#【 YOUR LIFE MAY NOT BE POETIC; BUT IT IS A BEAUTIFUL TRAGEDY. 】

[sadistic-sakamaki]

Open.

« .. Hng... » BITES AND SCARS cover his body. Breathing is slow yet audible, his body stuck in a dichotomy of heavy and light. Although he aches, what feeds his anger is not exactly the pain, but the fact that he has let his guard down, allowing himself to become the PERFECT TARGET. Those damned wolves... One could never be too cautious. He has learned that lesson now, although there is shame in admitting it. He feels the need to find support on the nearest wall, bloody palm marking concrete. This was not going to be his end. He will heal quickly enough ( he hopes ). But the damage has been done, and there is nothing else left than suck it up.

Pureblooded vampires have a few enemies. It is to be expected. Pureblooded vampires from a ROYAL FAMILY, however, have a lot of enemies. The list grows ever so long as days seem to pass. If reputation was not a sufficient enough reason, then the fact that they had something others sought to obtain with teeth and claws closed the deal. God. Never once has he been in such a deplorable state. And he has fought ever since he can remember. Violence perhaps is one of the only constants in his life.

«Filthy fucking dogs... I’ll... Fucking kill them...!» As much bravado as he shows, he cannot help but slide down to the floor. If he does not tend to those wounds soon... well.

«Shit...» He clings to his left shoulder, where the gravest injury is located. His clothes have become soaked with blood by now. He can feel his consciousness fading.

«How did... things become like... this...»

[alltimefail]

This song, "For Forever" was on George's Edwin playlist (he said so in a Cameo) and holy fuck it's perfect for Edwin and Charles.

Knowing the current fate of our beloved show it stings a little extra hard to talk about, but not in a bad way and I want to talk about why that is. Warning that I'm going to wax poetic here, maybe definitely cry a little along the way, but please stick with me. 🖤

These boys have a bond that is special; it defies hell, rejects heaven, scoffs at the classic tragedies with a molotov cocktail in hand, rewrites the expected "bury your gays" trope (surprise, the gays came back as ghosts!), and says fuck a soulmate - I willed this, I chose this, I chose you, fate may have brought us together but I stayed with you and I'd do it again. No one can change that they are together for forever, two friends having a perfect day every day because the other one is there. They'll always have each other in every universe, they'll be together until the end of time and not even death herself can (or would) split them up. For Charles and Edwin it's just sky for forever, inside jokes, silly dance sessions, late night games of cluedo, reminiscing and confiding, puzzling cases, paperwork, infinite backpacks to organize, spells to master, books to read aloud (Edwin doing the reading of course while Charles enjoys), and long walks to wherever, whenever, because they've got nothing but time.

These two silly ghost boys will have the promise of endless possibility, content with the life they've made in their death, just letting the world pass them by for forever and it's everything, better than a life either of them could have ever imagined. Charles and Edwin have known so much tragedy and injustice in their respective lifetimes, they know loss intimately and are constatly fighting tooth and nail against the many forces that try to separate them along the way, but they still choose to do good, to help others, and they are happy because the reward is enough: the ability to bask in the light they've found in eachother is more than enough. Regardless of how you interpret that love, it is truly eternal and pure... so much so that it honestly makes some of the greatest love stories and epics pale in comparison.

All that to say, every time we talk about these two and tell their stories (through another television adaptation, through rewatching season 1 and analyzing every little detail, through fanart, through the comics, through their appearance in doom patrol, and so on) we only add to that cosmic universe that they'll exist in forever. Their story doesn't end with the Netflix adaptation, just like it didn't really start there either.

"You say 'There's nowhere else I'd rather be, and I say me too... we just talk and take in the view."

That line ⬆️ is the essence of the boys whole dynamic, and you know what? That is really fucking beautiful. The whole drive in this song - its steady, epic build and sensational crescendos that convey excitement, awe, a little bit of uncertainty, and an abundance of unbriddled emotion - is exactly how Charles and Edwin's dynamic feels and it's a goddamn treasure, a fucking whirlwind, a blessing to witness. Frankly the love they share is worth celebrating, it's worth honoring and creating for because it's breathtaking, pure joy, warmth, and unyielding devotion. It's a one of a kind story with two boys who will always come to each other's rescue, who will do everything in their power to make sure the other is okay, who will accept each other and pick each other up every time and love each other enough in death to make up for all the people who dared to not see the brilliant light they shined in life.

Netflix may not want to tell their story any more, but we can. We can keep making art, writing fics, supporting Jayden and George who brought our boys to life - and Kassius and Yuyu who gave us their sensational living counterparts as well. I know I love these dead boys and their alive girl companions and that their story will always mean the world to me. I love their love, the found family they've created, and all the residual joy and inspiration it causes; but most of all I love that they've brought us all together in our own little found family. No one can take that from us, nor can they take that from the writers, cast, and crew who put everything into starting this legacy.

So let's do what we do best and get back to our work...for forever, yeah? Maybe another streaming service saves our show (and that would he fucking mint, aces, BRILLS!!!!) but at the end of the day, fandom can immortalize this story.

There's still cases to solve, rights to wrong, jobs to job! No reason to stop just because Netflix mucked this up royally. 🔎💀

[merakiui]

AHHH i knew I'd mess up the request 😭 I would really love to have a flower bouquet from the miscellaneous menu, red velvet cupcakes and red mochi beans from midnight menu for my one and only Malleus 🖤 (I'd appreciate it if reader was an afab female)

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, non-con, nsfw, stalking, obsession, slight delusion note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

The beauty of humanity is transient in nature—so fleeting that one of unfathomed age might assume mortals are merely temporary phantasms crocheted into a celestial fiction. Most days it seems as though you are the untouchable human threads woven into a lively tapestry shielded by the toughest, sharpest of brambles. You are the very shape portrayed soft and precious in watercolor portraits, preserved within the haunted corridors of Malleus’s mind. Most days he wakes from poetic rumination and looks at you for who you are: a dear friend. A kind, clever child of man who is unafraid of crossing the threshold that divides humans from those with lengthened lifespans. You are, in every wondrous way, a mortal who continues to fascinate and amaze with your endearing peculiarities. 

Most days Malleus wonders if he could ever flawlessly imitate humanity in the way you do. Perhaps the idea is an impossibility or a childish dream fostered by his inherent need to stitch himself into your tapestry like a loose strand in search of a home. He can sketch your form in his mind every night—can follow your movements with eyes so green you may be smothered in their vibrancy—but he can never quite grasp the meaning of humanity. Although who could, really, when such an inquiry remains one of life’s greatest enigmas? Malleus surmises that is what makes the modern world in which he exists as curious as it is troublesome. 

There is beauty in tragedy. Malleus knows this well because all human life is tragic in some melancholic manner. But nothing can be more devastating than the raw emotions that entwine themselves through you, staining your expression in muted fear. Thankfully, it takes but a moment for the darkness to dispel itself, alight with yellow-green speckles that foretell a familiar presence. He offers you a pleasant smile through the window, not having considered you might still be awake at such an ungodly hour when he appeared for his usual visit to admire you while you lay motionless, wrapped in the sweetest of dreams. The little beast who often accompanies you—Grim—is curled on the bed, his furry frame moving up and down with each peaceful breath he takes.

There is beauty in the sincerity of relief. Malleus knows this well because when your shoulders relax and you slide the window up to greet him, all instances of horror having vanished from your delightful countenance, you look most ravishing. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Horns. Don’t scare me like that!” 

Horns. It’s a cute, casual nickname—an alias that he wouldn’t have received had he not met you. It’s far more meaningful than the princely status draped across his shoulders, a reminder to all who see him of the destiny that awaits him—a destiny that distances him from others grandly. They seem to care about such a thing—as if it’s a thing so ominous—but you never mind it.

There is beauty in the thorns that pierce the heart. Malleus knows this well, for he stands at the edge of a love that just cannot bear any fruit, consumed in a shadow while he watches you enjoy the noisy company of friends and classmates. Malleus is not very partial to this, yet if it made you happy he would willingly melt into the darkness so that you may continue to spread your glorious light. 

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise curiously and he bends down to lean further into the open window, conscious of the sleek, obsidian-colored horns that curl upwards from his head. “I’m far from a medical practitioner, but I have heard that a good shock to the heart is one way to keep it beating. You need only give me a moment. I shall conjure a bolt strong enough to—”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” you whisper hastily, shaking your head in a manner so wild it sparks amusement deep within his chest. 

“I jest.”

“I would hope so,” you retort, a smile spreading on your lips. “One shock from you and I don’t think I’d be standing in one piece.”

“Nonsense.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand before pausing to truly consider it. “Well, I suppose in order to test such a theory you would need to incite my wrath first. Would you care to try?” 

“That’s a death wish! Is your sense of humor always so morbid, Horns?”

“Would you prefer otherwise?”

“Nah.” He blinks at you, and a chuckle spills from your lips. “It’s you, Horns. Morbid jests and all. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

In that moment, Malleus thinks he wants nothing more than to have you, radiant smiles and all. 

There is beauty in trust. This is something Malleus knows well, for when Lilia handed him a cloth the color of a starlit sky and uttered something about acts of trust he understood the implications. Or perhaps the meaning evaded him; Lilia is always so cryptic. And so, once the moon has risen high, Malleus descends upon Ramshackle’s grounds to consult his wise, beautiful child of man.

“Acts of trust? Like trust falls?”

“Trust...falls?” Malleus repeats it with a furrowed brow. 

“It’s when someone falls backwards into the arms of another person, assuming that that person will catch them. It’s supposed to be a trust game.”

“Shall we play?” He withdraws the cloth from his vest pocket, running his fingers over the silky satin. “This game of trust humans are so fond of... It sounds most entertaining.”

“Oh, sure. Uh... I don’t think we need a blindfold for it, though.”

