#is she aware this is not righteousness?

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

mongwoo playing baduk against the qing ambassador is . very symbolic. THEYRE GONNA TEAM UP IM CALLING IT. (she and the king.) they compliment each other incredibly well, were one has a weakness the other is strong. mongwoo is frankly shit at schemes when real people are involved, and the king is too laden by real-people events and a certain kind of viewpoint when playing baduk. he cant entirely free himself from the strategist he needs to be as the king of a court of vipers, making him worse at baduk than mongwoo. meanwhile mongwoo has the mental flexibility and freedom to see things from unsuspecting angles; she seems to have ingraved the baduk rules in her heart and is now applying them expertly. but a baduk board is different from a real country with real people; her stakes when playing were never big enough to carry that burden. but should they team up they could compliment each other‘s strengths and weaknesses and they could take advantage of mongwoo‘s unique position as a woman crossdressing as the king‘s favourite official. she can go to places the king cant. she has access to the common people, his countrypeople, in a way he hasnt and never will. if they apply their combined smarts, cunning, and good heartedness to handle the precarious situation with the qing things would start to take a turn

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[mihotose]

oh! ok! they werent lying about zanyou then!

[theshiftingwitch]

Reality shifting

Demystifying the basics:

In order to have a better grasp of the concept of shifting, we must address the beliefs that brought us here in the first place.

Shifting got really popular on TikTok in 2020 (thank you DracoTok) and with it, misinformation came a plenty. So let's deconstruct the notion, pull it apart, and make it as simple as we can.

What is reality shifting?

To shift is to become aware of a different reality.

That's it. That's all there is to it.

Like changing the channel or flipping through the radio, all of creation is finished and all of the possible realities that you could potentially think of already exist. All you have to do is switch your awareness from one to the other.

But how did we get here? How do we do it? CAN we do it?

Well, let's see:

In order to believe in shifting in the first place, you have to at least be a little bit spiritual. And if that's the case, then ask yourself this:

Do you believe that you are the universe having a human experience? That you are the creator and the creation?

If the answer is yes, then you have a grasp of the basics.

You see, there is no fundamental separation between you and the universe. You are not a separate entity from the Cosmos.

You are the Cosmos.

This idea is not new. It is not some new age spiritual BS that sprouted into existence a few decades ago. It is an ancient philosophical and spiritual belief spanning back decades. Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism emphasize the concept of Atman (the soul) being identical to Brahman (the ultimate reality), suggesting a unity of consciousness. Many mystical traditions, from Sufism to Christian mysticism, have explored the idea of divine consciousness within the human being. Contemporary spiritual movements often incorporate this concept, emphasizing personal transformation and connection to a higher power.

In simple terms, you are all that there is, all that there was, and all that there will ever be.

So if you answered no to my previous question, read this again and tell me your thoughts.

Now that we got the basic concept out of the way, let's talk about shifting, other realities, and your moral compass.

If you agreed that shifting is becoming aware of another reality that you already exist in, and if you're on board with the notion that you are the divine, the creator, the universe herself, what is actually stopping you from shifting?

Nothing.

Nothing is standing in your way, nothing is blocking you from shifting. There is no more work to be done, no more attempts to fail, no more research to explore. All you have to do is let go. Release this hold that perfection, stress, and eagerness have on you, breathe in and know that you have already shifted.

It is done.

You are successful.

In the same vein, if you are completely and utterly convinced that you are the universe, you are all there is and all there will be, you are everything and nothing, what makes you so sure that your current form is your true one?

If you believe in reincarnation then you know that you have had many faces, many bodies, many races, many ages, many lives, many experiences...

Same with shifting. This reality is not the metric in which you measure someone's righteousness. It is not the one and only form in which you are stuck within forever. You are the creator, and you, as you experience yourself, already are all of the ages, all of the faces, all of the genders and the races and the ethnicities and the creations around you. You are the rock and the house and the cat and the butterfly. You are the mean neighbor who constantly complains and the little girl skipping rope on your driveway. You are the bus driver who is always grumpy and the old lady at the market who always smiles when she sees you. You are the dictator causing havoc and the victim suffering from oppression. You are both the bad and the good, because that is the essence of your experience. You are me, I am you. We are the one consciousness.

Morality is by no means subjective, but it is also your creation. You made the rules and you enforced them and you rebelled against them. You are the one and only.

So why measure someone's morality by where or who they decide to shift to? Why judge their existence and believe yourself superior for adhering to a set of rules you created? Nothing is set in stone and no two people shift to the same exact reality, so why hinder yourself? Why limit your experience?

Do you have any idea how lucky you are to know about shifting in the first place?

There are currently 8 billion people at this point in time in this reality, and you happen to be among the very few who are aware of such wonderful experience, of such divine knowledge. Are you really going to spend that time judging other people's choice of reality? And on the other hand, are you really going to let other people dictate, police, and limit your experience?

At the end of it all, we all go back to the same origin.

The one great consciousness, where there is no judgement, no superiority or inferiority complex, no finger pointing and virtue signaling. We simply exist.

Have fun on your shifting journey, know that your experience is yours and that you decide how it goes.

Be a good person, live your best lives, and spread love as much as you can ❤️

[aingeal98]

Something I enjoy a lot about Cass is that with a lot of heroes that don't kill it can easily veer into self righteousness. It happens with Bruce a fair amount and while it can make for a compelling character beat if done well, if done poorly it just kind of makes the reader annoyed lmao. Like why am I supposed to root for this guy when he's saying "If you shoot the man who killed your parents your soul will be forever ruined!" and acting like there's no difference between types of kill?

And the thing about Cass is that while her no kill rule is based on the experience of watching someone die and the horror she felt, and while she does project it into pretty much everyone she meets... It never comes across as unlikeably self righteous to me. Like for Cass every kill is a tragedy and while her no death rule is a moral statement it's also given more importance as an rule that gives us psychological insight into what governs and drives her. Even when she's wrong, even when the villain is so sympathetic and justified that there's no reason to root for her, the narrative always feels very self aware about it. Like when she let that father get arrested despite him just wanting his daughter back. The writer (Puckett of course) wasn't interested in convincing the reader that Cass's judgement was the morally correct choice. He was interested in what it said about her that it was the choice she chose.

And similarly when she approaches people to try and stop them from killing she always lacks the morally righteous air a lot of others carry. She's desperate and earnest and determined to get them to change but it's not because she thinks she's in any way better than them and has the right to pass judgement because of it. It's someone who genuinely believes that she's irredeemable manically trying to save everyone else because if these killers can do the right thing and turn over a new leaf then maybe... Just maybe... there's hope for her?

