddenly perhaps expresses a gasp so loud it echoes throughout the cave.

Twilight: Magic is not just friendship and love, or even just our emotions whether good or bad… Magic also isn’t just the spells we cast… nor is it just the many magical artifacts and items that exist in our world… it’s... life… 

Life itself… is… Magic too!

UP NEXT: Chapter 22 - Life is Magic, Part 2