“I have recently learned of this ‘trust game’ from Lilia. One that involves relying on another to replace your sight.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that one! We can try it.”

“Then allow me to be your eyes.” 

Your nod is immediate, and so Malleus flicks his wrist and the blindfold fastens itself around your eyes. You reach up to touch the fabric and giggle. 

“Make sure to guide me away from any furniture, okay?”

Though you’re unable to see it, Malleus smiles at you, a deceptive flicker in his gaze. The game begins innocently enough. Malleus leads you with honest intent, and even when you stumble he merely levitates furniture out of your way. You nearly take a nasty tumble when your foot catches on the rug, but he’s quick to cast a skillful spell that lifts you up out of harm’s way and lowers you gently upon the bed. Your hands curl into the sheets and you exhale a relieved sigh. 

“That was close. I almost fell.” When Malleus doesn’t respond, you sit up and move to take your blindfold off. Malleus places a hand upon your shoulder, guiding you back down. You flinch, arm stiffening in surprise. “W-Whoa! Seriously, Horns, you can’t keep scaring me like this!”

“There’s nothing to fear,” he assures you. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve kissed the floorboards.”

Malleus nods, as if having expected this answer—it’s unsatisfactory for a reason he cannot list—and traces the path down your stomach, along your hips, to the waistband of your trousers. You seem so fragile in this moment, so vulnerable and so very in need of protection. He’s watched you long enough to know of the dangers you often find yourself in. You move to sit up again, but he looms over you, straddling you, and he thinks you can sense his towering presence. It’s that unique sixth sense he’s heard all humans secretly possess.

“H-Hold on. Wait. What...” You swallow thickly, remaining completely still. “What’re you doing, H-Horns?”

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. “You must trust me. I mean you no harm.”

“No... No, I really don’t right now. Can we stop? I want—” You squirm under him when his fingers curl around the waistband, tugging both your trousers and panties down slowly. He peers at the modest lace trim. Like the rest of you, it is very pretty. “I want to stop. Please. Hey, stop. Seriously—”

You reach blindly for him, your voice rising in panicked pitches. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. Though you try to pull away at the next second, his grip remains firm. Not enough to break your hand, but it does cause you a bruising discomfort. Your lips twist into a trembling frown and a meek whine squeezes itself out of you, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

“You will trust me in due time,” Malleus murmurs it like it’s a vow, his voice so soothing it’s like muffled rainfall. He notices the silent tear that slips out from under the blindfold, and he swipes it away with his thumb. Out of sight, out of mind. “I only wish to prepare you.”

“P-Prepare...” You shake your head, voice straining. “For... For what? Malleus, stop. I don’t want...this. Please stop.”

No longer Horns. He’s lost that name now, but it’s nothing he can’t retrieve.

He slips his gloves off and, after having coated his digits with enough of his own saliva, works your pussy open with two slender fingers, quietly amazed at how soft and warm it is within. Your body goes rigid under him, your free hand grabbing at the sheets while the other remains imprisoned in his grasp. You could take the blindfold off, but you don’t, instead sniffling through a mantra of stop and take it out. He knows you don’t mean those words, for it isn’t long before you’re tightening around the three fingers curled within you, your labored breathing punctuated with little gasps and groans. It is most adorable.

There is beauty in submission. Malleus knows this well because when you arch your back, dig your nails into his hand, and gush around his fingers with a strangled cry you are the most exquisite portrait he has ever had the blessing of admiring. He could spend lifetimes pondering your angles, considering dainty brushstrokes, wondering about the skillful hands that sculpted you so perfectly. So beautifully. So humanly.

You’re panting when he comes back to his senses, having slipped a fourth finger into your wet warmth without realizing it. There’s a strain in his pants, an ache that had once been so dull and is now so unbearably tight. The insatiable, animalistic part of Malleus wants nothing more than to spear you on his cocks, to feel the stretch as your pussy envelops both in its gummy walls, to hear your wails and kiss your lips puffy, to press his hand against your bloated belly and feel the sinful connection for himself. But there is the rational, sweeter side that knows you would be in a world of pain if he was not given enough time to properly stretch you, and so he decides that, as pressing as his needs may be, yours are far more important. 

He wishes to cherish with you for many years to come, not break you beyond repair.

“We shall spend the night here, my dearest,” he declares, the fondness of a smile in his tone. His hand releases yours momentarily so that he may tug the blindfold up to see your sparkling eyes. Tears of joy, no doubt. “Until I can fit more than just my fingers so that we can truly connect as one.”

He leans in to press his lips upon yours in a chaste kiss; you do not reciprocate. Malleus would have thought he’d put you to sleep with how frozen you’ve become. But you’re merely looking at him with defeated eyes—eyes that are so beautiful even when reflecting the pains of betrayal. Malleus tells himself that this is the teary-eyed ecstasy he has heard of in the stories Lilia would often recall when he was old enough to hear such tales. It is not pain; it is pleasure.

And there is beauty in both.

[homestuckredo]

Lots and LOTS have happened in the few days I haven't updated. But Hussie FINALLY took a day off so I have the chance to review in peace!!

First off we have new rules for the captchalogue system, including a size limit to digify items AND the potential to increase the upper limit (hasn't happened yet, but the office card speaks volumes). John has also opened the massive tomb "Colonel Sassacre's Daunting Text of Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery"

and NOTHING useful for actually pranking someone of course (honestly disappointed there are no practical tips in this page). The picture in the middle looks a dead ringer for Mark Twain tho... idk if it is supposed to be Sassacre or just a collage of 1900's looking clownery and Twain's pic is public domain. I guess we'll see.... We also have a brandy new room to explore, complete with last years Dark Knight Joker on the piano. AND WE HAVE SOUND. OMG WE HAVE SOUND!! I think i've played the piano refrain a dozen times its so beautiful!! I'm starting to get the hang of Hussie's emotional whiplash between 4chan humor, niche commercials, and haunting, beautiful and poetic moments. Moments filled with niche media literacy, that he then lies about the source of. I have to look up so many quotes just to be sure who said it guys. So much homework!!! (>.<)

But is does lead into the best part of the updates. WE MADE IT OUTSIDE.

Not only that BUT we have a beautiful animated title page, complete with neverending wind-chimes and a haunting monologue of emptiness and the feeling of missing something unknown.

"The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune. It is your thirteenth birthday, and as with all twelve preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all. "Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire." -Walt Whitman Yes, you are certain Walt Whitman said that. One hundred percent positive. You have a feeling it's going to be a long day."

Francois de La Rochefoucauld said that... not Walt Whitman. I am starting to think John reads a LOT of classic literature and is not a great narrator. I am not an English Major OR Literature Major tho, so this means little to me in the grand scheme of plots and subtext. Moving on.

we have two packages found at last and a visible SBURB disc.... trapped with father who may or may not be baking yet ANOTHER cake. more small mysteries and conflict to hold onto XD Finally, as we go back inside... the cake did not hold as adhesive and our harlequin doll is now missing an arm. Tragedy. Throw it in the fire. PLEASE. Since this has been a lot of updates together I am afraid I have missed things and underplayed just how much were in the last 20 pages... so if you notice anything else let me know!! I wanna see it all!.

[projectdreamwalker]

Obi-Wan Kenobi Fanfiction Recs

So a year ago today I was bored out of my MIND and saw the “Kenobi” seires title on Disney+ and thought “alright, bet.” And I watched it. I had been out of the Star Wars fandom for probably 6 years and just forgot all the lore, so the Kenobi seires really opened my eyes to how beautiful Star Wars really is. I re-watched all of the movies and proudly bawled my eyes out to all of them. Phantom Menace has a special place in my heart, I must admit.

Just a tribute to all the fic authors that I owe my life to, and to the man who owns my eintire heart, Obi-Wan

❗️Read at your own will! No minors allowed! None of these works are mine!❗️

•House of Memory’s by @meshlasolus I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I opened the first chapter of this book, really. I love how beautiful the love blooms between Obi-Wan and Little One (reader). It is one of gentle loving, loss, and bittersweet ending. It also has a twin series, Come What May that takes place after HOM. It is so uplifting and heart throbbing at the same time. GO READ THEM BOTH!!! Then comes the (almost) one-shot style Obi-Wan and Little One entries. These were a lot more sweet and relieving compared to the other two for what I can remember. Just excellent! This is the series that kick-started my love for him and I often think about this book. Once more, @meshlasolus is an excellent author and cosplayer that is highly underrated, go show em’ some love!!

• The Bond Between Us by @just-dreaming-marvel is the sweet, pulchritudinous, and melancholy book about love, hidden feelings, and the true tragedy of what could be. I love how we are dunked into true immersion through the reader, you get to see, feel and truly experience the Jedi way with this book. This one is super good!

• Where It Wasn’t by @221bshrlocked was just so, SO poetic and I read through it way too quick. I love how the affection and pinning is shown throughout, as well as the overall story. We also give our battle-torn hero the break he deserves. This can be read during the time around the Kenobi series. 12/10 excellent!

• Ascending Star by @orangevtae is sweet and relieving, with a little angst shoved into the thick batter of this fic. Super cute interactions with little Luke warning❗️

• Tomorrow by @scribble-dribble-writes is just so, so cute and mundane that it feels like a warm blanket being put over my heart. Scribble has a lot of cute fics like this one, or angst if you are more into that. Just so lovely and sweet! Love husband!Obi-Wan with my fullest heart. • Water and Rock by @split-spectrum is just so, so fulfilling. I mean, you truly see the real side of the Jedi morals through great writing and excellent characterization. AND, in this one I feel like Obi-Wan actually sticks with his morals and doesn’t try to take advantage of the reader like some other ones I’ve read. Super good with anticipation around every corner.

Anyways, I hope you are doing well! I know this is a weird day for me to just be Obi-Wan posting, but at least I always remember the exact day I feel for him, right?