It's so compelling to me. The desperation and clear projection that happens when she goes out determined to enforce and/or promote her code to as many people possible. Every time she says someone can change she's speaking from experience. Because she views herself as irredeemable and beneath everyone but she's still out here trying to be good so maybe if others make the same choice it's proof that she's not doomed. That none of them are. She doesn't want the hitman to redeem himself by becoming a hero and helping his former victims. She just wants him to walk away, to start a peaceful and quiet new life. And when he fails to do that and they meet again she still won't give up on him. When she stands in front of the victims family she won't declare she knows better. She'll hopefully and uncertainty ask "But maybe... He can change?"

Like there's so much heart behind everything she does and every action she takes. Every time the topic of killing people comes up she's so earnest and clearly projecting her own issues and seeing herself in every murderer and it's so fun. It's so fascinating. I miss Batgirl 2000.

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

[messiahzzz]

i’ve seen many people interpret gale’s outrage at nettie poisoning the player as concern for them. that it’s super sweet how much he cares and how protective he is over tav after they had just met. while he (naturally) does care about his companions, it should be pretty obvious that he is mostly projecting here. he states so himself:

player: are you all right, gale?

gale: yes. yes, i am. it's just that, had it been me... had it been...

gale is terrified of what would’ve happened if he had met the same fate. if all of his precautions had been rendered irrelevant merely due to the self-righteousness of some healer, acting as a judge over another’s life without being aware of the consequences. the destruction nettie would’ve unleashed, how many innocents she would’ve doomed to death, merely because she believed she was doing the right thing.

gale is furious at nettie’s ignorance.

gale: how dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?

player: she thought she was doing the right thing.

gale: right? she had no right!

player: it was one hell of a surprise, but nettie came around!

gale: yes - against her will, without rhyme or reason!

gale: it's not right to feel the cold breath of death in your neck, then move on as if it was nothing but a soothing breeze.

gale: one respects life by fighting for it, and one respects death by fearing it.

once the orb becomes too unstable (if tav refuses to help gale with his condition and elminster doesn't stabilize the orb) he will state that he can’t stay any longer with good conscience. he will then leave the party immediately, search for a secluded place and wait for death to take him.

gale: i'm afraid this is where we part ways - my condition's deteriorated beyond even my capacity to salvage.

gale: it would be selfish of me to stay, when in doing so i'd be putting you, and everyone else within spitting distance in catastrophic peril.

[nodecontext: saddened - he's about to wander off into the wilderness to die, essentially]

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 39

Content warning: Drug usage and a bit of gore. Please proceed at your own risk.

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.8K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The world felt cold and empty, even as Azriel cradled you in his arms and winnowed you through the shadows back to where the rest of the Night Court sat. They were still gathered around the fire, laughing and joking with each other, completely unaware of how your entire world had crumbled in just three words. You didn't even have the strength to look at them as Azriel explained what had happened, your body feeling hollow and numb in his embrace. Instead, you stared straight ahead into the darkness, where the trees stood like silent sentinels on the edge of the lawn, their dark branches reaching up towards the moonlight that bathed them in a cold, silver glow.

Your eyes burned from tears that had long dried up, but you couldn't bring yourself to cry anymore. The screams and wails that had erupted from you earlier were now replaced by a heavy, pounding throb in the back of your head. Every piece of you felt heavy and broken, slipping through your fingers like sand.

You could hear Rhysand's voice, stern and calculating as he asked questions that you didn't want to answer. But you had no answers left to give. Nesta had risen from her spot, her hands reaching out to touch your face and call your name. But you flinched away from her gentle touch, feeling disgusting and untouchable.

Even the sounds of laughter and merriment from the other fae around you felt like they were happening in another world, one where you could only watch from a distance. Everything inside you was shattered and fragmented, with no pieces connecting or burning with life. All that remained was a deep desire to curl up and disappear.

The pieces of your shattered reality swirled around you, cutting deeper with each passing moment. The claims made by him, the male who was your supposed my kin, filled in gaps you never knew existed, while simultaneously ripping apart your sense of self. Was it anger towards your mother for subjecting me to this wretched life, to forcing you into a world filled with greed and self righteousness? Or perhaps it was the realization that she had abandoned you for his wealth. Was anything about your world truly as it seemed? Did anyone know the truth, or were they all hiding behind a facade, perhaps like Titania? Titania, the one female who truly felt like a mother to you, did she know? And if she did, was she lying to you all this time. And now you are faced with the question of what comes next. How will this revelation change everything? How could you be related to someone so cruel and vile, someone who embodied the very traits you despised in your mate? But deep down, you knew the answer to a question that had haunted you for centuries. And now that it was finally answered, you cursed yourself for ever wondering at all. Had you truly escaped one hell only to stumble into another? Was this your fate, to always be connected to males who sought to dominate and control you? Perhaps you too were poison, destined to bring destruction wherever you went.

The world spun around you again, feeling like a dizzying and disorienting merry-go-round. Azriel's arms pulled you closer, tighter, as if he was trying to reach into your mind and rescue you from yourself. As the world came back into focus, you found yourself in the House of Wind, still held by Azriel as his fingers dug into your skin in an attempt to soothe you. But his words were muffled and distant, and you refused to listen. He gently placed you onto a chaise lounger, and your body, feeling empty and lifeless, collapsed into its soft folds.

The rest of the Night Court gathered around you, Nesta perched at the edge of the lounger with a look of intense sadness in her eyes. Rhysand stood next to Azriel, towering over you with a cold and harsh expression as his hands gestured wildly while Azriel tried to explain something to him. Feyre disappeared down the hallway, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn and watch her go. Lucien and Elain sat on a nearby couch, but you didn't look at them either. You knew that Lucien's gaze was fixed on you, but it felt distant and hollow.

Soon enough, Feyre returned with a healer - a short woman draped in a grey cloak who approached you cautiously, as if you were a dangerous wild animal. And perhaps right now, you were exactly that - something to be feared. But you didn't shy away from her touch or flinch at her presence. You simply let her scrutinize you for any physical injuries - bruises or cuts that she wouldn't find because the only wounds you carried were deep within your mind, wounds that had bled out and left you gasping for air.

