#but also all the learning to weave content is...not on those

[trashpandacraft]

I found fibrecraft tumblr after searching drop spindles because my dad *didn’t even know what that was.* And despite having been firmly of the opinion that I didn’t intend to learn it, y’all have me getting ever closer to giving in. However, I’m also growing ever more enamored with the idea of weaving - and despite recently deciding to give knitting and crochet another go - I think it looks the most fun of the fiber crafts. My issue is that I have absolutely no space.

But I’m beginning to realize there’s a lot of different looms and types of weaving. So I was wondering if you have any resources or tips for small space methods and storage?

welcome to fibrecraft tumblr! it's fun here, we have enablers.

i will admit that while i love knitting, weaving is amazing, and is much better with regards to instant gratification—weaving for an hour gets you a lot more fabric than knitting for an hour.

so let's talk about weaving, because i have great news for you: you can 100% totally weave in a small space if you want to, and you even have options for how you do it. i'm going to go through basically all the small space weaving options that i'm aware of in roughly size order, and if you make it to the bottom of this you'll have a pretty good overview of space-saving weaving methods.

the first question to ask yourself is what you want to weave. maybe you're not sure yet, which is totally fine. if you don't immediately have strong feelings about it, though, maybe consider if band weaving strikes your fancy. this is pretty limited in size, but lets you weave belts, straps (like camera or bag straps), lanyards, etc.

if you think that sounds neat, it's worth looking into tablet weaving, an inkle loom, or a band/tape loom. tablet weaving takes up no space at all—if you can fit a stack of index cards into your life, you can fit tablet weaving. the tablets are small square cards, often made out of heavy cardstock, and even with a project on them, you can probably fit them into an index card holder.

inkle looms are larger, and to be honest i've never used one and don't know a ton about them, but they're also used for making woven bands. the looms can also be very aesthetically pleasing, if that's something you're into. they can be very big, but the ashford inklette, for example, is only 36 cm long and maybe 12 cm wide.

tape looms are—in my experience, anyhow—larger than tablet weaving but smaller than inkle looms, and even the larger ones are only about shoebox size. they vary widely, from gorgeous, complicated little looms to a handheld paddle that you use to create a shed, which is what you put your yarn through when you're weaving.

if that doesn't sound like good times, consider a frame loom. these are pretty simple—if you ever wove potholders out of stretchy cloth strips as a kid, you probably used a frame loom to do it on. frame looms are generally inexpensive and readily available, and can be used for small woven objects like potholders, coasters, placemats, etc. they can also be used to make some truly stunning tapestries. while you can buy a huge frame loom, you're still only talking about huge in two directions—it might be as wide as your armspan, but it's still only a couple inches thick.

another option is a pin loom. these don't get mentioned a lot, and i'm not totally sure why. pin looms are shapes with a bunch of pins (metal points, usually) coming out of them. on one hand, you're limited to making things that are the shape of the loom, but on the other hand, if you've been hanging around fibrecraft tumblr, you've seen all the things crocheters get up to with granny squares, right? there's no reason in the world that you can't do all those things with the squares made on a pin loom. or the hexagons! or the triangles! i've been kinda thinking about getting a little hexagon or triangle pin loom and using it to sample my handspun, then turning the shapes into a blanket.

if you hate all of that, that's ok! we have more options.

you could consider a backstrap loom, which is an ancient way of weaving that's still practiced today in many places. backstrap looms are cool because you can weave probably 24 inches wide on them, but even with a project on it, they take almost no room at all. backstrap looms are fairly easy to diy, because they're basically a bunch of dowels, so they can be a good low-cost way to try out weaving. backstrap looms will let you make longer, wider fabric than anything else we've mentioned so far!

another option—stay with me—is a toy loom. there are a number of cheap looms for sale on amazon/ali express/some local places that are actually fully functional looms. recently i've seen a number of people (like sally pointer, though i'm sure i've seen someone using one of the brightly coloured harness looms, as well) who've used them and report that they're functional, if basic, looms. you're fairly constrained in terms of project size, since there's not a lot of space for the finished fabric to wind on, and there's a very limited width, but the looms are quite small and tuck away easily.

ok, but so what if you hate all of those options? don't worry—there are more options! this is the part where things get expensive, though.

as looms go, rigid heddle looms are actually quite reasonably sized. i think the smallest one i've seen is a 40cm (~16") weaving width, which is about 50x60 (20x24") in length/width, and 13cm (5") high. so that's more space than anything else we've talked about, but it's still not a ton of space, you know? a 40cm rigid heddle will let you weave lovely scarves and things of that nature—table runners, placemats, strips of woven fabric to whipstitch together into a blanket, etc.

but maybe that's enough. so let's talk about table looms. some of them are quite large—mine, for example, is about a metre square and sits on a frame that it came with. it is not what you would call space efficient. but many of them, especially modern ones, are very compact, and can even be folded up into something more or less briefcase sized. (weird way to consider it, since the last time i saw a briefcase was probably the 80s, but you know what i mean, i bet.) the cool part here is that you can weave damn near anything you want on a table loom. the less cool part is that for the compact ones that fold up, you're looking at hundreds if not thousands of dollars. the smallest one i'm aware of is the louët erica, which folds down to 42x62x42cm (16.5x24.5x16.5") and gives you 40cm (16") of weaving width. i feel like that's impressively small. you'd have to decide for yourself if that's enough to justify the $500 usd/$800 aud price tag, though.

finally, we've come to folding floor looms. i don't think someone who's never woven before should run out and buy one of these unless money is just literally not at all a concern for you, but they are basically the dream for those of us trapped in crappy rentals, and it seemed weird to leave them out when i'd come this far.

some floor looms are various levels of collapsible. to be clear, this does you absolutely no good at all when you're actively weaving, because you have to unfold them to weave, but it does you a lot of good if you'd like to have a floor loom and still have the ability to, say, walk through the living room when you're not actively using the loom.

most relevant to our discussion about small weaving footprints, some looms fold up entirely. they are incredibly fucking expensive and incredibly fucking cool. the two that i'm most aware of are the leclerc compact and the schacht wolf line, both of which fold up to about half of their unfolded depth. they're still not small—i think that they're both the better part of 75cm (30") wide and tall, so even if they fold down to 40cm (16") deep, they're still 75cm wide and tall. which is Fairly Large, though much better than having something 80cm deep sitting in the middle of the floor.

this was a very, very long post, but hopefully makes it clear that there's a surprisingly wide range of options, and they all have advantages and trade offs. if you're asking my opinion, my suggestion would be to try something—anything—with a backstrap setup and see how you feel about it. maybe you love it and keep at it forever, in which case you're in good company: there are entire cultures that weave exclusively on backstrap looms.

if you like producing cloth but don't love the backstrap setup, or don't like using your body to tension the warp, you have a lot of other options, and you're out maybe ten dollars of dowels.

personally, my next loom is probably going to be a pin loom. unless i win lotto, in which case it's going to be a house that has a weaving studio and like four floor looms in it. but probably a pin loom.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[drizztdohurtin]

Gale Headcanons: pining, dating, marriage & domesticity

〚 Masterlist | WIP List 〛

this one's gonna be a doozy <3

I did change it slightly from the original description on the poll (which was dating, romance, and domesticity) because I felt like marriage would be a simple add-on.. who doesn't want more Gale content, anyways?

This post will be organized into 4 parts: pining, dating, domesticity, and marriage - so only read the parts you're interested in!

-MDNI-

some nsfw in the 'dating' & 'marriage' sections, but nothing explicitly described

Pining:

i mean.... we all played the game, right

in the game, act 1 only includes light courting with Gale, versus the far more intimate moments Tav can have with companions like Lae'zel and Astarion

Tav's relationship with Gale goes from 0 to 100 in the game once you get to act 2, and I'm not a big fan of that

he's just like "hey remember that one time we shared a blink of a moment in the weave and then we never talked or hinted at anything ever again? Great, now let's have sex and also I love you <3333"

Realistically, that's not how Gale would be, so let's rewrite history

Gale's courting tactics involve a lot of info-dumping and complimenting, as we know, and he does this without even realizing it at first

up until the party at camp, that is his only strategy

he realizes he likes you fairly early on, but he actually battles those feelings for a long time - he tries very hard to shove them down and forget about them

but he can't!! everything you do seems to draw him in more and more

at the party when he offers to have a magical moment with you, he does not think you reciprocate any feelings for him

he just wanted to give you a little glimpse into the thing that he loved so much, the thing that he'd spent his whole life learning

it's not something he would do with just anyone, even if it just seemed like a friendly gesture

once he perceives your feelings for him, or at the very least the fact that you want to kiss him, he's elated - hoping to the Gods that the impression on his chest doesn't start glowing at his excitement

it was too risky to do anything with you that night, but it was all he could think about once he was in the privacy of his tent

he thought about what it meant - did you just want to kiss him (was it lust?) or did you mean something deeper? did you want him the way he wanted you? did you admire him the way he admired you?

but then he thought of the danger, and how it was pointless to get close to you or to allow you to get close to him

pointless only because he could literally level a city at any moment

but you just kept being you, and so he kept falling harder and harder - eventually, he just had to confess

upon his confession, he didn't sugarcoat anything, he was brutally honest about his worries

but he was also brutally honest about his feelings for you

the fact that you reciprocated any feelings towards him, the man with the ticking time bomb in his chest, was astonishing

he was so happy... and yet he felt so guilty

Dating:

you two start dating before the orb is stabilized by Elminster

it's very nerve-wracking for him, but he can't deny how wonderful it feels to be yours

upon your suggestion, he would agree to slowly try to take things further and further, up to a certain point

each night in his tent, you'd experiment with him - starting with just holding him, or sleeping next to him, or kissing his face

Gale made a whole big deal about your guys' first kiss, and you realized that the build-up could actually increase the chances of any unwanted orb activity

so one day you just walk up to him and kiss him

nothing long, nothing deep - just a quick kiss, stepping away right after (the look on his face was priceless btw)

and you were right, all of Gale's inner build-up to it was the issue (poor guy), so once it was over with it was very easy to work up to the point where you could come to his tent and kiss him for hours

one night you start exploring each other's bodies and you're surprised with how well of a hold he seems to have on not allowing his excitement to reach his orb, as you're able to go much further than you thought you would on the first night

but once you get to a point where your hands start exploring lower, under certain pieces of clothing, that's when it is time to stop

Gale would apologize profusely, telling you he'd give anything to be able to please you, but it was too dangerous at that moment - you'd have to keep working up to it (plz reassure him that that's not why you're with him, and you'll wait as long as you need to, even if you're never able to do anything with him PLEASE)

you and the group come across Elminster about a tenday after that, and *poof* the orb is stabilized

that night you and Gale go to "test out" the newfound stability of the orb

Gale's pretty nervous about it at first, but his anxiety is proven to not be needed pretty quickly

he ends up going down on you that night, wanting to save anything further for a more private, intimate setting

your first time together happens once you get to the shadow-cursed lands (the canon in-game scene, whichever you prefer)

after that, you guys have a few more encounters up until the Absolute is defeated - not being allotted much time for private intimacy

the 500 words describing the progression of your guys' physical intimacy aside - Gale is such a wonderful partner

Gale is such a considerate boyfriend, and he's funny!!

He'd 100% brag about you and he'd do it when he infodumps on people

Gale "erm actually ☝🤓, my partner..." Dekarios

He really likes when you sleep in his tent with him, or when you lay with him and let him read to you

He doesn't talk about the future with you - as much as he hopes for a future with you, he tries not to think about it too much because you both very well could die trying to defeat the Absolute

But if he's going to die, he wants to die loving you <3333

but to be honest, he does think about it a lot, he just tells himself it's all hypothetical

his thoughts are like this: "I really want to take Tav back home and introduce them to Tara and mother... THEORETICALLY ☝️☝️"

"HYPOTHETICALLY ☝️!☝️!.... i wonder if Tav would want a ring when I propose"

he just thinks that on the off-chance that you guys survive, maybe he should be prepared

Gale's the type to be like "my love, it's been exactly 93 days since you first agreed to be mine <333"

when you guys get to the city he WILL celebrate your 100th day of being together by taking you somewhere nice :))

Marriage:

okay this is going to be controversial..... but I like the way Gale proposes in-game

it very much feels like an accident, because he probably didn't mean to propose when he said "as a new member of the Dekarios clan" but it just kind of slipped out when he was asking you want to settle down with him

He considers you to be his family, and his asking you that question might've just been to see if you felt the same way

it does seem very Gale for something like that to just kind of happen, so despite the haters, I think it's very cute and very endearing, and I'm kEEPING IT

whether you return to Waterdeep with him or relocate somewhere else together, you get married within 6 months after defeating the Absolute

despite him saying "the Dekarios clan" (and despite popular headcanon), his family is very small - consisting of himself, his mother, and Tara

I'm a subscriber to the headcanon saying that Gale is an only child who grew up without a father and that any other family is spread all throughout Faerun, so he's not particularly close with any of them

so when you agree to marry him, he's so beyond happy at the thought of you joining his family

and perhaps the idea of growing it with you ("Gale as a dad headcanons" coming soon if that's something you're interested in)

he LOVES referring to you as his wife/husband/spouse, and before you guys get married he LOVES introducing you as his fiance!!!

it literally makes his heart jump

"my wife/husband/spouse" this, "my wife/husband/spouse" that

just like when you two were dating, he'd talk about you constantly

no one, not even his students are safe from him rambling about his spouse

taking last names isn't much of a thing in D&D and Forgotten Realms lore unless you're dealing with nobility (most common people don't even have surnames)

BUT THIS IS MY HOUSE (I'm literally a DM irl and I'm about to say fuck canon)

so if taking his last name is something you want to do, do it and he'll have a fucking heart attack

honestly, he'll even take yours if you want him to

he thinks it's romantic okay !!!!!! anyways

Gale organizes something every single year to celebrate your anniversary, and he'll never stop

on your anniversaries, he'll dedicate as much of his day to you as he can (lowkey he might take off of work)

he'll wake you up with breakfast (and maybe other things...), take you out for an activity or two during the day, and then some years he'll take you to dinner, and other years he'll make dinner for you (unless you have a strong preference for one or the other)

and then end the night with a romantic, candlelit bath, more intimacy, and really good sleep

I love the idea of married sex with Gale, guys - it's like just being married gets him off

Gale brings a sort of 'missionary sex with the lights on' vibe to the marriage that some readers don't really like

unless you're happy with that (and how could you not be), you'll definitely have to be the driving force in changing things up in the bedroom once you guys are married

Domesticity:

OKOKOK the meat and potatoes of this fucking post

Gale REEKS of domesticity

he does not need the Crown of Karsus when he is already the King of Acts of Service

(nsfw content implied) this headcanon of mine still keeps me up at night

during the events of the game, he will do literally anything he can to make your life easier

the reason he started cooking for the group every night is just because he wanted to take that burden off of you.... and quite frankly he knows he's good at it.... but MOSTLY because he wanted to take the burden off of you!

when you start regularly sleeping in his tent with him, he will start keeping an extra pair of camp clothes in there for you, and an extra bed roll

he takes on the role of alchemist, making healing potions for you and anything else that you might need

when you're in pain, he finds a way to modify Burning Hands or Cone of Cold so that he can direct small amounts of it to his hands and then places them on any aches and pains you have (menstruators! rejoice!!)

After the events of the game, once you two are home (wherever that may be), he takes care of most of the household chores unless you beat him to it

He does the grocery shopping, he cooks all of the meals, he does all of the repairs and maintenance, makes the bed every morning, does your laundry (or sends it out to be done), does yard work or gardening, ALL OF IT

you're like how tf does this man have time to beat me to all of the chores AND work a JOB !?

he has to remind you that he's a wizard and can just cast spells that do things like that, including mage hand

but the fact he even takes any care in doing such tasks for you is just the sweetest shit on the planet

he also loves to run soothing baths for you, and will always join you if you ask him to

if he doesn't have to be up early he will bring you breakfast in bed

he leaves little notes around for you to find, some of them have puns on them but most of them say how much he loves you

*1.6k words later* SEND POST !!

[briarcrawford]

Is This How You Write Romance?

I have never written a romance; not even once. That does not mean there is anything wrong with romance stories, just that I typically am drawn to writing stories that focus on other aspects. Now, that might sound like I am being a snob, but what I really mean is that I am a simple soul; I crave action scenes. Media that is majority romance just tends to bore me.

I do want to improve as a writer, though, and that does include writing romance(as a sub-plot). It is something most people expect in stories, and, if I am honest, a part of the reason I continue to avoid it is that I have no experience writing it. So, to help me get started, I have been doing what I do best: researching.

I have been (halfheartedly, with my phone in hand) watching the odd romance movie when my mom has them on(those ultra cheesy Hallmark ones), and it seems like most romances can break down into a simple formula.

The formula is:

1. The Meet-Cute

After the viewers have had a look into the life of the main character, the meet-cute happens. This scene is most likely funny or overly dramatic.

“In film and television, a meet cute is a scene in which the two people who will form a future romantic couple meet for the first time, typically under unusual, humorous, or cute circumstances. This type of scene is a staple of romantic comedies, though it can also occur in sitcoms and even soap operas.” Wikipedia

2. Building a Connection

Scenes that gradually bring them closer; typically do to coincidences or circumstances that force them to keep meeting. These scenes are when your readers will decide if they have chemistry or not.