[bi-widower-dads]

bi-widower-dads' February Fic Rec: AUs

Thank you to everyone who submitted recs for us! We've done some sorting and collating, and we've got two posts for you: AUs and Canon-'verse - and a whole load of excellent fic for you to get stuck into while we wait for Barduil Month in April! So without further ado, here are the AUs for you, with a little bit about why our recommenders love them...

Header image by mod @piyo-13!

(a note about tags and trigger warnings: tags are selected from those on AO3 as being those that best describe the story for the purposes of this event; trigger warnings are supplied by the recommenders and may not be comprehensive - your mileage may vary. We've tried our best to include Tumblr handles wherever we can, but if we've missed yours out and you want it included, just let us know!)

One-shots

In the Wake of the Second Horseman by EldritchMage / @eldritchmage | M | 2272 words | tags: angst with a happy ending, implied/referenced drug use, post-traumatic stress disorder - PTSD, implied warfare/violence | trigger warnings: mention of drug use, mention of violence in a war zone, PTSD, nightmares

Summary: When addiction threatens to consume Thran, his lover Bard is desperate to help - but Thran isn't. Yet in ending his relationship with Bard, Thran savages both of them, not just himself. Four years later, Thran's about to discover what remains from his cruelty. What he finds is a surprise - and humbling. What do you love about this fic? Even when things fall apart, redemption is possible if you give it half a chance. Out of tragedy comes hope and a chance for a better life.

love remains by likethenight / @nocompromise-noregrets | G | 11,093 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, grief/mourning, Thranduil never sailed west, mythical beings & creatures, folklore, alternate universe - reincarnation | trigger warnings: none

Summary: There is a legend in Dale, that somewhere deep in the forest that borders the city lives the forest king, an ancient being with a special care for archers, and for all things that grow. Bard, camping in the woods after his finals, finds a place that isn't on any maps and begins to dream of something - someone - familiar; and years later, after the heaviest loss he has ever had to bear, he goes back out there again, hoping to find something that might help him recover. What do you love about this fic? Absolutely beautiful fic, such a touching story and excellent writing!

Petrichor by b_ofdale_archive / @beesinspades | G | 14,598 words | tags: alternate universe - reincarnation, alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - bookstore, books and cats | trigger warnings: slight mention of past life character death

Summary: It's been six thousand years since Thranduil last laid eyes on his husband - Bard. The world has changed and the great Elvenking with it, lingering in the shadows of Men; as hope for a miracle festers within his heart that grows weaker with every passing day, the only thing keeping him going is a promise he made, many moons ago. What do you love about this fic? I love its overall theme, and the thought that Thranduil will meet Bard again. A lovely and poetically written reincarnation AU, well worth the read!

Multi-chapters: in progress

Love in a time of change by myeaglesong / @myeaglesong | M | 22,840 words | tags: eventual relationships, eventual romance, elf/human relationships, fluff, romance, slow burn, alternate universe - regency, oblivious Bard | trigger warnings: none

Summary: For the longest time, Thranduil has wanted to find a good match for his son, Legolas, to marry. His search leads him to consider Arwen for Legolas to marry, but what if Legolas has already got his eye set on another match that Thranduil may not approve of? What will will happen when Legolas finds out about his father's intentions to marry him off? What would happen when the question of if Thranduil were to marry again was to come up, who could he marry? What do you love about this fic? I am not usually one for Regency AUs but this one is so adorable, and between the kids and the dads there is plenty of potential for shenanigans and some tentative romance! I'm really looking forward to seeing how events unfold…

The Moth Effect by BiSquared / @scary-grace and Dogblessya / @dogblessyoutascha | M | 35,658 words | tags: mothman is real, mothman Thranduil, mothbaby Legolas, park ranger Bard, non-graphic violence, but there is still gore so you've been warned, twilight references | trigger warnings: mothman lore, gore

Summary: (in chaos theory) the phenomenon whereby a mothman moving into your place of employment can have a large effect on the rest of your life. What do you love about this fic? I love the Supernatural/Horror element to it and Park Ranger Bard trying to make sense of all the really weird s**t that's happening around him. Lovely bits have to be the introduction of Mothman Thranduil and adorable Mothbaby Legolas. But best of all is that Mothman Thranduil isn't the weirdest thing happening in Olympic National Park 👀….

Vena Amoris by Patch / @patchoffeathers and Piyo13 / @piyo-13 | M | 72,843 words | tags: crossover with Dracula Untold, alternate universe - vampires, Bard is Dracula, canon-typical violence, slow build, alternate universe - some people live/not everybody dies | trigger warnings: none

Summary: Bard has a secret, one that stems from far to the east, in lands far forgotten and times long past. It's one that no one must know—but times are changing for the people living on the lake. Even for those who, technically, aren't alive. What do you love about this fic? The author does such a great job at merging Luke Evans' two characters here (Bard and Dracula) while still keeping Bard distinctly canon-shaped. Because Dracula!Bard is an immortal, there's a unique comparison of mythological immortalities and the relative costs of them that reflects back onto the plot.

show a little faith, there's magic in the night by BiSquared / @scary-grace | M | 342,922 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, slow burn, music industry AU, indie musician Bard, opera singer turned pop star Thranduil | trigger warnings: none

Summary: Bard Bowman's not the type to give up on his dreams easily, but when DJ Smaug's dirty tricks leave his family band stranded in Denver with a forfeit fee the size of Mt. Everest crashing down on their heads, there's really nothing to do but drink about it. The last thing Bard expects is to meet a beautiful stranger in a similar predicament -- and the last thing either of them expects is a rescue. Luckily for them, Thorin Oakenshield's feeling heroic this evening. What do you love about this fic? I am such a sucker for the rock scene (I've spent my entire adult life kicking about there) and it's not often I see it portrayed so realistically in fic (or indeed in original fiction). The characters are all beautifully drawn, the humour frequently makes me chuckle, and Bard going head over heels while trying to tell himself he isn't, it's not happening, not really, because he can't believe his luck, makes my heart go all funny.

Multi-chapters: complete

Followthrough by ofplanet_earth / @ofplanet-earth | M | 26,737 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - military, alternate universe - spies & secret agents, snipers, sniper Bard, military captain Thorin, mob boss Smaug, revenge, character death | trigger warnings: violence

Summary: Bard and his children have been living in a little cabin on the edge of Laketown for five years, hiding from Bard's dangerous past. But when that past comes back to haunt them, Bard will have to team up with Thorin and his company to face down his demons, confront the man who killed his wife, and fight to save the people he loves. What do you love about this fic? Great spies/military AU with Bard and the gang!

The grey sea and the long black land by Black_knight100 and Blueberryrock / @blueberryrock | T | 29,702 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - cruise ship, first kiss, angst, fluff, angst with a happy ending, eventual romance | trigger warnings: quite angst filled but has an eventual happy ending

Summary: Bard Bowman is thirty-seven years old, widowed and heckled, and he's had enough. If his children want a cruise trip with their lottery money, then so they will have. Bard will only have to work twice as hard to take them out of their little corner of the world. It has been three years. Three years of him raging, and sobbing, and grieving. Three years in which he has turned away from his children. Three years to reach this ship, to put together whatever snapped that day. And the first morning, Thranduil wakes up late. It is going fabulously. Or, in which the two meet on a ship, and there are ups and downs. What do you love about this fic? Thranduil and Bard getting together in the end

Modern Love by Shampain / @abner-krill | M | 65,267 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - coffee shops and cafés, alternate universe - human | trigger warnings: none

Summary: Bard is a down on his luck single father working a thankless job as a courier, eternally worrying over when his daughter is going to start sneaking out of the house with boys. As if that wasn't bad enough, his assignments delivering files to Greenleaf Acquisitions puts him in contact with Thranduil, a stern businessman whose only champion is his assistant, Tauriel. And finally, to make matters worse, his friendship with Bilbo Baggins sends everything else into a tailspin. The summer is just beginning, and it's going to be a weird one. What do you love about this fic? Lovely, lighthearted modern AU that is a delight to read!

hands; eyes; voice by bishkebab / @bishkebab | T | 70,163 words | tags: slow burn, alternate universe, accidental cottagecore, governess/single dad romance but make it gay, autistic Thranduil, Thranduil and Bard both have physical disabilities | trigger warnings: mention of autism, fire accident, PTSD

Summary: An isolated life in a too-small cottage was never what Bard dreamed of for his children – especially sharp, scholarly Tauriel and sensitive, insightful Tilda. But school is a distant dream for a large family living off the land – at least until a storm and the subsequent house fire bring a former scholar to their doorstep. Wealthy recluse Thranduil could never have anticipated leaving his family's manor for a shack in the woods and a single father with five – FIVE – children who can barely write ten words between them. But when disaster strikes, he is left with little choice – and maybe close quarters with a handsome widower won't be so bad after all... What do you love about this fic? This is a rare work of art in which Bard is the loveliest dad ever, stubborn, strong and gentle and Thranduil is an introverted autistic lonely lad. The author writes their story in a very poetical way and family is the main protagonist of the story, as is their small cosy cottage. I do love the gentle feeling this story conveys from the start. It feels like a warm cup of tea after a very rainy day and each word is carefully written. This story deserves to be read and reread and rereread. Slowly. (With a nice cup of tea. &lt;;3)

Those Colours We Share by b_ofdale / @beesinspades | M | 84,709 words | tags: alternate universe - soulmates, alternate universe - post-war, set in 1956, Bard owns an animal shelter, slow burn, fluff and angst, disabled character, asexual characters, period-typical homophobia | trigger warnings: none

Summary: Had anyone told them, Thranduil Oropherion and Bard Bowman would never have believed they would see the world painted in colours again. Until that fateful day of December 1956, when one little boy entered a former soldier's animal shelter. What do you love about this fic? I'm a sucker for two lonely people who find each other and forge a new life together.