As she finished her examination and said something to the group that you couldn't hear, your eyes remained fixed on the window overlooking Velaris. It was the same city you had always known, yet everything felt different now. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate as the others relaxed, perhaps relieved that nothing had happened to you at Philip's hands. But even as he had touched your chin and pressed a hardened kiss to your cheek, you couldn't help but wonder - would it have been easier if he had hit you? If he had assaulted you physically instead of tearing apart your mind and soul?

Because those wounds may have been easier to heal, but for something that pulled you deeper and deeper into yourself, was true healing even possible?

—

Your feet pound relentlessly against the slick grass as you dart through the endless maze, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. The taste of iron fills your mouth. Your heart races like a wild animal, threatening to burst from your chest as you push yourself harder and faster, unable to stop even for a moment. The foliage presses in on all sides, illuminated by the silver beams of moonlight that seem to taunt and mock you. You round corner after corner, slipping and sliding on the treacherous ground, your hands clawing desperately at the earth to steady yourself. There are no dead ends in this maze, only endless paths lined with thorns that tear at your skin as you crash through them. But still, you must run. You must find a way out before it catches up to you. That thing, whatever it is, crashes behind you in pursuit, sending birds scattering and filling the air with their panicked cries. Its footfalls thunder in your ears, growing closer and closer with each passing second. And then, you come to an intersection, with four pathways snaking away from each other like the fingers of a monstrous hand. Your head whips around frantically as you try to determine which path to take, but each one seems to change before your eyes, shifting and twisting until you can no longer remember which way you came from. And suddenly, there is silence. A deafening silence that chills you to the core and sets every nerve in your body on edge.

You pause, panting heavily as you try and listen for anything down the paths, anything that might tell you where you are or where to go. But there’s nothing, only the sound of your both breath as it chokes out of you. You feel tears well into your eyes, your hands desperately gripping into your hair as you try and hold back sobs or a scream. Perhaps you had lost it, and you wouldn’t very well give up your location by allowing yourself the luxury of screaming.

The eerie silence of the deserted path is suddenly broken by a familiar, teasing voice that sends chills down your spine. You whirl around, heart racing, but the path remains empty, stretching on endlessly before you. It's just in your head, you tell yourself, trying to calm your racing thoughts. But then another voice, deep and menacing, whispers right next to your ear: "Whore."

You spin around again, searching for the source of the voice, but both paths are devoid of any living beings. Panic sets in as you shake your head violently, trying to dispel whatever darkness is creeping into your mind. Suddenly, the sound of a child's voice echoes through the maze, calling out for "Mama!" But the innocent tone quickly morphs into a distorted, grotesque parody of a man's voice. Your skin prickles with fear as you take a step back from where the voice came from, only to hear a footstep behind you.

Your heart hammering in your chest, you turn to see Anthea standing there, her head hanging limply from its broken spine. Her eyes are pale and lifeless, and her body looks emaciated and ghostly. She speaks in a hollow, underwater voice: "You left me...you let me die." You recoil in horror as she accuses you, her head lolling to one side as if held together by a single thread. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as she continues to stare at you with accusatory eyes. "You let him hurt me," she hisses. Unable to bear it any longer, you shut your eyes tightly and press yourself against the foliage in an attempt to escape from her accusing gaze.

With a gasp, you open your eyes and find yourself face to face with Anthea, her unforgiving stare piercing into your soul. Your heart races as her blood-soaked mouth contorts into a garbled screech, accusing you of letting her die. Before you can react, her bony hands wrap around your throat, squeezing with otherworldly strength as your body crumples to the ground. Desperately, you try to push her off but she's like a vise, crushing your windpipe and cutting off your air supply. Panic sets in as you plead for mercy, but all that meets your eyes is pure malice radiating from hers. In a last-ditch effort for survival, you manage to push her head away and it snaps off, rolling to the ground before disappearing into a shadowy giggle, along with her body.

Gasping for air and trembling with fear, you scramble against the hedge, frantically trying to erase the horrifying image from your mind, your hands running over your face to try and wipe the cold clammy feeling of her dead hands from your skin. It can't be real, you tell yourself over and over again. But then, a tall figure approaches from the opposite pathway - a male figure with impossibly long legs that tower over you as he looms closer. You try to get up but he bends over you, his elongated spine arching towards you like a nightmarish creature. And those eyes - those familiar russet eyes that bore into your very being.

"My darling girl," a voice that sounds like Philip's rasps out from the creature's twisted form.

"Get away from me!" you scream, but the creature only smiles wider with razor-sharp teeth that glint in the dim light. He crawls closer on all fours like a spider, sniffing at you with an unnaturally long nose and licking his lips hungrily with a reptilian tongue.

"Divine," he gurgles before lunging at you with his gaping maw of teeth. Acting on pure instinct, you kick out at his face with all your might and he recoils with a bloodcurdling shriek. Taking advantage of the moment, you scramble to your feet and run.

Panic courses through your veins as you race down the unfamiliar pathways. Your body strains for air, but your windpipe deels like it’s on the verge of collapse from Anthea’s grip. You stumble around corners, desperate to lose whatever is chasing you, until you collide with a solid figure. In terror, you scream and struggle against the muscled arms that wrap around you until you catch a familiar scent of cedar that can only belong to one familiar male: Azriel. Relief floods through you as he whispers, “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You struggle lightly against his hold, not taking a moment to relax as you pull away, “Az, we have to get out of here,” you plead.

But he remains unmoving.

Desperation sets in as you take his hand and tug on it urgently. “Please, Azriel,” you beg, tears streaming down your face. “We have to leave. We have to leave before it gets me.”

Azriel’s grip only tightens in response.

“Stop, Azriel that hurts!” But his grip doesn’t lighten as you pull against him. “You’re hurting me!” You scream, the terrible sound of cracking bones within his grip as your hand ignites in pain. You cry out in agony, but his grip doesn’t falter.

Azriel’s only response is another smile, unsettling serenity “No one can hurt you here. Stay with me.” He beckons. But as you

look into those eyes, something flickers within them that makes your heart stop. Something primal and deadly that is not Azriel stares back at you through those Hazel eyes. A dark realization dawns on you - this is not Azriel.

“I have to go.” You manage to say through clenched teeth, trying to control the tremble in your voice.

“You’re safe.” The thing within him repeats, the voice that normally calms you now distorted and garbled, like some twisted imitation of Azriel’s true voice.

“I know.” You respond, trying to steady your breath. “But you have to let me go.” You say, your breath catching in your throat.

