#*dies from peak fiction*

[homolobotomized]

let's all die and go to hell together guys

[silenthill2ps2]

OK I FINISHED READING THE NEW JOJOLANDS CHAPTER THAT WAS SO GOOD

[redonionlover]

this is cute to me...

(source)

[chromaji]

dies from peak

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 25/∞

VIOLENCE AS COURTSHIP IS A PART OF DEMON CULTURE

Rating: CANON

A nearly universal trope, especially in Moshang fics, is the fact that courtship is performed through violence in demon culture, and that the misunderstandings between the pair are because of cultural differences. The fact that demons mistreat the targets of their affection is canon, however, it is important for fans to note that this sort of characterization and worldbuilding is rooted in racial and ethnic stereotypes.

This is one of the most-requested topics I've ever written on this blog, and I took a long time to think about how best to approach the subject in a way that both keeps to the intention of this blog (referencing canon & providing quotes) as well as raising awareness to the very real problematic aspects of what is a well-loved and often-used trope in fanon that I don't think most western fans are aware of.

First, the canon analysis:

“If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand your intentions?” Luo Binghe asked. Obviously, no one dared to tear down Luo Binghe’s facade and expose him directly, but this question was really very…unsuited to the demonic approach. After a long moment, not a single person had answered. In fact, the answer was so simple that any normal human could have given it to you. If you liked someone, you should just tell them. Unfortunately, there was not a single “normal” person on the scene—and aside from Shang Qinghua, there also were no “humans” either. Mobei-Jun thought about it. With the paths his mind was given to take, there was no telling how he had interpreted “unique” feelings. “Beat them up three times a day?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Most of the fandom remembers this passage, and some may think that this is where the interpretation of violence as courtship comes from-- however, that is not the case. This passage might actually not refer to courtship at all-- while that is one possible interpretation, Mobei-jun could also be interpreting "unique feelings" to mean something different than "romantic feelings," since Luo Binghe didn't specify romance directly.

The "violent demonic courtship" idea actually originates much earlier in the novel, just after the invasion of Qiong Ding Peak:

In truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t intend to tease; he thought himself very straightforward. The one who’d tampered with Luo Binghe’s dream realm was Sha Hualing. Though she did have some harmful intentions, her underlying motive was obvious. Naturally, she was driven by a young girl’s secret yearning for love. Otherwise, she would have directed her aggressions toward others, not specifically Luo Binghe. Demons were compelled to viciously bully the person they liked. Only if the object of their affections failed to die would the demon accept them. If their target died, that meant they were useless and not worth nursing any lingering affections for. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

This, in fact, has somewhat more serious connotations than the way I have often seen it interpreted in fanworks-- it is not merely beating up a potential partner, but pushing them to their limits, nearly driving them to death, and it is certainly implied that it is not uncommon for the object of a demon's affections to actually die.

Now that the canonical basis of the idea has been established, let us move on to the second, and arguably more important part of this post: the racism.

I would like to add a disclaimer here-- I am going to discuss this in hopes of raising more awareness in the fandom, but I am not North/West/Central Asian myself, so I will only mention things in brief and somewhat generally-- if anyone who belongs to the affected cultures would like to make corrections, or more detailed explanations, or any other additions to this post on this topic, I greatly welcome that, as I feel it is an important issue that should be addressed.

In Chinese fiction, particularly fantasy genres like xianxia/xuanhuan/xiuzhen, but also in historical and wuxia fiction, there is a pervasive, prevalent tendency for authors to use racial and ethnic stereotypes against Central, Northern, and Western Asian cultures such as Mongolian & Arab cultures in their worldbuilding regarding the North, while stereotypes against Southeast Asian cultures are used in worldbuilding regarding the South. These stereotypes are most typically applied to villains and villainous groups, and are so widespread as to be ubiquitous within the genre. MXTX has used these tropes before-- notably with the Banyue people in TGCF, with adaptations of both TGCF and MDZS including design stereotypes, such as CQL's portrayal of the Qinghe Nie (combining their tendency toward violence and 'unnatural' cultivation method, with design traits typically associated with Northern/Central Asian cultures).

It is worth noting, though, that most authors do not intentionally use these traits as racist stereotypes in their worldbuilding, especially when regarding a non-human species-- in the same way that western fantasy authors use goblin and orc characters and tropes without realizing or acknowledging their racist origins and connotiations, these stereotypes have simply become genre tropes without that direct connection to their origins. Nonetheless, it is still worth noting-- and worth trying not to fall into the trap of leaning into stereotypical traits in fanworks' character portrayals.

Stereotypes include but are not limited to barbaric and brutish cultural traits, association with animals/having animal features, dark or corrupt magical/spiritual practices, certain types of braided hairstyles & other fashion choices, and originating from the far north or south.

Some of the prejudice and stereotyping of Northern Asian cultures likely originates from the fact that in the past, China was invaded and subjugated by peoples from the north (under Mongolian rule during the Yuan dynasty, and under Manchurian rule during the Qing dynasty) as well as having many conflicts with these peoples throughout history. In fact, the Qing dynasty only ended in the early 1900s, so some of this oppression is still in recent memory-- nonetheless, people belonging to ethnic minorities in China are still affected by this negative stereotyping today, so regardless of the origin, racism is still racism and should be addressed, and China today is a majority Han Chinese nation-- even if Han Chinese are considered a minority and affected by systemic racism in other places in the world.

Additionally, many tropes specifically applied to the southern demons, but also used for demon culture as a whole, are tied to stereotypical portrayals of Southeast Asian culture, which is rooted in a long history of Imperial China's invasion and oppression.

All of those stereotypes listed above apply to SVSSS' demon culture. Even in Mobei-jun's name-- 漠北 meaning "northern desert," which is the real-world name for a region in the north of the Gobi desert in Mongolia.

Therefore, it is important to remember that though violence-as-courtship in demon culture is canonical within SVSSS' setting, it nonetheless originates from harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes. It would be a good idea for fans to keep this in mind when creating their fanworks, and to treat the topic with sensitivity-- but I will leave any direct suggestions on how to handle this to those who are actually part of the affected groups.

--

(thanks to @flidgetjerome for additional notes regarding SEAsian stereotyping and author intent!)

Also, to be absolutely clear: I am not saying that svsss’ demons are specifically coded as any real ethnic group— it’s only that in many ways the portrayal is similar to the common portrayal of various ethnic groups in cmedia. I don’t believe they are specifically meant to parallel a real life group, unlike for example TGCF’s Banyue— but it’s worth questioning why these traits, why these characters.

[fizzyxcustard]

One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @guardianofrivendell @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @luna-xial @asgardianhobbit98 @lemond57 @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @missihart23 @eunoiaastralwings @evenstaredits @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @mrsdurin @quiall321 @glassgulls @catthefearless @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @heilith @albionscastle @court-jobi @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk

(Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists)

[general-fanfiction]

Don’t Trust Him. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: With Rhonda, Charlie and Wally trapped in the fallout shelter, Y/N is their only way out.

Word Count: 2,727

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings - Violence, Swearing?

A/N - So I know technically the ghosts don’t bleed but I felt like it was slightly better in this situation if they did so let’s just pretend they do. I also apologise for how rushed this is, I really just wanted to get something posted.

Before I died, my knowledge of ghosts was based on what I’d seen in movies. Completely fictional. Turns out there is no way of communicating with the  living, nor any way of possession or torment. Not even a way of leaving the place you died. Unless you’re the exception. Which in my case, turns out I am the exception. It’s funny, in life I was very much average, no different from the other thousands of kids attending Split River High. Though in death, I’m powerful. Able to leave the place that the others are stuck, able to speak with the living if only for short periods of time. Mr Martin tells me I’m a vessel. That I should be careful because other ghosts may attempt to take advantage of my unique skills. However, I haven’t had any issues so far. In fact, I’ve done my best to help those trapped here to heal old wounds. Allowing them to forgive.

I’ve been here since 2007, over a decade and yet I’m still the newest ghost. Rhonda died in the sixties, Dawn the seventies, Wally the eighties and Charlie the nineties. Not that I mind, as much as we’re a weird bunch, we’re friends. Hell, I consider them family at this point as we have done nothing but support one another since dying. Wally even more so. He made a point of helping me get settled when I died. Sticking by me through all my meltdowns and the struggles I faced when coming to terms with the powers that I held. It’s safe to say we grew close.

So close in fact, that we’ve been dating for the past seven years. Contrary to popular belief, Wally is fairly shy and so it did take a good few years before either of us dared to confess our feelings. I can’t complain though, we’d been going to homecoming together for years at that point and as we lay on the field gazing up at the stars, he finally asked me to be his girlfriend. What followed was a pretty eventful night fuelled by passion and desire. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Which brings me to the present day, returning from my trip to the grocery store, I wander aimlessly around the hallways. Hoping to find Rhonda, Charlie and Wally, however, they are nowhere to be found. I must admit, the empty hallways are pretty eerie, with Dawn gone the air feels heavier. She brought a certain lightness to the school that can’t be replaced.

Entering the basement, I find myself swinging the shopping bag slightly. Attempting to give myself a confidence boost by acting as though it’s a happy, cheery place to be. Despite residing here for all the years, I’ve never once found myself in the basement, so as much as I am creeped out, I do use this opportunity to be nosy and explore everything on the shelves. Nothing peaks my interest though. Dusty old paint pots and garden tools aren’t exactly my idea of entertainment.

At that moment I begin to hear yells and shouts for help. My head spins in the direction it’s coming from and only then do I notice the huge metal door tucked into the wall. Hesitantly stepping towards it, the shouts get louder, pleading for help. The voices sounding very familiar to those of my friends.

“Wally?” I ask, feet pushing me towards the door a lot faster as I realize who is yelling. “Rhonda? Charlie? Is that you?”

Pushing on the door, I try to move the latch but for whatever reason it is completely sealed shut. No movement whatsoever. It doesn’t matter which way I attempt to pull or twist, the latch isn’t budging. My brows furrow in confusion as I try to work out how this could have happened. The door is old but not old enough to become so stuck that it is impossible to open.

“Y/N!” Wally calls out, relief evident in his voice. “Y/N, we’re completely stuck, the back hatch is locked too.”

“It’s okay. I’m here, I’ll get you out.” I tell them, still pulling on the door, though my eyes shift around the room, hoping to find a crowbar or any sort of object that may help me.

“Y/N, be careful! You can’t trust him!” Rhonda shouts, her voice panicked, the first time I’ve heard her sound genuinely scared.

“Trust who?”

Before my question is answered, the basement door swings open and I see a shadow looming over me at the top of the stairs. The shopping bag slips from my hand, glass bottles smashing against the floor as I realize who Rhonda was warning me about. Mr Martin’s friendly demeanor is gone, appearing menacing and dangerous as he makes eye contact with me. Shuffling backwards slightly, I keep my eyes on him. Trying to calculate his next move.

“Y/N, do you remember our little chat?” Mr Martin asks, slowly descending the stairs with his hands clasped together, truly looking like a villain.

“I’m not sure which chat you’re talking about, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

Each step Mr Martin takes towards me, I take a step back, putting as much space between us as I possibly can. Unable to contain it, I feel my body trembling, the sounds of my friends pounding on the door simply heightens my nerves. Their shouts fill me with dread and I do my best to remain calm, to remain observant. Mr Martin feels like a predator, stalking me as if I’m prey. Was he always like this? Were we all fooled by his supportive teacher act?

“A short while ago, I talked to you about your uniqueness.” He starts, throwing a sharp glare towards the metal door that my friends are trapped behind. “You told me that you wouldn’t use your gifts to benefit others. Clearly you are not a girl of your word.”

He talks slowly, I’m assuming to get some sort of reaction out of me. If I react on impulse, he is in control. I can’t let that happen. If he gains control of this situation, there is no way I can help Wally and Rhonda and Charlie.

“I don’t think I’ve really used it to benefit anyone other than myself.”

“Peach iced tea. Is that not Rhonda’s favorite beverage? Plus, I know for a fact that pack of jelly doughnuts is for Wally.” Mr Martin points out, reaching down to the shopping bag on the floor and rummaging through it to see its contents.

“If I’m going to the store, I’m going to pick up their favorite things. That’s called being a decent person.” I respond, feeling my back touch the shelves that line the walls as I continue to step away from Mr Martin. “They’ve been stuck here long enough, they deserve good things.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes and ultimately feels incredibly forced. Continuing to make his way towards me, I know he thinks he has me cornered. He thinks I am trapped in the room with him. Little does he know he has made one major mistake. If there is one thing about me, it is that I am insanely loyal and I will do whatever it takes to protect the people I care about. Right now, those people are trapped behind that stupid metal door, and there is nothing I won’t do to get them out.

“You know Mr Martin, I think you’re just jealous.”

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing?” Wally shouts, the banging on the door becoming more frequent as I sense he is becoming increasingly more panicked.

“Jealous?” Mr Martin questions, an expression of confusion on his face as he obviously didn’t expect me to steer the conversation in this direction. “Jealous of what Y/N?”

My hand snakes behind me at a snail’s pace, ensuring that he doesn’t catch the movement and spoil my plan. I just need to stall slightly, catch him off guard and then if all goes well, I should have them out in no time. Then I can stop worrying, especially about Wally. I know he’s only on the other side of that door but it feels like he is one million miles away.

“Well, you’re the only teacher here. Stuck with a bunch of teenagers, must be hard right? I’m sure you feel isolated and alone. Especially when one such teenager has powers that you can only dream of having. Powers that she uses to get her friends and boyfriend their favorite snacks or new books and films.”

“You think I’m jealous that you use your gifts on something so trivial?” Mr Martin questions, stepping towards me once more so we are practically inches apart. “Trust me Y/N, if I had the gifts that you hold, I would be using them to guide myself to the light. To cross over. Not you though, you’re just a stupid little girl that wastes talent on a bunch of people that do not care about you and are only using you for your gifts. I mean do you really think Wally would be sticking around with you if you weren’t able to bring him little treats? Though I suppose you did spread your legs for him the moment you arrived so who really knows.”

With a sigh, my hand takes a firm hold of the paint pot handle. “I really wish you hadn’t just said that.”

With a sharp swing I aim the paint pot directly at Mr Martin’s head, hitting him right above his ear. A pained groan escapes his mouth as he is knocked off balance, planting his hand against the wall so that he doesn’t fall to the ground. Sure, he can’t die twice, but I’m certain that I can at least knock him out for a while. As I go to swing the pot again, his forearm blocks my blow. Sending the pot clattering to the floor.

��Well now I’m angry.” He states, giving me no time to react as he grabs the end of one of the smashed glass bottles swiping at me with the sharp end.

Despite finding reassurance in the fact that I can’t die twice, I still wince at the feeling of the glass drag directly across my cheek. Cut opening, I feel the blood dripping down my cheek and in the one moment that I reach up to hold my wound, Mr Martin strikes again. Blunt end of the bottle hitting the back of my head sending me crashing to the ground. Grunting softly as I hit the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!” Wally bellows, worry laced in his voice and guilt floods through me as I hate to put him through this. “Y’N be careful, please. Y/N!”

Rhonda and Charlie are shouting as well, pain in their voices as they are evidently stressed out not knowing what is going on and only being able to hear the sounds of our fight. It must be hard having no indication of who is winning.

Flipping myself so that I am no longer facing the ground, I watch as Mr Martin stands over me. Dropping himself into a crouch, his fingers brush a stray hair out of my face. A wicked smirk settled on his face.

“Such a pretty face, too bad nobody else will get to see it.”

A rush of energy pulses through my body and with all the strength I can muster, I manage to stretch my arm out to grab the paint pot. Repeatedly hitting the teacher over the head with it and I feel little splatters of blood coat my face and body as he collapses to the floor. When I see no sign of movement, I begin to search through his jacket pockets. Whether that’s for a key or a key code, I’m not too sure. Though, I’m hoping when I find it, I’ll know.

With just my luck, a key slips into my hand, just in time for me to watch his body disappear as he resets to wherever he died. I’m unsure of how long he will be out and so for now I ignore my injuries focusing on finding any sort of lockbox.

“I’ve got a key. Any idea where it’s supposed to go?” I ask, hoping I can find some sort of answer from the three behind the door.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a little box to the right of the door, just above the ground.” Charlie answers, allowing me to search quickly.

Within no time I have found the box, twisting the key to find a switch which completely resets the lock on the door. This time when I try the door it pushes open with ease and I’m greeted by a swarm of tight hugs. Even Rhonda wraps her arms around me, squeezing slightly.

Wally hangs back, waiting for the other two to finish their greetings first. As soon as he gets the chance, he’s sweeping me off my feet, hugging me so tight that I feel as though my ribs may shatter. He’s twirling me around clearly happy just to see me again, and no doubt to be out of that room.

“I hate to break this up guys but we should probably head off before the evil teacher decides to come and take his revenge on Y/N.” Rhonda states, already beginning to make her way up the stairs.

Once we make it to the library, Wally is immediately all over me. Tending to my wounds as best as he can with the limited medical supplies we picked up from the nurses office on the way. He has a slight frown on his face as he wipes away the blood and I can’t help but place my fingers under his jaw, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips as a way of cheering him up. Yet the frown remains.

“Hey, what’s wrong? We made it out didn’t we?” I ask, cupping his face with my hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“Yeah but I should have been out there to protect you. If I was there you wouldn’t have been hurt. You would never have been in that position.” He tells me, eyes not meeting mine as he speaks and I have a feeling that it’s because he is embarrassed and ashamed that he couldn't do anything.

Smiling softly, my lips press against his forehead, followed by both cheeks, then his nose, chin and lips. As I’m peppering kisses all across his face, he finally begins to crack a slight smile. His hands wrap around my forearms as he tugs me into a slow, heated kiss. Lips moving against mine at a relaxed pace and I find myself pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. He groans quietly, hands moving to carefully pull me onto his lap as we get caught up in the heat of the moment.

“Can you guys please be gross somewhere else?” Rhonda asks, tilting her book down slightly to make sure we hear her.

I giggle as a soft rose blush tints Wally’s cheeks, pink from ear to ear. It’s cute, and he’s the most relaxed I have seen him since leaving the basement.

“Not to kind of spoil the mood, but what do we do about Mr Martin?” I ask, sharing a worried glance between the three other ghosts sitting at the table.

“I mean, we’re already dead, he can’t hurt us.” Rhonda states, a logical answer though I’m sure he’d still find a way to make our lives hell.

“Yeah but he still trapped us and look at Y/N’s face.” Charlie comments, clearly nervous by the entire situation. “No offense.”

“Not to mention he’s been studying us.” Wally adds in, to which he receives a questioning look from me. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“I guess we just avoid him and maybe brush up on exorcisms and ridding ourselves of negative spirits.” I say, smiling at Wally as I feel him reach for my hand under the table.

As eventful as today was, and as scary as today, I’m no longer scared. Mr Martin may be big and tough but I know that the four of us are able to take on anything. Besides with Wally by my side, I know I’m able to accomplish anything.

[imaginethezeldaverse]

I feel like you should type up something facesitting related about Ganon to make that ask reality (as much reality as you can get with fictional characters at least)

I…………………………………………………..oh my god okay yes

(this ask is in reference to this post)

“Sit” his voice commands from under you. The ferocity and domination in his amber eyes hold you in place, however. There’s apprehension pooling in your spine; youv’e worked your courage up to this point: kneeling just above his face but being unable to lower yourself any further your current frozen state. You had expressed a concern about bearing all of your weight on his face. A statement that simply lead to his laughter and in the exact position you were presently at.

Ganondorf’s tone drops a touch, thick fingers sinking into the meat of your thigh with a hint of power, “If I have to make you, rest assured you will lose the ability to walk for the remainder of the day. Sit.”

The whimper in your throat dies as you shift slightly, “A-Are…Are you sure?”

His snickering almost sounds threatening, a mix between devious amusement and an icy taunt. His hands glide up to sit at your hips now, pulling you down just enough so your thighs have no choice but to separate. He hums, the dark purr whirring in his throat as his breath rolls over your inner thighs - ghosting over what he’s finally exposed of you. The grip on your hips tightens,

“You could not hurt me even if you tried.”

Without another word, your body was yanked downward, your knees buckling completely as his mouth slotted over your heat. Doubled over from the rush of pleasure sending shockwaves through you, your hands finding purchase wherever they can roam - which for you seems to be aimless: the sheets, the long crimson locks of his hair, even mindlessly digging your nails into his forehead at one point. Ganondorf pinned you strategically to his face, his long, lithe tongue curling and writhing inside you, drinking from you as though he was a man desperately parched. Each salacious slurp and coiled lick around where you were most sensitive had your vision dotted in fading technicolor, your fingers unfurling and remaking the same fists over and over. Your voice had gone from breathy moans to full of on out-of-breath squealing when he maneuvered your hips to drag back and forth.

“G-Ganondor-ahh!” you whined, electricity zipping through your body at a record pace. His only response was a curt chuckle before lapping at you quicker this time. You were losing control, your body winding and unwinding, before crashing into a full spasm against his lips. With all the strength you could muster, your fingers locked into his fiery tresses, tugging at his scalp. Both of your breaths hitched in unison, though below you, Ganondorf instantly recovered, devouring you still through the tidal waves of your peak. Stuck in your throat was your voice, your hips able to do little other than rock over his still active mouth. Slowly his tongue ceased its ministrations, and you found the breath you’d be holding for the past several minutes. You shivered with ecstasy, chest heaving and lip trembling from the sheer strength of your orgasm. Your hand flattened out, untangling from his locks and bracing to lift yourself off of his face.

Oh but how foolish you were.

The same impassioned amber eyes kept focus on you, like a predator to its prey. His ears remained sharp at their catch of your confused sounds, especially when you can’t move away from him because he’s locked you in place.

It’s then you realize that Ganondorf was keeping true to his words. His previous brutish timbre rolls around in your skull, the reality sinking in when you realize his fingers haven’t moved an inch since he seated you onto his face.

You could only hope he’d be so kind as to carry you later.

[horizon-verizon]

Honestly as a neutral party I would prefer Jaehaera living to Daenaera being introduced. Jaehaera is an innocent, mentally disabled child and her death is needlessly cruel. Her death is the least plot relevant of all of the child deaths that have happened in the dance and it's reasonable for people to want that changed since it comes off as pointlessly cruel. Killing Alicent or even just focusing on her imprisonment more is enough to show that the greens have paid for their betrayal. At least Daenaera can still be introduced and do something else in the narrative even if she doesn't marry Aegon.

I've already explained why Jaehaera's death was plot relevant HERE and HERE.

A)

Daenaera's entire narrative purpose was to marry Aegon and have his children to propagate the Targ line AND to become part of Aegon's mental rehabilitation from the effects of the civil war and watching his own mother get eaten burned/alive by a dragon. This is also reason why she's a fan fav in the first place; it's seen as a noble undertaking to some and a way for the Targs to move away from the greens finally. What other narrative use would you have her have?!

We can't bring up how after the War of the Roses the two fighting houses (Yorks and Lancasters) were successfully brought together in marriage to justify Jaehaera marrying and having a family with Aegon. Because:

Elizabeth of York wasn't disabled like Jaehaera

neither her nor Henry Tudor were little kids when they married

this is a fictional tale that, while modeled after some real events and people, is using them as springboards for a specific, purposefully created "message" unique to the author's

and imagine what it would being pregnant several times really be like for a very mentally incapacitated and traumatized girl like her?!!

Much less the other traumatized boy who's to be her husband? What the consummation and all the...impregnating times looked like?! Then, imagine what the family life would have been like, with these parents unable to ever connect thus the resentment is worse and their kids seeing that?

This doesn't justify Unwin Peake murdering Jaehaera, but no she never should have been married off to Aegon or anyone in the first place and that was not Unwin's doing but a larger group's--Aegon's council/patriarchal feudalism. This is what GRRM's trying to tell you, stop resisting it.

B)

I can believe that it is the way she died and the other context of so much violence men and adults perform against women and girls in this world is what really offends people enough for them to say that somehow, this a narratively irrelevant death. Because they're just that horrified.

The feelings are valid. But the action to erase the significance of the death is not valid. You definitely can wish for a much less violent one, like a poisoning that puts her to sleep or something. The death is supposed to be tragic and make you feel that it wasn't deserved, was horrible, etc. Because it was all those things.

And to say such an untrue thing as "not narratively relevant" also leads me to suspect that some people don't like Jaehaera's death either bc they just:

wanted the greens to win in some way bc they favor them and their cause (my second linked post)

you--knowing that Daenaera will likely be black in the show IF they ever get to the Maiden's Ball--go so hard for Jaehaera bc she at least is a white girl in the universe of HotD

want excessively centrist politics to sway the story at the expense of actual understanding of why we should change and upend the status quo entirely (here the feudal entrapment of girls and women); deny a reality, discourage learning to the oppressive status quo can prevail [on this trend of neutrality]...the truth is the villains/antagonists were always the greens

AND/OR, are avoidant of facing ugly, sordid truths of oppression because they are close to it in real life and haven't found ways of separating that from collective understanding of oppressive systems/coping mechanism

Look anon, Alicent's imprisonment doesn't make up for mass death. Because it's not even just about Alicent as the individual, the grandmother, the mother, etc. It's the effect of her actions on a population. Jaehaera was one of many girls Otto AND Alicent endangered (another being Halaena). Though her actions became something much bigger than her & things went out of her control, that doesn't stop them from being hers AND having affected thousands of lives. Her main aim was to accrue power through her kids and grandkids--who she chose to risk by usurping Rhaenyra and beginning the war--the consequence is she loses said kids and grandkids through other's similar ambition. Again, bc even though those kids were noble and were supposed to be relatively safe, because they are all technically heirs or adults around them can use them accrue power (whether by killing them or through marriages or whatever), they were also targets. We could say similar for Rhaenyra's children, as what happens to her youngest 2; all of them in one way or another die because they were or could be used. however, they AND the greens' kids were all safer if the greens had not usurped Rhaenyra.

The greens were the aggressors and transgressors. The ones who started this war and looked for something out of it. They tried to act worse against Rhaenrya before/during the war AND the whole of Westeros before/during/after, thus they get the worse punishment and lose more than she did.

The entire point is that the greens lose everything, because they went after "everything". They lose everything, including their kids bc they relentlessly and hypocritically ran to obtain more power for themselves by attempting to exclude a woman from the position she never would have had without the will of a man.

They went on the basis that a girl/woman should not rule or become an heir before any direct male relatives...so Jaehaera was cut out of the line of succession by her own side of the family, thus she was also less prioritized, thus she was made into a baby factory for Aegon III. She became their last chance to get their blood to at least be part of the future line, but even that's dashed by a man who had similar ambitions as Otto and Alicent.

In trying to go against the king's word/an actual law, the greens also made it much more justified for someone to not care much for Aegon II's claim or authority...bc if you can so easily flout a king's word, why should you care about the guy you're trying to make king?! And using people who themselves are willing to be so dishonest creates a higher likelihood that they'd betray you, as similar to Ulf and Hugh betraying Rhaenyra. (And somehow, Rhaenyra is the only naive one when she expects people to follow through with their oaths 🙄)

Have you ever thought, anon, about those other girls who were maimed or terrorized into not appearing before Aegon III in the Maiden's Ball? Sure, most of them weren't disabled (Priscella Hogg was, I think), but what happens to Jaehaera is because she was girl in the way of a man's ambitions and not because she was disabled. What about all those Tumbleton folk, Bitterbridge refugees (the raped septas and girls as young as 8!), and riverland peasants--most of them children! Undoubtedly, you will have disabled children in those populations, anon. Why is Jaehaera's death so much more valuable than these mass deaths of also children? Remember that Alicent raised her kids to easier justify committing these atrocities. Maelor and Jaehaerys' deaths also reflect these events. Jaehaera's death was markedly different in meaning from theirs (to open up space for another girls who's being used) because she was female. In the first linked post, I talk about why and how people used Jaehaera's marriage to Aegon and how that reflects on her death being unique from her brothers' because of her gender.

GRRM comments, through Jaehaera and these girls and Rhaenyra what one pattern of F&B has: being female is dangerous because it is to be more of an object or property in lieu of self-concerned ambitious men to the point where the most vulnerable and those who cannot practice some of the same sort of agency can experience gruesome consequences--sometimes to become terrors themselves in their attempts to gain denied agency or defend themselves.

[a-998h]

Aska nd ye shall receive!!!!!

SAGau idea!

Reader almost always plays on co-op since they unlocked it alongside their three friends at scheduled intervals when they all have the time.

Said reader can also code, and to make up for the fact that not all their friends can buy or pirate (cuz of lack of cash or storage) games they have, they make mods they add in, then add out, alongside lots of solo beta testing.

(if this isn't possible IRL, suspend your disbelief)

Also theres no NSFW in this ask or being requested it's just jokes a la "3AM challenge gone wrong! Gone sexual"

also there's one implication of catholic trauma

plus capital letters

Sorry if anything makes no sense

Anyways—

===============

The Backrooms

*insert law & order audio*

Reader, playing Aether. "I added the Backrooms."

The Kaeya Main "Oh God."

The Childe Main "You added the what??"

"Same." «== they're playing and want to adopt Ferminent

"The Backrooms, this fictional idea that even an infant hitting their elbow wrong has the .000001% chance of—this is not mathematically accurate—teleporting you to this uncanny infinite realm, and the only way out is to somehow repeat what got you in there. And I don't think doing either on purpose is humanly feasibly."

"I understood none of that but okay." The four laughing ensued.

"okay but" wheezing "how— how are we gonna get in if you can't do it on purpose??"

"yeah that sounded like a little bit like an oversight."

"a LiTtLe BiT"

"literally just click that button that wasn't on the screen before."

"oh "

pop!

"oooh god. I'm getting catholic flashbacks!"

"oh shit you okay? Do you need a break or—"

"no. No I'm good"

"oh good"

"Any monsters to worry about?"

"yes." They all start laughing "Unless it's bugged in co-op because I only play tested this on single player!"

"backrooms gone wrong! We died! Gone sexual!"

"cops called!" "sixty nine hospitalized!"

"no!" Laughing continues and as it dies down: "we're escaping the backrooms, and I'm using the version with clues to reaching the next levels so we're not stuck here all day."

"so are you gonna help us oooorrrr . . . "

"you're alone, I'm gonna be following you around as you screw around!" The dying laugher peaks again

"you put us in this mess!" "you allowed me too!!!"

And then the loudest inhumane scream ensued, alongside theirs as they scattered.

"Kane pixels monster is real! Is this the Kane pixel backrooms? Oh good we're all fucked!!"

"and the wikidot!" Now only reader was laughing

"are you speaking a different DIALECT?!"

"pretty much" gasp "it's chasing meee!!"

"you deserve it! Daaance deluded puppeteer daaance!!" And then the reader ran in their direction from behind "you used me as a meat shield!"

"to demonstrate we all get four lives! If we die a fifth time, we start at the first level again, repeat!"

"yeah that reassures me" they say sarcastically, now controlling Zhongli "wait first level—?"

"there's arrows on the walls" "tell me where, I'm gonna carry this team"

==========

"What the heeellll, I can't even see any damage on the monsters" "you can't kill what cannot be killed"

"oh crap." Dies. Xiao takes Zhongli's place

"disorder? In MY backrooms??"

"it's more likely thank you think!"

=================

"Since when did you change from Kaeya to Ayato?"

"since when did you die all the way back to Freminet?"

"I didn't I got gooood!!" Spinning circled around them "Aahh!! Friendly fire! Friendly fire!"

Freminet is replaced with Gaming "I literally hate you"

"I love you too <3 AAAAAA—"

================

"guys help! I clipped into the walls!"

"you reap what you soooowww, fucker!" A sword strikes them "AAHHH!!"

================

"I think this is what the abyss feels like"

"I think that's an insult" "you've never been in there"

===many deaths & respawns later===

"you're a monster you know that right"

Giggling, "yes yes yes!!"

"we should do that again" "as the one with arthritis from carrying you idiots, I veto it."

"veto denied :D"

The Wither Storm

Playing Kokomi "what is it this time"

"Wither Storm :)" Reader, playing Fischl looks up at them

Playing Xinyan "uh oh"

Eula "on a scale of one to backrooms, how difficult will this one be?" "Collateral damage"

"and that's ignoring the proximity voice chat!"

Fast paced breathing "oh thank God that wasn't a thing in the Backrooms, we were just using discord"

"yeah it's a shaaaame"

"wait, we couldn't lay a finger in the Backrooms"

"you can kill the wither storm and still engage in friendly fire"

"thank goodness!!"

"so what's in store?"

"I'm gonna teleport us to another plane—because we don't want Teyvat harmed in the process—and we're gonna summon the wither storm and kill it."

"let's do it blind."

"yeeeesss!!!"

"did we not learn from the backrooms???"

"no we did not!"

"blind it is! Let's go!"

"wait—!"

===============

The Wither Storm is summoned! And like a standard wither simple shoots out skulls that destroys where it hits and inflicts withering on any living being.

"WHAT THE HEEELLLL???"

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID!"

"guys get building materials—!" Xinyan is replaced with Lisa who is far, far away from where the death was "And I withered away. And I'm away from everyone

"wow, I can't hear anyone!"

===============

Beamed up by the Wither Storm: "guys help"

"one I barely heard you, scream next time, two it's already to late for you." Eula is them eaten in one piece by one of the storm's mouths

"oh my fucking god it has a halo . . . It has like four of them" Looking up, far away from the group with Yae Miko, running away after a head faces their way

Far far away, Kaeya takes Eula's place in the plane

(Google image "crackers wither storm" to get what I mean in the last paragraph)

===============

"bestie!!" Reader controlling Hu Tao walks up a small hill

"Oh my God! Bestie!" Another Hu Tao looks in their ideection, they run towards each other "regroup! Regroup! We gotta regroup cuz the next phase is gonna begin!"

===============

"we did all that work and never even got a nether star" Sitting down with Heizou

"says who?" Back with Fischl ":O"

"the inventory . . . " They habitually jump with Kazuha

"oh, what's this I see?" sticking to Hu Tao after the Wither Storm

"who wants to read the description?" By now everyone opened their inventory to find a fourth of a white, purple tinted four-pointed star

"As testament to your suffering, a piece of the Nether Star joins you growing treasury!! A Devastation reduced to a mere chapter in your life"

"look, I get that after we're done you just remove the mod forever and leave it to gather dust, but at least, at least let us keep this even after removing the Wither Storm mod."

"and let us make a beacon while your at it!"

"sure why the hell not!"

"what the hell is a beacon and will I want in?"

"you all will!!"

"yes we do!"

"you don't even know what it does!x

"and neither do you!"

===============

Personally I imagine that Teyvat is a bit split on this.

On one hand, their Grace is far too happy with their friends who Teyvat deems as fellow Creators they play around with and they're playing around with their divine powers.

On the other hand, making mods and bug testing is time consuming and both of these take attention their Grace could be giving them instead.

They've heard plenty times the Creator complain about their world's spaghetti code, the Reader has cursed the creator—"who the hell made this?"—many times and Teyvatians interpret this as either the Creator having lost their memories or an act of self-hatred or a blend of both.

It doesn't help how Reader curses themselves whenever they find an error in their own code

Though I wonder the thoughts of Vessels from four worlds being used for four gods to meet in scheduled meetings either during normal gameplay or modded gameplay.

No but imagine some vessels doing things their code supposedly shouldn't allowed but it gets brushed off as a mod glitch 😭 lmao, like say, Kaeya muttering "Cataclysm . . ." To himself during the Wither Storm and only barely not being noticed

BRO WHAT WILL LIKE KHAENRI'AH PEOPLE AND ARCHONS AND OTHERS THINK WHEN THEY SEE THE NETHER STAR FRAGMENTS FORM A FOUR-POINTED STAR TOGETHER AKA THE NETHER STAR WHICH IN TEYVAT THE FOUR POINTED STAR IS THE SYMBOL OF KHAENRI'AH?

That's all I have in me today

feel free, not but pressured, to add your own ideas, add onto my ideas, etcetera, etcetera as you please, you got my absolute blessing

take your time as needed

Hope your having a good day!!

Thank you for sending me this.

This is awesome on its own and it must be shared.

But seriously, you're right. Teyvat wants you to be happy, but only with them. So they come up with a plan.

They're going to not work and basically annoy your friends off the game. They know I'll make you sad, but you have them to make you feel better.

If you friends are extra stubborn, then more extreme measures are but in place. Like bugging out, not ascending but taking the materials, and stuff like that.

Eventually when your friends quit the game, you go back to solo mode. Now you spend your time with them. While it makes them sad to see you upset about being able to play with your friends anymore, they'll be your new friends and be the best characters they can for you.

After, you'll be with them soon.

[alwaysthefool]

Hurts Like Heaven (Dazai x You)

warnings; death, angst, disease, unrequited love, double suicide mention

tags; hanahaki disease

[Author's note: Obligatory definition of hanahaki disease (from fanlore dot com lol)-- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. In this variation, the reader's symptoms peak up when they actually see Dazai. There's no surgery option in this one 😈]

Fuck, not him again. You could almost cry as you saw Dazai at the cafe, flirting with the waitress, making jokes again. There was no way he wouldn't know as your situation was at its worst, and you couldn't run out because you weren't in the physical condition to. The most you could do was hide your face in your arms and pray he didn't see you. You had decided not to get coffee that day, settling with just green tea to make yourself feel a little better, but you knew just seeing him would give you at least a week's worth of dreams. Just the thought hurt so much. Dazai, who had never outright rejected you, who you could never tell your feelings to, scared of the fatal rejection, but more so, rationally knowing you couldn't give him the love he needed, and he couldn't love you. Your worlds were too different-- you couldn't begin to understand him-- and his heart was elsewhere, unable to love again. You were similar too, both sad with an evil past and tragic fates. The only difference was, unlike you, he could be saved. 

And thus, you let that little dandelion seed of a wish fly out of your hand, only for it to bloom as a petal in your lungs.

You had known him for only a year and started to like him for less than and a half, and it would kill you in only a matter of weeks.

You'd just smile and hide your pain whenever you saw him, excusing yourself and going around back to cough up blood and petals. That didn't hurt as much, neither did knowing you'd die, but what hurt was seeing him. It hurt like heaven. There he was again, with that smile, those eyes that hid a world you couldn't begin to understand, those bandages that you knew hid more than scars, that hair, those hands you wished so badly to touch, even if it would kill you. Death? Blood? What was that? The only thing that caused any substantial pain was the longing, and you wanted so bad to quash it. Your solution was avoiding him and forgetting all about him eventually, no matter how long it took. As long as he didn't appear before you, it would be okay. So why, still, did you decide to stay in the city?

"If it isn't [Name]!" That rich voice chimed, and you heard the chair across you being pulled. Of course he saw you. Of course it would be like that. Of course you couldn't get your night's rest.

Part of your heart bloomed with feelings, and the other wished you hadn't stepped out of your house that day.

You removed your hands from your face, and gave him a weak smile, trying your best not to let the ache in your chest show.

"I feel like I never see you anymore." He pouted those perfect lips as an extremely deadly joke, forcing a few coughs out of you. You immediately turned away, and hid the blood and petals in your handkerchief.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" As if nothing missed his eye, he exclaimed "Is that blood?!"

"Um." You composed yourself again, despite all the pain, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, actually I... I have pulmonary hemosiderosis."

You thanked the knowledge that came from 20 seasons of Grey's, but also slightly cringed at having to keep up a ridiculous lie in front of a detective.

"Do you need any help?" To your dismay, Dazai stood up and sat beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder, making you feel like you'd explode there and then.

Three weeks of bedrest, five weeks of bad dreams, and an even shortened lifespan.

"Please get away from me." You almost cried, closing your eyes and jerking him off reluctantly.

"Alright, just relax, okay?" Even then, he was so cool as you heard him take his original seat. You slowly opened your eyes again, knowing you'd made a mess of your image in front of him. Perhaps his concerned eyes hid a resentment for you, but you didn't care. You just loved him.

"Yeah, sorry, it can be contagious." You lied, knowing he could go home and google that it was not, and hoped he didn't care about you enough to but Dazai stared at you with a look of absolute sternness. Of course he wouldn't believe your lies. But do you know? I wish you knew.

"That so?" He spoke in a way it didn't sound like a question. "Anyway, you do not seem well. Please let me take you to the hospital. Or Yosano, if you're more comfortable with that."

You had already been to Yosano once before, and she told you she couldn't cure that, wishing you all the best as you lied and told her the person you liked already rejected you. He didn't even like you enough as a friend. You were nothing to him, but the unfair universe made him mean so much to you. It wasn't like you didn't understand him. You did, and deeply, but something had gone wrong in both of your destinies that made you end up that way. Dazai was worlds apart from you, and you couldn't reach him. Maybe that pretty girl he had been talking to recently would, maybe someone like Chuuya could, maybe his friends from the agency could, but not you. No, you were just an acquaintance.

And at that moment, you realised no matter how much you tried to ignore him, it wouldn't help-- that you'd die, and you'd feel happy about it. You lost everything to someone like that, all your dreams, your precious life, your esteem and confidence, only for love. Did your life mean nothing beyond that? If you told him, and he reciprocated your feelings, you'd still die from his inciting dream of a double suicide. If he rejected you, you'd die alone. Maybe not doing anything and taking that impossible chance to make your life your own would mean something, despite the disease having a 100% fatality rate if the feelings are not reciprocated.

"No, this is normal, trust me." You finally gave him a reassuring smile. "Besides, I don't think hospitals can help anymore."

"What?" He looked shocked, reaching out to take your hand, and you let him, comforting him instead by rubbing a fragile thumb on his palm . Did he really not know? Why did he look so shocked? Did he care? Those feelings overcame you, and you coughed a little more, apologizing quickly.

"Please tell me there's a way."

You took a deep breath. "Mine's a special case. Even with surgery, there's no chance."

"No..." Dazai looked away from you, outside the window, that pained and distant expression you'd fallen for crossing his face. In that moment, you finally understood it. It was a longingness for something.

"It's fine, buddy." You pulled your hand away from him owing to the ache in your lungs. "I still want to try, you know. I want to live." He still did not look at you as he put his chin on his shaking palm. "And I wish the same for you."

He forced a smile, finally looking at you with those same dead eyes you were always curious about. Now you knew that it meant despair. Dazai was a poem you could only decipher at the brink of your death, and he was far more beautiful and pure than he knew he was.

"If I could, I'd give up my worthless life for yours."

You commanded your lungs and heart to keep at bay, as if telling death you needed a moment before peacefully accepting its call.

"Your life isn't worthless, you know. You did so many good deeds. If you feel like dying, maybe it's because you just need purpose."

Dazai's eyes widened, and it was as if, for a moment, you thought he could love you back, and things would work out, that you could save him and yourself. But those moments were always fleeting, because you knew you had no purpose either, and you'd fall into his vices like you'd fallen for him.

"Do you think you can manage a walk? The weather's beautiful today."

Dazai helped you up, and held you tightly as the two of you walked out, the blossoms from the trees flying about. The scene was almost like a movie, and you knew you were at the end, using the last of your strength to walk, the disease taking over your body completely, the pain being nothing just because he was holding you.

"You're right." You breathed. "It's beautiful. I-"

You wanted to say more to him, you wanted to be held for a little longer, you had so many dreams, and so much you wanted, but your body finally gave out, as you violently coughed blood and petals, Dazai catching you as your feet lost their hold.

"[Name]!" He yelled as he held you in his lap, scrambling his head to find a way to help you somehow, pausing when he saw the petals blossom out of your mouth. Although the thought of you loving someone else hurt him deeply, he still begged you to tell you who it was, whether you had confessed, if there was a chance.

"Hey..." You croaked through tears and coughs. "It's okay, friend. I'm happy to die in your arms."

"Don't say that! You're not dying!" He wished he knew you better to figure out who it was, and you wished he knew you better to know it could be no one else but him. That no one had showed you the kindness he had shown you, that no one helped you life he did, that no one understood you like he did. You were so happy just to have known him. He made your life better despite also making it end; he made it beautiful and gave it a little meaning.

However, you weren't strong enough to tell him all of that, so you chose your final words carefully. "Thank you for everything, Dazai. I was happy to have loved you."

He held you tightly as your eyes closed, those persistent flowers that had plagued you so finally withering as your breathing stopped. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at you for not telling him, knowing you could be saved because he loved you too. He wished you knew that you could've saved him, that you were enough for him, that he'd overcome his own insecurities and pursued you first instead.

And in the midst of all that regret as he did nothing but hold your still warm form, a single petal bloomed in his lung.

[deejadabbles]

Hiiii friend!! wanted to request a spooky prompt number 6 and 😈 with Fives please and thank you!!

Hello darling!! Thank you for sending this in, I was very inspired the moment I read it so I hope you enjoy this 🤩 This one also got a little ~heated~ since Fives had officially become one of my faves 😏

How to Summon A Demon Boyfriend (Demon!Fives x GN Reader)

Summary: There's no such thing as demons, they're just something to use for cheesy cautionary tales...Right? Rating: M (Minors DNI) Word Count: 1,813 Warnings: Crappy 'friends', small injury and mentions of blood, reader gets a big scare but it's fine in the end I promise, heavily suggestive content. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

You really needed to learn to say no sometimes.

Tonight was supposed to be the perfect chance to curl up on the couch in your favorite PJs and coziest blanket. Instead, you were freezing your ass off in a dark playground, pretending to summon a demon like some bored teenager. 

Cam and you weren’t even that close, just work buddies, but that little voice inside your head had been yelling too loud: 'he was really sweet and invited you! You have to go! It would be rude not to!' Now you were annoyed with every moment of this silly little seance.

“Alright, I think that should do it!” said the cute blonde girl, who you didn’t know before tonight. You didn’t know any of Cam’s friends, yet here you were with them. “I think it’s a good little summoning circle, if I do say so myself!” She beamed down at the chalk drawing she’d sketched onto the area usually reserved for hopscotch. 

Then another one of Cam’s friends, a young man with dark hair fit for a punk band, voiced your own thoughts, “This is stupid, what makes you think we can summon a demon from some random book you found in a second hand store?”

“Dude, I’m telling you, if anything’s the real deal, it’s this!” Cam insisted, cautiously taking the book from the blonde and flipping a page, “I mean, just look at this!” He tilted it towards you and the punk guy, “The ancient looking paper, the notes and stains- plus, the store owner said she got it from her friend when he died and that his family was into all kinds of strange occult shit.”

You would admit, it was a very convincing tome, even if the demon summoning was all fiction, the owner had put lots of work into its design. You reached out to touch the edge of the page, to see if it really did feel ancient, but just as you did Cam moved as well and a sharp pain seared through your finger tip.

With a loud hiss and a curse you pulled your hand back, clutching it close to your chest.

“Shit- sorry!” Cam said, “Paper cut?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, taking a tentative peak at the now throbbing finger. It was leaking red, the skin around it looking angry, and you noticed part of the offending page was now stained with your blood too. Well, at least it added to the book’s authentic aesthetic. 

“Wow, didn’t know we’d be making blood sacrifices tonight,” the blonde said with a laugh.

“Happy to contribute,” was your sarcastic reply as you tried to soothe the throbbing. “Next time I-”

“Uh, guys!” Cam’s eyes were wide as he looked down at the book, “The words are glowing!” Then he let out a high pitched yelp, and dropped the book as if it had burned him.

With a loud thud, it landed on the summoning circle and that’s when you saw that the curving calligraphy on the pages were indeed glowing! Not only that, but the moment it touched the chalked symbols, the ground below you started to rumble unlike any earthquake you had ever seen.

Cam and blondie yelped as they fell to the ground together, you not keeping your balance for much longer, and punk kid only staying upright when he threw himself on a picnic table.

“What the hell is happening?!” the girl yelled, pulling the hood of her jacket up as if that would shield her from the horrors unfolding.

“You’re the ones who wanted to summon a demon!” Punk shouted, looking pale and ready to hurl as the ground continued to shake.

Then, within the circle, the already cracked and worn cement split apart. Chunks of it flew as old compacted dirt from beneath surged to the surface, making way for something else.

It wasn’t a man- “man” didn’t begin to describe it. Clawed hands reached towards the sky, lifting above a head of dark curls that did little to hide two large horns. Dark skin around tight muscles that flexed as he rose up from the earth, a bare chest with marks that might have been tattoos, and a blue kilt of some sort that made room for a swaying tail.

Paralyzed on the ground as you were, all you could do was watch with wide eyes as the demon stretched, and let out a roar of a yawn as if waking from a deep sleep. Then his eyes flashed open, revealing deep brown irises rimmed in red.

He scanned them over your little petrified group and, for some reason, your stunned brain noticed the dumbest little detail. 'Oh, he has a number five tattooed on his forehead. Wonder what that means'.

That’s when the demon pulled his lips back in a dastardly grin, revealing large fangs surely made to rip apart human flesh.

“Run,” he growled.

Somebody screamed. Someone else cried some sort of plea. But you couldn’t say anything, all noise dying in your throat as you rolled over and tried to scramble to your feet. Just as you started to, someone (Cam?) knocked into you and sent you tumbling back to the dirt painfully. Footsteps thundered around you and, looking up, you realized that the other three were already disappearing into the darkness as they ran, leaving you behind.

“Wait-” the pleading call was lost in the wind, just as something behind you took a loud step closer.

Somehow your brain was going a mile a minute and not thinking anything at all as you became painfully aware of the large, looming presence closing in on you. Body unable to move from fear, all you could do was listen as the demon let out a low, deep chuckle.

“Some friends you have,” he purred. “Leaving you here.” Something brushed along your back. “All alone.” Leaves rustled as he knelt above you. “With me.” Hot breath fanned against your ear.

A noise very close to a squeal left you as a hand grabbed your shoulder and rolled you over onto your back. You were face to face with the demon now, his arms caging you in on either side, his face hovering over yours, and still sporting that hungry grin as his dark eyes looked you over slowly.

“P-please don’t kill me,” it came out as little more than a wheeze, but at least you managed to say something.

That’s when those brilliant eyes snapped back to yours. There was a heartbeat of silence in which you went through a thousand different ‘this is the end’ scenarios in your head-

But then, the demon threw his head back and laughed!

It wasn’t a sinister, cruel laugh either. Instead it was light and, dare you say, joyful. The kind of laugh a loved one would make after you mentioned some inside joke or another. His broad shoulders shook and that tail of his swished behind him in a way that reminded you of a cat ready to play.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped between laughs, “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad!” He leaned back some then, as if to give you some air, though his arms were still on either side of you. “See, that’s just a little act I do to give you humans a scare.” This time, the grin he flashed was playful and a little lopsided. “You have to admit, you kind of deserve it for yanking me out of my cozy little dimension. It’s a little annoying when you don’t expect to be summoned.”

You opened your mouth, now stunned in a completely different way, but no sound was ready to come out yet, apparently.

That didn’t deter the demon, though, his eyes searched your face when he said, “Course, I did want to scare off the others. Groups are always more annoying, and I kinda liked the idea of having you to myself once I saw how cute you are.”

The unexpected statement caused you to come back down from your fearful high a little. You blinked a few times, then found it in yourself to look him in the eyes more directly. You managed to stutter out a “Wha-what?”

The demon laughed again, a shorter one this time, “Wow, I really must have done a number on you, I’m sorry, mesh’la.” He held up a hand, though the black claws at his fingertips almost made you flinch. “I swear, I’m not going to kill you. Even if I was that type of demon, there’s no challenge in killing humans,” he winked, “you’re too soft and supple.”

Heat took over your face and you weren’t sure if it was annoyance, embarrassment, or something else. Probably a cocktail of the three. After a deep, steadying breath, you finally managed to say something more than a strangled noise or single word.

“So, you’re some kind of good demon?”

He shrugged those naked, now very distracting, shoulders. “Something like that. Mostly, I’m just here to fulfill whatever contract you want from me.”

“M-Me?”

“Yup.”

“Why me?”

The demon looked down at you with something…interesting in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place even though his expression was still light. His hand slid down the ground beside your prone body, until it reached your wrist. He grasped it gently, lifting it to show off your still sore cut.

“Because your blood summoned me. You’re the one I’m bound to, sweetheart.”

Keeping his eyes on yours, he brought your finger to his mouth and closed his lips around the bleeding cut. You found yourself breathless again as a wet tongue ran over the little injury, soothing the ache in a way you didn’t expect.

He pulled your finger out of his mouth with a little pop, then turned that fang flashing smirk on you again. “See, you summoned me, now we make some sort of deal, a contract. You give me something and I give you something in return.” He placed your hand on his naked chest so he could pin his own by your head again. “Name’s Fives, by the way, and you are?”

After swallowing the sudden lump in your throat and not feeling any more calm after doing it, you introduced yourself in the firmest tone you could muster. The demon- Fives, repeated your name slowly, and you could see his tongue tasting every letter of it.

“Hm, I like that name,” he said and again, you caught a glimpse of the spade-tipped tail flicking at his back. 

You must have been more distracted by it than you realized, because he brushed the back of a claw down your cheek, before taking your chin in a firm grip to force your eyes back on his. When you did, his gaze seemed just a little darker.

“So, darling, what kind of deal do you want to make with me?”

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[watchmorecinema]

Yukio Mishima has been trending this week for uh, reasons. He was a world renowned Japanese author and all of his work is overshadowed by his actions on November 25, 1970. You might not want to read more about this guy because he is horrible and disgusting, but he's utterly fascinating and the movie about him is brilliant.

He's a really interesting character, to the point that he sounds fictional. He's gay, obsessed with ritualistic death, a right wing lunatic, led a private militia that was halfway to a cult, and also was a legitimately great author. His life is covered in the film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and it's easily the most beautiful film I've seen in my life. Look at the stills I posted above; every frame of this movie looks like that. It's all just a series of beautiful paintings with people living in them.

The way the film is structured is that it tells the story of his life in three ways. His past is told in black and white flashbacks with static cameras. This is closer to how a movie from the 50's would look like (specifically ones directed by Yasujirō Ozu). The events of three of his books are told with this beautifully stylized look, with sets that look like stage plays. The events of November 25, 1970 is told in an almost normal fashion, with regular colors and competent camerawork. The past is nostalgic, the present is mundane and only in fantasy can you truly come alive.

Through this movie we see the ideology of Mishima coming through. His nationalism, his sexual feelings and his thoughts on beauty and death all come together. Death isn't just a violent and tragic end, it is in itself a beautiful act. Beauty is the only true goal of life and creating beauty brings honor. Growing old and ugly is an act of hate; to die at your peak is to give love back to the world. It is therefore treasonous to live long enough to die peacefully. He pities what heaven must look like now; when men died young and beautiful it was paradise, but now it is filled with old men.

This is an objectively insane way to view the world but it is also fascinating. How much of this was what he believed, and how much of it was just begging for attention? In one instance when asked why he moved to the right politically he said "because the left was full". It was a joke answer, but he clearly wanted to be in the spotlight. His shield society was a paramilitary group dedicated to living a virtuous life of beauty, honor and old ideals. It was also a group of good looking, athletic young men led by a (barely) closeted, conservative gay man. So much of his life could have gone differently but also he was pretty much in control the whole time; he was independently wealthy and revered on the world stage. He could do whatever he wanted, and apparently the way his life went *is* what he wanted.

What's special about Mishima, both in the film and in real life, is that he's a smart and eloquent guy. In films the guy with a crazy worldview is someone like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver or D-Fens from Falling Down. Travis couldn't understand the alienation and loneliness he felt and he couldn't find any healthy solutions. D-Fens was smart enough but not emotionally strong enough to confront his problems or deal with them maturely. These are people that could benefit greatly from therapy (other examples include Joker from Joker, Rupert Pupkin from the King of Comedy, Frank Murdoch from God Bless America, Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, Tyler Durden from Fight Club and so, so many more).

These are either 20 something year olds that are lost in the world, alienated and lonely, or 40 something year olds with a mid life crisis when they realize that everything has fallen apart. People who don't know where to go, or realize it's too late to change things. Travis Bickle had basically no friends, no family, no charisma with women and a lot of rage and anger. D-Fens lost his job, his self respect and was estranged from his ex-wife and daughter. These are people who's lives are shit at best (Patrick Bateman is a bit of a subversion. He is rich and successful, but his life is completely hollow, his relationships are shallow and he personally is very, very pathetic. I need to write about American Psycho later that film is great too.).

Mishima is different. He's smart enough to understand his issues and how to find help. He's got the money and means to do so. He's famous and rich enough that he could basically get away with anything weird or eccentric so long as it was harmless. On the world stage he was a popular author, and at home he led a life of political activism. If he was unhappy he could easily find healthy ways to fix it. His self destruction was the most avoidable of any of them, yet he's the only one that existed in real life. You expect these people to have serious personality flaws and unfixable (or seemingly unfixable) problems, not to be poetic writers that adhere to healthy living and regularly journal about their emotions, while enjoying respect from their peers and fulfillment in their work.

It's a hell of a film. Paul Schrader has not written or directed anything better (he actually wrote Taxi Driver too, so he had some experience with this type of character before) and it stands out as an incredible experience to watch. Like, Mishima's life is public knowledge and you can probably guess how it went, but I've purposefully not said what happened on November 25, 1970 because I don't want to spoil it. It's an event that actually happened but it's better for you to find out via the film than some wikipedia page.

[bonefall]

okay so-bumble was actually saved from woman abuser tom right?? was she ever like. ignored or denied and if so did the clans paint the history differently than how it happened? like “oh ya we always invited her in. everyone saved her then beat up tom” or some other rewrite of history? i feel like the clans would cover up their mistakes, esp those of older starclan/the og clan cats

Short answer: Bumble was treated very poorly by early ShadowClan, with this terrible treatment directly leading to the formation of ThunderClan. Her story is utterly misrepresented by history, entirely falsified into a xenophobic warning against outsiders.

The Truth: The foundation of ThunderClan

When Tom was brought into the house, paradise became hell. Tom began abusing both partners, often setting them against each other and forcing them to lie to keep the peace. Turtle Heart became pregnant, and Bumble spilled the secret that Tom was forcing her to keep; Humans often take kittens at 6 months or so-- especially from households like this one with a lot of cats.

Turtle Heart left, Bumble followed suit about a month later and was quickly accepted by her mate. They became the parents of two; Pebble Heart and Sparrow Heart.

While Tall Shadow and her group were quick to welcome back Turtle Heart, they weren't happy to see Bumble. Turtle Heart accepted full responsibility for her, promising that she would teach her how to hunt, or otherwise be solely responsible for feeding her.

Bumble has dyspraxia; she was never able to learn how to hunt. So she watched the kits as her mate provided for them. Shortly after this, Thunder Storm left to learn under his 'father' Clear Sky, at his mother Bright Storm's suggestion.

Of course, one day, Tom found where his children were being kept, and lured them away. Bumble ran to Turtle Heart who charged off immediately. When Bright Storm, Acorn Swoop, and Lightning Cry returned with the kits later, they also brought the news that their mother had died in the trip.

Patience for Bumble had run out. She couldn't hunt. She failed to stop Tom. Her mate was gone-- and she served no use in Tall Shadow's eyes.

Bright Storm herself, thinking of her own failure to save Jagged Peak, the stillbirth of Thunder Storm's littermates, and Clear Sky's opinions on the usefulness of cats, solemnly agreed. She took the side of Tall Shadow, that Bumble was to return to the town. There was no place for her, here.

Thunder Storm returned shortly after this, and ripped into them for this cruelty-- "I didn't think I'd come home to find a second Clear Sky!"

It was the beginning of ThunderClan.

The Myth: Bumble Mumble and the Rogue of Rot

ThunderClan is remembered as being founded for diplomacy, not for its stance against cruelty. Many generations after her death, Bumble is remembered with a full name-- Bumble Mumble, Bombol Mlemlaan, "Sentence Tonguetwisted," and her story has been heavily fictionalized.

In contrast to the truth, the Parable of the Rogue of Rot is a story about fearing outsiders, and introduces the concept of "babble" to kits. Though babble serves a social purpose in warning against certain types of predators (ravens, foxes, humans), it is also used as a form of bigotry against outsiders.

The story goes, so StarClan Says;

Long ago, all cats spoke the same language, and they could converse with foxes, ravens, and many other animals. Humans and their owners used this ability to do many evils together.

Turtle Heart was recruited by Bumble Mumble into her housefolk's home over a harsh winter, tempted into a life of excess. But heroically, Turtle Heart saw through these sinful ways, revealing the truth to her mate and revealing that they would pay the price for food and warmth with their kits. Thusly, they escaped the humans together.

But humans, vengeful and evil creatures, wanted their pound of flesh. So they sent their monster, the Rogue of Rot, after the couple to retrieve what they believed was theirs to own.

He very nearly succeeded. Through his clever and charming words, he lured away the kittens, and Turtle Heart fought bravely to save them. She was murdered and cast to the ground at Bumble Mumble's feet, and all seemed lost.

All she could do was cry, and cry, and cry, until the pain welled up inside her so tightly that it burst forth into a great and terrible WAIL

The spell was broken in an instant, for he no longer had the charming words to enchant the kittens. Her grief had scrambled the tongues of all the rogues and villains in the world, snatching the words from their mouths and damning them with babble in their place.

When the Rogue of Rot returned to his humans empty-pawed, he found himself unable to explain what had happened. The humans heard nothing but strange, meaningless mewls and yowls, and so banished him for his failure.

It is said that he still walks the world to this day, seeking kittens to bring back to his humans so that they might let him back in. Children and warriors alike are warned against noises that sound like words but have no meaning, your name being called in the forest in strange tones, and outsiders who speak in a strange cadence. This is what they call "Babble."

Bumble Mumble is invoked as a Patron of Communication, of language and words broadly, speech-writing, turns of phrase, and being tongue-tied. She is also featured in many stories of the Dawn Era, venerated by ThunderClan in particular, often invoked by WindClan in antiquity, but she isn't a popular patron of ShadowClan or RiverClan.

[emilystheories]

Maeve is Theia, the original Starborn Queen.

This theory contains spoilers for ACOTAR, Crescent City, and Throne of Glass!

As discovered in CC2, Ruhn and Rhys look identical. If they are not reincarnations of each other (still a plausible theory), then they must share a common ancestor. As most people have already deduced, logically, this must be Queen Theia; the first Starborn Queen, and ruler of the Dusk Court.

It then begs the question; "well, who actually was Queen Theia?"

I truly believe that there is only one candidate for this; Maeve, from the Throne of Glass (TOG) world. Here is a summation of the evidence for this:

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys are the only 3 characters who have the "violet" or "violet blue" eyes. (Some argue that this is irrelevant as Maeve could change her form, but so could Erawan, and his gold eyes were passed onto Manon).

They all have the same "raven black hair."

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys have the same darkness/shadow power.

They also all have the rare mind-speaking (or "daemati") power; an ability we first saw originate in Maeve and the other Valg Royalty.

Even Ruhn's name is (seemingly) derived from the Ruhnn mountains; the place in TOG where Maeve kept her handmaidens (and I suspect where Maeve walked between worlds).

Rhys is Lord of the Night Court; Ruhn is Agent Night; and Maeve is Queen of the Night.

With this many uncanny similarities between all three people, it makes the most sense that Ruhn and Rhys descended from Maeve, and that ultimately, Maeve is Queen Theia.

Queen of Glass.

I first suspected that Maeve may be Queen Theia when reading the Original Throne of Glass book, 'Queen of Glass,' that SJM published on a fan fiction website when she was younger.

This is how Maeve was originally described; does it not sound like a Starborn Queen (and also... exactly like Rhys)?

See also:

And:

Even the iconic way that Rhys's eyes are described (as having stars inside of them), is akin to how Maeve's eyes were originally described:

Additionally, in this original version of TOG, Maeve was engaged to Athril (which is similar to the events of the published TOG). However, Athril was said to be the first Fae to ever exist, and the greatest warrior in history.

When the Valg broke into their world, Athril forged Goldryn (and 3 other weapons). It was a death sword that was capable of slaying the Valg, and emitted a bright "white light." Sound familiar?

Athril then fought on the the peak of a mountain "archway," in an attempt to stop the Valg from entering his world. Although he was successful in destroying the Valg, he was killed - right on the mountaintop. After that, the cities were formed and a period of peace ensued.

This sounds EXACTLY like the story of Fionn that Rhys detailed in ACOSF (the mighty "fae warrior" who used Gwydion to overthrow the Daglan), AS WELL as Enalius (the first Illyrian who fought an "unknown enemy" on the top of Ramiel, and died there).

What's more, is that after Athril died, Maeve closed the gates and all rips between all worlds.

This is EXACTLY what Queen Theia did.

Proof in the published version.

Although 'Queen of Glass' is not officially canon, it gives us important clues regarding SJM's line of thinking.

However, there is still evidence in the actual TOG that points to Maeve as being Queen Theia. Most prominently, Maeve states that in her "original world," she came from a "small territory" where she was made Queen.

This sounds just like Theia and the Dusk Court.

It is also explicitly stated that this "small territory" that Maeve ruled was a place where powers were not given, but "simply born" (as if... starBORN?)

Further, Erawan also suggested that Yrene's power (which is almost 100% certainly the Starborn power) existed in his home world. Interestingly, he refers to wielders of this power as "death maidens," which sounds an awful lot like Nesta's power (and perhaps explains why she has the Starborn tattoo...)

Maeve in mythology.

In some strains of Celtic mythology (which appears to greatly influence the ACOTAR world), Queen Maeve was seen as the chief and deity of the Tuatha dé Danaan. Is it then any coincidence that Ruhn's (and possibly Rhys's) last name is Danaan?

In the same mythology, Maeve had 7 sons.

Just like the 7 High Lords.

Or the 7 Princes of Hel.

Or the 7 Asteri.

Maeve's power.

A pitfall of this theory is that Maeve's power (as far as we saw in TOG) did not manifest as light. But, are we sure we know the whole story of the Starborn? It is mentioned multiple times in CC2 that Bryce has not fully understood what her power is capable of. Similarly, Rigelus seems to hint that Bryce can walk between worlds simply because she is Starborn, and Maeve was a world-walker.

And perhaps more curiously, most people in the Starborn lineage (ie. the Avallen people) actually have shadow/darkness powers - just like Maeve did.

Aidas.

For this theory to be correct, it also suggests that Maeve was involved with Aidas.

Yet, as per another theory I have posted, I have already theorised that the Princes of Hel are actually the Valg.

Aidas is also a play on the name "Hades," and Hades is another name for Orcus - Maeve's original husband. This checks out.

Prythian.

As Theia and the Starborn likely originated from Prythian, there must also be evidence of Maeve's existence there.

It is then not surprising that many have already theorised that Maeve (and subsequently Queen Theia) is "the Mother" in the ACOTAR world.

Maeve is the only character we have seen with the ability to manipulate fate (and assign 'mating bonds' to people); just as the Mother does. Even in Celtic mythology, Maeve is another name for Mother.

Then, by extension, the Valg (or Princes of Hel) must also have existed in Prythian for this theory to be true. Interestingly, in the Crescent City audiobooks, all of the Princes of Hel have distinct British accents.

Is it then a mere coincidence that Prythian is in the shape of Britain, and similarly, Prythian is an ancient name for Britain?

(Map courtesy of Cassiopeia Reads).

Further:

Thanatos (a Prince of Hel) is also seen in the Hewn City.

The 7 layers of the library are reminiscent of the 7 layers of Hel (with many musing as to whether the 'cat like' presence is Aidas).

And, when Bryce says she is going to Hel, she lands in Prythian.

Timeline.

Alternatively, for Maeve to have been Queen Theia, she must have also existed 15,000 years ago. This suggests that Throne of Glass is a story that takes place in the PAST.

Linking with this idea, I theorise that the ACOTAR and TOG characters actually shared the same world (with the TOG characters existing many thousands of years ago). In fact, the notion of ACOTAR and TOG characters sharing the same world is something that Rigelus straight up suggests is true:

It also links in with Merrill's theory about the universe; that different worlds share the same space, but are separated by TIME.

This would explain why Rhys suggested that the old fae, 15,000 years ago, were more "elemental," and would imbue their swords with their magic.

Just as Aelin and the TOG fae did.

It would also explain why the Night Court and Terrasen (both in the North) are so similar.

Velaris is also exactly how Rowan described the future city that Aelin would rebuild.

What's more, is that Velaris smells like "lemon verbena," which is Aelin's scent.

This may all seem impossible if you believe the timelines to be concurrent - but, what if they're not?

What if, when Aelin fell through worlds, she fell forward in time? The Harp even mused that when it was last played, it transported the user through "TIME and space," and through the "eons."

ACOTAR last names.

If this is all true, perhaps it offers an explanation as to why the last names of most ACOTAR characters have been hidden. That the big reveal is that they all descend from TOG characters.

For example, the Winter Court would descend from the Whitethorns; with their wind/ice power, and signature white/silver hair.

The Spring Court (and Tamlin's lineage) would descend from Lysandra (with her shapeshifting abilities), and Aedion.

I mean, the resemblance is rather uncanny.

Even the Dawn Court, the place of healing, with their parallels to Yrene and Silba's descendants (even their book being called Tower of DAWN...).

Ultimately, the connections and possibilities are endless.

Yet, no matter what, I theorise that the person at the centre of everything, across all worlds, is Maeve.

Or, otherwise known as Queen Theia.