Beast by Nuredhel / @nuredhel | M | 132,354 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, all humans, Bard is a cop, Thranduil is a profiler, mentions of suicide, slow burn, crime and investigation, bonding while working, romance, past problems | trigger warnings: gore, violence, abuse, human trafficing, child abuse, murder, suicide

Summary: Bard Bowman is the leader of a team of investigators trying to solve a very complicated case, when the serial killer they are chasing proves to have a far longer history than they expected the feds call in a profiler. Bard has never believed he could feel attraction again but now he does, how can he express what he feels when they are chasing a beast which seems to defy the very laws of nature? Can Thran feel the same way? The road to love can be bumpy, in special when it is surrounded by murders. What do you love about this fic? It is very exciting, very romantic and intense.

seeking a friend for the end of the world by BiSquared / @scary-grace | M | 238,799 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, apocalypse, road trips, family issues and family bonding, opera singer Thranduil, Bard and Thranduil are good parents who are having a bad year, or years | trigger warnings: disease-apocalyptic setting, zombies, major character death, medical injections

Summary: Between dealing with his boss, getting over his ex-wife, and keeping his kids fed and clothed, Bard has more than enough on his plate. He doesn't have time to worry about the frightening rumors coming out of New York City or the lunatic in his service bay who tells him to take his kids and run. But when he stops to help a mysterious stranger on the side of the road, he gets a lot more than he bargained for -- a sexuality crisis, a partner in crime, and maybe, just maybe, a chance for all of them to make it out of this mess alive. What do you love about this fic? Incredible worldbuilding and an edge-of-your-seat plotline! The bonds between all the characters are just beautiful, and it has great worldbuilding. The action is also really well written, and it does tension/dramatics right.

In The Woods Somewhere by Ias / @hubristicfool | M | 249,074 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, vampires, vampire Thranduil, mechanic Bard, blood drinking, slow burn, dark, angst, violence, horror, psychological horror, unhealthy relationships | trigger warnings: vampires, blood, angst, sexual content, violence

Summary: These country roads were rarely traveled by any that didn't need to. When Thranduil pulled up beside the man's stopped vehicle and offered him a smile and a ride, there was no one to see the man's grateful expression as he slipped into Thranduil's car. No one to stand by and call out a warning as the taillights were swallowed by the dark branches of the trees. What do you love about this fic? The writing is excellent

Angels and crooks by Nuredhel / @nuredhel | M | 259,072 words | tags: sequel to Beast, alternate universe - modern setting, all humans, Bard is a cop, Thranduil is a profiler, solving crime, family, violence, drug abuse, everyday life at a police station | trigger warnings: violence, abuse, dark stuff, murder, blood, evil, deviousness

Summary: Bard and Thran are getting used to their new life as a married couple, and their new responsibilities as a family. But they still have their jobs and my oh my does that bring some interesting situations and challenges into their existence. Having both experience and special gifts does help, but at times reality can be more bizarre than anyone can expect. What do you love about this fic? It is a good story with very interesting twists and many great characters

When The Pale Swan Flies by EldritchMage / @eldritchmage | E | 290,646 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, circus performer Thranduil, cabinet maker Bard, Thranduil's name is Luka, Bard's name is Taliesin (which is Welsh for Bard), slow burn, Thranduil needs rescuing and Bard is happy to do it | trigger warnings: sexual abuse mentioned, underage sex mentioned, prostitution/pimping mentioned

Summary: A year ago, when a carpenter met a caged bird, his good intentions left despair in their wake. Is he a fool to hope he can atone for his missteps? What do you love about this fic? It's got circus acts! It's got two sad men learning to trust and love again! It's got an epic visit to a grocery store! It's got bad guys getting their just desserts, and everyone else getting delicious Spanish teacake! It's got a cute little boy who finds his voice while making puppets! There's a sad short-story prequel to set the stage, as well! And who doesn't like a parade?

Season of Light and Shadow by EldritchMage / @eldritchmage | E | 914,703 words | tags: alternate universe - modern setting, Thranduil is a ballet dancer, Bard is a building super and welder (and artist), slow burn, NSFW, blended family | trigger warnings: momentary violence, momentary mention of drug use, adult bedroom games

Summary: It's the week before Thanksgiving. In an apartment building somewhere in the middle of New York City, the mood is far from festive. Upstairs in Apartment 5B, an injured ballet dancer is having a rotten day. He's lost his job, he's had to walk home in the snow and rain, getting thoroughly soaked and frozen in the process, and the radiators in his rooms are as cold as the New York City streets. He limps downstairs to vent his fury on the night super who didn't fix the heat. Downstairs in Apartment 2A, the night super is also having a rotten day. No money, three overtired and cranky children, a slapdash boss, and not nearly enough sleep. And now someone is pounding on the door like a SWAT team. When an angel knocks on the door of a saint, neither finds what he expects. But with a little luck, the upcoming holiday season might give them both something to treasure. What do you love about this fic? It's two lonely men forging a blended family! It's got ballet! It's got home renovation! It's got four cutie children! It's got cooking! It's got an artist regaining the wherewithal to make his art! It's got lots of cool side characters (ten points to everyone who spots all the Dwarves :-). It's got lots of steamy love! It's even got 3 short follow-up stories! What's not to like?????? This was my introduction to the world of modern AUs with these two, and oh, it's SO GOOD. The kids are brilliant and so realistically drawn, and the dads are - well, they're incredibly hot. XD And the development of the relationship between them is beautifully done, as they go head-over-heels for each other while trying to take things slowly for the sake of the kids…oh, it's great. :D

[rataccatak]

major grom/plague doctor pages that made me feel big emotions (pt 2.5/3)

yall im SO sorry for the long wait. It's been a year since I've sat down and did some Thinking bout this comic but my love for this franchise is immune to hiatus. I was orig gonna go chronologically but I wanted to post something rather than nothing so here is a panel I've wanted to scream about ever since I first read it.

"I'm not ready to lose you again" scene (Plague Doctor issue 14)

We all knew this page was coming; it is so fucking good. Surprisingly though, it's not the final hug that gets me as much as THIS PRELIMINARY SCENE RIGHT HERE.

Despite Sergey's queercoded flirtatious presence, he doesn't really show much physical affection towards anyone (at least, not in a vulnerable & genuine way) WHICH IS WHY I WENT APESHIT WHEN I SAW THIS. It shows a level of vulnerability that Sergey doesn't ever truly share with anyone because of course, it's reserved for Oleg and OF COURSE it has to come after he tells Oleg to SHOOT HIM if he ever comes close to putting his life at risk. It is SUCH a great moment in Sergey's development--not just the rearranging of his priorities (shifting from his plague doctor mission to Oleg), but his willingness to relinquish control to Oleg. He doesn't say "let me die" or "run away" or even just "stop me," motherfucker says SHOOT ME. It's, of course, a parallel to Sergey's attempted murder of Oleg in The Game, only now Sergey is willing to put himself in the same position as Oleg WITH the motivations REVERSED so that he intends to SAVE Oleg by letting himself get shot. Like. Poetic cinema. What the actual fuck.

Also, "your faith is the only thing saving me" is the most beautiful thing I think I've heard in my entire life. It's easy to think of Sergey as this laidback and callous terrorist who doesn't really interact with the human tragedies of his actions, and to an extent, this is true (he is VERY MUCH an "ends justify the means" kinda guy). But I think his remorseless attitude doesn't stem from an inability to grasp how truly awful he is, but rather, from a hyperawareness of the human cost of his actions that eventually just pushes him to ACCEPT his own irredeemability. Kinda like "I'm already past the point of redemption, so why stop now?" way of thinking. This line confirms it for me. It communicates the absolute DEPRAVITY Sergey assumes of himself, his belief in his own irredeemability, and the acknowledgement that Oleg's trust in his goodness is the only thing stopping him from losing himself to that impulse. Oleg is Sergey's heart and moral center. He redeems and humanizes him when the world and Sergey himself is unable to (exhibit A and B below).

And it is so incredibly tragic. That shot of Oleg reciprocating the hug is pervaded with such desperate and futile but UNKILLABLE hope, like he's trying to physically cling to the person Sergey used to be (or more accurately, who he thinks he is). There's even a role reversal here; now Sergey is the pragmatist, and Oleg is the naive idealist, unable to come to terms with the limitations of his own control. And that sort of deliberate ignorance only further hastens the inevitable, and it is so tragic, this scene. Another reference to The Game with the power dynamics between Sergey and Oleg reversed: once again, Oleg puts blind faith in Sergey. But this time, it may cost him SERGEY'S life, not his. And to an extent, Sergey also put his blind faith in Oleg as well; when the chips are down, he trusts Oleg to shoot him before he can kill him again. Whether their trust in eachother is enough to save them this time... that question is left uncomfortably open.

[rederiswrites]

In Any Life, In Any Body

Did something I haven't done in a long time, and wrote. Did something I've never done, and wrote post-canon fix it fic. But if ever a show called for it, it's Mr. Queen.

For 19 1/2 episodes, we got a beautiful, complex, and inherently queer story. Then we were meant to accept a tragedy as a happy ending. I needed to believe that two people who managed to love each other across time and regardless of sex or gender could have another chance.

---------

The 5 Letters represent one of the great mysteries of King Cheoljo’s legacy. The question is this: Who was Jang Bong-hwan?

The name appears only in two of the Letters and the famous graffito at Gungnamji Lake. There is no other record of anyone by that name who might have had contact with the King. These letters reveal a surprisingly metaphorical and poetic side of the King, but to the author’s mind, the shortest and simplest is the most moving and strangely tragic of these.

Bong-hwan touched the page. He already knew it by heart. It appeared a dozen times in the books scattered around him. But he could not read the words aloud.

“Bong-hwan. I never called you by your name. I did not truly see you until you were gone. Bong-hwan. I pray every night to see you again in another life, in your world. Bong-hwan. Now that you are gone, I know what it was that I loved. I would love you in any form. Bong-hwan. May I know you again, in any life. In any body. Bong-hwan.”