As he pulls you closer, the shadows behind him grow and swirl like vicious creatures. You can feel their malevolent intentions dripping from the as they rise behind him. Nothing about this is safe.Azriel pulls you even closer, close enough that your shoulder touches his chest, and in a moment that you worry you will regret, you take his hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

The creature within Azriel lets out a guttural purr, a gurgling murmur that almost sounds like pleasure. But as you take one of its fingers into your mouth and clamp down with all your might, the sound turns into a piercing shriek. With a sickening snap, tendons and bones break under the pressure of your jaw, severing the finger from its hand. You are met with a searing sensation in your mouth, like acid burning through your gums. And what drips from the severed finger is not blood, but a powdery substance that sizzles on contact with your skin.

Gasping for air and spitting out the vile taste, you break free from the creature's grasp and flee deeper into the maze. The figure behind you roars in anger and curses at you, before taking off with heavy flapping of its wings into the sky. You dare not waste a moment to look back as you push through the twisting paths and foliage. Every sound and sensation in this place is deceitful and treacherous.

As you push further, the acidic taste still burning in your mouth, Kai’s voice echoes in your head, a shrill and agonizing sound that cuts through your skull. The sickening squelches of flesh being torn from flesh resound in the darkness, accompanied by Kai's desperate pleas for help. "Y/N, please!" he cries out in desperation. But his screams are drowned out by the malevolent laughter of your mate, their sinister joy at causing pain and suffering to those around them. You clamp your hands over your ears, trying to block out the haunting echoes, but they only grow louder inside your head.

In a desperate attempt to escape the cacophony of voices, you scream and pull at your hair until a section comes free in your grip, sending waves of searing pain through your body. You continue to run blindly, overwhelmed by overlapping sounds - Kai's screams mixing with your mate's laughter, Philip's poisonous words, Azriel's sensual moans, a small child's sobs and screams for her mother, Anthea's accusations, Kai's father's wild sobs, and even your own mother's voice calling out your name.

But amidst all the chaos, you hear one voice that stands out - your mother's. With every ounce of strength left in you, you focus on that one familiar sound and follow it like a lifeline. Swatting away the other voices like pesky flies, you push forward until finally reaching a distinct place where her voice seems to be coming from.

You burst through hedges and turn corners, frantically calling out for her as she responds with equal urgency. And then, at last, you see her standing in front of you at a dead end. Your heart swells with relief as you launch yourself towards her in a desperate embrace. She is warm and comforting, smelling of home as she wraps her arms around you.

She pulls back to inspect you, her hands gentle as they travel over your face and hair. "Are you hurt? What's happening, baby?" she asks with concern.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to explain the horror that has consumed your mind. "I don't know, Mama. I don't know," is all you can manage to say.

Your mother holds you tightly, her own voice trembling with fear that matches your own. "We have to go," she whispers urgently, taking your hand in hers as she steps back. You nod in agreement, her eyes wide with fear as you both acknowledge the danger surrounding you.

As you and your mother step forward, her hand tightly gripping yours, the creature that looks like Philip suddenly scurries out from under a nearby hedge. A primal scream escapes your lips as well as your mother's, who quickly takes a few steps back, shielding you from the creature's reach.

The beast stands tall on its unnaturally long legs, its twisted smile sending chills down your spine. "Sile," it growls in a guttural voice. "My dear, sweet, lovely Sile."

"Don't look at it!" Your mother's voice rings out, urgent and panicked, and you immediately obey, averting your gaze from the monstrous being. She presses her body against yours, her frame thin and bony but undeniably protective.

"Sile, you would keep my child from me?" The creature hisses at your mother.

"You will not hurt her," she retorts, her tone firm and resolute despite the fear that hangs heavy in the air.

"What are you going to do?" It taunts back, taking a few steps closer.

"Stay back!" Your mother yells.

"We made her together," it continues in a low purr. "We are one of the same. She is two halves of us."

"She is nothing like you," your mother snaps back with disdain.

"She is exactly like me," it counters. "Look at her. Look at her soul, Sile."

Your mother remains still as you cling to her dress, feeling the softness of the white linen between your fingers as she pulls you closer. "She is cunning and smart. Calculating and filled with fire. Her soul is blackened like mine," the creature speaks again. "And she is delicious like you."

"You are filth," your mother spits at it. "And you will never have her."

The creature's taunts echoed through the night. Its voice dripped with malice as it prowled after your mother and you, its clawed hands reaching out to touch and menace. "At what price will you sell her to me?" It sneers, relishing in the power it holds. "You always have your price, Sile. A good girl like you won't turn down anything if I can pay enough. What will it take? Coin? Perhaps a bit of that beautiful powder that makes you so obedient."

Your mother's spine stiffens at the mention of the Luster, her body trembling with fear and hesitation. She stands tall, a protective shield between you and the beast as it continues its cruel taunting. "Nothing. Philip. She is not yours," she declares firmly, her voice wavering slightly.

"What good can you do for her?" The creature hisses back, its hot breath wreaking of death and decay wafting over your face. "You have nothing. You are nothing."

"I am her mother," she retorts, determination shining through her fear.

"You are a whore," the beast snarls, its sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

Your mother's fingers dig into your skin as you cower behind her, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Your life means nothing to me, except for what your cunt can offer," it continues in a sinister tone. "But her? She is my blood. She is me."

Your mother takes a step back, pushing you closer to her. "Get out of here Philip," she commands, her voice quavering.

"Hold your tongue," the creature responds in a chilling voice. Suddenly, there is a rustling of cloth and your mother gasps.

Without a moment of hesitation, your mother steps away from you, her body heat leaving a cold chill in her wake, leaving you exposed to the creature's looming presence. "Mama," you cry out, reaching for her.

The creature purrs in delight, "Yes, yes my good girl. Come here." You feel a sob rising in your throat as you try to keep your eyes downcast.

"Take it," the creature hisses, and you hear your mother moan lightly. You can’t stop yourself from looking up, to see your mothers face, blurred in a memory you can’t quite place, as she leans her delicate face forwards, breathing in a glistening fine powder.

The creature's face contorts into a cruel smile as it turns towards you, its eyes filled with malicious glee. "You see, Y/N? Your mother is so quick to leave you for an enticing bit of powder."

Tears blur your vision as you whisper to yourself, "This isn't real. This isn't happening."