3. Turning to Feelings

They continue having scenes together, and show signs of mutual interest. These scenes are when readers decide if they would make a healthy couple, and romance fans start looking forward to what could happen.

4. Feelings Confirmed

Something happens (such as a rescue, or a near kiss) that makes them realize or suspect that the feelings are mutual.

5. The Test

Their relationship is tested, and they realize how much they need each other. This is normally when one side runs off, and the other chases.

Without some sort of conflict and character building, the romance may come off feeling like filler content or fan service.

6. End

All is resolved, and they are together now.

Obvious, right? Well, the trick is to weave these into your main plot without them standing out too much.

Once you know what readers want in romance, the tricky part starts.

1. Confirm your genre.

What scenes are most important to you? If it is the romance scenes, you may want to rethink how you classify your genre. For example, there is a difference between writing a fantasy with a romance subplot, and a romance with a fantasy subplot. Deciding if you need to shift your main focus will change how much of each content makes up the percentage of your book.

2. Decide Your Goals.

What are your goals for the relationship? Sometimes, the plot points above stretch through just one book, while other times it can stretch for a whole series. If your goal is to have them get together in one book, know that you will have to deal with continuing that romance throughout the rest of the series(and adding in enough drama to keep it worth the subplot time).

3. They Should Amplify Your Main Plot.

If you have your characters become a couple in the middle of your main-plot’s climax, you risk ruining what tension you have built. Some writers do fight this and go with it anyway, though that is often because one of the love interests is almost guaranteed to die in the next scene.

Instead, consider having the relationship build at the same speed of the main plot. This is why end-of-series kisses are so popular to write.

Another popular option is to have them get together early on, but separated. That way, the hero is fighting not only to survive, but also to get back to their love.

This is, of course, all written by someone learning, so if any of you have any tips for writing romance, please let me know! I am not planning on watching any more of those movies(sorry, mom haha), so I will take all the help I can get.

[red-ropes-of-avalon]

Devil Take The Hindmost

True Form!Sukuna x Goddess of Humans!Reader Synopsis: A deal between a goddess and a curse: are human emotions truly worth feeling? Content Warning: None really, some angst and strong language in some spots I guess

The village was burning, the crops destroyed, and in the middle stood the King of Curses himself. Screams echoed in the burning remains, those that were fortunate had escaped but most of the village was already dead, the unfortunate were suffering watching their loved ones die before them as they tried to pull themselves from the burning rubble. A small child was grasping for her mom’s hand trapped under a burning building. It was truly pathetic watching maggots like that their tears were such a boring sight. 

Raising a single arm to grab the pathetic child by her throat, he never registered the quick strike. In the blink of an eye, the arm was cut off being held by a mysterious woman. In the midst of the burning village and collapsing buildings, her divine glow could easily have been missed. “How dare you interrupt me? I care not for gods and especially not ones who would defend these maggots.” 

“Oh my, oh my. So quick to dismiss me. You truly think yourself a god,” the katana you had severed the arm with raised in defiance. You tossed the arm that you had severed, the blood had already stained the white gloves you wore. Sukuna rushed you bare-handed, he had the upper hand as far as physical strength, and testing your defenses before resorting to his jujutsu to formulate a plan was a priority. After all, it wasn’t every day he could fight a god, perhaps you could even give him a challenge. You moved gracefully weaving through with the grace of a ballerina, moving further and further from the child. As he threw punch after punch, your mind was churning you needed to move with precision, cut off all arms nearly simultaneously, deploy your cursed technique, grab the kid, and go. 

Taking the opportunity with you in your own mind, Sukuna took that moment as an opening. He sent a single cleave slash at you, not enough to decimate you but to determine if your cursed technique bolstered your defenses. ‘Shit there goes that plan,’ you mentally cursed. In a single moment, your cursed technique activated, a glowing circle forming at your back with crystal shards floating along the edge of it. Crystals gently flowed around your feet and formed along the edge of your blade. One of the shards took the brunt of Sukuna’s attack knocking you back and throwing you into the rubble of a building. He was too strong you weren’t winning this, his cursed energy was on par with the gods and his technique was far more useful in combat than yours. Pushing yourself up from the crumpling home, you threw yourself through the fire, running for the child. Reaching the crying child you grabbed them picked them up and wrapped yourself around them to protect them from any attack Sukuna might send towards you. Deactivating your technique and suppressing all your cursed energy you disappeared into the rubble, slipping away amongst the smoke. 

“Damn, I thought that would be more fun. Pretty shitty for a god.”

Years passed with the young child, learning her name to be Yae, she served as your faithful attendant, though you two tended to bounce from place to place. The common feature was simply being surrounded by humans. You adored them, being the goddess of humans. You had no issue exorcising lower-level curses that caused them problems. Every emotion they felt was so beautiful in your eyes, so free to feel and express it all. However, they were also fragile and so fleeting. Yae had adored your technique, in the crystals were the most beautiful of human emotional experiences- love, sadness, joy, and all other forms of beautiful overflowing humanity. You never expected yourself to feel their emotions. Yae was still a human too, though you were remiss to remember that. She stayed by your side for but 2 years before she was taken from you. What had started as a simple sickness had quickly turned worse until she passed in your arms, calling you her mom in her final moments. Lifting your hand to your face you felt tears, and thus your first human experience occurred. Sadness ripping through your heart. 

You brought her back to the remains of her village to lay her to rest. Standing alone in the quiet felt crushing, no happy little Yae by your side. Nothing around you mattered anymore in this all-consuming grief. “Never thought I’d see you here again you pathetic goddess.” The cold voice brought you out of your stupor. Tear streaks were still visible on your face but your defenses were raised.

“I guess it never really mattered, the girl…she died.” Your glow seemed to die out, no longer a sure and confident goddess, but a grief-stricken one. 

“What are you even the goddess of? Seems a little pathetic to be crying over one feeble little human.”

“I am the goddess of humans…I…I love them so dearly but I suppose this was the first I got to interact with them. To experience what they feel, human emotions they’re rather foreign but they feel correct.”

“That’s why you are so pathetic. Emotions, they mean nothing. The only thing that matters is pleasure and satisfaction.” 

“All emotions they mean something. To feel them is to live, I never knew how hollow I was before Yae. I would never give them up again, for I would never feel alive again.”

“How about this little goddess, we make a little deal. If you over the course of a year get me to believe emotions are worthwhile, I will only kill sorcerers. But if you lose, you have to watch as I slaughter a village- no defiance or saving any.”

“Deal.”

11 months spent by someone’s side changes your views sometimes, though Sukuna would be loathe to admit it. The displays of emotions never inherently meant anything to him- a baby’s first steps were happy only when the baby fell. A death was nothing to mourn in his eyes. What did bring emotions to him were moments with you, exchanging stories from long ago. 

“Ryoumen” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “The stars are beautiful tonight, come outside with me.” While giving no verbal agreement he rose from his desk where he had various books mainly poems you had gifted him. The stars glittered in the sky above you as he sat on the wooden boards overlooking the garden. You twirled gently in the flowers smiling freely. Your eyes were fixed up at the stars beauty, and Sukuna couldn’t help but notice the beauty you had. 

Spinning around you gave him the most radiant smile, and he could swear his heart skipped a beat. You held out a gloved hand to him, the pure white fabric sparkling in the stars, beckoning the King of Curses to join you under the stars. He didn’t have the heart to deny you in that moment, and that’s how he knew you won. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, never would he say the mighty Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curse felt human emotions and valued them. Towering over you, he gently held your outstretched hand and watched you sway and twirl to your tuneless music. He’d carve out the sun, the moon, and stars just to keep you by his side. By the time the two of you were going inside to sleep the sun was beginning to rise.

But humans are feeble, and fall prey to emotions easily. Sorcerers were marching to attempt to exorcise Sukuna once more. Simply by being associated, you were in the line of fire when they attacked. They were your precious humans, you understood their fear of the power Sukuna wielded. As your body was pierced through and you crumpled, you gently smiled at them. You could tell it had unsettled them but as you lay bleeding on the flowers you had danced in the night before you could never bring yourself to think ill of your precious humans. You tried to apply pressure and stop the bleeding but all it did was stain your white gloves red. 

Sukuna had destroyed the sorcerers in less than a thought, but the damage was done. He found your still body in the garden, and his blood ran cold. He felt for a pulse and found nothing, the blood below you should have told it all, you were gone from this world. He gently lifted your lifeless body, holding your hands with one pair of his. He refused to acknowledge the tears streaming down his face, he had a job to do. When he arrived at the burned village you first met in, he went searching for the exact spot, the spot where you had buried Yae and the spot where your deal was once made. “You foolish goddess, but I suppose a deal is a deal. No innocents for this year, after all those sorcerers made their decision to attack you so devil take the hindmost.” The stars were twinkling on your still body, face closed in a peaceful expression as he set you in the ground. He’d take the sight of you with your stars to the end of his days. 

Being reincarnated into Yuuji’s body was not Sukuna’s first choice of vessel. The kid had weird tendencies, this 2 am trip to 7-11 for a slushie was becoming pretty normal to the King of Curses. Yuuji was walking fast, his surroundings were a blur. There was nobody else out until suddenly Yuuji had barreled into someone, and the girl had managed to stay upright but what she had been carrying was all over the ground. “I’m so sorry I should of been watching where I was going!” The girl apologized while Yuuji knelt down to pick up her stuff- various gardening tools. Sukuna’s eyes widened in his innate domain, he knew that voice. Creating an eye on Yuuji’s cheek, he saw the familiar gloved hand reaching out. Sukuna swore that if there was fate and destiny, the two of you were perhaps meant to find each other in every life.

[kirislovelygf]

haunted, part 3 (ronal x fem metkayina! reader)

contents: you and ronal have been married for about 14 years and have lived with the metkayina happily ever since you left the forest. now imagine your surprise when your ex appears out of nowhere with the man she cheated on you with and the family they built together.

content also: family angst, ronal and reader being lovey-dovey, lo’ak x tsireya fluff :)))

wrd count: 2.6k

꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

i woke up from the nightmare of that night with a gasp.

i calmed myself down when i felt ronal right next to me. i look down at her head on my chest and hands wrapped around me.

i took slow breaths, staring up at the ceiling where the light of the stars poked through.

“mm..” ronal began muttering as she stirred awake.

she picked up her head, her hair wrapped in a silk covering and bags under her eyes from a tired day.

“are you okay?” she mumbled so badly, i had to hold back a laugh.

“it’s okay, my love. go back to sleep.” i whispered. she sighed and her head dropped back onto my chest, falling asleep not even a second later.

i couldn’t help but stay awake, staring up until morning. i got up once ronal moved away from me, turning for her back to gave me.

i picked myself up and went to sit out by the water.

tiny creatures swam around my feet, their colors contrasting with the coral that sprouted from the sand.

while watching them swim in unison, i heard someone rusting around. the weaving of the hut sounded as someone started walking toward me.

ronal sighed out and took a seat beside me, yawning.

“why are you up so early?” she asked me, putting her head on my shoulder.

i sighed out. “there’s something i need to tell you about neytiri.”

“okay..”

“i didn’t tell you the complete truth about how we know each other. i didn’t want you to be bitter towards her because of what happened between us all those years ago.” i said.

“…okay.”

pray she doesn’t kill me after this.

i sighed out before getting the words out. “neytiri and i were mates when i lived in the forest. we wanted to spend our lives together. until she met jake.”

ronal stayed silent and still as she listened to me.

“she was.. unfaithful. jake spent time with us learning how to be na’vi. and in that time, we became friends. but i started to see that neytiri was falling in love with him more and more by the day.”

“i endured months of her manipulating me into thinking she didn’t love him. then i found out they mated and i ran away. days later, that’s when i found the islands.” i said.

“hm.” she muttered.

i stared ahead at the water because i was afraid to see what her face looked like.

“i’m.. sorry for lying to you. it was a long time ago, and i let it go. i didn’t want you to be angry at her for me. especially since she came here with a family.” i sighed.

ronal picks her head up and i hesitantly look at her.

she’s staring ahead at the water, obviously contemplating on what to say.

“can i ask you..” she muttered.

“mhm.”

“seeing her again, after all this time, did it remind you of old feelings you had for her again?”

“no.”

“are you certain?” she looks at me.

“ronal, i promise i don’t have any feelings for her. neytiri betrayed my trust, but i’ve let go of that pain. and how can i have feelings for her when i’m with you?”

she scoffed and looked away.

“you don’t believe me?” i asked, laughing slightly.

“she’s your first love. it’s okay if-“

“she was the first but you’re the last. i’ll never love anybody again. no after knowing what it’s like to love you.” i smiled.

a smile breaks through her serious frown and she puts her head on my shoulder again.

“i’m sorry she put you through that.” she sighed out.

“it’s okay. now, i’m grateful she did what she did. if jake never came, and she never cheated, i’d be with someone who didn’t truly love me.”

“and you wouldn’t be with me.” she said.

i chuckled and kissed the top of her head, hugging her close.

“and i wouldn’t be with you. that’s a nightmare.” i said softly.

we stayed like this until the sun shined brightly and more na’vi started to wake up and get their day started.

during breakfast, i didn’t see tsireya. i hoped she got some food for resell before leaving the hut so early.

“do you know where your sister went?” i asked ao’nung.

“uh.. no.” he nodded. i look up from the pot of food to watch his expression.

“are you sure?”

“…yes.”

“ao’nung.” i spoke. he sighed and looked up at me.

“are you lying to me?” i asked, not believing he was. he’s never had reason to lie, neither of my kids have.

i’ve never yelled at them or punished them harshly, so they haven’t lied since they were very little kids.

“…yes.”

“..why?” i chuckled.

“cause she asked me not to tell you.”

i shrugged. “okay. well is she safe?”

“yes. she is.” he nodded.

“okay. as long as she gets home safe, i don’t care.” i shrugged.

ronal leaves her room with her hair drawn back. “you don’t care about what?” she asked.

“where tsireya is.”

“….i didn’t give you a daughter just so you wouldn’t care about where she is.” she deadpanned.

i looked up at her hesitantly and she just had a dead stare.

she looks up at ao’nung. “go find your sister.” she ordered.

he finished his breakfast in a couple hills before running out of the hut and diving into the water.

ronal sat down across from me and began eating.

“i’m sor-“

“no.”

“okay.”

we finished breakfast in silence before she gave me a kiss on the cheek and left the hut without even muttering anything,

i left eventually too, going to do some chores around the island. which included harvesting shells to make more clothes.

as i picked up pearlescent shells from the beach, i spotted tsireya and lo’ak seated together on some rocks, on the border of the reef.

they were smiling and talking, tsireya’s blush could be seen all the way from the beach where i was standing.

lo’ak looked like he was telling some exaggerated story, his hands flying all over the place.

i smiled at them before continuing to collect trinkets.

lo’ak’s pov

talking to tsireya is so nice. it’s calming. she’s not much of a talker like me, she’s a listener.

sometimes i feel bad but she assured me she likes hearing me talk. says it's nice. so because of her, i know my siblings hate me and tune me out every time i have something to say.

she told me to come out here to tell me something she heard but. started talking about my mom and then my brother and yeah.

she said it was about my mom and her mom and how they know each other.

“okay, so about our moms.” i said once we were done giggling.

“oh, yeah. tell me.” i shifted my body to face her.

my siblings and her and ao’nung and i, not including tuk, were trying to figure out the relation to my mom and their mom.

it started when y/n left so suddenly when she saw my mom.

since then, we’ve been putting together details to figure out how they know each other.

when we first asked my mom, she told me they “used to be friends” but..

i’m not sure. it might have been more than that.

“so i got up early to feed the ilu today and i heard my moms talking..”

“what did they say?” i asked her.

“i found something out. our moms were more than friends. you were right.” she nodded.

“when am i not. okay, what’d you hear?” i smiled.

“okay, it’s a lot. and it may change how you see your mother. and that isn’t my intention, just know, this is what i heard.” she said.

“it must have been really good if it makes me hate my mother.” i nodded.

she looks at me weird and laughs slightly.

“that’s not.. uh, okay. y/n told ronal that they used to be mates when she lived in the forest. they were in love. until.. your father came and your mother cheated on y/n with him.” she said.

i kept silent listening to her story, she winced a couple times, and i understand. my mom cheating?

that’s a lot to take in. and i don’t like my dad, but now i don’t like him even more cause of this.

i never could have imagined my parents would do something like this.

“when she found out they mated, she left and found the islands and stayed here with ronal. i guess they never reconciled because y/n didn’t ever expect to see neytiri again.” tsireya continued.

“… are you sure this is what you heard?” i asked.

she tilted her head softly. “it’s not that i don’t trust you, i do.” i assured her.

“i understand. but yes, this is what i heard.” she nodded.

“i’m sorry lo’ak.” she said quietly.

“no, don’t apologize. it isn’t your fault. or your mom’s.. it’s my mom and dad who need to apologize.” he nodded.

i thought about all the times i looked up to my parents. whenever i was scared, i thought “dad wouldn’t be scared..”

���mom wouldn’t be scared, so why should i be.”

i stopped thinking when tsireya put her hand on mine.

“i don’t know how to explain to my brother and sister that our parents..” i said.

“you don’t need to. talk to your parents first. listen to what they have to say.” she said to me.

“i will. but..” i look up at her.

“do you think your mom is happy now? with ronal?” i asked.

“from what i’ve seen, yes. they’re very happy together.” she nodded.

“that’s all that matters, right? at least she isn’t bitter after all these years.” i said.

“right..” she nodded.

“anyway..” i jump up and stand, looking at the beach.

“let’s go find some snacks. i’m hungry.” i held out my hand out for her to take and she does.

“where are the best fruits?”

“oh! on this side. come.” i smiled. we dove into the water and went to the island to find fruit to eat.

i could tell this wasn’t how she expected me to react. but i don’t want her to see me breakdown.

it embarrassing, i cry like a baby. i’ve known this girl for a couple months, i’m not going to mess this up.

we walked around the island, collecting fruits, before eating them on the beach. hen sundown came around, neteyam came looking for me and the three of us walked home together.

“oh have you guys found anything out?” he asked as we were walking.

“found anything out about what?” i asked him, acting clueless.

“about mama and tsireya’s mom.” he said, like it was obvious.

“uhh..” i glance at tsireya and she quickly comes up with a lie on the spot.

“no, not today.“ she said. he nods. “it’s ok, we’ll find something out soon.”

tsireya and i look at each other and she smiles at me.

we walked tsireya home and then got phone ourselves.

before we walked in, i asked neteyam to take our sisters somewhere.

“why?”

“i gotta talk to mom and dad.”

“oh.. are you finally coming out?” he winced. he pays my shoulder while i stared at him wide eyed.

“if you need me, i’ll be on the other side of the island. i can’t guarantee dad won’t shoot you and i’m not gonna be around to witness that.” he nodded.

“that’s not funny.” i slapped his hand off as he laughed. it was funny, but i’m not telling him that.

“okay, what’s actually wrong.” he asked.

“it’s something personal. i might tell you later, i don’t know, it depends.” i said.

“okay.” we stepped inside and i waited around for neteyam to get the girls.

they left without question. so, good to know they don’t care.

i looked outside of the hut and watched as they walked farther away.

“are you okay?” dad asked.

“oh, what? yeah. i am. i’m fine.” i said.

he looked at me weird and went to sit next to mom, who was cutting up vegetables next to a fire.

i sat a bit away from them and rubbed my

thighs nervously, thinking about how to bring this up.

they started talking to themselves about something else.

“mom..?” i muttered.

she looks away from dad to me. “hm?”

i sighed out. “i was with tsireya today.” i said.

she nodded and shrugged. “okay..”

“and she told me something today, and i thought i’d talk to you guys.” i continued.

they glance at each other and look back at me, well.. mom does, dad looks down.

“what did she say?” my mom asked.

“she told me something about you and her mom.” i said.

“ronal?” she avoids my eyes. she knows i’m not talking about her.

“no.. y/n. you and y/n. how you two know eachother.”

“i thought i already told you..” she said.

“yeah but.. i think.. i feel like..”

if i don’t spit this out, this is gonna take me hours.

“..you guys didn’t tell me the truth.” i said super carefully. i knew it wasn’t careful enough as dad looked up at me.

“what do you mean lo’ak?” he asked in a low tone.

“did you both know y/n? mom said she and y/n used to be friends but.. dad, did you know her too?” i asked.

they look at each other again and i see mom shake her head slightly.

are they seriously lying again.

“no… no i didn’t.”

“.…are you guys sure?” i asked.

they both look at me, surprised.

“you think i’m lying to you?” mom says angrily.

“lo’ak, what are you trying to tell us?” dad asked me.

i sighed out heavily. i’m never gonna be allowed out of this hut again.

“okay, i’m just gonna tell you. i know you guys are lying. tsireya overheard her moms talking and she found out that you guys weren’t just friends.” i look at my mom.

“you and y/n were together. before you cheated on her with dad.” i said.

they looked at me wide-eyed and scared.

“i wanted to talk to you to see if it was true and you guys lying.. if loved that what tsireya heard was true.” i said.

they kept silent. my mom was terrified. and dad was stuttering, looking for something to say.

“how could you guys do that? y/n is so nice and caring.. how could you break her heart like that?” i asked.

“lo’ak, you-“

i angrily look at my mother.

“i respect you so much mom. i love you guys so much but how could you guys have done something so terrible? you betrayed her trust and that made her run away from her family.”

“she chose to run away.” mom muttered.

i stared at her dumbfounded. “and you chose to cheat on her!” i yelled.

“lo’ak!” dad yelled.

“no, don’t yell at me like.. like i’m the one at fault. how can two people so respected everywhere they go, hide something like this?” i yelled. we were standing now and mom hesitantly stood between us.

“you don’t know what happened all those years ago. you wouldn’t understand, and you don’t need to. you’re just a kid and it’s all in the past-“

“is it? i saw how y/n reacted when she saw you guys for the first time. how badly did you mess up for her to look at you like that?” i said to mom.

she had tears welled up in her eyes and looked for something to say.

“lo’ak-“

i didn’t say anything to them as i walked out of the hut. i didn’t know where else to go, but i knew i didn’t want to be around my parents right now.

so before i knew it, i was standing in front of y/n’s hut, hoping they wouldn’t turn me away.

꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[scaranation]

Loved your angst works sm... Can i request Diluc/Ayato/Ningguang x gn reader where reader is d worded already

thank youu angst is always so fun (but painful) to write 😭 this prompt was so good i loved doing it sm, hope you enjoy

༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

Content: angst, reader death, established relationship

ft. Diluc, Ayato, Ningguang

DILUC

For a moment, he could only kneel by your body in denial. Despite his pyro vision, a freezing sensation gripped his chest - seizing it in an icy grasp, although not as cold as the morbid embrace he held you in.

Your patchy, frayed messenger bag was still slung loosely over your limp shoulders, its contents spilling out. Carefully packaged food sitting in the pools of your blood. The lunchbox still bore your crimson-stained fingerprints, as though the last thing you thought of was delivering a meal to your lover.

“I told you not to go after me…” Diluc’s eyes squeezed shut as that terrifying, overwhelming cold thawed into searing anger.

“I told you, it was dangerous.” A trembling hand brushed your hair out of your face, delicately tracing your features - still fixed so prettily, even without the life that coloured them.

He only kept his hand gently braced against your cool skin, desperately trying to ignore the redness blooming in your chest, the sticky feeling webbed between his fingers. The scarlet hue seemed to engulf him, flame transforming into the most twisted form of anger - a guttural scream bordering on a sob left his lips, red and chapped with how hard he’d bitten them to stifle his previous cries.

Red was a complicated colour. It was the love you’d given him, a love you’d never have run out of. The pleasant warmth, the heavy infatuation, the fiery passion Diluc had felt for you. It was the colour of blood, which cutely tinted your cheeks red whenever he leaned into you. Red was also the colour of blinding anger, dark crimson and bitter in nature.

Red was all Diluc saw as he threw himself into slaughtering and infiltrating the Fatui following your passing. As if the rivers of blood he spilt could make up for the blood that no longer ran through your veins, as if the pain he inflicted could measure up to the pain he felt. Perhaps, this too was a form of coping. Busying himself in such matters rarely left him alone with his thoughts - thoughts that inevitably wandered to you.

He’d visit your grave whenever possible, sitting there for hours on end. He’d declined to have you buried behind the Mondstadt cathedral, instead opting for you to lay near the shaded grapevines of the winery. You’d always adored that place, remarking on its fairytale-like scenery. Diluc could only hope you were happy with resting there forever, eternally engulfed in the warmth of benevolent sunshine. Maybe, if things had gone differently, he’d be running with you through those vines and lawns - laughing beneath the cloudless sky. Although, he was simply grateful that he could still lay with you in the shade. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could almost feel your caress.

AYATO

The Commissioner lived in a political web. Sinewy tendrils of sticky silk stretching from person to person, forming an intricate lattice of relations and lies. Like a spider, he'd learned how to navigate those thin iridescent paths - knowing where to step, and how to weave it to his will. Countless others had become entangled in his traps, hopelessly ensnared.

But you'd gotten caught in his web, too. How cruel it was, that he could only remain neutral, that he could only school his expression into one of controlled stoicism. He couldn't even hold you in his arms as he wished, forced to stand back and watch as the crowd of people in the courtyard hushed.

You lay on the tiled ground, eyes glazed over.

"How did this happen?" Ayato was shocked at the coolness of his tone. His hands dug into fists, concealed by his long sleeves. The early morning sun peeked tepidly over the gated estate, as though even it was scared to show its face.

"We are unsure, my lord. They were found here in the morning, it appears to be an assassin sent by a political rival."

"Find them at once. Everyone is dismissed from the courtyard."

"Yes, my lord."

In the quiet of dawn, your lover was finally alone. As he sank to his knees by your side, he was no longer the Commissioner, nor was he the head of the Kamisato clan. At that moment, he was simply Ayato. And he felt rather like a small child - pressing his hands to your cold face in an almost juvenile hope that you'd smile for him again.

"I'm sorry... for ever meeting you." Ayato held your hand, eyes brimming with unshed tears. If only you didn't know him, then you wouldn't have gotten caught in the crossfire. If you hadn't been stuck in his web, you'd still be alive.

Ayato hated himself, for being so selfish. Selfish for daring to bring you into his life, selfish for basking in your love - only to be the cause of your premature demise.

In those minutes, he was weak and vulnerable. Out of public view, Ayato could let his tears fall freely. He hadn't been there for you, even in your last moments. When you'd given him unimaginable happiness, what had he given you...? For a Commissioner who seemed to have everything, he realised it was never enough, or at least not for you.

Following your death, Ayato would drown himself in work again. For a while, he sought revenge in the futile hope that it would honour you - but in his heart, he knew he only wanted it in the name of selfish repentance. He'd never truly move on, finding time in his busy schedule to visit you whenever possible.

How lovely it would be, to be unchained from his own web? Ayato wanted nothing more than to be freed from the burden of responsibility - perhaps then, he could lay down beside you and finally rest for a while.

NINGGUANG

Surprisingly, there was a very big difference between a lovers' oath and a lover's oath. The position of one apostrophe could change the meaning entirely. The former was made and upheld by two or more partners, whereas the latter was kept by only one.

The oath Ningguang had made with you to stay by each other’s side forever had turned from a lovers’ oath into a lover’s oath, with her being the lone lover seated by your side, holding your limp hand. Although you wouldn’t be able to stay with her, she’d still treasure you - even if it was in her memories.

Your death wasn’t sudden, or unexpected. You’d been severely ill for some time, and Ningguang had known you were slipping away. The Tianquan had devoted all the time she could into caring for you, sparing no expense when it came to finding a cure. But even Baizhu couldn’t prevent the inevitable.

You lay in the bed, eyes closed peacefully - making you look as though you were merely slumbering. A faint smile was etched into your face, as if you’d had a pleasant dream. Ningguang smiled bitterly, barely registering the wetness of tears falling down her cheeks. If you were dreaming, then she could only hope that she was part of it.

Like a tangent, you and Ningguang had crossed paths, only for those lines to stretch away from each other once more. Although you had continuously insisted that the mere fact that you’d met her was a miracle, Ningguang couldn’t help the emptiness that came with your absence. Your warmth was gone, your voice no longer echoed around the Jade Chamber. Ningguang would never smile at your victorious expression after she let you win a game of Go, and there would be no more peaceful afternoons sharing stories over tea.

Ningguang was very busy, but she’d set aside her schedule to mourn. Her grief was not sharp and intense, only numb and gradual. It came in the unremarkable hours of the evening, when she’d turn her head to show you something and realise you weren’t there. It’d be in the emptiness of her desk, lacking the little trinkets you’d put there. It’d come, uninvited and unanticipated, when Ningguang’s fingers subconsciously reached out for a hand that wasn’t there.

She’d often sit by your graveside in quiet contemplation, simply feeling the time pass and watching the skies darken. Lotuses were beautiful flowers, born from mud. In a way, their existence was quite poetic - symbolising hope for a better existence despite humble beginnings. Ningguang herself had begun in a hopeless place, although she believed the metaphor described you better. Amidst the folly of Liyue Harbour, you were the lotus bloom. Perhaps, you were simply too good for this world.

[itsfairly]

A Culture of Our Own // Nanami Kento x Latine! F! Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Intercultural dating is still pretty difficult. But you make it work with Nanami. Today, you do it through music.

Notes: sfw, fluff, f!reader, established relationship, Latine! reader (though it's more Mexican-leaning), intercultural relationship and all that, self-indulgent, Spanish, no translations, not proofread.

A/N: Please note that this is more from my experience, it is also highly self-indulgent. And that is because Nanami is my man, sorry about that. Anyways, also HAPPY LATINO HERITAGE MONTH. this is for us y'all, i did my best for the community. I wanted it to uploaded it on the 15th, but life happened. But hey, I still uploaded this before the month ended, so it's a win.

Dating becomes interesting when you add culture into the mix. Did you think you would end up dating a Japanese man? Especially after a lifetime of your mother asking you to be with someone who spoke Spanish? No. But life had a way to play with you and a way to be nice to you.

Just look at him. Nanami Kento. Someone who was just as handsome on the outside as sweet as they were on the inside. So respectful, so breathtaking, and so dreamy. No one even came close to how much this man makes your heart jump at the sight of him. No, he might not know your native language. But he certainly made you happy and content at his side.

Of course, eventually, you start to explain your cultures outside of the common knowledge and general facts like holidays and etiquette. You start getting into pop culture and what is normally taken for granted in your culture. It's a slow process considering how spontaneous the conversation can be.

From "What does that mean?" when using slang to an inside joke your culture has, little reoccurrences become opportunities to learn more about each other. Sure, you might not be able to fully explain something or understand it, but it doesn't take away that you two start to weave your cultures into the relationship and mix them into one that becomes intrinsic to your dynamic.

Today, you had one of those occurrences when you were cleaning your place and he just happened to come early. When he knocks on the door, you let him in without missing a beat despite being in your full-on cleaning outfit and playlist. A playlist that consisted of old songs your mom used to play when she cleaned such as Bésame Mucho, La Mentira, Si Una Vez, and such. Real classics obviously.

Classics he's not familiar with.

"You're early." You noted with a smile, walking over to your phone and pausing your music.

He looks down at his watch, seeing that he is actually on time. He remembers how much you joke about your family being late to everything or how time is just really abstract for you after years of being told ahorita. A word that could mean anything between 5 minutes to two hours. He chuckles at your words, agreeing with you that he was early for you. The different perception in time between the two of you could be weird at times, but it never really brought many problems considering that both of you (you mostly) put in the effort to accommodate for it.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to see my partner a little early?" He asks, a small smile coming to his face as he walks closer to you, leaving a small kiss on your forehead.

You smile, happy to feel his lips on you once more. "No, but you're seeing me in the most typical way a Latina looks when cleaning. I don't need that image in your mind.

He looks up and down, trying to see this look you're talking about. Sure, you had baggier clothes and your hair was in a bun with a few hairs sticking out and decorating your face. He hums, brushing those hairs back behind your ears.

"I think you're exaggerating considering that we've dated for a while." He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking when he sees that you really think you look messy or bad for just wearing something more comfortable when cleaning. Nothing wrong with that and definitely not making you look ugly in his eyes.

"Still, what if you caught me mid-performance? This playlist doesn't play around, alright? It's classic after classic."

Nanami laughs softly, seeing how serious your face is with your words telling him that you mean every word. Though, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't recognize the songs from the small snippet he heard through the door to the moment you paused the songs. It makes him curious about them.

"Classics?"

You nod before taking your phone and standing by his side to show him your playlist. It is after a couple of swipes down that you realize he can't even read the titles of the songs since they are in Spanish.

"In Latin America." You clarify, getting an idea. You hand him your phone, tilting your head down as to give him permission. "Choose one, we'll put it on right now while I change my clothes."

He takes the phone and raises a brow as he tries to gauge the unfamiliar songs. "I don't even know what I am reading, dear." He deadpans, making you chuckle.

"Then choose one randomly." You say, guiding him to your bedroom so you can pick your clothes.

He looks at the phone, looking through the album covers of the song. He recognizes some of the artists that are part of mainstream pop culture, Shakira being the easiest to recognize. Yet, his finger presses onto a song that he doesn't recognize at all.

But you do and it's obvious from the way you slowly turn to look at him and instantly melt into a light sway of your hips to match the song's slow and romantic rhythm.

"I always knew you were a romantic at heart but I didn't know it came naturally to you." You tease, taking out a shirt and jeans that were much more suitable to go out than the baggier and frankly unflattering clothes. "Let alone that, but you also chose a classic among classics."

Sabor A Mi. Now that's a real gem across Latin America and generations. Guitar strings fill the air with a romantic and sensual sense that warms up the room while the yearning lyrics are contracted by the singer's soft whispers. More than a classic, it's romance 101 in music.

"I take it I chose a good one then." He hums, placing the phone on your nightstand, turning around to face away from you as you change. To him, even if you dated for quite a while now, that didn't give him a right to look. Even if you insisted there was no problem and that you didn't mind, he still turned around out of respect for you. No matter how many times he has seen you out of those clothes, he still wanted to be the gentleman that you first met.

The pure intention made you smile and the song amplified those butterflies in your stomach.

Quickly changing out and into your clothes, you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your chin on his shoulders. As you begin to sway on the spot with the music, you whisper, "A great one."

He's quick to follow your lead, letting you set the rhythm you have become so used to dancing after a lifetime of hearing boleros like this one. He doesn't have to understand the lyrics to understand how intimate the song is. The guitar strings and soft melodies tell him that enough. Enough to pull you closer to him as you two sway to the song.

He looks down at him, your head now against his shoulder with your eyes closed. He can see how relaxed your face is, the sun sweeping through your window and occasionally hitting your face with its light just enough to decorate your features. If his heart was struck by you once before, this moment served as a reminder of that.

"It's a nice song." He says softly, his hand running down your arm until it finds your hand. He entwines his fingers with yours.

You hum, looking up at him and lifting your head off his shoulder. "You certainly know how to choose them." You tease, stretching your arm as you separate your body from his, your hands connecting the two of you as you hold the other's.

He sees you smile, brightly and softly in a way that tugs his heart. God, you were so pretty. Plucked strings encourage him to pull you closer once more, seeing you spin until his arm is wrapped around you and your back meets his chest with a giggle.

God, he was so lucky to have you.

"I do." He wasn't talking about the song.

The song ends but you two continue to dance. Swaying and spinning in your bedroom without a care in the world. How could a match this heavenly happen against all odds? When neither of you thought you would date someone from a culture so different from your own?

Neither of you thought about that. Not right now when you were dancing so gently and oh so passionately at the same time. No words exchanged, just smiles and hums. Maybe a kiss here and there that either managed to steal. But words? No, just your phone playing songs about love you never thought you would live.

Oh, how wrong were you.

How wrong were you to think that when this moment showed that you were not only loving and being loved, but you were doing so in the way these songs made you feel. It was a dream. It was luck. It was a movie. It was music. It was him. Him.

"Please send me these songs later." He says, breaking the silence.

"You're gonna study these later?" You tease, chuckling at the idea of Nanami listening to songs he doesn't know what they are about.

"Maybe." He chuckles, lifting your hand as he spins you around. "You said they were classics, didn't you? I have to know about them if we're going to keep dancing like this."

You smile at him. After so many people were disinterested and even critical of your culture to the point that you felt like having to keep it private, he wanted it to be included in your relationship. Even celebrate it in a way. Why does it even come as a surprise when he always looked at you in awe whenever you spoke Spanish? Even if he didn't know what you said, he would always have this curiosity towards that part of you that was once criticized.

Nanami knew how to love you, but now it was clear that he knew how to love the culture you were so in love with too.

"You're right. You have quite the content to go over then. So do I. Not only do I have to go over Japanese culture, I also have to study a bit of Danish, don't I?"

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him and letting you two become one with the music once more. The world melting away with just the two of you existing in this very room.

Yeah, there are bumps in the road. Misunderstandings and uncertainties that could sour what you two had. But it never did. Not when he was so patient in sharing and learning. Not when you were so excited to know more and explain what made you you. Culture could be tricky, but for the two of you, it was what made your relationship so enjoyable. You may have had different upbringings but you were still similar enough to work well together.

Though it was something the two of you already knew, it was something that was confirmed to Nanami once he translated the song he just happened to choose by chance earlier today. Our souls have become close enough that I keep your flavor and you keep mine all well. It was funny how a song he just happened to tap on happened to describe why you two worked so well. You had different cultures that entwined together once you became a couple, having pieces of each other's culture embedded into the other.

He thought it was just a wonderful idea that it became one of his favorite songs that you've shown him.

Dating someone from another culture is interesting, scary even. But life was kind to you and let you meet Nanami, someone with whom you could unapologetically share your culture knowing that it would be as cherished as every other part of you. Someone who made it easy to share both cultures until you created your own. A unique culture that was both him and you.

A culture that tasted of both you and him because of how much you loved each other and stayed by your side.

Neither of you would have it another way.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 1 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter One: The Devil's Trumpet

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, 

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Sooooooo… I don’t know a lot of Game of Thrones lore… so I ask for your patience and kindness when it comes to this fic, cause I know there will be some inconsistencies. I would stay up late at night, staring at the ceiling of my bed, constantly imagining that I could save Oberyn Martell from the Mountain. This is the story that I have been dreaming about for almost two years now. This fic is loosely based off The Glory on Netflix, it’s a show all about revenge which felt fitting for a Game of Thrones fic. There’s not a lot of Oberyn Martell yet in this chapter… but the next one for sure he’ll be there ;)

Song: as good a reason by Paris Paloma

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DRAGONSTONE, WESTEROS — 280 AC

From the moment your mother bartered you away to the Targaryens, you harbored no illusions about your worth in her eyes. Born to a minor lord, your father's coffers were never overflowing, and upon his death, your mother wasted no time in casting you aside like a discarded toy. It was a transaction as cold and calculated as any.

As a mere girl, you were thrust into servitude within the Targaryen household, your days filled with menial tasks and fleeting moments of respite. Your mother's indifference had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, yet you dared not dwell on the past, for in the world of kings and queens, survival was a luxury afforded only to the cunning and the strong.

So, you learned to keep your head down, to swallow your pride and obey without question. In the grand tapestry of courtly life, you were but a humble thread, weaving your way through the intricacies of power and deceit with the practiced ease of one who knows their place in the hierarchy of the Seven Kingdoms.

News of the betrothal between Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen spread like wildfire through the streets of King's Landing, igniting whispers of anticipation and speculation among the common folk. And when the day of their union finally arrived, the Great Sept of Baelor bore witness to a spectacle of unparalleled grandeur, as the noble houses of Westeros gathered to witness the marriage of two powerful dynasties.

In the wake of their wedding, the newlyweds departed for the ancient seat of Dragonstone, leaving a wake of excitement and intrigue in their wake. Within the stone walls of the island fortress, the air crackled with anticipation, as servants bustled about in a frenzy of preparation for the arrival of the newlyweds.

In the hushed corridors of Dragonstone, amidst the flurry of activity that heralded the arrival of the royal couple, you found yourself singled out from the bustling crowd of servants. With a sense of unease mingled with awe, you were ushered into the inner sanctum of Princess Elia's chambers, thrust into a position of unexpected privilege.

As you navigated the opulent surroundings, your heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and determination. The eyes of the court seemed to follow your every move, their silent scrutiny a constant reminder of your newfound status.

Perhaps it was Princess Elia's keen observation or her innate sense of compassion that led her to notice the subtle cruelties inflicted upon you by your fellow servants. The older maids, with their twisted smiles and mocking jests, seemed to take pleasure in your misfortune, their actions a reminder of the harsh realities of life within the walls of Dragonstone.

Yet, in the presence of your new mistress, you found solace and sanctuary, a refuge from the cruelty of those who sought to belittle and demean you. With each passing day, as you tended to her needs with a quiet diligence, and you felt a sense of belonging that had long eluded you.

As Princess Elia's pregnancy progressed, you remained steadfast by her side, attending to her every need from dawn till dusk. With each passing day, the weight of responsibility rested heavily upon your shoulders, as you labored tirelessly to ensure her comfort and well-being.

When the time finally came for Elia to bring forth new life into the world, you stood beside her, a silent witness to the agony and ecstasy of childbirth. Her cries pierced the air like a dagger, each shriek a testament to her strength and determination. And though fear gripped your heart with each painful contraction, you remained steadfast in your resolve to see her through this trial.

With the arrival of Princess Rhaenys, the air seemed to shimmer with joy. As Elia cradled her newborn daughter in her arms, her eyes alight with love and exhaustion, you offered words of comfort and admiration.

"You have brought forth a beautiful child, Your Majesty," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle reassurance in the flurry of the birthing chamber. "You have done marvelously."

A weary smile graced Elia's lips as she gazed down at her precious daughter, her fingers tracing the delicate features of the babe's face. "Thank you for your kindness," she replied, her gratitude evident in every word.

And so, with the birth of Princess Rhaenys, a new chapter began in the lives of the Targaryen dynasty. As the babe was presented to Rhaegar's parents at court, the halls of Dragonstone echoed with the whispers of anticipation, a testament to the enduring legacy of House Targaryen.

As Queen Rhaella cradled her granddaughter with tender affection, her eyes alight with joy and pride, King Aerys the Second stood apart, his expression twisted with disdain. With a sneer of contempt, he recoiled from the child, his words dripping with venom.

"Smells Dornish," he remarked, his voice laced with disgust.

Your jaw clenched with suppressed anger at his callous words, a silent witness to the depths of his cruelty and madness. In that moment, as you beheld the scene unfolding before you, it became abundantly clear that the king's heart was as black as obsidian, his soul consumed by the darkness that lurked within.

TOURNEY AT HARRENHAL, THE YEAR OF FALSE SPRING, WESTEROS — 281 AC

At Harrenhal, nestled in the verdant heart of the Riverlands, Lord Walter Whent played host to a grand tournament, a celebration that spanned ten days and drew lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms. Within the storied halls of the ancient castle, whispers of intrigue and ambition mingled with the clinking of goblets and the strains of music, each moment pregnant with the promise of both glory and treachery.

Amidst the throng of nobility, you moved with the silent grace of a shadow, your keen eyes and sharp ears attuned to every murmur and gesture. As a mere servant, you lingered on the periphery of the festivities, your presence all but unnoticed by the illustrious guests who reveled in the splendor of the occasion.

On the first night, as the Hall of a Hundred Hearths blazed with the warm glow of torchlight and the scent of roasted meats hung heavy in the air, you observed the comings and goings of the noble houses with a keen eye. From the stalwart Starks to the enigmatic Howland Reed, the northern lords mingled with their southern counterparts, their alliances and rivalries simmering beneath the surface like a pot ready to boil over.

Amidst the revelry, the figures of legend and lore moved with an aura of mystique and allure. Brandon Stark's easy charm drew Lady Ashara Dayne to the dance floor, while the shy Eddard Stark found himself swept up in the rhythm of the music. Benjen Stark's playful banter with his sister Lyanna elicited laughter and teasing, a glimpse into the bonds that bound the Stark siblings together.

And then, amidst the swirling throng of dancers, you caught sight of him: Prince Oberyn Martell, the embodiment of charm and charisma, his laughter ringing out like silver bells in the night. As he twirled Lady Ashara Dayne in a graceful waltz, his smile illuminated the room with its brilliance, casting a spell over all who beheld him.

But you knew better than to linger on such fleeting distractions, in the glittering spectacle of courtly intrigue, shadows were lurking in the corners, secrets waiting to be uncovered. And so, with a determined resolve, you turned your attention away from the beguiling prince and towards the task at hand, knowing that one must always be vigilant, lest they be consumed by the machinations of power and ambition.

The tourney at Harrenhal stretched across ten days, a spectacle of martial prowess and pageantry that captivated the hearts and minds of all who attended. In between the clash of swords and the thunder of hooves, champions emerged and legends were born, each contest a testament to the valor and skill of the knights who jousted and fought in the name of honor and glory.

From the seven-sided melee to the fierce competition of the joust, the tourney boasted a variety of events to entertain the crowds, including archery contests, axe-throwing competitions, and thrilling horse races. Yet, amidst the revelry and excitement, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air, a whisper of uncertainty that hinted at darker forces at play.

As the final moments of the tourney drew near, all eyes turned to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the golden-haired champion whose prowess in the joust had earned him victory over four knights of the Kingsguard. Yet, it was not his triumph in the lists that would become the stuff of legend, but rather the fateful decision he made in the aftermath of his victory.

Standing amidst the gathered nobility, you watched in disbelief as Prince Rhaegar bypassed his own wife, Princess Elia, and bestowed the crown of blue winter roses upon Lyanna Stark, the betrothed of Lord Robert Baratheon. This was the moment all smiles died. The air crackled with tension as murmurs of confusion and outrage rippled through the crowd, a clear sense of unease settling over the festivities like a shroud.

In that moment, as the fragile peace of the realm hung in the balance, you felt a chill run down your spine, a premonition of the chaos and bloodshed that would soon engulf the Seven Kingdoms. For in the blink of an eye, the seeds of war had been sown, and the fate of Westeros hung in the balance.

DRAGONSTONE, WESTEROS — 282 AC

In the dimly lit chamber of Dragonstone, the air was thick with anticipation as Princess Elia fought through the pain of labor, her strength waning with each passing moment. Beside her, you stood as a silent sentinel, offering words of encouragement and support as she braved the trials of childbirth once more.

With each command to push, Princess Elia's resolve hardened, her determination a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf her. Yet, it was evident that her delicate health posed a formidable obstacle, her frailty a constant reminder of the challenges she faced.

And then, amidst the hushed whispers of the attending maesters, the sharp cry of a newborn babe pierced the air, a herald of new life amidst the shadows of uncertainty. With a ragged sigh of relief, Princess Elia's weary frame slumped backward, her brow glistening with sweat as she drew in ragged breaths.

"It's a son," the maester announced, his voice ringing with reverence as he presented the newborn prince to his exhausted mother.

A flicker of joy illuminated Princess Elia's weary features as she reached out trembling hands to cradle her newborn son, her touch gentle and reverent as she welcomed him into the world. With tears of gratitude glistening in her eyes, she pressed her lips to his tiny forehead, whispering words of love and devotion as she held him close to her heart. 

Prince Aegon was born.

KINGS LANDING, WESTEROS — 283 AC

Chaos erupted across the realm with the dawn of the new year, as news of Lyanna Stark's abduction by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen near Harrenhal spread like wildfire, igniting the flames of conflict between rival houses.

In the Vale of Arryn, the clash of steel and the cries of battle echoed through the mountain passes, as Lord Jon Arryn marshaled his forces to defend his homeland against the encroaching storm of war. Meanwhile, in the coastal city of Gulltown, the once-impregnable defenses crumbled under the relentless assault of Robert Baratheon and his forces, with the valiant Marq Grafton falling in the heat of battle.

With Gulltown secured, Robert Baratheon wasted no time in rallying his own banners to his cause, sailing swiftly to his ancestral seat of Storm's End to muster his forces for the coming conflict. Yet, even as he prepared for war, Robert's gaze turned to the stormlands, where the first major battle of the campaign awaited him.

At Summerhall, within the ruins of the ancient keep, Robert Baratheon faced his foes in a brutal clash of arms, his skill and valor turning erstwhile enemies into staunch allies. With Lords Grandison and Cafferen, as well as Silveraxe, pledging their fealty to his cause, Robert emerged victorious, his path to the north now clear as he prepared to join forces with Jon Arryn and the northern lords in their quest for vengeance.

All throughout the chaos of war, you bore witness to the dark machinations of the Mad King as he conspired to unleash destruction upon King's Landing itself. Ser Jaime Lannister, his white cloak billowing behind him, stood witness to the sinister plot hatched by the Alchemists' Guild, while the rest of the Kingsguard were scattered, their loyalty divided amidst the brewing conflict.

In the midst of this turmoil, Lord Qarlton Chelsted, Hand of the King, emerged as an unexpected ally, his friendship and concern for your safety a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of fear and uncertainty. Yet, as whispers of the king's treachery reached his ears, Lord Chelsted's conscience could no longer remain silent. With courage and conviction, he confronted the Mad King, pleading for mercy and reason in the face of madness.

But mercy was a foreign concept to Aerys Targaryen, his mind consumed by the flames of paranoia and tyranny. In a cruel and chilling display of power, he condemned Lord Chelsted to a fate worse than death, his screams echoing through the halls of the Red Keep as the flames consumed him.

In the wake of this horror, you found yourself thrust into the cruel embrace of the king's wrath, your cries of anguish falling upon deaf ears as the searing pain of the iron rod seared your flesh. Bound and helpless, you endured the agony of your punishment, a silent testament to the cruelty of those who held power over life and death.

When consciousness returned, it was to the gentle touch of Princess Elia, her soothing words a balm to your wounded soul. With tears of shame and gratitude, you sought to apologize for your weakness, but the kind princess silenced your protests with a gentle shush, her compassion a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"Rest now, dear child," she murmured, her voice a soft melody of reassurance. "You have tended to me with care and kindness. Now it is my turn to watch over you."

In the warmth of her embrace, you found solace amidst the pain, your heart heavy with the weight of your suffering but buoyed by the kindness of one who saw beyond the scars to the strength within. And as sleep claimed you once more, you whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the Seven for the gift of Princess Elia's compassion in a world consumed by cruelty and strife.

The rest of House Targaryen remained blissfully unaware of the dark schemes brewing within the walls of King's Landing. Queen Rhaella Targaryen, her eyes veiled to her husband's descent into madness, remained preoccupied with her own concerns, while Prince Rhaegar Targaryen marshaled his forces for the impending conflict.

In the depths of the city, hidden from prying eyes, the pyromancers of the Alchemists' Guild toiled in secrecy, their hands guided by the whispers of their mad king. Thousands of jars of wildfire, that volatile substance capable of unleashing unimaginable destruction, were meticulously placed in strategic locations throughout the city. From the shadows of the Dragonpit to the hallowed halls of the Great Sept of Baelor, and even beneath the very foundations of the Red Keep itself, the city of King's Landing was a powder keg awaiting the spark of war.

As the flames of conflict spread across the realm, each battle leaving its mark upon the land, the fate of the Seven Kingdoms hung in the balance. Amidst the chaos of the Stoney Sept, where narrow streets became blood-soaked battlegrounds, Prince Doran Martell grappled with the weight of his decision. Bound by duty to his king yet driven by love for his sister, Princess Elia, Doran reluctantly pledged his support to Prince Rhaegar's cause, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the dangers that lay ahead.

Following the fateful clash at the Trident, the Mad King's grip on power grew ever more tenuous. In a desperate bid to consolidate his rule, Aerys named Rossart, his favored pyromancer, as his new Hand of the King. Yet, his reign of terror would be short-lived, as the flames of rebellion engulfed the realm. With his wife, Queen Rhaella, and their young son, Prince Viserys, sent to the safety of Dragonstone, Aerys's grip on reality slipped further into the abyss, his madness driving him to unspeakable acts of cruelty and betrayal. Locked within the walls of King's Landing, Princess Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon, remained prisoners of a king consumed by paranoia and fear.

MAEGOR’S HOLDFAST, THE RED KEEP — 283 AC

Lord Tywin Lannister, who had stubbornly refused calls to arms from both the loyalists and the rebels until that point, appeared at the gates of King's Landing with an imposing army of twelve thousand men, mere hours before Eddard Stark would arrive. Lord Tywin professed his unwavering loyalty to King Aerys, and while Lord Varys, the cunning master of whispers, counseled Aerys to keep the gates locked, the king chose to heed the advice of the manipulative Grand Maester Pycelle, ordering the gates to be opened to Tywin's men. With the arrival of the forces from the westerlands, the city of King's Landing became a target for plunder and destruction.

As the realization that all was lost sank in, Aerys, driven by madness and desperation, commanded Rossart, a pyromancer, to unleash the hidden caches of wildfire throughout the city, hoping to reduce Robert's forces to mere "ashes and bones".

In a final act of cruelty, he tasked Ser Jaime Lannister, the eldest son of Lord Tywin and the sole remaining knight of his Kingsguard present in the city, with killing his own father and presenting his head as a gruesome gift. However, Jaime, torn between loyalty and reason, defied the mad king's command. Instead, he turned his blade on Rossart, knowing that Aerys would simply find another pyromancer to carry out his destructive plans. Realizing the imminent danger, Jaime rushed back to the Red Keep and put an end to Aerys' life in the throne room, just moments before soldiers from the westerlands stormed in.

Meanwhile, Ser Gregor Clegane, known for his massive size and brutal nature, accompanied by Ser Amory Lorch, made their way into Maegor's Holdfast. Their mission was to eliminate the remaining members of the royal family, solidifying Robert's claim to the throne and demonstrating House Lannister's complete abandonment of the Targaryens.

The resounding crash of the door being forcefully shattered reverberated through the room, punctuated by the shattering of glass and the piercing screams that filled the air. You, trapped in that room, could do nothing but bear witness to the horrific scene unfolding before your eyes. Gregor Clegane callously hurled you towards the fireplace, the searing heat scorching your skin, as he believed you would perish amidst the flames. Bleeding and disoriented, you lay on the floor, your vision blurred by the pain that engulfed you.

In the middle of pandemonium, you watched in horror as Princess Rhaenys, a mere toddler, was dragged from beneath her father's bed by the monstrous Clegane. The screams of the innocent child echoed through the room as she was mercilessly stabbed over fifty times. Aegon, Elia's son and the last hope for the Targaryen line, suffered an equally gruesome fate as Gregor brutally smashed his head against a wall. With Aegon's blood and brains still staining his hands, Gregor proceeded to rape Elia and ultimately ended her life by crushing her skull. 

As Gregor and Amory callously departed, their hands stained with the blood of their heinous acts, they paid no heed to your crumpled form, assuming you were dead. Silently, you feigned death, your battered body lying motionless on the floor. The sound of their heavy footsteps slowly faded away, their hearts devoid of remorse, as they never once faltered or looked back.

With fresh burns scorching your body, the searing pain and stinging sensations intensified, causing you to vomit on the side of the bedroom, overwhelmed by the horrifying sight before you. The people you held dear, the ones who reciprocated your affection, were now lost and lifeless, torn away from you forever.

In a state of despair, you crawled and stumbled, driven by an unknown force or perhaps a touch of divine intervention. Miraculously, you managed to navigate the treacherous secret passages of the sacked city, escaping the clutches of danger. The reason for your survival remained a mystery, lost in the chaos that surrounded you. Perhaps it was your unwavering determination or the small flicker of hope that compelled you to keep moving forward, to honor Elia's memory and the children who were denied the chance of a life.

You couldn't recall how you found yourself on the shores near Blackwater Bay, gazing out at the vast expanse of the Narrow Sea. Kneeling in the cool, wet sand, you felt the water recede, stinging your burns and prompting an uncontrollable urge to scratch, causing fresh blood to flow. Your bruised stomach throbbed with pain.

Exhausted from the relentless pursuit of survival, you yearned for respite, for an end to the constant struggle. Slowly, you began to crawl toward the ocean, knowing that the cold embrace of the water would bring solace, relieving the incessant itch of your scars. What more could you desire? This, perhaps, was the only path left.

But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Standing at the precipice, you let out a piercing cry, releasing your anguish into the air. With every ounce of strength, you struck your arms, the very arms that bore the visible reminders of your torment.

In that moment, you chose to defy the darkness that threatened to consume you, refusing to succumb to despair. At the edge of the world, you stood tall, your cries echoing across the empty beach, a testament to your resilience and determination to get revenge.

BRAAVOS, ESSOS — 287 AC

In the ancient city of Braavos, where secrets whispered through the narrow alleys and the canals flowed with mysterious tales, you found solace amid the chaos. Once a believer in the gods, you had come to realize that their existence was nothing more than a facade, a comforting illusion for the masses.

Having scraped together enough coin, you secured passage on a ship departing from Blackwater Bay, leaving behind a turbulent past and seeking refuge in the anonymity of Braavos. The city welcomed you with its vibrant streets and diverse inhabitants, offering a chance at a new beginning.

From baker to cleaner, nurse to animal keeper, and occasionally even a tutor to minor Ladies, you took on any job that would sustain you. Your tireless work ethic caught the attention of the nobles, who saw value in your dedication and entrusted you with their precious steeds. However, the privilege of working for the Lords came at a cost, as some would cross boundaries and attempt to take advantage of your vulnerability. Yet, you stood strong, extracting your payment and moving on.

Throughout the years, you meticulously saved every coin, seeking out the teachings of various assassin guilds and skilled swordsmen. Disguised as a boy, you delved into the secrets of High Valyrian, honed your swordsmanship, and mastered the art of poisons. The guilds taught you to discern truth from lies, and to control your facial expressions, laying the groundwork for your vengeful plans.

As you went about your duties in the bustling stables, you tried to steal moments to study the intricate notes on potions, mumbling the descriptions to yourself. Suddenly, a sharp smack landed on the back of your head, causing you to wince in pain. "Quit your foolishness and focus on your work!" your employer reprimanded.

"Don't be too hard on her! Look at all the burn scars on her legs and arms," one of the older stableboys interjected, coming to your defense. Gritting your teeth, you offered a quick apology, knowing that it was best to comply with your employer's wishes.

Resuming your tasks, you discreetly tucked away the notes into your pocket, their pages smudged with the grime of your surroundings. Your determination burned within you, fueled by the scars that adorned your body, a constant reminder of the pain and suffering that fueled your quest for revenge.

BRAAVOS, ESSOS — 294 AC

The scent of salt hung heavy in the air, you had grown up immersed in their language and customs. Fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, you clandestinely absorbed every morsel of information you could gather about the events unfolding in Westeros. Alongside your studies, you dedicated yourself to the art of combat, honing your skills with weapons and tirelessly toiling in a variety of jobs that allowed you to pursue your clandestine education.

As the boat that would carry you away from Braavos was being prepared, one of the enigmatic faceless men, who had taken an interest in your journey due to the scars that adorned your flesh, approached you. His hooded eyes locked onto yours as he inquired, "Are you prepared for what lies ahead?"

A mixture of determination and uncertainty danced in your gaze as you responded, "They seek servants for the Red Keep. The time is drawing near, and I must gather further intelligence on a select few. It appears that more than just the Lannisters are entangled in this web of power." The faceless man nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the situation.

With a silent understanding, the boat began its departure, carrying you across the waters of the Narrow Sea. Standing at the bow, your eyes fixated on the horizon, a sense of purpose and anticipation surged within you as you braced yourself for the unknown challenges that awaited.

RED KEEP, KING'S LANDING, WESTEROS — 298 AC

In the hallowed halls of the Red Keep, where whispers of power and deceit echoed through the stone, you had spent years serving as a humble maid, donning long-sleeved dresses regardless of the season that enveloped Westeros.

Maintaining a low profile was imperative to the success of your clandestine plan. As you arranged your quarters, a haven of secrecy, you opened a worn journal containing a meticulously compiled dossier. Every page adorned with detailed sketches and meticulous notes on the individuals implicated in the tragic demise of Princess Elia. Royals, lords, and ladies from every corner of Westeros found their place within those ink-stained pages. Their routines, preferences, lovers, and dark histories were meticulously chronicled, forming a tapestry of knowledge that would fuel your pursuit of vengeance.

Locking your quarters behind you, you ventured into the mist-shrouded gardens, a white datura flower delicately cradled in your hand. As you spun the delicate bloom, the devil's trumpet, between your fingers, a solemn chant escaped your lips, carried away by the ethereal fog. "Anyone who inflicts harm upon their neighbor shall bear the same injury."

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A fracture for a fracture. The concept of just retribution swirled in your mind, the very embodiment of justice. Yet, a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. Was such fairness truly fitting? Was it not too generous, too even-handed? After all, fairness is a fleeting concept in this treacherous game, isn't it?

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen

[wingedblooms]

Like a moth to a flame

Maasverse spoilers below. Proceed with caution.

When Feyre and Elain visit the weaver near solstice, we learn that there is a very specific kind of light that not only withstands the darkness, but cuts through it like a blade.

"The silver thread," Elain asked. "What is that called?" The weaver paused the loom again, the colorful strings vibrating. She held my sister's gaze. No attempt at a smile this time. "I call it Hope." My throat became unbearably tight, my eyes stinging enough that I had to turn away, to walk back toward that extraordinary tapestry. The weave explained to my sister, "I made it after I mastered Void." I stared and stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell. And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it, bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color. (acofas)

That light is Hope. It is a living thread of iridescent light like the healing light that flows from Nesta:

Iridescent light began flowing from Nesta's body. Into Feyre. [...] Tendrils of light drifted between the sisters. And one, delicate and loving, floated toward Mor. (acosf)

I’ve always wondered if the tendrils of iridescent light between the sisters is a hint of what lies between them: raw magic.

“Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power.” (acosf)

We hear about the raw magic of High Fae when the inner circle learns about Nesta’s Made swords. And Sarah just happens to drop art, jewelry, and weaponry as objects that can be imbued with raw magic. Objects that make us think of the sisters: Feyre creates art, Nesta is compared to and actually forges swords, and Elain is gifted art and jewelry that embody nature. She is a blooming flower compared to Nesta’s freshly forged sword (acowar). And the two sisters who have had their stories told have used raw magic to heal (Cauldron; Feyre, Nyx), to create, like the High Fae once did. We will likely see the third sister exhibit rawer magic as well.

We're led to believe that the Mother shows Nesta how to heal Feyre with iridescent light when she agrees to return her magic. We also see a luminous hand (presumably the Mother's) prevent the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta's power, which may be connected to the hand on the mural in Spring that pours the contents of the Cauldron into the void to create Prythian's world. In Herbs she planted, I discussed Elain’s connections to witches and healers (and these categories often overlap, like witches and seers; since the sisters may all possess raw magic, it is not far fetched that Elain could weave sight and healing together as a mystical forest witch would). In that post, I also review how the being we call the Mother behaves a lot like the Other who appears to Yrene in Tower of Dawn. This Other is believed to be Silba, the goddess of healing and gentle deaths. Like the Mother, Silba is also associated with a dark womb, and her healing magic is referred to as world-making power, which brings to mind the hands of creation in Spring.

Yrene, the healer Silba appears to, possesses raw healing magic and it manifests as white light. She uses it to battle Valg magic, which is compared to darkness, void, and hell.

He’d roared around it. His bellowing had been almost as bad as the magic itself. It was a void. It was a new, dark hell. […] She’d hurled her magic against the wall, letting its swarm of burning white lights attack in wave after wave, but—nothing. (tod)

Like water, it seeps into Chaol's legs, and acts like a swarm of fireflies.

Closing her eyes, Yrene let her power seep into his legs like a swarm of white fireflies, finding those damaged pathways and congregating, surrounding the frayed bits that went silent during these exercises, when they should have been lit up like the rest of him. (tod)

Healers' lights are also compared to blooms, and together, they are a field of white flowers.

Blooming lights, along that broken interior. And where they shone... Flesh knitted. Bone smoothed. Light after light after light. [...] Yrene brushed herself along them, waded through them like a field of white flowers, the lights bobbing and swaying in this quiet place of pain. Not lights...but healers. She knew their lights, their essences. (tod)

Her power can also cut through the dark like a weapon, like Hope.

No way to stop Yrene as she plunged into his body, her magic a white swarming light around them, inside them. […] Yrene did not hesitate. She soared through him, down the ladder of his spine, down the corridors of his bones and blood. She was a spear of light, fired straight into the dark, aiming for that hovering shadow that had stretched out once more. That had tried to reclaim him. Yrene slammed into the darkness and screamed. (tod)

Healing magic is repeatedly compared to living things, and we often see Yrene’s raw gift swarm when it attacks the darkness. The term swarm is associated with flying insects, and in particular, honeybees. They swarm protectively when they leave the hive with new life.

“Fire is cleansing. Purifying. But amongst the healing arts, it’s not often used. Too unwieldy. Water is better-tuned to the healing. But then there are raw healing gifts. Like mine.”

“Light,” Chaol said. “It looked like swarming lights, against their darkness.” (tod)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Elain rose early to accompany Feyre and asked the weaver about the living thread of Hope, especially since this thread resembles the way raw healing magic—living light—behaves in the darkness. We learn that life, in the form of living light, not only pierces the void, but travels through it. Elain is consistently linked to rebirth and the dawn through imagery and her daily routine, rising with the dawn to tend to gardens or help the twins in the kitchen. Dawn is connected to healing magic, and ahappyhermit theorized that Elain may have even healed Cassian’s wounds as Nesta beheaded Hybern in acowar. @silverlinedeyes and @offtorivendell also theorized that Elain might be a Lifesinger, calling to living things around her as she creates. She is often (if not constantly) creating. Whatever happens in canon, it’s clear Elain is the epitome of living light, of Hope:

Beautiful - she'd always been the most beautiful of us. Soft and lovely, like a summer dawn. (acomaf)

She was a rose bloom in a mud field.(acowar)

Even in the middle of winter, she was a bloom of color and sunshine. (acofas)

Her sister's delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. [...] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain's smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf)

Her brown eyes were bright with tears, but she kept her chin high. (acosf)

Even on the longest night of the year, she glows like the dawn, when light pierces the darkness.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The Fanlights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel's bonus chapter)

Nesta placed her symbol, a bloom made in the icy darkness of winter, next to the Mother's figurine on the mantle. The Mother who showed Nesta how to use her raw magic to heal. We learn in tod that healers sense Death nearby when they are called upon to heal someone’s wounds or ease their passing (hence the reference to gentle deaths). And as @psychologynerd reminded me, Elain uses her hands to bring joy and beauty to others, even in death.

Elain quietly washed his face. Combed out his hair and beard. Straightened his clothes.

She found flowers—somewhere. She laid them at his head, on his chest.

We stared down at him in silence. “I love you,” Elain whispered, voice breaking.

Nesta said nothing, face unreadable. There were such shadows in her eyes. I had not told her what I’d seen—had let them tell me what they wanted.

Elain breathed, “Should we—say a prayer?”

We did not have such things in the human world, I remembered. My sisters had no prayers to offer him. But in Prythian …

“Mother hold you,” I whispered, reciting words I had not heard since that day Under the Mountain. “May you pass through the gates; may you smell that immortal land of milk and honey.” Flame ignited at my fingertips. All I could muster. All that was left. “Fear no evil. Feel no pain.” My mouth trembled as I breathed, “May you enter eternity.”

Tears slid down Elain’s pallid cheeks as she adjusted an errant flower on our father’s chest, white-petaled and delicate, and then backed away to my side with a nod. (acowar)

I can’t help but wonder where she might’ve found those white flowers on a blood-stained battlefield. Did she actually find them, or did she will them from the soil with her own magic? I love that she does not balk from death and finds a way to nurture life amid bloodshed.

And like a moth to a flame, Azriel—Death incarnate—is repeatedly drawn to Elain, whose light seems to be able to cut through his shadows. A match in power for the darkness.

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hands still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection...that knife. (acowar)

Truth-Teller, a Starborn heirloom, is the bridge between them. It is a bridge of power, where dark and light blend together, creating the harmonious contrast of dawn and dusk. Dark light. @offtorivendell wrote beautifully about how this scene hints at their future, and @psychologynerd suggested it represents an alchemical marriage. I have also wondered what might happen if their powers are joined like their hands in this scene. In one hand, Elain creates joy and life, and in the other hand, Azriel inflicts pain and death. They have also traded roles when called upon, usually in response to the other. This might explain why Azriel’s power also behaves like a dark counterpart to Elain’s, shadows gathering information as her Sight does, twining like her prophetic vine of flowers. They also swarm like the living light of healing when Azriel—or someone he cares about—is threatened.

"Because of the shit with Elain?" Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?" Cassian waved a hand. "A fight with Nesta. Don't bring it up," he warned when Azriel's eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. "I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then." "It's about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there." "It's bad, then." Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine." But the shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up. (acosf)

Elain had a mere fight with her sister and cold-as-death Azriel nearly lost his shit. His eyes darkened and his shadows swarmed him, promising pain. He wasn’t even there to witness the fight, he just heard about it after the fact. Death clearly has it bad for the lovely fawn. And I fully expect to see her living light bring him to his knees. Like a moth to a flame.

[aifanfictions]

A story about (y/n) being a hunter in a small village. The village then gets visited by Geralt of Rivia and his friend Jaskier. Jasier offers (y/n) to travel the world with them. After returning from the ball where Jaskier was invited as the entertainment, Geralt under the influence sloppily confesses feelings for (y/n) right after falling asleep face first into the bed in (y/n)'s and Geralt's shared room.

Whispers of Destiny

In the heart of the enchanting countryside, far removed from the chaos and troubles of the world, (Y/N) found herself seated on a weathered bench, the soft rays of the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow on the landscape. The tranquil village of Willowbrook, nestled amidst rolling hills and blossoming meadows, had become a sanctuary for her, a place where her heart had found refuge.

She had been a hunter in Willowbrook for as long as she could remember. The village had been her home, and its people, her family. Yet, the arrival of two unexpected guests would forever change the course of her life, steering her away from the familiar and into the realm of the extraordinary.

Geralt of Rivia, a man of unshakable resolve and a silver mane that seemed to shimmer like moonlight, had crossed paths with (Y/N) on one fateful evening. Jaskier, the flamboyant and charismatic bard with a lute that could weave tales as captivating as his songs, had accompanied Geralt on his travels.

The duo had brought an air of adventure and wonder to Willowbrook, as they regaled the villagers with their exploits and entertained them with stories and music. The once-quiet village had come alive in their presence, the spirit of wanderlust awakening in the hearts of its inhabitants.

One evening, as Jaskier spun tales of far-off lands and mythical creatures, he cast a curious gaze in (Y/N)'s direction. She, like many others, was enchanted by his storytelling, but what caught his eye was the glint of determination in her eyes, the subtle strength that lurked beneath her unassuming exterior.

"You, my dear, are wasting your talents in this small village," Jaskier declared with a flourish. "Why don't you come with us? Travel the world, see places you've never imagined, and have adventures beyond your wildest dreams."

It was a proposition that filled (Y/N) with both excitement and trepidation. The villagers relied on her skills as a hunter, and her responsibilities weighed heavily on her shoulders. Yet, the allure of the unknown, of uncharted territories and unforeseen challenges, was impossible to ignore.

She looked to Geralt, whose stoic demeanor hid a keen sense of observation. He nodded, giving his tacit approval, as if sensing the hidden potential within her. "Jaskier's right," he said, his voice gruff but filled with sincerity. "There's a big world out there, and you have the skills to survive it."

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, (Y/N) agreed to join them on their journey. She packed her belongings and said her farewells to the villagers who had become like family to her.

Their travels were a whirlwind of excitement and danger. They encountered ferocious beasts and cunning bandits, navigated treacherous terrain, and faced mystical creatures that defied explanation. Through it all, (Y/N) learned valuable lessons from both Geralt and Jaskier, mastering not only the art of survival but also the intricacies of the world.

As the weeks turned into months, (Y/N) found herself growing closer to Geralt. Beneath his gruff exterior, she discovered a man with a strong sense of justice and a hidden tenderness. She admired his dedication to protecting the innocent and his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about.

One evening, in a quaint village where they had stopped to rest, Jaskier persuaded the locals to throw a grand ball in their honor. He was the star of the evening, singing and charming the guests with his wit and charisma.

(Y/N) watched from the sidelines, content to observe the festivities. Geralt, however, seemed out of place amidst the elegant surroundings. He sipped his ale quietly, his eyes occasionally flicking in (Y/N)'s direction.

As the night wore on, Jaskier's lively performance continued, and the villagers danced merrily. Geralt, having had his fill of the revelry, excused himself and retired to their shared room at the local inn.

(Y/N), feeling a mixture of curiosity and concern, followed him. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his white hair bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

"Geralt," she began tentatively, "are you alright?"

He turned to look at her, and in the dim light, she could see a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never witnessed before. Without a word, he rose from the bed and took a step toward her.

And then, as if propelled by some unseen force, Geralt gently cupped (Y/N)'s face in his hands and kissed her. It was a kiss filled with years of unspoken emotions, a kiss that conveyed his feelings more eloquently than words ever could.

When the kiss ended, Geralt pulled back slightly and whispered, "I love you."

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion, and she found herself echoing his sentiment. "I love you too, Geralt."

They spent the rest of the night together, wrapped in each other's arms, their love and understanding deepening with every passing moment.

From that night on, their journey continued, but now they faced the world as not just companions but as lovers. (Y/N) had found not only adventure but also a love that would endure the trials and tribulations of their extraordinary lives.

Together, they ventured into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that they had each other's hearts to guide them through the darkness and into the light of a new day. And so, as they traversed the vast and wondrous world, they whispered their love to the wind, for they knew that destiny had brought them together to share a lifetime of adventures, and they would cherish every moment, every stolen kiss, and every quiet night by the campfire, as long as they had each other.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[willyoubemypartner]

Alyssa Cho - An Essay

Preface - Why is Alyssa so unsympathetic?

One of the things that’s odd about Alyssa’s character is that readers have rarely been so divisive over a single character, particularly about whether or not a character is sympathetic. There’s generally a consensus about the complicated nature of characters like Kousuke or even Rand, but Alyssa discourse feels very different.

During the formal arc, Quim has mentioned a few times that many scenes had to be cut due to Webtoon’s concerns about mature/dark content conflicting with adsense policies. Quim has recently mentioned weaving these scenes back in wherever possible, meaning that things were still happening in universe, we just couldn't see them. But now when these themes come up later to be more explored, they have to be introduced in a roundabout way for it to make sense. Instead of us getting what was intended and being able to build off that foundation as we follow the story and naturally understanding the pacing as it goes.

Now how does this tie into Alyssa? Alyssa in particular had important scenes cut from the formal - parallels we lost with Alyssa and Shin-Ae, the understanding and characterization of the Kims and other elites, the reality of her life in the idol world. It turned the formal into more of a ? than it needed to or should have been, and pulled the foundation of understanding Alyssa’s character right out from under us. We went essentially 200 chapters without really getting a look at her. She was introduced (like many ILY characters) in a certain way, but it took so much longer for her to get to show her depth and development beyond that mold. And it makes it so much harder for readers to see her objectively. People don't want to have to flip their entire understanding of and feelings towards Alyssa at chapter 230.

The foundation for Alyssa being more than just the attention seeker has always been there, we just didn't get to see it.

I don't always love Alyssa. But I feel for her. She's a real person as much as every other character. She’s not just "a girl who makes the wrong choices" nor is she just “the bad friend” or just “the trapped victim” - she is all of them . Alyssa may be misguided, but that’s just it - she's misguided because she never learned how to conflict. She tries to make the right choices, and fails. She’s trying her best and it never works out for her. And so she makes mistakes and she hurts people - including herself. And a lot of them are big mistakes, with very real consequences. She can see what’s really happening around her, but thinks that maybe it can work. And so she keeps making those wrong choices, because the core that she needs to change isn't something she feels safe to rectify. She’s miserable, but she can’t get out. She draws herself to the only light she can see, like a moth to a flame.

She’s introduced as this foe, even the mini Yui. And we're supposed to originally see her that way and know that that's now Nol has come to see her. But we are simultaneously supposed to break that down and see that she is also trapped. She idolized Yui and fell so far into the deep end without realizing it and now has to be Yui's puppet. The puppetmaster imagery is both Alyssa taking after Yui and falling for it, AND Yui taking advantage of her and Alyssa having no choice anymore but to play along and be taken advantage of. There’s that inherent dichotomy to how Alyssa acts and who she is and why she is.

Something about Alyssa is that her motives and feelings are almost always far more complex than they appear. Alyssa is so plagued by those parts of herself that she’s afraid of. Alyssa gets so much criticism for making her choices because for us it's so easy to see where she's going wrong. But, if she could really see it, she wouldn't be here. We know how this really ends and what would actually help, but all Alyssa has seen is that the way she handles things is the viable option. The whole point with Alyssa is that nobody helped her navigate these things . She's as much a victim as everyone else, even though she's hurt arguably our two most sympathetic characters.

Everyone thinks that she is an attention seeker. That she's successful and aloof and just drops people. Nobody is taking a second to see her childhood trauma, understand her real motivations, look at how trapped she is, how miserable. Nobody is extending a hand to her because they don't understand. And with nobody understanding her, nobody can give her an actual way forward, because everyone's attempts will be for a problem that isn't the real issue. Like many, if not all, of our characters, in order to understand Alyssa we have to acknowledge that the reason this is happening is because of unmet and unaddressed needs, lack of personal insight, being in survival mode - the person feeling like they had no other choice.

The people Alyssa hurt are our two main characters, and we are supposed to feel a way about that. But so much of the point is about how our emotional reaction to Alyssa isn't all there is. That she’s not any more or less evil just because the people she hurt are the ones we’re emotionally connected to. That she is a person who has her own story, her own motivations, her own mistakes, her own needs, her own fears, her own traumas. Not that it negates all the harm, but just that there is more to it. That we have to be able to examine and sit with our complex feelings towards her.

Unconditional Love & Chasing The Light 

At the core of Alyssa’s character is the desire to be seen and accepted for herself, at odds with the belief that who she is can’t possibly be okay.

We get some important insight into this throughout the Shinlyssa arc, but especially at Alyssa’s house and with the bullies. In Alyssa’s bedroom we see portraits of Hedy Lamaar, Thomas Edison, Nikola Tesla, Albert Einstein, Melba Roy Mouton, Alan Turing, Vera Rubin, and Sally Ride. The portraits were identified and analyzed by Kimione back in 2022 (https://new.reddit.com/r/ILoveYoo/comments/ws18yg/alyssa_cho_symbolisms_notes_and_scribblings/) as well as this recent post (https://www.reddit.com/r/ILoveYoo/comments/15sh4k7/the_portraits_in_alyssas_room_in_episode_190/?sort=confidence).

Recurring themes in the portraits are all of them being involved in groundbreaking science, contributions to communication or space, being both scientific and artistic, experience of inequity and adversity, and nonnormative sexuality. For all of these people, resilience and passion in the face of a world which did not see them clearly, which did not initially support them, carried them through to their success. For many of them, a key figure (or several) in their lives provided that support that helped them reach the world. Hedy Lamarr said that her father “made me understand that I must make my own decisions, mold my own character, think my own thoughts.”

In Alyssa’s case, we can see based on her choice of portraits and conversation with Shin-Ae that she wants to be seen for who she is, leave her mark on the world through her passions, be genuine in an off-beat way. Like those on her wall, she has a natural skill for both arts and science, but intends to pursue her passion for science, perhaps using her skill in the arts to inform her manner of thinking. The difference, however, is that she does not appear to have that support network. She says that her parents follow her every whim and she’s never been able to develop a real sense of self. We see that her mother puts on a face, appears weak, passive, the trophy wife. When Alyssa was home sick from school, we see her struggle to cope with conflict and rejection, curling up in her room and refusing to talk to anyone but Shin-Ae - yet she “flips a switch” the second she hears her father walk through the door. Something that she does often, as her mother even expected it. Alyssa establishes in that moment that it is not her emotions flipping a switch, but rather the fear of what happens when her father comes home and she is not who he wants her to be. She likely fears her strict father, and resents her passive mother. Either way, Alyssa clearly doesn’t feel supported in herself - she must be the perfect poster daughter, has no role models to look up to, has no understanding of how to make her own decisions, mold her own character, think her own thoughts.

Alyssa frequently exhibits self-doubt and feelings that nobody is listening, that nobody cares. That she must mold herself to whatever others want. That she has to keep parts of herself hidden. That what she wants to be is not something that she can pull herself up in the world through. That she has to bide her time and assuage people to earn her freedom. That she is trapped and isolated.

Although not directly confirmed, we get many hints throughout the Shinlyssa arc that Alyssa is a lesbian, that she had feelings for Shin-Ae. Alyssa being gay in a homophobic world, desperately trying to fit the social mold and find unconditional love, creates such a tragic outcome. While there are obviously so many more types of love than romantic, to have something Alyssa feels such shame for, something that she can not escape or pretend away, something she did not choose, something so wrongly yet so often considered a disease, an abomination, wrong, unnatural, nonconformist tied so directly to the experience of love creates such an all-consuming conflict in Alyssa. Even if she were bisexual, she could suppress enough of herself to fit the mold and find that love (as much as it would still hurt). With her being a lesbian, it enters the fact that she will never be able to find that kind of love while she’s hiding herself. That in her quest to fit the social mold to find love and validation she’s completely closing off that gate. There is something so incredibly tragic about that self-fulfilling prophecy, and it fuels so much of Alyssa’s conflict.

Something important is how much the Shinlyssa event affects not only Shin-Ae, but Alyssa. And, when talking about the Shinlyssa event, something so important to keep in mind is how young they were. They were children, only 12 or 13 years old, in a new environment - especially for Alyssa, who had never been outside the social environment of her home.

Shin-Ae is a character whose light shines bright, which everyone is caught in. That same light that she’s sharing with Nol. A light that even Alyssa was in back in middle school, but that she couldn’t stand in, because Alyssa couldn't accept all of herself. If she stayed in Shin-Ae's light, it would have illuminated the truths she's afraid of. Alyssa is so afraid of the light shining on parts of herself she doesn't want seen that she lets the light go out all together.

It's better in the dark.

So she snuffed out her own light.

She just wants to be accepted and thinks that nobody will accept her because of those parts of herself that she can’t accept. That she’s been taught are wrong. So she can not find acceptance and belonging, she can not stand in the light. And she settles for the closest thing she can find, that artificial light that lets her keep those parts of herself hidden. But that light will never come close when she has to hide so much of herself.

There’s likely only one time in Alyssa’s life that she felt that sense of unconditional love - in her relationship with Shin-Ae. How Alyssa felt the emotional support she desperately needed, that love she craved, that acceptance for her authentic self. How she felt seen with Shin-Ae. How she pushed her away because those are feelings she's not allowed to have. Not for an outcast. Not for someone so brazen. Not for a girl. Not for someone who sees Alyssa as she genuinely is. And now that feeling of actual love and acceptance may be something she never finds again. Only conditional. Only for her image. Her persona. Only when she does what she's told. But none of it true.

Alyssa doesn’t chase fame or adoration, she’s chasing acceptance while being unable to look at herself. She is in this career, in Yui’s grasp, as a direct result of the Shinlyssa event.

Nobody ever showed her safe unconditional love. So naturally she thinks that the only way she can be loved is by chasing adoration. And, as she got older, nothing has proven that wrong for her. The Shinlyssa accident factors so strongly into why Alyssa doesn't see another way. She did have Shin-Ae, but things still went so wrong. It was ingrained into Alyssa that she can not rock the boat, can not be in conflict, has to play nice with those around her. Shin-Ae was unconventional, unpopular, and unafraid to stand up for herself. That created tension between them, and a lot of problems between them and the other kids. Alyssa, in her world, kept trying to keep Shin-Ae and not cause problems at school, but it kept blowing up in her face. And, in the end Shin-Ae falls out a window. This is a horrible way to experience your first taste of interpersonal conflict and likely just solidified for her that you absolutely can not rock the boat, you have to placate people and fit the social mold. It's also likely that her parents were involved in the aftermath of what happened in middle school, considering how much it all got swept under the rug. With her feared, strict father and her good family image mother, I can only imagine what sort of treatment she was welcomed to at home after the Shinlyssa incident. Personally, I also believe that her parents wouldn't have let her anywhere near Shin-Ae afterwards.

Hidden behind the large home and private lessons is how neglected Alyssa was. Treated as a trophy to compensate for the eldest daughter being a disappointment to their overbearing father. Living in a home as the trophy daughter with the trophy wife. Alyssa’s statements of wanting to be part of a power couple come from that resentment, the deep desire to not be that kind of submissive, docile woman.

And then in comes Yui - this godlike woman. Mother. Businesswoman. Charitable. Charismatic. Powerful. Married to an honorable man. Promising everything Alyssa needs - love, validation, adoration, success, belonging. Offering Alyssa a chance to shine, compliments, (fake) love, the potential to become powerful and adored like her. And she idolized Yui, so she took the chance.

It was everything Alyssa needed, on a silver platter … until it wasn’t.

Yui knew exactly how to play her. Manipulated a 14 year old girl just like she does everyone. And by the time Alyssa could see any which way, it's already too late. We can see that she's exhausted. Miserable. Isolated. Always 'on.' Always playing her role. Always on high alert, in survival mode. With Yui over her shoulder, groupmates that hate her, having to be dolled up for everyone she meets, no true allies anymore, being watched and exploited at home, at work, at practice, in the dorms, in public, at events - there is truly not a single place Alyssa feels safe, let alone accepted or loved. And yet she can not leave. She can't stop. They won't let her go now. If she were to stop, she'd have to fail . She has never been allowed to fail. Her life now is miserable, but she sees the price of failure as being even worse.

I think that we're going to see Alyssa continue down a dark path. She's never lived in a reality where it feels okay to be herself. She's pushing so much down and trying so hard to become what other people want her to be so that she may finally fit in. Be loved. Feel like she belongs.

Every one time someone says she's doing great it's like a hit for her, but it's so fleeting. So she has to keep chasing it, because she doesn't know where else to get it. But the more she chases it, the farther and farther down a dark path she goes, running after a torch instead of the sun. And the farther she gets, the harder it is to find an exit. So she has to keep chasing the only light she can see and just hope that it gets her somewhere.

Survival & Safety 

In the case of Alyssa, so many people underestimate the effect that an emotionally volatile upbringing can have on you and how you interact with the world. So many people are choosing to ignore that Alyssa is emotionally neglected and likely abused at home. Shin-Ae feels more like the victim to us because we're seeing the story through her eyes and we know that without money you can't physically live, but the thing Alyssa has lacked all her life, the thing that she needs is to feel like she's accepted and loved. That she, herself, is enough.

At the core of all of her actions, beliefs, choices, is one simple fact - Alyssa feels unsafe.

And even Alyssa’s song - she knows full well that she’s trapped now. The imagery points right to Yui. As Alyssa said, she’s not dumb. The entire time that we’ve known Alyssa, she’s known where she stands with Yui. When she talks about Yui at the formal her eyes are closed. The entire time she’s talking about Yui being charitable, nice for giving Shin-Ae a job, not being where she is today without Yui, wanting a mother like her, wanting to be like her. Her eyes only open again when she says she’d love to be part of a power couple. These are all things that Alyssa likely believed about Yui when she first met her, but has since seen the writing on the wall. The savior she ran to in order to escape her unsafe family life turned out to be even worse. And this is even what leads her to Gun Kim in the recent chapters - in the same way she desperately needed to escape her family, now she desperately needs to escape Yui. But since Alyssa doesn't believe in herself, can't let herself shine enough to brave the world and gain control on her own, she needs someone by her side. Needs to be part of a "power couple." This time it's Gun who comes in, the sparkling savior. Except Alyssa does know better this time, we can see that she's uncomfortable around him, that she knows the sparkles fade. But it’s too late now, and Alyssa just hopes to play the game long enough to gain some of her power back.

"Everything will go to waste I’m trying to find my way back But all these red hues keep me locked in place I can stay captive a bit longer So long as I end up on top"

Alyssa has been playing the game because it's the same game she had to play at home. Keep your head down. Do what they say. That way they won't hurt you as badly.

And when we remember that Alyssa's socioeconomic status is closer to Kousuke's than to Shinae's we can understand even more the implications, because it's not just about Alyssa’s weaknesses. It's about how it reflects on her family. Alyssa and Meg act as parallels to Kousuke and Nol, the golden child and the black sheep. Constantly told to not embarrass the family, don't make them look bad, live up to your potential. Nol and Meg are seen as wildcards, burdens, disappointments, people who do not fit the social mold and make everyone's lives more difficult. So Kousuke and Alyssa feel such intense pressure to fit the mold exactly. To never be out of line. To be someone that lives up to their family name. That brings respect. That doesn't cause trouble.

We see this same concept play out in the juxtaposition between the reaction to the girls’ catching Yui’s eye.

When we think about the parallels of Yui swooping in and "stealing away" both Shin-Ae and Alyssa the biggest difference is that Nol could see Shin-Ae, see how miserable she was even if she didn’t explain it to him. And, even then, the only reason even Shin-Ae ever opened up and leaned on people was because she had to. Because Nol had already seen it. He was able to nudge it out of her after seeing her eviction notice and pile of bills. After seeing her so blatantly miserable at the formal. And once someone had seen her weaknesses and supported her, she gradually was able to build back that trust that she spent so long unable to draw upon. But she didn’t start that by choice, she just chose to continue.

While for Alyssa he can’t see it - so much of her misery has been out of his view, she doesn’t open up and lean on people and is so good at putting on her brave face. The more people know your weaknesses, the more they have to use against you, and Alyssa sees so many weaknesses in herself that she can’t trust anyone. Alyssa has been trained all her life to hide anything negative. Never step out of line. Nol was able to see it in Shin-Ae because she’s easier to read, but nobody can see it in Alyssa because she’s been taught how to hide it. Shin-Ae’s biggest strategy for hiding her state was to avoid people - Alyssa is able to hide in plain sight.

Alyssa is always a strong contrast with Shin-Ae, and we can see it throughout the formal. Something so important to this parallel are cut scenes of Alyssa that foreshadow the recent developments we’ve seen of her with the Hiraharas and the Kims.

Such a theme of the night is how lucky Shin-Ae was that Kousuke and Nol didn't have ill intentions around her and were looking out for her. Everyone was looking out for Shin-Ae that night, but no one was looking out for Alyssa. Even her own parents, the people who above all else are supposed to keep you safe, sold her out to the entertainment industry and never looked back. And, to be fair, we come back to her self-fulfilling prophecy - Alyssa is afraid to be herself because she thinks her true self isn’t worthy of love, so she pushes people away, and then has no one. But, at the same time, Shin-Ae has also been pushing everyone away. Nol has to stalk her to gain her friendship, she coldly and pointedly rejects Dieter, she keeps Maya and Rika at arm’s length, she doesn’t tell anyone (even Min-Hyuk) about her problems with her home and her dad. But the difference between Alyssa and Shin-Ae is, in many ways, how well they hid it. With Shin-Ae it was obvious that she was keeping people at arm’s length because she had been hurt. With Alyssa, she’s keeping people away because she’s afraid, but she’s been taught very well how to keep up appearances, so it looks as though she just doesn’t care, that she’s more concerned with herself and her image and her career. So people leave her alone, while they chase after Shin-Ae. While everyone was off chasing Shin-Ae, Alyssa was alone with the elites - no one looking for her, no one caring where she was.

Alyssa is, at her core, so very alone.

Unreliable Narrators & Nolyssa 

One of the most pointed failings of Nolyssa, especially in comparison to Stalkyoo, is how much Nol and Alyssa really don’t know each other at all, despite being more privy to the details of each other’s lives than almost anyone else. Both of them are in survival mode, putting on masks day after day, not letting each other in, seeing each other as something they are so very not with goals and desires that only scratch the surface. On the one hand, neither of them have really put up a fight, but also the circumstances were against them. They weren't in a position to help each other. They were both kids with needs that weren't met trying their best to survive. Children forced into playing an adult’s game.

Nol and Shin-Ae are both unreliable narrators. Shin-Ae actually acknowledges this, specifically in relation to Alyssa, saying that she only ever has her side of the story. In Nol’s case, he sees Yui for what she is, and wants others to see it, too. But he also believes that everything is his fault, that it all stems from his existence, that Yui may be a villain but it’s because of him, not that Yui does what suits her best. And that makes it so hard for him to even begin to guess that Alyssa sees Yui for something else, that Alyssa fell for Yui’s manipulation for reasons that he couldn’t see and that she realized after what had really happened. That she could praise Yui, focus on her career, devote her time to this game, and be lying about it all. He sees that validation seeker and he didn't see beyond it because she didn't let him see anything more than that. He’s good at being able to tell when people are putting up a facade, but not so much why .

Alyssa is so much more complex than just someone seeking validation, and she is meant to make us sit with complex feelings. Meant to make us figure her out, to see beyond our unreliable narrators. To accept that she is more complex despite how negative her interactions with our two most overtly sympathetic characters are. We are supposed to be clued in to her more than they are, to see those things that none of our narrators can see.

Nol states that she knows how his family makes him feel, but does he know his family makes her feel? How this whole game makes her feel? That she wants off this ride but it's too late and she can't do anything?

Ironically, Nol is being used as Alyssa’s protector, but not in any intentional way. Nol said that he tried to steer Alyssa clear of Yui, but honestly it doesn't seem like he really tried. When Shin-Ae gets the invitation to Kousuke's apartment Nol just says that Yui is a nice lady. I think that Nol tries to save people from Yui by encouraging them to appease her and then wean away from her, thinking that as long as they do what she wants Yui won't hurt them. But obviously that's not how Yui works. And, Alyssa fell right into the trap, just like Shin-Ae.

But, where Nol is protecting her is by being the “boyfriend,” protecting her from the predators around her. Even if it's not much, having Nol as a boyfriend keeps those close to the Hiraharas who may try to take advantage of her just a bit more at bay. They can't step on the Hiraharas’ toes. I especially think that now that we've seen more of Alyssa's world, how she got where she is, and what likely lays ahead for her. And, it honestly works well for Alyssa - Nol is respectful, not interested in her, doesn’t push her, she doesn’t have to do anything to appease him, doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Doesn’t even have to pay attention to him (although she should, if even as just a friend). And I think that Alyssa does know this, and that’s part of why she fought so hard when he did for once express his own needs and desires and tried to break it off. I think that, once Nol is gone, it's basically open season on her, and it's going to be so incredibly hard to watch - that fake relationship is probably the final barrier keeping her in some semblance of safe.

But, the thing is, Alyssa's fate isn't Nol's responsibility. Alyssa does not deserve to be preyed upon, but Nol also doesn't deserve to be trapped and suffocated. We can see how much being in this relationship hurts Nol, suffocates him, how it's keeping him on a one-way path to misery. How, as much as she does not deserve what likely lays ahead for her without Nol, he does not deserve what lays ahead for him with Alyssa.

As much as I defend Alyssa, urging people to understand her complexities as a character, how her choices are born out of her own survival mode, how she is falling back on the methods that she learned from her home life were the only way to survive, how she has never felt safe and that leads directly to the choices she makes and how she feels that she does not have a choice at all - Nol is not the one responsible for her path, her choices. Some combination of Alyssa, the adults who failed her, and the adults who groomed her are responsible.

I mentioned earlier how Alyssa ended up here as a fallout of the Shinlyssa event, and that implicates Nol’s position too - both in relation to Alyssa and to Shin-Ae. If Shinlyssa had survived, Stalkyoo would never have been. All of this growth between Nol and Shin-Ae, chasing that future - it never would have happened. It’s even possible Nol wouldn’t be around anymore. Everything is a chain reaction. Sometimes there is no choice where everyone turns out okay. No matter which way it happened, one of them was going to be in a bad place. Which is the same way things are going with the potential ending of Nolyssa. Either Nol suffers or Alyssa is in danger - there's no scenario where they are both okay.

Shin-Ae is likely going to be a foil to Alyssa, and she may watch and have to understand. To see why Shin-Ae is so capable of being what she isn't. That at the end of the day Shin-Ae was always enough. That Alyssa was always enough. How different things would have been if she could’ve accepted herself and stood in that light. That if she could, people will come along who love her for who she is. That there was so much she couldn't see at that time and now it's too late.

Conclusion 

Despite how easy it is to dislike Alyssa, to to write her off as the validation seeker, the bad friend, the self-serving naïve idol - there is so much more to Alyssa to see. The girl seeking to fill that unmet essential need for unconditional love. The girl who has never felt safe. The girl who was never taught how to handle conflict. The girl who is so afraid of herself that she pushes everyone away. Who hides herself so much that no one knows who she really is. Who’s reputation for herself and her family rides on her back. Who is miserable but sees no way out. Who is trapped by choices she made as a child. Who still makes all the wrong choices because she doesn’t see any other way. Who is just as much a victim, desperately trying to survive, as everyone else.

Now she is trapped in this prison, abused and trafficked No way out in sight No one on her side Only empty love and adoration Chasing artificial light, snuffing her own out from fear of those inner truths, never feeling safe, having to keep going to have any hope of getting out but keeping going being so so bad and likely never going to get her there

Above all else I hope that Alyssa can learn to accept herself. That, even if she realizes it far too late, she can see that was all she ever really needed. Because she can’t have that love that she wants while she’s so afraid, so much in hiding, so fearful of the truths within herself that could be revealed if she stands in the light. The thing about Alyssa is that she pushes genuine people away because of this fear. And therein is her self-fulfilling prophecy, but she makes these choices because she doesn’t know what else to do and ends up further and further trapped. I feel an intense sadness for Alyssa as she, like all of our characters, is in survival mode herself and just trying desperately to fill an unmet need.

And, again, it's not about liking or disliking Alyssa. Absolving or convicting her. It's not that simple. As complex as she is as a person, so is her role in the story, her perception within us. But it's about understanding her - who she is, why she makes her choices, how she got here.

I will reiterate again a point from earlier - the people Alyssa hurt are our two main characters. We are supposed to feel a way about that. But so much of the point is about how our emotional reaction to Alyssa isn't all there is. That she’s not any more or less evil just because the people she hurt are the ones we’re emotionally connected to. That she is a person who has her own story, her own motivations, her own mistakes, her own needs, her own fears, her own traumas. Not that it negates the harm, the wrong choices, but just that there is more to it. That we have to be able to examine and sit with our complex feelings towards her.

In the words of Hedy - “I’m a very simple, complicated person.”

And that concludes my full length essay about Alyssa and why I have feelings

[theanoninyourinbox]

The Offensive/Defensive Roles in The New Longstar AU

The Brawler

Brawlers are those who hone their fighting abilities to their peak, but also their diplomatic skills as well.  A good Brawler knows how to end a fight before it starts, settling ruffled fur and sending both parties away mollified if not content.  But in a battle, the Brawlers are at the forefront of both offense and defense.  Working closely with Healers, they know just where to strike a cat to wound, cripple, or kill.  Brawlers are carefully watched by their leaders and clanmates for signs that they enjoy battles -too- much, for a bloodthirsty Brawler is a curse on their Clan.

The Hunters and The Trackers

Hunters are those who bring fresh prey to the camp, and Trackers are those who find the prey.  Many cats group these roles into one, and many a Hunter is also a Tracker, but there are some major differences.

Hunters do the killing of many kinds of prey, but they also clean and butcher their kills for ease of consumption and storage in Leafbare.  They are encouraged to take the prey apart (out of the sight of predatory birds and impressionable kits) to discover better ways to bring them down.  A great Hunter may know the difference between a sparrow and a finch by taste alone, how to bring down a squirrel without making a sound, and the proper way to pluck a rabbit so the fur is useable later.

A Tracker knows everything about the prey in their territory, and nearly as much about the dangerous predators lurking about.  They know the locations of every nest and each burrow, and which animal lives in each.  Their keen noses can pick up the scent of fox from far away, and their claws know just where to aim on a badger to send them reeling.

The Patroller

Patrollers keep the territory well marked and well mapped.  Each tree or rock or grassy knoll or riverbend is inspected with care, and when something drastic changes, the Patroller is there to find out -why-.  Often bringing Trackers or Brawlers with them, the casual observer may just see a hunting party, but Patrollers are there to see that their Clan, and their neighboring Clans, stay where they’re supposed to.

The Camp Guard

Camp Guards are the backbone of camp-keeping, the supply line that keeps everything both tidy and prepared for trouble.  They line nests with fresh moss and soft materials, either locating the materials themselves or getting Patrollers to find the best moss spots.  Camp Guards weave the den walls strong and keep the well maintained, repairing with clever paws and strong jaws.  They clear out the bones of old prey, and if ever a piece were to go bad, they bring that to the Herbalists for extra compost.  They’re the first line of defense in an attack on their Clan’s camp, and often learn some Brawler moves to supplement their training.

The Nursery Guard

Nursery Guards are sometimes interchangeable with Camp Guards, having many of the same duties, but specialize in kit-care and elder care.  They give badger rides to the squealing kits when the queens and kings are tired.  They clean elders of ticks and fleas when the cherished retirees can’t reach.  Nursery Guards train with Brawlers to better defend their charges, but also with Healers to spot any sign of illness before it becomes fatal.

The Warrior

A Warrior learns a little of all these roles, for a Warrior -is- all the roles.  They track and hunt; they stop fights with words and end fights with force; they patrol and guard camp and watch over the helpless.  To be a Warrior is to know many things, and keep them from being overwhelming to others, for an overworked Camp Guard may leave a wall too thin, a Tracker miss a hawk circling, or a Nursery Guard ignore a cough that becomes so much worse.  A Warrior is the ultimate role for many a cat, but there is no shame in specializing.

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love, Pt. 5

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 Word Count: 2,724 (average 16 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

I tried to pretend that the sweat dripping off of my body was because of physical exertion walking, but the pain in the pit of my stomach and the tightness of my muscles as I held back the incessant urges inside was a constant reminder that my symptoms were only getting worse.

I had hoped with distance, the urge to mate would diminish, but I found that walking away from Altan grew more difficult with each step. The thought kept passing that Altan was likely experiencing the same thing, and I felt even more sorry that my legs couldn’t walk me faster.

The travel to the outerlands was less than a week’s travel. I would sometimes be offered a ride to the next town, which would help me in getting there faster, but my body would seize as I sat on the back of the wagon, and my fists would be clenched and my jaw tight as I muscled through polite conversation. I’m sure they all found me mad or intimidating, but it was taking everything to keep myself in control. 

The only comfort I had was at night, sleeping under the stars and returning to that space in my dreams where Altan would wait for me. He never complained about the situation, but would instead ask me how I was faring and tell me stories.

I was able to make a living with my forge creating tools and instruments for the local folk to purchase and I took great pride that my work was not only sturdy, but it was also pleasant to look at, even though I never considered myself an artist. 