(Read the rest on AO3)

[godzilla-reads]

🐦‍⬛ The Crow by James O’Barr

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

“Life is lousy with hurt but it also shimmers with beauty. Don’t miss your chance to be a part of that beauty. You may not get another.”

“The Crow” is a story of exacting vengeance from the grave as Eric Draven is brought back from the dead and starts killing off gang members one by one- people who had murdered and raped his fiancé before killing him.

I had no idea that the amazing 1994 movie was based off a graphic novel- a movie that really shaped me when I saw it as a preteen. So when I saw the special edition graphic novel at my comic store I knew I had to have it and read it. And read it I did. This story has so much more meaning now after hearing that James O’Barr wrote this in a state of turmoil after his own girlfriend was killed in a drunk driving incident. Not to mention the tragedy of Brandon Lee’s death on set of the movie.

Reading this graphic novel was a thing of beauty to me. James O’Barr’s art is classic and it’s hand drawn and penned and inked and it’s original. The story wouldn’t be the same without his ingenuity, his poetics, his artistic flair. I highly recommend this graphic novel, although I will warn people that it is pretty violent and there is drug-use in it, so practice self-care if you choose to read it.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

KEN BURNS' COMMENCEMENT SPEECH AT BRANDEIS

TCINLA

MAY 29, 2024

Something worthwhile to read and consider at this fraught time.

I am deeply honored and privileged that you have asked me here to say a few words at such a momentous occasion that you might find what I have to say worthy of your attention on so important a day in all of your lives. Thank you for this honor.

Listen, I am in the business of history. It is not always a happy subject on college campuses these days, particularly when forces seem determined to eliminate or water down difficult parts of our past, particularly when the subject may seem to sum an anachronistic and irrelevant pursuit, and particularly with the ferocious urgency this moment seems to exert on us. It is my job, however, to remind people of the power our past also exerts, to help us better understand what's going on now with compelling story, memory, and anecdote. It is my job to try to discern patterns and themes from history to enable us to interpret our dizzying and sometimes dismaying present.

For nearly 50 years now, I have diligently practiced and rigorously tried to maintain a conscious neutrality in my work, avoiding advocacy if I could, trying to speak to all of my fellow citizens. Over those many decades I've come to understand a significant fact, that we are not condemned to repeat, as the saying goes, what we don't remember. That is a beautiful, even poetic phrase, but not true. Nor are there cycles of history as the academic community periodically promotes. The Old Testament, Ecclesiastes to be specific, got it right, I think. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again. There is nothing new under the sun. What those lines suggest is that human nature never changes or almost never changes. We continually superimpose that complex and contradictory human nature over the seemingly random chaos of events, all of our inherent strengths and weaknesses, our greed and generosity, our puritanism and our prurience, our virtue, and our venality parade before our eyes, generation after generation after generation. This often gives us the impression that history repeats itself. It does not. "No event has ever happened twice, it just rhymes," Mark Twain is supposed to have said. I have spent all of my professional life on the lookout for those rhymes, drawn inexorably to that power of history. I am interested in listening to the many varied voices of a true, honest, complicated past that is unafraid of controversy and tragedy, but equally drawn to those stories and moments that suggest an abiding faith in the human spirit, and particularly the unique role this remarkable and sometimes also dysfunctional republic seems to play in the positive progress of mankind.

During the course of my work, I have become acquainted with hundreds if not thousands of those voices. They have inspired, haunted, and followed me over the years. Some of them may be helpful to you as you try to imagine and make sense of the trajectory of your lives today.

Listen, listen. In January of 1838, shortly before his 29th birthday, a tall, thin lawyer prone to bouts of debilitating depression addressed the young men's lyceum in Springfield, Illinois. "At what point shall we expect the approach of danger?" He asked his audience, "Shall we expect some trans-Atlantic military giant to step the earth and crush us at a blow?" Then he answered his own question. "Never. All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa could not by force take a drink from the Ohio River or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a trial of a thousand years. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men, we must live through all time or die by suicide." It is a stunning, remarkable statement, one that has animated my own understanding of the American experience since I first read it more than 40 years ago. That young man was of course Abraham Lincoln, and he would go on to preside over the closest this country has ever come to near national suicide, our civil war, and yet embedded in his extraordinary, disturbing, and prescient words is also a fundamental optimism that implicitly acknowledges the geographical forcefield two mighty oceans east and west and two relatively benign neighbors north and south have provided for us since the British burned the White House in the War of 1812 and inspired Francis Scott Key.

Lincoln's words that day suggest what is so great and so good about the people who happen to inhabit this lucky and exquisite country of ours. That's the world you now inherit: our work ethic and our restlessness, our innovation and our improvisation, our communities and our institutions of higher learning, our suspicion of power. The fact that we seem resolutely dedicated to parsing the meaning between individual and collective freedom; What I want versus what we need. That we are all so dedicated to understanding what Thomas Jefferson really meant when he wrote that mysterious phrase, "The pursuit of happiness". Hint, it happens right here in the lifelong learning and perpetual improvement this university is committed to.

But the isolation of those two oceans has also helped to incubate habits and patterns less beneficial to us: our devotion to money and guns and conspiracies, our certainty about everything, our stubborn insistence on our own exceptionalism blinding us to that which needs repair, especially with regard to race and ethnicity. Our preoccupation with always making the other wrong at an individual as well as a global level. I am reminded of what the journalist I.F. Stone once said to a young acolyte who was profoundly disappointed in his mentor's admiration for Thomas Jefferson. "It's because history is tragedy," Stone admonished him, "Not melodrama." It's the perfect response. In melodrama all villains are perfectly villainous and all heroes are perfectly virtuous, but life is not like that. You know that in your guts and nor is our history like that. The novelist, Richard Powers recently wrote that, "The best arguments in the world," — and ladies and gentlemen, that's all we do is argue — "the best arguments in the world," he said, "Won't change a single person's point of view. The only thing that can do that is a good story." I've been struggling for most of my life to do that, to try to tell good, complex, sometimes contradictory stories, appreciating nuance and subtlety and undertow, sharing the confusion and consternation of unreconciled opposites.

But it's clear as individuals and as a nation we are dialectically preoccupied. Everything is either right or wrong, red state or blue state, young or old, gay or straight, rich or poor, Palestinian or Israeli, my way or the highway. Everywhere we are trapped by these old, tired, binary reactions, assumptions, and certainties. For filmmakers and faculty, students and citizens, that preoccupation is imprisoning. Still, we know and we hear and we express only arguments, and by so doing, we forget the inconvenient complexities of history and of human nature. That, for example, three great religions, their believers, all children of Abraham, each professing at the heart of their teaching, a respect for all human life, each with a central connection to and legitimate claim to the same holy ground, violate their own dictates of conduct and make this perpetually contested land a shameful graveyard. God does not distinguish between the dead. "Could you?"

[Audience applauding]

"Could you?" A very wise person I know with years of experience with the Middle East recently challenged me, "Could you hold the idea that there could be two wrongs and two rights?"

Listen, listen. In a filmed interview I conducted with the writer James Baldwin, more than 40 years ago, he said, "No one was ever born who agreed to be a slave, who accepted it. That is, slavery is a condition imposed from without. Of course, the moment I say that," Baldwin continued, "I realize that multitudes and multitudes of people for various reasons of their own enslave themselves every hour of every day to this or that doctrine, this or that delusion of safety, this or that lie. Anti-Semites, for example," he went on, "are slaves to a delusion. People who hate Negroes are slaves. People who love money are slaves. We are living in a universe really of willing slaves, which makes the concept of liberty and the concept of freedom so dangerous," he finished. Baldwin is making a profoundly psychological and even spiritual statement, not just a political or racial or social one. He knew, just as Lincoln knew, that the enemy is often us. We continue to shackle ourselves with chains we mistakenly think is freedom.

Another voice, Mercy Otis Warren, a philosopher and historian during our revolution put it this way, "The study of the human character at once opens a beautiful and a deformed picture of the soul. We there find a noble principle implanted in the nature of people, but when the checks of conscience are thrown aside, humanity is obscured." I have had the privilege for nearly half a century of making films about the US, but I have also made films about us. That is to say the two letter, lowercase, plural pronoun. All of the intimacy of "us" and also "we" and "our" and all of the majesty, complexity, contradiction, and even controversy of the US. And if I have learned anything over those years, it's that there's only us. There is no them. And whenever someone suggests to you, whomever it may be in your life that there's a them, run away. Othering is the simplistic binary way to make and identify enemies, but it is also the surest way to your own self imprisonment, which brings me to a moment I've dreaded and forces me to suspend my longstanding attempt at neutrality.

There is no real choice this November. There is only the perpetuation, however flawed and feeble you might perceive it, of our fragile 249-year-old experiment or the entropy that will engulf and destroy us if we take the other route. When, as Mercy Otis Warren would say, "The checks of conscience are thrown aside and a deformed picture of the soul is revealed." The presumptive Republican nominee is the opioid of all opioids, an easy cure for what some believe is the solution to our myriad pains and problems. When in fact with him, you end up re-enslaved with an even bigger problem, a worse affliction and addiction, "a bigger delusion", James Baldwin would say, the author and finisher of our national existence, our national suicide as Mr. Lincoln prophesies. Do not be seduced by easy equalization. There is nothing equal about this equation. We are at an existential crossroads in our political and civic lives. This is a choice that could not be clearer.