But the creature only chuckles in response, "What about it isn't? Did she not abandon you all those years ago? Did Anthea not die because of your inaction? Did Kai not suffer due to your weakness? And your mate - didn't you choose to let him in?” The creature took a few more long strides towards you, it’s pearl white teeth reflecting in the pale moonlight. “Why do you persist in denying your role in this tragedy? Do you truly believe that there was no other path you could have taken? And what of poor Azriel?” Your heart skipped a beat. “Would you condemn him to ruin from the depths of your corrupted, blackened heart?”

The creature's words sliced through you like a sharpened blade, tearing open old wounds and unleashing a torrent of guilt and pain.

You whimpered, recoiling from its menacing gaze. But it gripped your face tightly with its sharp claws, forcing you to meet its twisted features. “Look at me.” It snarled as you watched - a grotesque fusion of all those who you suffered, and suffered at your hand morphing on it’s face: Anthea, Philip, Caelum, Kai, Azriel, your own mother, the Illyrian soldiers, Titania, Azriel, before settling into its final form. You. A sickening grin spread across your face as all the voices merged together, taunting you relentlessly. "You can't escape from yourself forever," they sneered in unison.

The creature’s lips peeled back to reveal those rows of teeth again as it leaned in closer to devour its own reflection - your blackened soul included.

Readers: I dread the path we're set to tread, far from warmth we're swiftly left. From arms that beckon, smiles that light, we venture into endless night. Away we drift to realms unknown, farther still from the place called home. Yet there are souls whose presence calls, in shadowed realms where courage falls. Those who fear the hidden strife, face shadows whispering back to life. Bindings tight and fractures deep, wounds that wake and never sleep. A loss unnamed, a pain unseen, in silent sobs and darkened dreams. Strength that falters, trust that wanes, echoes more than bleeding pains. We cry and wail, we beg and scream, yearning for a different dream. Paths diverge, yet seek we stay, but shadows cannot light our way. Trusts voices, threatened hearts, in murmurs soft the turmoil starts. Away we must, to voids obscure, farther still from what was sure. For forces vast and whispers sly, in time shall test both you and I. Shall love endure through joy and strife, or must we falter, pay the price. In sacrifice, I guard your soul, in shadows deep I play my role. For paths we tread and hearts we save, might lead us both to unknown graves.

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger28 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardust @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes @weepingwerewolf @that-one-bibliophole

[largemovingtorb]

This moment was so entirely perfect that Catra became self-aware. She did not want to wake Adora, for if she did, the bliss would be lost—slipping away, never to be found again. As soon as everyone was up, they would start packing; after they had done packing, they would all be moving, all moving towards the ultimate destination of utter misery for Catra.

No, it was better to stay here. Stay here and lie still, so very still and silent so as not to disturb Adora, who was so very soft and warm in her arms. Hers, never to be let go again.

Catra sighs. Who am I fooling? There is no escaping this—sometime today, I’m going to lose her. I’m going to lose everything. I might as well enjoy every second of this,

But like dew evaporating in the morning sun, this snippet of peace had been delicate. It was now receding as it was overcome by the singular thought that Catra could not escape. Her mind tumbled as it processed the reasons why Adora would leave her—feelings and memories of life with the other woman flitting through her brain, coursing through the synapses at the speed of light. They tormented Catra with the absolute veracity of judgment, every example an illustration of Adora’s total righteousness, her unwavering desire to expunge any evil from her life. Catra did not have to search far for examples; they were like blazing beacons of divine fire in the stygian depths of night.

Adora had left Catra before; when faced with the reality of the Horde, she had ultimately rejected any notion of returning to its corrupt enfolds, choosing to abandon the only friends she ever knew for an entirely unknown existence with the Rebellion. For Adora, everything was so black and white, good or bad. When the two women were reunited amid the battle for Thaymor, Adora did not even consider staying with Catra, not even for a single scrap of an instant. Catra could not imagine the strength of will it took to do such a thing, feeling both admiration and resentment towards the other woman. How nice it would have been for Catra if she could forget about Adora and move on with her life.

Then there had been the Portal. Catra had been so ready to end it all then, to sink all of Etheria into the turbulent enfolds of pure chaos to exist in a reality where Adora had never left her. Catra knew now that she had been so utterly lost then, so selfish in her sorrow that she was willing to pull others into the intense gravity that was the black hole of her angst. She regretted what she had done, knowing that if there was a way to bring light to that old version of herself, Catra would cross space and time to do so.

But Adora had never been uncertain—she had torn through the confusion of Catra’s dreams and nightmares and pulled Etheria out from the clutches of ruin. Right after the portal had been destroyed Catra had locked eyes with her erstwhile best friend—there had been pure enmity in Adora’s gaze, absolute and total wrath towards Catra for what she had done. In that one intense heartbeat, she felt like Adora truly hated her, the feeling awakening a not-yet-discovered level of terror in Catra, making her cower in fear of the desolation from Adora’s existence.

Illustration by Henar, a.k.a., @ilikeyoucatradora !

From my fanfic on AO3, link below:

Traces of Crimson

[mayapapaya33]

Despair and Edwin

Am I the only one who can't stop thinking about the metaphorical power of Edwin being IN Despair. He was in Hell, at his lowest, about to be cruel to one of his former tormentors. Feeling incredulous at their seemingly lesser punishment, feeling righteously indignant, and Justifiably pissed off. Then he caught a glance at himself in the mirror for what was presumably the first time in over a century and it snapped him out of it. Then he promptly fell into Despair.

Despair's Realm, as far as I am aware, is only accessible to those IN Despair, as in the emotional state. But why was he literally transported there, why could he see her watching through the mirror? She watches people's lowest moments through her mirrors all the time, how could Edwin see her?

Every word out of her mouth was fascinating to me, so much subtext, so many double meanings, I'm dying of curiosity.

"What Am I? The answers are Endless Edwin Payne. Pretty name. Payne/Pain."

His reaction to her saying the word Endless is VERY telling, clearly Edwin knows something about the Endless. Also that's just a very poetic way to describe Despair, she's right, an Endless number of things can cause Despair.

Edwin: "Why are you here?"

Despair: "You're here, I'm everywhere, you're in my realm now where I see it all. But you only get to leave through the door you came in by."

Is that a literal statement about a literal door? Perhaps but I HIGHLY doubt it. How did he get here? By feeling anger and pain and Despair about his treatment in Hell compared to one of the people responsible for sending him here and the injustice of it all. So how does he leave Despair's Realm then? Through the same door he entered. Confronting his feelings about Simon but not allowing them to control him or turn him into something he is not.