Altan, however, was an artist. The way he told stories, recited poetry and sang - it was all art. He carried so much grace and confident motion within him, even the way his fingers danced upon the air as he elaborated his story, I could never look away from those slender fingers and the control they had with each subtle brush and wave. His torso would sway, and I found myself frequently bound to staring at his waist and the slight curve there. He was as much a masterpiece of art. He was music, he was poetry, he was…magnificent. In the quiet of our own special dreamspace he would weave tales that his mother passed down to him - of the ancient days when his elven ancestors fought to defend their lands from a long dead evil. 

He soothed much of my worry for him with his honey-silver tongue, but it created a deeper, more permanent ache inside me that I recognized never left in our dream world. A want to be near him, a want to see him and be seen by him. I struggled to say words around him, but he always cleverly and patiently wheedled answers out of me. 

I learned that Altan had always dreamed of running away to be an artist and bring people joy.

He learned that I had always dreamed of traveling to new places, even across the sea if I ever got lucky. 

I learned that Altan was the oldest with two siblings, and his mother was a high-born elf who left her people to be with Altan’s father. He seemed to clam up when it came to his father.

He learned that I had four broodmothers, and one very larger-than-life father who led our orc clan through countless raids and sired more siblings than I could count but yet he somehow remembered all of our names.

Altan liked rainy days, sweet food especially when it had cinnamon, and he often got in trouble as a child for rescuing animals off the sides of the roads.

I liked sunny days, spicy food that burned my face off, and often dazed off thinking about things and could go days without talking to a soul.

Altan loved people, and I was scared of most people. We both enjoyed sleeping in late, and didn’t enjoy following rules when they could be avoided. And we both felt like disappointments to our family, despite how hard we both worked for an otherwise more positive reaction. 

We were both each other’s first friend.

I found each night as our conversation ended and our dreams pulled us back to the waking world, that I found great comfort in Altan’s presence and a remorse at having to say goodbye. He seemed to enjoy my company in return and I wondered if this is what it felt like to have a friend. A real friend. 

I pondered it as I gritted my teeth and trudged through the misery of my days. I cursed Gruumsh for my misery and I prayed to any other god who would listen to watch out for Altan.

When I reached the border of my family’s land, I sniffed the air and followed the trail of smoke that wafted in the air. Orc tribes travel through the seasons and live in a shared commune that reminded me of an elaborate camp. There was always food on the fire, furs to nestle in and a sibling or mate to keep you company. As a child I remembered having no privacy in my home. There was always one of my mothers, or a sibling around to watch my every move. It was anxiety-inducing and I recognized that my body was holding a pit of dread alongside my need to mate. 

I knew who I would need to see once I arrived, and I hoped that I could slip through without much notice.

But I would not be so lucky.

A horn blew as I stepped into outer circle of the commune. I saw orcs all around raise their heads from their work and turn to find me slowly approaching. It took some of them a few moments before they recognized me. I held my breath and waited for the loud and violent impact of my family.

“Drunrag!” They exclaimed, and some raced over to my side. My shoulders, arms, back, chest, and backside were all slapped - there was no such thing as hugging in my family - and loud obnoxious comments made about how slim I was. None of them seemed to notice that I swayed under their slaps as the pull of lordhovid pulled me back to wherever Altan was.

“Drunni!” I recognized my broodsister, Orga, as she clapped her hands on both my shoulders and knocked her forehead against mine. “We have missed you so much!” She grimaced as she pulled her hands back, damp with my sweat, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I need to see Nezda.” I managed. “Now.”

Nezda was one of our oldest she-orcs in our commune. All of her mates had since passed on and she alone was the one teaching the young ones our history. I remembered her as old when I was but a young pup, and I wondered how old she was then. 

Orga led me with the rest of my family following behind begging for questions from me. Orga and I had often fought as we grew, she always pushed me harder than any of my other siblings, but when I looked over at her then, I saw only a passive look on her face. I didn’t know what that meant.

“Nezda!” She called, her hands was on my bicep as she practically dragged me into the tent that Nezda stayed in. It looked exactly as I remembered it. Layers of furs on the ground, stools and cushions to sit against and a burning hearth that kept the room stifling with heat. I groaned at the amount of heat inside and outside of me. It was getting to be too much. 

“The quiet one has returned, I see.” Nezda’s voice rasped as she came from behind a curtain. Her violent green eyes locked onto mine. She had never liked me, told my father that I was too quiet, asked too many questions and didn’t think fast enough to be a warrior. She had been the first to call me broken when I was the last one of my brood to be unmated. I saw how she looked at me then, and I felt the same chilling shame that I did as a child and I averted my gaze from her.

Orga went about shooing the other siblings away from Nezda’s tent, eventually leaving only Orga and Nezda inside me. Two of the women I feared the most in all of my life, cornering me. 

“What is this, Drunrag?” Orga’s voice was expectant and harsh. “Where is she?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Your raebukan!” Orga yelled. “You think I don’t know what you’re feeling?”

I shook my head, “There is no mate, I need this to go away.” I looked to Nezda. “Help me. Please.”

“Lordhovid does not manifest without a mate, shakedul.”

I felt so small with Nezda referencing me as a child, nothing more than just a boy in her eyes. While most of my siblings were probably having their third or fourth child, maybe even starting clans of their own…I was nothing more than a child to them. I hated how I felt here.

“You dukitod.” Orga continued the trail of insults, forcing my eyes away from her judgemental stare. “Why would you resist this? You’re finally one of us.” 

I shook my head, “No. You must listen. There is no mate.”

Nezda narrowed her eyes at me. “You are speaking half truth, shakedul. Where is she?”

I looked at her, my face intent and pleading. Please. I begged in my head. Just listen. “Revered one, I will not lie to you. There is no woman for me to mate with.”

She narrowed her eyes further and a long, drawn out groan escaped her lips. She shook her head and walked towards me. Her long, bony fingers came up to my forehead and grasped each side of my temple. I closed my eyes and clenched.

I could hear her heavy breathing as she poured herself into my mind. She would see Altan, she would see he is not my mate. I was relieved to be seen as telling the truth. I dreaded my family knowing about Altan. He was mine to know, not theirs.

“Hmmmm” Nezda pulled back and her green eyes were on me like spotlights. “You do not lie. You do not speak truth. There is a mate. But a man.”

“What?” Orga exclaimed. She broke into an ugly fit of laughter and she slapped her hand on me. “You really are broken, brother.”

I ignored her and looked up to Nezda. “Will you help me?”

“You have not mated with him?” She asked.

I looked at her aghast, as if my crumbling composure wasn’t enough to show her. “No. I would not touch him.” 

She didn’t speak, but only continued to study me. I finally broke her silence. “Please tell me you know of a way to reverse lordhovid.”

“Sacrilege” Orga breathed. “To mate is an honor.”

I resisted shaking my head at her and screaming to her the nightmare it was to be forced to mate. I hated the idea of all of this happening without my permission. I did not feel honored looking at Altan’s perfect body and desiring it without even knowing him. 

“Hush.” Nezda hissed. “Leave, kristifam.”

Orga looked like she wanted to protest, but she quietly bowed her head before making her way out of the tent. I caught the whispered curses under her breath as she passed me. 

“You…feel nothing for your raebukan?” She asked.

It was an unfair question. All of this, I realized, was because I cared for Altan. I think I was suddenly feeling more for him than I was prepared for, and most of it was happening even when I was in our dreams where lordhovid didn’t affect me. I wanted to end lordhovid now because I wanted to feel something for him without my body hurting us, hurting him. 

Nezda didn’t wait for my answer, she sniffed. “Does he feel nothing for you?”

I didn’t really know that. I knew he wasn’t afraid of me. I knew he saw me as a friend. He certainly thought good of me. But I assumed there wasn’t much more than that. I could see that he would likely be that way with anyone if given the chance. I shook my head at her. 

She hummed, her eyes piercing. “Mating in our clan is considered an honor above death in battle, you understand?”

I nodded.

“Would you choose to be dishonored by your own blood?”

“I will not do something that would dishonor him.” I affirmed.

She nodded once and bowed her head. “You will feel worse before you feel better.” She said. “Are you prepared?”

I spoke gravely, “I am, yes. Tell me what to do.”

[booksandwitchery]

Revering Nature

Throughout my search for science-based pagan books to help me on this path of mine, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer kept popping up--so I finally read it.

I would recommend it to most people, especially those who feel a special connection to the natural world but don't exactly know why. I can see this book offending a lot of people on the right side of the political spectrum, but if you fall into that category I'm betting you found this blog in an accidental or ironic sense anyway.

Ultimately this book is all about reverence for the natural world and the importance of maintaining a spirit of respect, reciprocity and responsibility for the gifts given to us by nature. It makes a strong case for maintaining balance, which is a) weaved throughout pagan religions, b) arguably foundational to them all, and thus c) deeply relevant to my studies. Kimmerer also explains the importance of ritual and ceremony to human beings, regardless of our beliefs (or lack thereof.)

Bits of wisdom I marked down from this important book (just in case this isn't clear, everything inside quotation marks is taken directly from the book) separated by theme:

I. Exploitation of Natural Resources

Kimmerer disapproves of the belief that the natural world is human property to be produced and sold: "The commodification of the natural world is just a popular story told by humans. Strawberries belong to themselves."

II. Indigenous Wisdom & Animism

Thirty percent of English words are verbs, but in many indigenous American tribes this proportion is as much as seventy percent (as with the Potawatomi tribe). The language does not divide between masculine and feminine, but rather between animate and non-animate. We can learn from Potawatomi and other indigenous "ways of knowing" because even their very language acts as "a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world," and honors the universe as "a communion of subjects."

III. The Power of Balance

The author stresses the need to maintain balance with nature and life in general: "Balance is not a passive resting place--it takes work, balancing the giving and taking, the raking out and the putting in." Kimmerer suggests that we should temper our desires with self-discipline, which "builds resistance against the insidious germ of taking too much."

IV. Capitalism and the Death of Contentment

Kimmerer comments on consumer society's tendency to see contentment as a "radicalist proposition" and capitalism's dependence on the creation of unmet desires. This reminded me of The Door to Witchcraft by Tonya Brown, when she writes that we should try our best to have an abundance mentality rather than one of scarcity. We should take from nature only what we need, and give back whenever we can.

V. Importance of Ritual and Ceremony

Kimmerer beautifully explains humans' innate need for ritual and ceremony: "Ceremony focuses attention so that attention becomes intention. . .ceremonies transcend the boundaries of the individual and resonate beyond the human realm. These acts of reverence are powerfully pragmatic." This is deeply reminiscent of my post last year on the psychological benefits of ritual ceremony. This affirmed my belief of why these behaviors are ubiquitous despite all varying forms of thought and belief.

VII. Pessimism in the Environmentalist Community

Regarding the fatalist attitude that has crept into many environmentalist conversations: "Environmentalism becomes synonymous with dire predictions and powerless feelings. Despair is paralysis. It robs us of agency. It blinds us to our own power and the power of the earth."

[tacticalhimbo]

Hello hello @floodl8 ! I'm here to deliver you a gift for this year’s Celebradiation exchange, hosted by the amazing team at @falloutfandomeventhub !

Sorry to come in so late, but you know what they say! Anyway, I had a lot of fun reading over your Christmas-themed comic and learning about Maya's relationship with Charon (as well as seeing her passion for robotics in her other tag content)!

I took some liberties with this piece, and I hope you enjoy <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

East Coast summers were a lot different than they'd used to be—and much different from the controlled, homeostatic environment of Vault 101. While there had been enough years between that fateful day in October 2077 and now for the extreme fluctuations to plateau, there was still something warmer about the summers. Something stifling. Enough for many of Megaton's residents to keep indoors best they could, while remaining true to their routines. The world didn't stop then; there was no reason for it to stop now.

Moira was one of those individuals who found themselves wandering around the rickety walkways to the town, yelping softly when her exposed arm brushed against the scorching railing. Pouty lips grew more prominent as she rubbed at the pinkened flesh, nose scrunching as the pain subsided quick as it'd appeared. Vibrant red hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, same as it always was, though almost tighter to ensure no loose strands found themselves on her neck. Her jumpsuit was unzipped, the upper portion tied and tucked around her waist to expose freckled shoulders to the unrelenting sun. She stepped away from the railing to avoid repeating her fate, only to find herself nearly bumping into—

"Oh! Hey there Maya!" Her pout quickly turned into a beaming smile. One that almost competed with the great star in the sky. "How are things? Any new and exciting projects on the docket?"

In a world that seemed against Maya every step of the way, Moira was one of the few out there who made it feel a little more like home. Sure, there was Butch who had accompanied her out into the unforgiving wastes with that same passionate—or perhaps naive—spark in his eyes. And sure, there was Charon, who had initially joined Maya's adventures out of obligation, but found himself oddly curious about her. But that was different. They'd come willingly, traversed outside the rusted metal walls with her and faced the cruel, cruel world head on. But Moira? Moira stayed put. Stayed cozy and waited to see that familiar blue suit and nearly-fiery hair bobbing and weaving through the day crowd. Eagerly awaited the trio's shopping trips to hear all about the wild shenanigans they'd found themselves involved with. It was comforting.

It was homely.

Maya couldn't help the smile that crept up on her heat-exhausted features, nor the spark that'd ignited in her brown eyes.

"Well, after you gave me that new energy cell, I figured out what was wrong with the Protectron. Turns out the area around the contacts was shot, so I tinkered with it a bit and got it to stick. Still, better to make sure it was juiced up."

"That's just great! Say—I was just headin' back to my shop, I found something else you might like. C'mon!"

Before Maya could speak, Moira had already turned heel and happily skipped along, idly chatting about this and that as if the other were already in tow. For a moment, she talked to herself, but Maya was quick to join by her side. Anything to get out of this miserable heat. Plus, the extra company was nice! With Butch doing… whatever it was Butch found himself up to, and Charon wandering up to Moriarty's Saloon to pick up on any potential leads, it was lonely back at the humble little abode sat atop its creaking stilts. Besides, the prospect of getting a new toy couldn't help but make the inventor feel a little giddy. She'd seen enough of Maya's projects, both complete and otherwise, to know just what to fish around the stockroom for. Today was no different, as upon entering the general store, Moira gave a perky little 'just a second!' as she dipped behind the desk and sifted through some boxes. Now where was it…

Was this?—Nope, that wasn't right. Nor was the dulled knife felt her knuckle scrape against. Ouch! Was that rusted? Oh, she hoped it wasn't. That would sure be a pain to deal with, and would mean a trip to see Doc Church. Now that was a scary thought. One that made Moira almost instinctively pop her head over the counter to glance around and ensure he didn't manifest before her. He had a habit of that, or perhaps it was known she was the town klutz. Either way, she beamed when she saw Maya patiently waiting. That's right, she was looking for…

"Here it is! Sorry about the wait, haven't exactly cleaned through the new stock yet. With more people coming in and out of the town now that that Vault of yours opened up, it's just so hard to keep up! Anyway—" A slender hand coyly waved about a mess of wires. Nestled beneath it all was a sturdy processor, reinforced and clearly meant for a bot much bigger than either were used to working on.

Maya tilted her head. "What is that from?"

"Oh… I don't know exactly." Moira set it down on the counter, eagerly watching as the Vault Dweller found herself taking it to examine closely. "The fella who brought it in said it was some RobCo processor widget."

"RobCo? There's a factory somewhere nearby, right?"

"Bingo! Anyway, he said that supposedly, if you connect it to the factory's mainframe, you get access to an army of robots! Can you imagine?" Moira laughed enthusiastically, pitch bordering squealing, as she imagined the possibilities. They could turn the factory into its own settlement, or bring this robot army back to Megaton to help bolster protection, or—

"Or get yourself killed."

The voice that'd interjected was raspy; signature. There was only one person in this little town that spoke so succinctly and with a perpetual air of annoyance. Though, in reality, it was only slightly so. Almost half so—He just wanted things to be quick, simple, and painless as possible. Charon folded his arms as he remained by the shop's exit, shaking his head and nodding to Maya. She beamed back at him.

"Tell everyone about that processor?"

Moira tilted her head. "Hm… Nope, just Maya. And now you. And then of course the shop guard here saw the whole transaction—"

"Alright, I get it. Factory's bad news. People go in, nobody comes out. It's dangerous."

"Aw, come on Charon—" Maya set the processor down on the counter and stepped over, rocking on her feet as she thought it over. Yeah, it may have been dangerous, but… "We've dealt with a lot worse than a couple of robots! Besides, all those buildings have deactivation terminals! We go in there, you and Butch cover while I dip to deactivate each level, and we can get to the mainframe easy."

The ghoul's eyes narrowed, arms folding across his chest. He hated to admit it, but she did have a solid plan. Even if it meant it was his ass getting burnt to (even more of) a crisp by the bots' weapons. "… Fine. Get the piece and go find Butch. Or don't. I'll be back home when you're ready."

"Sweet!" Happy arms threw themselves over the man's physique, pulling him into an enthused hug as he'd raised his own in surprise. He grumbled under his breath and reached to lightly pat her back, a subtle smile forming on his worn features. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Enough for Moira to see and excitedly shimmy her shoulders as she bit back the urge to comment on her little lovebirds in the making.

Was it an adventure he wanted to partake in? Not particularly. But was it one that he'd go on without question? Well, he had his questions, but he kept them to himself if it meant making sure Maya was safe… and seeing her happy. Poor girl needed it now more than ever; it was what she deserved, and even he found it in his calloused heart to admit that.