[Audience applauding]

Listen, listen. 33 years ago, the world lost a towering literary figure. The novelist and storyteller, not arguer, Isaac Bashevis Singer. For decades he wrote about God and myth and punishment, fate and sexuality, family and history. He wrote in Yiddish a marvelously expressive language, sad and happy all at the same time. Sometimes maddeningly all knowing, yet resigned to God's seemingly capricious will. It is also a language without a country, a dying language in a world more interested in the extermination or isolation of its long suffering speakers. Singer, writing in the pages of the Jewish Daily Forward help to keep Yiddish alive. Now our own wonderfully mongrel American language is punctuated with dozens of Yiddish words and phrases, parables and wise sayings, and so many of those words are perfect onomatopoeias of disgust and despair, hubris and humor. If you've ever met a schmuck, you know what I'm talking about. [audience laughs] Toward the end of his long and prolific life, Singer expressed wonder at why so many of his books written in this obscure and some said useless language would be so widely translated, something like 56 countries all around the world. "Why," he would wonder with his characteristic playfulness, "Why would the Japanese care about his simple stories of life in the shtetls of Eastern Europe 1,000 years ago?" "Unless," Singer paused, twinkle in his eye, "Unless the story spoke of the kinship of the soul." I think what Singer was talking about was that indefinable something that connects all of us together, that which we all share as part of organic life on this planet, the kinship of the soul. I love that.

Okay, let me speak directly to the graduating class. Watch out, here comes the advice. Listen. Be curious, not cool. Insecurity makes liars of us all. Remember, none of us get out of here alive. The inevitable vicissitudes of life, no matter how well gated our communities, will visit us all. Grief is a part of life, and if you explore its painful precincts, it will make you stronger. Do good things, help others. Leadership is humility and generosity squared. Remember the opposite of faith is not doubt. Doubt is central to faith. The opposite of faith is certainty. The kinship of the soul begins with your own at times withering self-examination. Try to change that unchangeable human nature of Ecclesiastes, but start with you. "Nothing so needs reforming," Mark Twain once chided us, "As other people's habits." [audience laughs]

Don't confuse success with excellence. Do not descend too deeply into specialism. Educate all of your parts, you will be healthier. Do not get stuck in one place. "Travel is fatal to prejudice," Twain also said. Be in nature, which is always perfect and where nothing is binary. Its sheer majesty may remind you of your own atomic insignificance, as one observer put it, but in the inscrutable and paradoxical ways of wild places, you will feel larger, inspirited, just as the egotist in our midst is diminished by his or her self regard.

At some point, make babies, one of the greatest things that will happen to you, I mean it, one of the greatest things that will happen to you is that you will have to worry, I mean really worry, about someone other than yourself. It is liberating and exhilarating, I promise. Ask your parents.

[Audience laughs]

Choose honor over hypocrisy, virtue over vulgarity, discipline over dissipation, character over cleverness, sacrifice over self-indulgence. Do not lose your enthusiasm, in its Greek etymology the word enthusiasm means simply, "god in us". Serve your country. Insist that we fight the right wars. Denounce oppression everywhere.

[Audience applauding]

Convince your government, as Lincoln understood that the real threat always and still comes from within this favored land. Insist that we support science and the arts, especially the arts.

[Audience cheering]

They have nothing to do with the actual defense of our country; They just make our country worth defending.

[Audience applauding]

Remember what Louis Brandeis said, "The most important political office is that of the private citizen." Vote. You indelibly... [audience applauding] Please, vote. You indelibly underscore your citizenship, and most important, our kinship with each other when you do. Good luck and godspeed.

[Audience applauding]

[fluffypichu876]

Wolf from Sekiro for the character ask?)

my boi wolf, the only traditional protagonist in the soulsbourne games :DDDDDD i love him so much and honestly people don't talk enough about him

* favorite thing about him: i absolutely love how wolf can either represent the end or the perpetuation of the cycles of suffering (depending on your actions and the ending you get). to start off, he is an undying shinobi who can rise back from death no matter how bad his injuries get. thats is an obvious play on the cycle of life and death, but its just the surface of it. the endings tell us way more about this tragedy that is immortality.

get the shura ending and this cycle perpetuates on the worst way possible: wolf becomes a blood-lusted immortal demon who possesses the only two blades capable of severing immortality a.k.a japan may just as well be gone forever.

immortal severance ends in a lighter note but its still very tragic in a subtle way. with his lord dead, wolf no longer has a purpose and now follows the steps of the late sculptor, which implies that one day wolf will still end up consumed by shura (and pass on the prothestic to another shinobi, just like the sculptor did, repeating this cycle once again). his master's death was meaningless, since immortality was severed but not returned to where it belonged to, and someday eventually another divine heir will be born (you get it by now: the cycle continues...).

purification is good but still not the best ending, in my opinion though it sure is the most beautiful and poetic one. you see, wolf is also part of a cycle of abuse and trauma. he was an orphan in the battlefield, adopted by an abusive foster father (the great shinobi owl) who saw him as a mere tool to help him achieve his grand schemes. wolf was raised to strictly and blindly follow the iron code, which stated that the father's will was absolute, above even the will of one's master (i won't explain more because that'd be the entire story really xD)

and so there's kuro, the young divine heir, a mere child. mostly importantly, he is wolf's master. by the code, wolf is obligated to follow every order that his master imposes, no matter what, without question. and so wolf does that. but kuro sees wolf as much more than just a guardian and tool. he sees him as his loyal shinobi, his friend, and quite possibly the only person he can absolutely trust after the death of his parents.

and at first this only rings true because wolf is too afraid of breaking the code, his only purpose and belief (owl you motherfucker). but as you progress through the game, especially if you take the path of the two better endings, wolf himself starts to realize that he sees kuro as much more than his lord. he genuinely cares about the boy and his safety, and the moment that kuro approaches him with the proposal of severing immortality (which will eventually end with the heir's death), wolf begins to branch away from his lord's wishes and even breaks some of them, all so that he can find an alternative way of ending immortality without prematurely endings his beloved lord's life.

hell, he even dares to break the code in front of his father, who he feared his whole life, choosing to stay loyal to kuro instead of following owl's will, which ends in a duel to the death between father-son where wolf comes out victorious :D

fuck, you, the player, ends up sacrificing something for kuro, since picking any ending other than shura (a.k.a forsaking owl) means you have to go through and beat the much harder final third of the game, even though you had the option to finish the playthrough much earlier by obeying the code. and to get the purification/return ending you have to go even further and beat father owl, who is to many the hardest boss in the game, a legend in his prime, as one final fuck you to that absolute asshole who calls himself a father.

all of that simply because kuro treated wolf with all the care and compassion that owl could only ever hope to show. (fromsoft's choice of having a traditional protagonist really pays off here. the story in this game just feels so, personal y'know?)

and that's why purification is so beautiful, because here wolf goes through all of that shit and eventually decides to take his own life to sever immortality, allowing kuro to live on with the happy and carefree childhood that neither ever got to experience. just, oh god... a cycle of abuse broken by the pure sympathy and love of someone that truly cares about you...

sadly, like in the IS ending, another divine heir will eventually be born again, but this time, there's the hope that it will finally end for good.

then there's finally the return ending, which is the happiest and most hopeful ending fromsoft will ever give to us in a souls game xDDD. i'm not sure how the whole returning the dragon's blood to its origin and kuro being like carried by the divine child (apparently in her womb in the og japanese text?) works, but it is the ultimate end of all the terrible cycles mentioned above (and a great opportunity for a sequel huh fromsoft wink wink nudge nudge)

umm, this came out more as a explanation of the endings honestly but it also essentially explains my favorite thing about wolf as well so yeah xD sorry for all the text lol

* least favorite thing about him: hmm, i will admit, as great as all the subtle storytelling is, wolf is quite honestly an absolute brick of a character xD he barely expresses emotion in his dialogue.

* favorite line: "i hereby condemn the last immortal. may you live on, and embrace what it means to be human." the last thing he says to kuro in the purification ending. excuse me i will go cry.

"a code must be determined by the individual... this is what i've decided. just as my master did." is gold too. spat right in owl's face too hehe.

* brOTP: focusing more on the platonic part than the bro part, definitely 100% his whole relationship with kuro. the way these two care for each other is simply too sweet.

like how kuro decides to prepare a rice ball for wolf, after seeing him eat it raw (because owl abused him by starving him out of food, giving it as a sparse "reward" for obeying his will GOD I HATE THAT GUY)

and also how in that one scene kuro kneels to wolf's eye level to speak to him, instead of standing in the imposing and dominant manner expected of a master....

now, if i where to focus more on the bro part, i really appreciate the camaraderie that both the sculptor and hanbei show towards wolf. sharing a drink with the old hermit and having him share a story of his time, or just practicing your parries with hanbei, it all felt very nice :))

* OTP: i will admit i'm not really into shipping xD i usually only care about canonical or highly implied (to the point of obvious) pairings. that being said, in my eyes wolf has zero romantical chemistry with pretty much every character in the game honestly xD

* nOTP: aside from the obviously problematic ships, none really.

* random headcanon: i have read a fic where wolf has a severe case of sweet-tooth and now i kinda carry that with me xD completely justified in-game too, where you consume stat-boosting sugars.

* unpopular opinion: hmm none? i mean, people barely talk about sekiro nowadays (much to my dismay)...

* favorite picture of them: this is my personal favorite promotional render:

[sadistic-sakamaki]

@kindan-no-kanojo | continued from here.

«YOU'RE WELCOME, ghoulie~. They look much, much better now». Trust him for once in your life, Scarlett. Ayato knows what he is doing. Plus, red compliments her complexion. She should be aware of it by now, given how she is still rocking the red hair ( how come she has yet to dye it another color? Hmph, perhaps an agreement is due, and they both should simply stick to red, no change required! ). And since she also frequently wears red lipstick, red ought to be one of her favorite colors, he figures. All in all, it seems that he simply has done her a favor.

«Huh? Should I...? Hm...» Her suggestion catches him by surprise, and for a moment he does ponder about it. However, it is rare for him to use nail polish, as it is impractical. First, the process itself takes time, and he does not like waiting. And besides, he figures he would have to be applying coats and more coats with some frequency --- nail polish and sports are not a good match, you know? Imagine playing a fierce basketball game while worrying about the state of your flashy nails. Overall --- not too feasible.