"I am Despair, and you do not belong here. Go back to your killer. I was watching. You were getting angry. About to gloat over his torment. Go do That."

E: "No no no no no I..." D: "Don't Worry, We're Friends now." E:"I would not gloat, That is not right." D: "I'll call if ever I need you" E:"He didn't realize-"

What does THAT mean? They're friends now? I am frothing at the mouth in anticipation to see what that is going to turn into. This is starting to dive into Sandman theories of mine so if you haven't read Sandman now's the time to leave.

She almost seemed to be HELPING Edwin confront his feelings. The way she phrased it was very provocative on purpose, it's something you might say to a friend if they're doing something out of character and you're trying to let them know it and snap them out of it. Granted in a Dramatic and Dickish way, but she is an Endless, so that's sort of a given. Why would she do that? Why would she help him Leave Despair?

Well, The Sandman comics are very Philosophical and layered, and one of the implications in the comics is that Each of the Endless embody their opposites in addition to their Named dominion. Dream is responsible for keeping Reality in check, Death is there when we are brought to Life, Destruction with those paintings and sculptures, constantly Creating things in his retirement, Delirium has moments where she is the only character who knows what is going to happen, Neil took joy in sneaking hints into her rambling, a special kind of Sanity, that is almost too painful and confusing to be tolerated for long, she knows things that aren't in Destiny's book, Desire has quite a lot of apathy in my opinion, and Destiny absolutely has a thing about Free Will. A big implication is that Despair also Embodies her seeming opposite, Hope!

What this means for Edwin in the future I have no clue lol.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Then we're in the Matthews backyard. Eric looks spiffy in a button up shirt tucked into khaki's a belt. He's trying to find Mr. Feeny. He's not in his garden. So he yells Feeny! And this is our very..the start of the Feeny call. -Danielle

I love everything about this. I mean obviously like the anger and the, the expression of like Mr..... The self-righteousness of like, where is Feeny? Is so great. But then I just also love the meta thing of like, he's either teaching or he's gardening that's all he does. He has to be here. The awareness of our show to like, comment on its own sort of tropes is just so lovely. And like we're only gonna do more of it. I know as the show goes on and I I, it's so comforting and it's such a great thing. -Rider

I Totally forgot this though. And I'm sitting on the couch next to Sue and all of a sudden I'm like, wait, is this, this is it. This is the first Feeny call. I'm like, it's, it's happening right now. She's like, what? What? -Will

Do you remember in the moment? Anybody saying anything to you about it being really funny? The way you said Feeny. What do you remember about the moment it happened? I Remember the table read it getting a laugh and then every run through it, getting a laugh. And so my guess is we're gonna start to see, because they tried this with a bunch of things with Eric in the past. Like they tried the, the, the weird cackle laughing. Yeah, I remember I did that for two episodes in a row. And then Michael, I even looked at Michael one time during a table read and he, and he went like this. I was like, please cut it out. But the actual feeny call it just said, Mr. Feeney. And I just remember the way I said it. So that was it. -Will 

It's the indignation. It's the like you can't be anywhere Mr. Feeny but where I need you. It's just so great. You know, And it and it's so earned at this point. 'cause it's like we're fourth season, of course Feeny's gonna be, and of course he is there. Like that's what I love is that he's like, I'm here now. I'm here. Like, that is such a great delivery. It's like, okay, calm down. Like I am. I am now doing my job. And it's just perfect. It's so perfect. -Rider

[vixstarria]

I’m enjoying your snippets. I guess I have a prompt, or more like a scene that made me giggle.

Imagine Tav is a paladin who took the oath of vengeance. Except she’s very new and bubbly. So after finding out Astarion is a vampire spawn and he was tortured by his master, she excitedly vows to personally make Cazador suffer in excruciating detail. Astarion’s like, “Uh…thanks?”

I can’t stop laughing at the thought of Astarion being protected by a small, bubbly paladin that’s vibrating with excitement to avenge Astarion. Like a bloodthirsty squirrel.

Ha! I love the idea. Thought I'd bring out the whole gang for this one though.

I'll stick this one under a cut for uhh... some lighthearted gore.

The tiny paladin stalked around the campfire, having worked herself up into a righteous fury. Short of 5 feet, she made up for her stature with sheer vigor.

"We'll tear out his tongue. Then we'll tie him up. Throw him somewhere with just his feet out in the sun, and wait for it to slowly burn and consume him, from the bottom up, inch by inch," she ranted.

Wyll grimaced and lowered his spoon back down into his bowl, before it reached his mouth, just as Astarion let out a delighted laugh.

"Simply wonderful, my dear! Are there any other miseries you'd like to bestow on him, before his eventual demise?"

"Hmm," Tav paused, briefly. "Lae'zel, are there any good githyanki torture methods you would suggest?"

"I am not aware of anything specific to vampires," Lae'zel mulled over Tav's question. "But the regular routines should work on an incapacitated vampire just as well. His natural regeneration will only aid in making it last longer."

"Would that really work?" Shadowheart asked Gale in between sips of her wine. "Leaving a partial shield over a vampire and spot-burning him?"

"That is an excellent question," said Gale. "In theory, it depends on whether it is the literal energy of and exposure to the sun that causes the damage, or the more ambivalent idea of what the sun represents - goodness, righteousness, divinity - which may only need to touch a small part of an evil entity such as a vampire, to set the entire creature ablaze. I don't know the answer, but I could write to some of my colleagues, who have 'shed light' onto vampires, so to speak. Come to think of it-"

"Are you going to eat that?" Karlach pointed at Wyll's untouched stew.

"You're welcome to it if you like, I've lost my appetite," he said, handing her the bowl.

"Once his legs are gone, we'll burn his arms off in the sun, one by one," Tav continued her laps around the fire.

"You are vengeance incarnate, darling," Astarion spurred her on.

"We could chop off the limbs once they got too burnt and crusty and lost feeling," Karlach offered, talking with her mouth full. "He can regenerate but not regrow, right?"

"A good technique when combined with flaying extremities, as well," Lae'zel nodded approvingly.

"Yes!" Tav exclaimed, shaking a small but mighty fist at the sky. "We'll carve him up! Like a turkey."

"Now, call me an old fashioned romantic," Wyll interrupted. "But can't we just kill him in a civilized manner and then piss on his grave like normal people..?"

"All in due course, my friend," said Tav, before turning to Astarion. "Do you think Cazador would find this experience more horrifying with or without his eyes?"

A warm, fuzzy feeling was threatening to overtake Astarion.

So this is what friendship is, he thought.

[overlymetaromantic]

I was very kindly asked about reference sheets for my comic's characters, which until that moment did not exist, but thanks to them asking now they do!!! I figured I may as well share what I made for them publicly as well, so please feel free to do whatever you want to with these details 👀 (+more character details below the cut!)

Karin: Highly self-assured with high self-confidence. As a default, she tends to assume she’s right about things, because the odds have almost always been in her favor—even when she’s wrong, she’s usually still picked up on some element of the truth. She’s a deeply empathetic person, but isn’t necessarily aware of just how affected she is by other people’s emotional states. All of this combined defines both her biggest strengths—her confidence and ability to push things forward—and her biggest weaknesses—her impulsivity and self-righteousness.

Kaito: Very much pulling from the straight-laced, rule-obsessed, class president type, but with several little subversions to the archetype that might be surprising. The only person he really holds to high standards is himself, with his core internal conflict being based around him feeling like he has a naturally self-indulgent nature while simultaneously being driven by a need to earn the right to actually indulge in the things he likes. Overthinks due to anxiety. Amongst the nerds, he's secretly considered kind of terrifying for how he's capable of going toe-to-toe with delinquents.

Maki: While he is capable of Crimes, Maki is arguably a delinquent in name only lol. In my mind, he's very Shonen Protagonist-adjacent, i.e., he has a bright sort of energy about him that just makes people like him immediately regardless of anything else that's going on. He'd be the student that's always getting in trouble but is also the teacher's obvious favorite. He's surprisingly (and concerningly) good at holding back on his feelings—in general, the more he cares about something (or someone), the harder a time he has with speaking up about his wants, out of the fear that it might change things for the worse rather than maintaining them as they are.

[saintsenara]

📖🖤

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

if you had to remove one book from the series, which would you choose?

answered here.

which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

i'm going to bend the terms of this question a little bit, so that i can talk about how little i vibe with a common way of writing luna - the one which presents the things she believes as correct, and the rest of the world as simply too narrow-minded to see it.

this turns luna into - essentially - a flawless clairvoyant, working tirelessly to get others to see the truth, and it therefore turns her canonical naivety, stubbornness, inability to accept that she might be wrong, and refusal to consider multiple viewpoints into displays of moral fortitude.

instead of what they actually are... flaws. all of which have made her a conspiracy theorist, rather than the one person in the world who gets it.

i'd be really interested in a fic which takes this aspect of luna's character seriously - whether it looks at her beliefs becoming more entrenched, or thinks about what it would be like for her as she began to drift away from the certainties of her conspiracist thinking. i'd also like to see fics take the implication of canon that she is - to some extent - indoctrinated by her father seriously. and - of course - i'd also like to see the crack fics of luna managing to genuinely convince swathes of people to get into snorcack hunting...

i'm not interested one bit in manic-pixie-dream!luna.

what does everyone else get wrong about your favourite character?

snape is not a good occlumens because he's emotionally controlled. nor because he's emotionally repressed.

he's good occlumens because he's incredibly petty.

contrary to its fanon interpretation, occlumency is not building a mental fortress - putting up an occlumency shield/wall isn't a thing [and, indeed, can't be - because then the legilimens you're protecting your thoughts from would realise that you were doing this...] - and nor is it the total control of any emotion other than bland calm.

occlumency is, essentially, being able to lie [or, at the very least, to bend the truth] fluently - and to manage your emotional response [including responses which appear to be unstable, like glee, anger, or sorrow] with sufficient ease that nobody ever guesses that you're lying or withholding information.

this requires a certain level of performativity. it also requires a certain level of self-awareness - and, especially, self-awareness of your negative characteristics. one of the reasons why i think harry isn't a good occlumens is because - while he's a very good liar when he knows that what he's saying is exclusively a lie - he's prone to righteousness in situations in which he knows [or thinks he knows] that what he's saying has any level of truth to it. he finds it incredibly difficult to hold his temper - that is, to manage his emotional response, or to perform anger, rather than letting it overtake him unrestrainedly - in front of people like snape or umbridge because they're wrong in how they interpret his views and behaviours, and this is something which he never learns [during the canon series, at least] to not be provoked by.

but snape is clearly aware that he has a tendency towards delighting in the misfortune of others - as well as an evident loathing for people who think that they're cleverer than he is, whom he loves misleading.

and it's this which makes him such a good occlumens - he likes lying, especially to people who are arrogant enough to believe that they've got him all figured out.

or, as he puts it in half-blood prince:

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

he has - of course - done just that. and he clearly finds it enormously entertaining - thereby making him relaxed enough to allow him to manage his emotional performance while lying - that both voldemort and bellatrix never seriously consider the fact that this might be the case...

[crimeronan]

Luz being so so so SO angry that Amity’s dealing with Odalia s h i t and knowing it’s been like this her entire life would make it hard to sympathize with Edric and Emira no? Knowing SHE had Hunter all this time, that Hunter did have her as well but that she wasn’t totally aware of what was going on may give the twins the benefit of the doubt, but I feel like she’ll be like WHY why weren’t they there for you

god, this reminds me of an ask a while back positing that hunter meets the twins and has the Exact Same Reaction for the Exact Same Reason. amity is like "oh great, they're gonna share tips on dumb shit that squicks me out" and instead a righteously indignant hunter is like WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU JUST LET HER DEAL WITH YOUR PARENTS. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE HER LIFE WORSE ON PURPOSE. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDSSS

love extending this to luz as well. luz being like hm, well. i know basically nobody has Ever said hunter and i had a typical sibling-like upbringing and that i've been told i'm way nicer than most people but i still feel qualified to be judgmental. amity your siblings are doing it wrong. i'm not like murderously furious with them or anything but i DO want to spray paint "GIT GUD" across whatever item of personal property each of them most cherishes.

[simplegenius042]

Late Music Monday and Partners-In-Law Meme

Tagged by @imogenkol

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @la-grosse-patate @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @florbelles @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink and @sledge-in-space + anyone who'd like to join.