«Nah. I'll leave the nail art to ya. It suits you better anyway. Though next time I'm definitely chargin'!» There is no such thing as free services, after all!

[rebelrebelwrites]

Another week, another…

Fic Friday! ❤️ Weekly Fic Recs

Let’s dive in.

This week’s recs are…

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

+++

The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: Like Calls Unto Like by Elahrairah_Inle

What you need to know going in:

Oof, this fic. If you haven’t been reading it, where you been, fam? It’s been a while since it’s been updated, but don’t let that deter you — this S1 continuation begins with Gal and Hal in Eregion pre-reveal, then progresses to a full-blown post-S1 epic that is just that: epic. In addition to a spellbinding narrative, steamy AF smut, and captivating characterization, the thing that strikes me most about this fic is the love and care the author clearly takes with the plot. It’s intricately woven, and I am SO excited to see where they take it. This is a fic that’s worth waiting for, however long that may be.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: a dust like thine by @mortaltempless

What you need to know going in:

Agh! Recently completed, and I’m still basking in this fic’s beauty and perfect execution. (Also, be prepared to see mortaltemples on this list a few times; everything I’ve read of theirs has been 🤌.) This fic follows a BatB-style fairytale premise in the First Age, with Galadriel bargaining with Sauron for her brother Finrod’s life: he can have her, instead, as long as he’ll also help her overthrow Thingol in Doriath. The resulting story is thrilling in its pace and intensity — every moment builds and crests so that you’re constantly on the edge of your seat with the dynamic set between these two, which sees a very measured but mercurial Sauron and a very lovably impetuous Galadriel who has zero qualms making herself… we’ll say at home in Sauron’s fortress. I don’t want to say too much more for fear of spoilers, so just go read it/bookmark it. You won’t regret it.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author here on Tumblr and on AO3.

+++

The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: the nameless by @bimmyou

What you need to know going in:

35k words, one chapter. Folks, I was intrigued, to say the least, when I stumbled upon this lengthy one-shot — reason being, I’ve become more of a minimalist as a writer/reader in recent years, so that WC made me curious, and I admit, initially a bit hesitant. Let me tell you… every. Single. Word. Was. Incredible. Absolutely not one wasted in this stellar masterpiece; I think I said in my comment something to the effect of Tolkien not being able to do it better, and I meant it. Before I spend too much more time waxing poetic about how absolutely incredible this one-shot is, I’ll give you the long and short of it: it charts Sauron and Galadriel’s story through to the Third Age after they meet on the Sundering Seas, and the care and consideration given to their characters, to the tragedy of them and all of Middle Earth as a result, is nothing short of harrowing, and spectacular.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

+++

The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone) by @wyrd-syster

What you need to know going in:

Listen, it’s so damn hard not to start every summary with an embarrassing noise of both delight and anguish because every story/the talent in this fandom is incredible? I’ll stop wasting words with my nonsense and get on with it: Post-S1, in which Galadriel accepts Sauron’s proposal, and takes up the mantle of his Queen with a ferocity and strength of will you just don’t see in most fics, and it’s glorious. The expansion of orc culture and overall world-building in this is sublime, and even heartbreaking in the unflinching view it takes, always at the pitch perfect moment. The battle for dominance between Gal and Sauron in this, for me, may be my favorite so far I’ve read. It’s breathtaking. And did I mention that the smut and sweeping narrative is also stellar? Well there you go.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The Can’t Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: a man is a god in ruins by eye_of_a_cat

What you need to know going in:

This is another case where you can expect to see this author’s works recommended more than once, but I believe it was a man is a god in ruins (and the larger series) that I fell in love with first. As stated, this 5-chapter completed fic is part of a larger series where the author explores different ways for Sauron’s identity to be revealed, and I urge you to read the entire series as well, but this specific story takes the opposite approach: the one time Sauron successfully maintains the guise of Halbrand. I don’t want to give too much away apart from that, so the rest I’ll say is that the sense of foreboding this fic builds is terrific, and masterfully done. Coupled with undeniable romance, scorching smut, and a series of twists and turns that will make your heart palpitate hard, you will be riveted the entire time, and blown away by the end. That I promise.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter and AO3.

+++

🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don't see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don't fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend... ❤️

Until next week!

[t-horn-n]

— he who wears the crown of thorns

PAIRING: peter ballard/henry creel x reader (female) 

GENRE: angst, h.end

WARNINGS: canon-level violence, allusions to substance (mis)use 

Stranger Things S4 spoilers.

SUMMARY: when you are injured in the lab, peter must finally admit what your relationship is.

NOTE: I have exhausted the well of Peter Ballard fanfiction, so I decided to write my own.

If you were one for poetics, you would craft the story of Hawkin’s Lab into a drama, or more likely, a tragedy.  Peter Ballard Henry Creel the hero, a fallen king who wears a crown of thorns around his neck.  And Martin Brenner, the arrogant mortal who tries to wield a god’s power.  

What does that make you?  Once, you may have simply been the narrator.  An outsider who felt obliged to tell the story of those who could not tell it themselves.  But now?  As time has passed, are you the fallen king’s guardian angel?  His pawn, a subject made to be ruled?  His friend?  Or his lover?  

It is not yet clear. 

What is certain is that you are entangled with him as though you have been ensnared by invisible threads, as unnoticeable as fishermen’s line, but as strong as spiders’ silk.  To Henry your presence in the lab has been as permanent as the white-tiled walls.  Though you are his age, you have been there since the beginning—to lend some normalcy into his life, Brenner had claimed.  Though, surely, you are not so ignorant as to believe anything about Henry is normal.  

Nonetheless, you are a constant in Peter Ballard’s life.  A rock that has stood even as Martin Brenner’s forest grew.  Peter became taller, older, more deceitful.  Together you raised the doctor’s saplings, fostered them with sunlight in the form of smiles.  

And now, your relationship?

Well, it’s simple in its complexity.  It’s peculiar in its secretiveness.  Your private grins and unspoken jokes and the strange way you store a piece of your weird, mangled souls in each other.  

But Brenner gets high off control.  If not, what need does he have for the collars?  The cameras?  The rules?  And when he loses his grip he suffers from withdrawal.  And he can be so very cruel when he does not get his fix.  

For a while, he pretended that that attraction did not exist.  He chose not to see the proximity because with all of the power Brenner tells himself he possesses comes laziness.  

“Don’t you think that if we all lined up on a checkerboard we would look like oversized chess pieces?” you murmur to Peter one afternoon—or at least that is what the clock claims—in the Rainbow Room.  

The two of you stand against the wall with the twin doors, facing the mirror with its reflection of your white uniforms and a dozen shaved heads.  

He chuckles quietly in amusement, the kind only you can earn.  “If that’s the case, that would make us the King and Queen.” 

You smile and your hands inch together.  A fingernail brushes against a fingernail, but a pinprick of red light bores into your forehead and you do not dare to do anything more than whisper.  

Brenner may be lazy, but he can also be sly and sneaky.

Two of the younger children colour on pristine sheets of paper.  Flowers and suns, things they have never seen for themselves, are conjured from the coloured wax of the crayons they hold.  Eleven drops a red disk into a numbered peg board, again and again.  Two, Three, and Four toss a bean bag between them.  Anything to cure their boredom. 

Suddenly, the door is pushed open.  It is not Martin Brenner, so the children do not rise.  They continue their puttering and only the oldest look to see who caused the disturbance.  Another Orderly addresses Peter.  

“Your shift is over.  I am here to take your place.”   

Peter smiles, his beautiful lips stretched thin.  

“I’ve been assigned a double shift today.  Don’t worry about me, Ballard,” you say to his hesitance.  

He smiles again and now his eyes crinkle too.  Then he leaves and you are left to stand with this Orderly on opposite sides of the steel door as though the lab is the prison Brenner tries so hard to deny.  You avoid staring at your own reflection because you have found that if you look at yourself for too long your reflection will become unrecognisable.  And then the person across from you is alien, and will certainly drive you mad.

Before your thoughts can run around your head in dizzying loops, the children start yelling.  Two and Three have stalked over to where Ten kneels surrounded by a fortress of blocks.  Wooden walls will not protect him from entitlement.  

“Move,” Two demands.  

For a moment, Ten does not reply and you think he will ignore Two—that he will weather this onslaught.  The silence permeates and is only broken by a soft whirring as the camera stationed in the corner of the room angles to watch the performance unfold.  

For that same moment, you do not know what to do.  Brenner has never liked Orderly interference in his children’s matters, always eager to see the extent of their capabilities, and of their rage.  But then again, he will be undoubtedly upset if one of his assets is damaged.

“No,” Ten says.

In a swift movement Two kicks his block towers and they go sprawling on the floor.  You and the other Orderly rush forward as Two takes Ten by his collar, yanking him up so quickly that he is not allowed time to yell, and his toes barely brush the tile.  

“Say again?” Two snarls.

“Two, your behaviour is—” you start.  

Two thrusts an arm outwards and the other Orderly flies backwards and into several chairs.  You do not move.  A rock. 

Perhaps Two would have been surprised if he were not so busy spitting in the other boy’s face.  “When I tell you to do something, you do it.” 

Ten’s face hardens defiantly and you are almost envious.  Where was this courage when you were a child?  Did you lack Ten’s bravery or the fodder of the other children?  

Two swings hard and his fist meets Ten’s cheek because in a deranged rage he must have forgotten that he is always being watched—or is the true reason more sinister?—and Ten is on the floor.  Blood runs down his face and stains his teeth.  Two appears drunk from adrenaline. 

A grin is spreading across his face, arrogant and smug.  But from the ground Ten throws a wooden block at his face.  It cuts his eyebrow, its point digging into his skin and now he too is bleeding.  Again, Two lunges forward like he is about to commit murder, but you are there, holding his shoulders and trying to push him against the wall.  His hands fly up, your face stings as Two drags his fingernails across your skin.  

Your fellow Orderly has since recovered and is holding Ten’s arms behind his back as though in the past three minutes the child has been traded for a criminal.  

“Let go of me!” Two yells.  

Your lips press together. 

Startlingly, the doors fling open, Martin Brenner has arrived.  Now, the children all jolt and stand in their lines.  

“Hello, Papa,” they greet. 

Even Two’s anger has waned in the presence of the doctor.

He speaks to the other Orderly first.  “Please escort Two and Ten to the infirmary.  I will have a chat with them later.”  

Then he looks directly at you and juvenile fear seizes you, the kind you should have grown out of.  “Come.” 

You release Two.  Approaching Brenner you do not look at the children, you try to relax your shoulders and raise your chin.  Peter would not be afraid, you remind yourself.  Brenner grasps your wrist in a handcuff not made of metal but flesh.  Roughly, he pulls you from the Rainbow Room and down the hallway.  

“You are here to protect them, Y/N, and today, you have failed to do that.” 

There is no point in protesting nor is there a reason to sputter apologies.  Simply, you allow him to drag you through the corridors of Hawkin’s Lab. 

A collar of metal and wires is fixed around your neck, a bite guard in your mouth.  You sit in a chair and an electrical shock races through your veins.  Your nerves alight and already perspiration beads at your hairline.  

Humiliation as you slide from the chair because your muscles spasm and you see Peter watching behind glass with an expression that discloses nothing.  But in his eyes, you see horror.  You tell yourself that you are not crying, and that the water that turns your vision bleary is the natural reaction to your situation.  

Pain as your legs commit treason and kick in odd directions.  

You count to yourself the seconds that pass.  It is all manageable if the time you suffer is compartmentalised.  When it is over and Brenner has left and Orderlies have taken the collar from your neck, Peter gathers you into his arms.  He tucks his head into your neck and whispers into your ear.  He does not tell you that you are okay because obviously you are not.  

“I’m sorry.” 

Still, your fingers twitch.  Your head jerks periodically while your feet tingle. 

He does not apologise again.  He does not need to.  Now it is certain that what you are extends past labels.

“They will not control us forever,” he promises.  “Soon we will rule them all.” 

Perhaps Henry Creel still wears barbs like a necklace, but his pledges to you are like a crown of thorns placed over your brow.  Those who wear the crown of thorns will not be caged for long.

— m. list

[catihere]

When Jason sees her, his chest tightens. She was young, a year or two older than him, and looked so vulnerable in death. Her lovely long blond hair was scattered in all directions, her skin looked pale and stiff, her cheeks and chin were stained with a mixture of her tears and her own blood. Her pale cream kimono and gray belt were stained with dried blood. She was of Japanese descent, - It was clearly visible in the simple grace of her soft features and the delicate structure of her body. Some cards fell out of her kimono and belt and scattered around her, stained with blood. There was really too much blood… But even so, she was beautiful, Like a Fallen angel: her perfectly combined soft shades violently contrasted with blood-red and steel marble, her face was so pretty and lifeless like a doll's… It was beautiful and painfully. The tragedy of a young life cut short in all its glory. Glazed, empty blue eyes stared at nothing, an unpleasant wound gaped on her stomach, a golden blade lay not far from her. "She didn't want to die with a gun inside her," Jason thought a little distantly, somewhere not far from him Lucius was painfully vomiting and Cassia was stroking his back. The great-grandson of Apollo killed her, out of fright and reflexes, rather than by your own desire or his order. Jason didn't know and didn't want to think who she was when she was breathing and her heart was beating, an enemy demigod who stayed in the castle for some reason, a mortal girl who was dragged here by a monsters or someone else. He didn't want to think. He was too tired and it hurt, it could get even more painful. But leaving her here to rot was cruel. His voice sounded imperious and cold as he ordered a funeral pyre to be built outside and food to be collected for her last journey. One of the legionnaires, a child of Lucina, brought a blue cloth and covered it. Jason himself carried and laid her cooling corpse on the bonfire, carefully closing her eyes before doing so. The last acts of kindness and respect she received, even if Summers and Jason didn't know her and didn't want to think about her. Her hastily assembled funeral pyre burned brightly and intensely. The fire smelled of solar heat and hyacinths. The light from the fire, warming and pleasant, fell on the remaining legionnaires and Jason standing closest, it was he who presented the torch and watched as the fire willingly embraced her. Whispers about the maiden of Othrys swept through the Cohorts of camp Jupiter. Some will call her an oracle or an advisor, some will call her mortal. Jason didn't want to think about another soul and an early extinguished life that had been turned into a tragedy. The truth about her is peacefully waiting in the wings.

•Jason finds the corpse of a young girl who may not even have been a demigod after the battle with Krios tired and sickly and does not want to think about it. Because he could get worse. My Poor boy.

•Jason orders his legionnaires to build a funeral pyre for her and food for the last journey. The Son of Lucina covers Kore with a blue cloth and this cloth is used as her funeral shroud, [Cough, the same Son of Lucina will perform a caesarean section in the future and wrap the newborn baby in a blue blanket, Cough].

•The burning body of Kore smelled of solar warmth and hyacinths, the light was bright, and the fire was pleasant and warming ... and Kore most likely really tried to get the Mistform Cards that Alabaster gave , realizing that it was useless, but acting out of respect and gratitude.

•It was thanks to the Romans that Kore got the nickname "maiden of Othrys".

@kore-pythia-hayashi

Your writing is getting more and more graceful with every single excerpt you have the kindness to send me. Your progress is visible and extremely beautiful to observe. And I’m blessed enough to watch it? God, I’m so grateful.

Jason unknowningly burying his future daughter is so sad and meaningful, poetic even. As he (metaphorically) lowers her into the grown, through his simple kindness, he allows her to ascend to the sky. To a new chance to live. To restart, the same way she ended: nurtured by a son of Lucina and held by the son of Jupiter. Every end is a rebirth, a new start, and Kore was lucky enough to prove this.

I love how you thought out Kore’s outfit: simple, yet delicate, things she deeply appreciates, and indicative of her Japanese heritage (perhaps as a nod to her beloved family members). A great and meaningful detail, good job.

The title she’d been given, “maiden of Othrys”, also catches my attention. It is reminiscent of the names picked by archeologists for long forgotten statues or artifacts, objects defined and obscured by the time that has washed upon them. Kore’s body, as Jason finds it, is somewhat evocative of such a statue: beautiful, carefully crafted, delicate; yet unsettling and obscure in its eternal rest. Maybe Kore was deemed to be carved in the stone of time, an ever-lasting monument of so many people’s pain.

[saharasdawn]

HELLO????????? TWO GIRLS FALL (IN LOVE)????????? wlw interactive fiction coming for my goddamn throat forever and always wtf...... /pos

THEIR LOVE IS FLEETING AND BEAUTIFUL AND RADIANT AND EPHEMEREAL!! IT IS HOLY AND UNTOUCHABLE THE SAME WAY CELESTIAL BODIES ARE!! THERE IS A REASON WHY THE 'CELESTIAL' IN CELESTIAL BODY IS INTERCHANGEABLE WITH HEAVENLY!!!!!! LARGER THAN LIFE AND ALL CONSUMING AND UNATTAINABLE YET CONSTANT AND UNCHANGING ALL THE SAME!! IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAPPEN YOU CANNOT CHANGE THIS THE PATH OF YOUR SHOOTING STAR WAS PREDETERMINED!! ahem. sorry for shouting

shooting star and clementine. heaven and earth. burning brightness hurtling through space at breakneck speeds until it slowly burns out. simple earthly sweetness yet made to be consumed and before you know it, its gone.

it will come again and again and again every fruiting season (new shooting stars will make the rounds once more)

each fruit is the same variety but never the same exact clementine ever again (will the subsequent shooting stars ever retrace the same path? shine as bright or with that exact hue?)

and one day the tree itself will have to die but a new one will come (our sun. our universe will die and be reborn once more slightly different maybe)

a shooting star is not a star. it is a meteor. meteor is derived from meteōros, greek for "high in the air". icarus flew too close to the sun but people forget that he flew. their love may have ended then in that universe but they loved all the same (and continue to in later times. in other worlds.) a meteor is not a star. a meteor is rock and metal not a flaming ball of hot gas. it is more constant and indestructible, not nothingness that will evaporate. when a star dies it becomes a neutron star or black hole. a collapsed core or a gaping emptiness. it is a good thing then their love is not a star but a shooting star, rocks and metal. constant and grounded.

sorry that's what happens when you leave me alone with anything vaguely poetic or symbolic ;-; all that to say i rlly rlly adore it!!!! concise and impactful DEVASTATINGLY EFFECTIVE!! reminded me of these games: venus meets venus, arboretum, lilium, all that we could ever be, and the solar system tastes like chicken. most of these is vibes some of it is similar stories and format and most of them are older twine. be warned abt venus meets venus for uh. idk messy wlw and transphobia in sapphic spaces and lilium bc it is SO sad. like. tragedy levels sad.

sorry for the long ask WAHAHAHA



I ABSOLUTELY ADOREDDDD READING THIS PLEASE DON'T APOLOGISE and i'm so glad you enjoyed!!!

i absolutely adoreee nicknames and those two suited the girls so much i literally couldn't replace it. one sweet one fast one fleeting one rotting. and even if she finds a new love and another clementine it won't be the one from her memories that got sweeter with time :((

i also got inspiration from that one poem about sharing oranges because. ugh clementine sharing small parts of herself that she'd never let anyone but her shooting star see out of pure love and adoration it's so special to me

and even if the love is fleeting it EXISTED and it was beautiful whilst it did and that's what matters!!! the clementine never gets sweeter but the taste remains

i LOVED all that we could be, one of my all time favourite pieces honestly it's so effective and meaningful and everyone ever should read it!! i'd give my spleen to be able to write something as meaningful as that haha