Late Music Monday, songs for characters from The UnTitledverse, The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters. Not in that order though. Partners-In-Law Meme for my V, Judy and River. Songs and template below the cut:

Welp, here I go rambling about the parallels of Silva and Paul once more. Alright so, I think by now we've mostly gotten well-aware that Silva (and Paul) have not had good experiences in regards to religion. Most certainly due to the fact they were both born in a cult that abides by puritanism and fascist beliefs, which, by the time of Paul's birth, also gained a militaristic mindset with the introduction of the Enforcers when Adam took charge as their Prophet. The Congregation of Adam's Guard, on surface level, preaches and demands virtue and righteousness from its followers, to effectively become morally pure under their Prophet's watching eyes, especially if they wanted to see Paradise after the world falls to the Collapse when all seven Frozen Omens melt. To not adhere to or display any other qualities other than their "norm" was punished with extreme force, and by the time Adam came into charge, with death. Which explains why under the surface of the cult's message, is a foundation rooted in colonialism and xenophobia, tied up in a bow of hypocrisy that is used to justify all kinds of depraved and heinous actions the Congregation and their Prophet allows. Silva and Paul are both victims of the Congregations persecutions and discrimination. Both had been under the God-fearing foot of the Congregation, with Paul being amongst the segregated Tumultites and Silva enduring under Adam Omar's terror. Both Silva and Paul eventually reject the Congregation, (a) because the Congregation wants them dead, (b) long-term wise, especially under Adam's tyranny, the Congregation and the society it has built through fearmongering cannot survive the inevitable collapse from the insufficient resources that protects them from the environment and the spark of rebellion due to the less fortunate citizens living under the pressure of becoming "pure" and (c) the Congregation sucks. Silva and Paul instead adopt the Tumultite community's values and beliefs, especially of their first revolutionary leader, Jannah, who Paul especially aspires to be like. Finally, Paul and Silva, once in the modern world, while not believers in the predominant religions (especially in America), do not hold any ill-thought towards such groups; Silva rather admires some of the lessons spoken and wishes she could have the same comfort that their God gives to others, meanwhile Paul is only hostile to people who hide behind God to harm and oppress others... otherwise he's pretty agnostic to the whole thing. One things clear though; their experiences with the Congregation had irreversibly shattered their perceptions of being able to seek any kind of comfort under any deity, especially with the associated pain that haunts them to this day. The song below can fit either one of Silva or Paul or even both.

"First things first I'ma say all the words inside my head I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh The way that things have been, oh-ooh

Second things second Don't you tell me what you think that I could be I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh-ooh The master of my sea, oh-ooh

I was broken from a young age Taking my sulking to the masses Writing my poems for the few That look at me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me Singing from heartache, from the pain Taking my message from the veins Speaking my lesson from the brain Seeing the beauty through the...

Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Pain! You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer Pain! Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from... Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer

Third things third Send a prayer to the ones up above All the hate that you've heard has turned your spirit to a dove, oh-ooh Your spirit up above, oh-ooh

I was choking in the crowd Building my rain up in the cloud Falling like ashes to the ground Hoping my feelings, they would drown But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited till it broke open And rained down It rained down like...

Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Pain! You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer Pain! Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from... Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer

Last things last By the grace of the fire and the flames You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh-ooh The blood in my veins, oh-ooh

But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited till it broke open And rained down It rained down like...

Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Pain! You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer Pain! Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from... Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer!

Eden "Evie" Bloodleech, formerly known as Evie Jackson, was picked up and became an experiment for Sir Enigma Malvolio. Unfortunately, she survived the process and became one of his rare human successes, which was a mindset that was further encouraged by her apparent likeness for her "rebirth" and led him to continue his absurd quest to evolve humans to a level he sees as perfect for them, allowing Evie to officially join the Ruins of the Midnight Rise as both a valuable member and a prized success story. He sent her out in his stead for diplomatic purposes, allowing her to use her abilities to charm potential investors and allies to further his illicit research. Eventually she was sent back to her original universe in my An Invite To Wine And Dine WIP (set in The Invitation) to infiltrate the Alexander Family in order to dethrone Dracula and take the three families he held control under her wing... or rather tendril. And... she's rather a show-off (byproduct of being one of Malvolio's rare favorites I guess):

"There's only two types of people in the world The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe Well, baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl Don't like the backseat, gotta be first (Oh, oh) I'm like the ringleader, I call the shots (Call the shots) I'm like a firecracker, I make it hot

When I put on a show I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break I'm like a performer, the dance floor is my stage Better be ready, hope that you feel the same

All eyes on me in the center of the ring Just like a circus When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip Just like a circus Don't stand there watching me, follow me Show me what you can do Everybody let go, we make a dance floor Just like a circus."

And finally, a I'm sure I've used before, but am gonna do it again because "I'm So Sorry" not only slaps, but fits the main antagonist of The UnTitledverse's first saga, Edward Carmine, quite well, if you squint. He's a menace to society and should not be in charge of any leadership roles, even as a CEO. Edward's the type of man to burn all his bridges and blame a child he manipulated for it. Diabolical man that just won't get the hint and stay dead. Extremely petty and arrogant, as antagonists like him should be. By far, amongst one of my favourite antagonist OCs (though that's probably because he's one of the first ones to be developed). Listen below:

"About time for anyone telling you off for all your deeds No sign the roaring thunder stopped in cold to read (No time) I get mine and make no excuses Waste of precious breath (No time) The sun shines on everyone Everyone, love yourself to death

So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go You'll never be loved till you've made your own You gotta face up, you gotta get yours You never know the top till you get too low

A son of a stepfather A son of a, I'm so sorry A son of a stepfather A son of a, I'm so sorry

No lies and no deceiving, man is what he loves I keep tryin' to conceive that death is from above (No time) I get mine and make no excuses Waste of precious breath (No time) The sun shines on everyone Everyone, love yourself to death

So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go You'll never be loved till you've made your own You gotta face up, you gotta get yours You never know the top till you get too low

A son of a stepfather A son of a, I'm so sorry A son of a stepfather A son of a, I'm so sorry

Life isn't always what you think it'd be Turn your head for one second and the tables turn And I know, I know that I did you wrong But will you trust me when I say that I'll make it up to you Somehow? Somehow?"

And lastly, a Partners-In-Law meme for my V (actual name Min-Ji "Vasilisa" Choi), her new partner Judy Álvarez and her amicable ex River Ward. [Note: I'm assuming affection refers to their feelings for their mutual partner. Also I never romanced River and am just taking taking whatever information I can recall or from the internet in regards to his preferences and sexuality and the information I've found (especially the wiki compared to everything else) is quite conflicting so I'm going with Bi-curious]: