#she's still actively making the choice to continue this instead of moving on

[frogoru]

colored something from a little while ago

[bengiyo]

Heesu in Class 2 Understands How to Reach a Climax

I'm so amped by Heesu in Class 2 Episode 9. We've been dealing with viewer tension for weeks on whether the show is even good, whether it betrays its source material with its changes, whether the expansions detract from the core narrative, and more. After reading the manwha to understand the criticisms, I am here to say plainly that all the extra hetero plotlines in the show were essential and absolutely paid off in this episode. We have been saying for weeks that the secrets our gay boys are holding have been hurting themselves and those they care about. This episode delved directly into not only the pain these secrets case, but also the emotional work required to process them and move forward.

Ji Yu Works So Well Because She Leads By Example

With Seung Won, his continued hesitancy with Hee Su has led to his own pouty spiral because he thinks Hee Su is going to confess to Chan Young instead. He is rightfully mad at Ji Yu when he pushes back on her insistence that he confess with the almost-insurmountable struggle to put yourself out there and admit your queerness. Ji Yu is also right when she says there's no way else but forward. Unrequited love that goes unspoken is fundamentally nonproductive and only leads to bitterness (something Something's Not Right is showing well right now).

With Ji Yu, she continues to lead by example for these boys. Rather than simply scold Seung Won with her insistence that he confess to Hee Su, she also makes the brave choice to make her Summer persona public. She puts on a brave front with Chan Young about how the next phase of her audition will be public, but she still admits that it was terrifying. I love the show giving the straight audience members a way to connect to the fear of publicity that closeted folks fear by giving Ji Yu something important that she was nervous to share publicly. The show undergirds the importance of having people in your corner with her newfound relationship with Chan Young because he's able to give her needed emotional support, which she does in turn.

The Tennis Plotline Is Meant to Parallel The Fear of Being Rejected By Your Family

Similarly to Ji Yu, Chan Young has to face something that comes with real personal stakes with his family. I've resisted counter-posting about the tennis criticism about the importance and role of sports narratives in drams, but now is the time. Many people have played sports, and Chan Young's sports plotline gives the uninitiated drama viewers a chance to compare his experience with wanting something (tennis) that his parents are actively punishing him for pursuing with Hee Su's fears of rejection with Chan Young.

The show times his public fight with Hee Su perfectly, because Chan Young has been staying with Hee Su for days, and has asked him directly about what's going on. Chan Young is literally not able to feel safe or happy living at home if he pursues his love of tennis, and he's staying with his best friend in the meantime. When Hee Su also rightfully pushes back on Chan Young that admitting his crush isn't an easy thing, Chan Young is also correct that it wasn't easy for him either but that he trusted Hee Su with it because Hee Su is important to him.

It's fundamentally about trust. Chan Young trusts Hee Su implicitly, and he's hurt that Hee Su doesn't trust him, too. When Chan Young took a big risk to continue to pursue tennis, he found safety and shelter at Hee Su's home. It's clear that Hee Su's sisters love Chan Young, because he fights with them like a bratty little brother. He loves his friend. His friend is clearly struggling with something. He's hurt and confused that Hee Su won't tell him important things when he entrusts all of his weaknesses with Hee Su.

This show also understands that drama viewers who love sports stories won't accept unreasonable outcomes. Chan Young has not been conditioning for months. There's no way he can compete at a high level in singles right now, but he showed heart and determination in his loss. He's skilled enough to perform well in doubles, and he's committed himself to another year of training. That is the appropriate resolution to his sports narrative, which is properly capped by his brother coming to support him.

Chan Young has held his own resentment about feeling secondary to his brother, and yet we learned today that the brother also gave up his love for tennis to pursue the medical career his parents wanted for him. He looked back at his little brother being brave enough to say no, and he gave his brother his full support. With only three scenes across the entire show they managed to sell an entire arc.

Hee Su's Sisters Show That Our Families Will Also Be the Ones to Help Us

This show doubles down on its commitment to showing how withholding important feelings from your loved ones hurts both parties by then turning to Hee Jeong, who reveals that she's going to go back to studying to join her ex abroad in the program she bailed. I loved her telling this important thing to her siblings in the morning and then having a morning walk with Hee Su, because she unintentionally gives him the perspective he needed to move forward.

For all the commentary we've gotten about the additional time Ji Yu and Chan Young have gotten in this show, there's been little complaining about how much time has been given to the sisters' romances. In this episode, Hee Jae is struggling with her on-and-off boyfriend through what seems to be a lack of vulnerability and sincerity in their relationship. However, Hee Jeong reminds Hee Su that regardless of her romance with her ex, he's still her best friend, and she must honor that friendship if it still means anything to her. What an excellent way to set up that forthcoming confession.

This Drama Corrected Lies in the Right Order

I've read the manwha, and I did not like the order of operations when we reached the climax. I absolutely love that Seung Won corrects the misunderstanding on his attraction to Ji Yu before he and Hee Su say the important things to each other tomorrow, and I am absolutely ecstatic that Hee Su told Chan Young that he had a crush on him.

I did NOT like the manwha having Hee Su tell Chan Young that he had a crush on Seung Won as his way of coming clean. I understand the choice because the reader knows that Chan Young already knows about Hee Su, but it is important for Hee Su to confess to Chan Young first because he needs to honor their friendship. Chan Young needs answers that Hee Su has actively refused to give. I am still floating because of that ending scene.

Most importantly, I like that Seung Won is still sitting in his tension that Hee Su would still try with Chan Young. Not only does he have to worry about his own potential rejection if Hee Su hasn't moved on, he also has to worry about how this would hurt his friend Ji Yu. However, Seung Won did the right thing in such a quick moment that it's significance is each to miss: he told Hee Su and everyone else gathered) that he doesn't like Ji Yu; he's just her only friend. When these two confess tomorrow, Hee Su won't be doing it from a place of misunderstanding who Seung Won likes.

This Has Been an Excellent Love Rhombus

I have absolutely loved watching this show. Ahn Ji Ho has put on a great performance as Lee Hee Su, and I really love that this drama team took the bones of Heesu in Class 2 and turned it into a kdrama. We can discuss into oblivion whether they should have turned a BL webtoon into a gay kdrama, but damn did they make a good gay drama out of this.

I beef constantly with BL being unwilling to face the queer truths that the rest of us live with when it comes to being honest about who we are. The original webtoon did not exist in the bubble, and I have the utmost respect for the adaptation team in not showing it into the bubble. This show said loudly and plainly TWICE today that it isn't easy for queer people to make the choice to come out, and contrasted that with their loved ones all making bold, difficult choices to put themselves out there as well.

This is probably going to be show of the year for me. I'll see you all tomorrow for the finale.

[shepandem]

I have a hard time when little things that I was expecting change suddenly. For instance, yesterday was a hard day. I had a team meeting with my care providers this morning, and I was getting frustrated and anxious because one of my people was running late. It didn't stop the meeting from happening, and everyone else was happy to continue and catch her up when she arrived, but I got mad and overwhelmed because I was stuck on the fact that she was late, instead of moving on with the meeting. If yesterday hadn't been hard, I would still have been upset about it, but not as much as I was today.

Later, when my executive functioning therapist and I were meeting individually, she said it's important to know how to adjust my plans or expectations when little things happen to disrupt them.

She drew me a flow chart that showed the zones of regulation, and how I might need to change my expectations for how plans go if I'm not in the green zone, because going into something when you're already dysregulated can mean that if something unexpected happens, even if it's small, it can be enough to make you explode. That's what happened this morning when I went into the meeting not really noticing that I was already in a bad mood.

I built the flowchart on my talker, and this is what I came up with.

If I'm in the green zone, I can proceed with my activity as normal, or sometimes, depending on what it is, I can be flexible and decide to do the activity a different day.

If I'm in the blue, yellow or red zones, I need to make a choice about how to handle either myself or the activity, so that if something happens, I can handle it without freaking out. I can ask for help to manage myself or the activity, or I can choose to change something about the activity to make it more doable, like doing it somewhere else, or with someone else, etc.

My homework is to practise noticing what zone I'm in before I go into a new activity, and make choices about how to handle the activity based on my zone. This stuff is hard!

[rpgchoices]

Very short non spoiler review of Veilguard act 1

I played only to chapter 8, which should be still in act 1, but I am not going to add any spoilers. This is a very generic bulletpoint list of opinions.

GAMEPLAY

Intro is great, art is pretty good too, even the characters

combat is very fun, but I still preferred Inquisition combat

the world is extremely empty. There is one or two talking npc for each faction and that is. Secondary characters do not exist. Quests are all generic (ex. Random nameless character "hey, this person disappeared, can you find them?" with no extra story or explanation)

barely any animals or surprises in the world. The only exploration factor is looking at landscapes and doing some puzzles

there are only three type of puzzles: move object into place to activate door, destroy blight to free door to open, destroy crystal to free door to open. That is it.

choices that matters are identified by the game with a sign, and you will also have a sign that will let you know which dialogue was affected by what

loved the jumping around and the sliding down

you can pet any cat or dog

the world feels empty, empty of lore, empty of characters, empty of animals, quests, people

CHARACTERS

companions are the only characters in the whole game, plus a few associated characters to them

barely any banter and the only banter present is very superficial or more on the funny side

good thing is that if banter is interrupted by a combat it will continue later

my favorite part was seeing characters talk and interact in the lighthouse

do not expect cameo, and if there are cameo they are very short and very generic

companions are very good, very kind, very nice, with little consistency between their characterization and how they behave (ex. Neve is a detective, but she never asks anything or acts differently from other characters or even seem interested in what is going on)

companions seem almost flanderized, with mainly one character trait each

dialogue is sometimes extremely clunky, with "textbook answers" that seem written with AI instead of a writer. It is all "tell, do not show", so it is more likely that a character says "I am shaken" over actually showing how they feel

characters seem to act often like exposition machines, and knows things they definitely should not know

ROOK / PLAYER

amazing character creation options

I played as elf and it has little reactivity, maybe a bit less than Inquisition

the faction has more reactivity, and there are multiple dialogues with your companions about it, mainly little comments that make it feels like Rook has a backstory (much better than inquisition)

Rook facial expressions and movements are a bit strange sometimes, making it seems like he is always smiling and happy even when he should not be

the "purple" dialogue options are a bit meh, definitely not as funny as DA2, and I think "red" might fit more (in my attempt to try and make a more serious Rook)

you cannot really shape Rook's personality

also you cannot disagree with your companions, there is no dialogue choice to disagree or fight with them like in previous games. Most of the dialogue seems to be divided in a few categories: Exposition requests; Flirting; Supportive comment; Joking comment but still supportive.

STORY AND QUESTS

It does not feel like Dragon Age.

The game take theories and secret information from previous games and make it the standard world knowledge

there is no urgency

side quests are forgettable

story is very weirdly paced

each companion has a post-recruitment quest to know them

factions and world seems sanitized. We do not hear about the darker side of the Crows, or about Tevinter's slavery if not in passing

the story is okay but would have benefitted A LOT from hiding the villains and introducing them later. When I say a lot I mean from a 6/10 game to a 8/10 game.

also never thought I would say this, but I miss the Chantry. There is barely any mention of any lore

also only three choices matter - but do they? it felt like everything was a blank state

ROMANCES

By the end of act 1 you can still flirt with everyone.

A lot of flirting options for all characters and if you skip some of them you still get the next ones

I had no romance specific scene yet so it looks like you can flirt with everyone for quite a while before deciding

the flirting is all very PG13 and it is more allusions than actual overt flirting (I mainly flirted with Davrin and Emmrich)

for now I have seen no characters flirting with each other's

I think around chapter 7 and onwards the pacing gets much better, and the writing of the quests a bit more interesting. It honestly felt like a different game in some parts, and I have no idea what happened there. It feels like the game is:

Amazing prologue, probably the best DA prologue yet

First recruitment character and first mission - completely downhill with writing

Pretty slow and weird paced then until chapter 7-8

[qveenofgluttony]

Beelzebub's Masquerade Ball Schedule

Mun’s Note: This is not a strict schedule.* I will move activities/events around slightly if needed or if something comes up. This is just a general outline of what to expect during the event. Once again, the event itself is not chronologically locked. Even before the event resumes the next couple of days or when it ends everyone is still welcome to continue event threads if they wish. If you would like to participate and still have not received an invitation, please feel free to like this post.

*Reminder that this schedule is in Central Standard Time (CST)

Friday

6 pm - Opening Words/Guest Arrival

- I will post an opening drabble that will kick off the event. After which, muns are welcome to make their own posts or drabbles of their muses arriving at the ball. Please tag either of my blogs @/infernal-feminae or @/qveenofgluttony if you would like me to reblog your arrival posts for visibility purposes.

7 pm - Beelza Opening Performance

- I will be posting a lyric drabble of Beelza performing for the guests. Muses are welcome to make dash commentary with their reactions or interact with Beelza afterward if they wish.

8 pm - Costume Contest

- I will post a link of all the submitted costumes so everyone can vote for the one they like best. I will try to give guests a couple of hours to vote before announcing the winner of the costume contest.

9 pm - 10 pm - Open Floor Dancing

- Pretty much down time for muses to mingle with other guests, grab drinks, explore the venue, etc.

10 pm - Costume Contest Winner Announcement

- The top three finalists and the winner of the costume contest will be announced!

11 pm - Midnight - Cool down

- More mingling, dancing, food and drink until guests are ready to retire to their guest rooms or go home and rest until the next day.

Saturday

3 pm - Ball Resumes

- Just as it says. The ball resumes!

4 - 5 pm - Dancing “Contest”

- The generated pairings of the muses participating in the dance contest will be announced. The paired muses are encouraged to interact with each other during this time. Muses who are not participating are also free to comment or react. Once the hour is over the paired muses are free to continue to interact or leave the dance floor. If you would still like to participate in the dancing contest, you can like this post here.

5 - 7 pm - Open Floor Dancing

- The rest of the guests are allowed to re-enter the dance floor after the contest is over. Also more down time for muses to mingle with other guests, grab drinks, etc.

7 pm - Verosika Mayday Performance

- Same as Beelza’s, I will be posting a lyric drabble of Verosika performing for the guests.

8 pm - Midnight - Cool down

- Another chill time for the guests to mingle, drink and eat, and dance.

Sunday

3 pm - Ball resumes

- Just as it says. The ball resumes!

4 - 8 pm - Open Mic

- Beelza will open the stage to anyone who wishes to entertain the rest of the guests with their musical talents. If muns would like, they are free to write a short drabble of their muses “performing” with a song of their choice. Please tag either of my blogs @/infernal-feminae or @/qveenofgluttony if you would like me to reblog it for visibility purposes.

8 - 11 pm - Open Floor Dancing

- Down time for muses to mingle, dance, etc.

10 pm - Beelzebub’s Identity Announcement

- Beelza will invite the guests to come up and try their luck at guessing Beelzebub’s identity before she reveals herself. The first muse to guess correctly will receive their reward. If no one can correctly guess then she will reveal herself instead.

11 pm - Guest Closing Performance

- A mysterious guest will give the closing performance!

[snaccpopstudios]

Long time, no see, Tumblr!

Hello Everyone! It’s been a while, and we’re so sorry about the silence on our blog! But we have some big, important updates to share with you all. The entire team has been extremely busy with both personal, real-life responsibilities and with game production! On top of this, we have also had a big change in management and production, so we’ve been getting a handle on that at the same time.

I’ll start this by stating that I’m Tobias (he/him), the new social media and community manager, and I’ll be bringing this update to you all! And, all Patreon links provided (minus the ones near the end) are public posts, so you don’t need to be subscribed to a tier to view them, but you still need to be 18+! Now, this goes a bit back, so get a warm drink and get comfy to read this big post because if you haven’t been on the Twitter or Patreon, you’ve missed quite a lot (which is on us entirely! We’re sorry again!) In September 2023, we released a few screenshots on our Patreon showing off some script revisions for the demo of “Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack.” (read them + the update more in detail here!: https://www.patreon.com/posts/sunny-day-jack-90099502) As stated in that post, “A lot of grammatical errors, run-on sentences, etc.. are also being combed out in favor of: - Content that foreshadows future events in the game - Content that is easier to read - And content that more clearly portrays the rules, lore, and restrictions of the supernatural/horror elements in this world

Additionally, more content in general, will be added. Not a substantial amount, but enough to flesh out scenes and make things make more sense now that the world/game has been almost completely outlined.” This post was met with a lot of confusion, as SDJ fans mentioned that they feared the game was being toned down from its original concept. And while our re-writes do actively remove dialogue that unintentionally may be perceived as dubious consent or pressuring the player into sexual/romantic choices, there are no intentions to remove yandere/horror content! We cleared this all up in another Patreon post; a small QnA (here’s that one, again, more in detail!: https://www.patreon.com/posts/q-yandere-is-to-91034309). 

You may be saying “But Tobias! On the Kickstarter, it said there was soft, dubious consent!” And yes, that is true. However, as stated in the 2nd link provided, Our publisher at the time, Project Enso, originally put that warning up. Sauce (they/them) was not happy with that, but PE properly explained that people who were uncomfortable with the infamous "No Route" hadn't had that warning, and thus felt surprised.

This twitter post was the beginning of Sauce’s quest to remove that warning. (https://x.com/SunnyDayJack/status/1560782320533118976?s=20)

[Disclaimer: PE had nothing to do with the writing of the content. They just had to do what was safest!]

Now, you may have noticed that at the beginning of this post, I mentioned a big change in management. In a post made on Patreon in late October 2023, we got introduced to our new Director, Biscuit (she/her)! She’s previously made devlogs on the Patreon, but she’s since been made the Head of Operations for SnaccPop! These are big and important posts, so I really recommend reading them (as well as the previous posts I’ve linked) in their entirety on the Patreon! - Status Update: New leadership, steps moving forward, future of SnaccPop: https://www.patreon.com/posts/status-update-of-91558879 - Q&A: Project Enso departure, AphroDesia, Deadlines and more: https://www.patreon.com/posts/q-project-enso-91850042

But the main points of these two posts above are, 

Sauce will no longer be taking a management role at SnaccPop anymore. Instead, they will take a much necessary backstep to focus solely on creating art and supporting the studio through their continuous work.

The studio has Biscuit as its front-facing figure, but she will be helped out by Perrie (she/her, our current Voice Acting director), Nana (she/her, our current Art director), and other individuals who are key to keeping the content going smoothly at a decent pace. 

SWWSDJ is no longer being released as a full game in November 2024, and is now having Episodic Releases! (Acts 1, 2, 3, and 4)

The Patreon rewards will remain entirely the same. Sauce, as it has been said before, will keep working with us all the way!

Some of you may be wondering what happened with Project Enso and why we parted ways with them, you can read their parting message here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/official-from-92484578

We want to say thank you to Project Enso for all the great work they did for us, however, we believe this decision is the best next step forward to make Sunny Day Jack as best of a game as it can be.

Now, onto some fun stuff! Speed round!

An AphroDesia Game?! The customer is always right! But that doesn't mean that they're necessarily pleasant to deal with…   Available to our $10+ Patreon supporters, you can play a demo of the upcoming mini dating-sim featuring our beloved cutie-pie, TMon, called “ConciUrges.” Featuring 4 endings, two of which are NSFW!

Bachelor of the Month is back! We’re introducing our new icy, and first plus-sized bachelor for the month of December, Jacob Frost (who’s voice has yet to be revealed, but his look has been!) He’s draped out in front of a cozy fireplace, waiting for you to get to know him for $5+~

Another SDJ Demo? You betcha! We understand that there's been lots and lots of content for Sunny Day Jack, and that includes multiple demos that we've released in the past. However, we want to release one last demo. One that includes our new artstyle and script changes that reflect our ideology much more clearly so there aren't any doubts as we move into the future. The release date is TBD!

WE'RE HIRING!! Are you an 18+ NSFW writer and/or an audio engineer? Then you're the person(s) for us! Apply for the position(s) on the Patreon post or the Twitter post!  THE POSISTION IS ONLY FOR THOSE 18+. PROOF OF AGE WILL BE REQUIRED.

Project: DramaBoy As stated in the above linked posts in #5 (more in detail on the Patreon link!) We’re starting up a new project, Project: DramaBoy! As an explanation to non-paying patrons who may have missed our upload of our first teaser (Impish BF Surprises You on Christmas),  we'll be looking to release (hopefully) weekly NSFW and SFW POV Boyfriend audios! Sometimes they'll include characters you know and love-- such as Jambee or Sunny Day Jack. However-- sometimes, they'll include interesting beta concepts voiced by the same VAs from our mainstay projects! Read all about it and see the SLIVER of the list of BFs we’re planning to bring you at https://www.patreon.com/posts/project-dramaboy-94652067 (available to read for free!)

That's all for this update! We know it's lengthy and long overdue, so thank you for your continued support and for taking the time to read! ^_^

[nightscythe]

xxvi. paramnesia

→ konrad curze x aletheia [oc, she/her] → 12.1k, nsfw 18+, tw; mentions of parent death, murder → pre-heresy, oh he loves his princess aletheia he does!! but a chaos god doesn't like her!!! continued from viridity

“This path is not yours to take lightly.” Though his words cut through the air like a blade, his voice has somehow softened. “You think you can walk beside me, Aletheia? That you can bear the weight of the choices I make? That you can look into the eyes of the guilty and cast judgment without flinching?"

“Your hands will be stained with the blood of those you assume innocent. Would you survive that?” He steps closer, looming over her now. As he leans to her, his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Would I?”

“For you, yes.” Her words are cursed with assimilation. She can be part of his world. One day she may not accept it, but one day she’d be past this life entirely. “Or shall I walk another path, one not prophesied? Is that what you would prefer?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

He had never been given time to learn.

No soul had graced him with the knowledge he wished so desperately to hold, no teacher had ever made his way to him. Everything he knew, he understood, was a making of his own mind that had developed on the streets of a planet that tortured him. The animals that killed over a scrap of food left in the streets were the closest thing he had to academics. The men and women who left a child on the streets were his teaching that isolation and abandonment were inevitable. 

The sweet face of a woman, in all her elegance and allure, did little to show him more than he already knew. 

The day had been longer than most others. Since the moment the doors opened, his attention was used on pleasing the noble households and counts who wished to ask him for whatever they considered useful. From the very first request he had realised that none of them understood him, how he wished to rule or how he aimed to support the people of Nostramo, instead opting to burden him with selfish and meaningless asks. After he had declined seven prepositions in a row, they must have understood that he was not in a forgiving mood, nor was he here to help them. 

As the day passed, as more people he did not care for approached him, he found himself back in the thoughts that usually plagued him around this time. The plans he had made, those he knew needed terrorising, his hatred for the world around him. Cutting through each thought, though, was the face of that sweet woman, in all her charm and reticent reserved for him directly. 

The voices in the room are drowned out, only thoughts of her captivating him for the time. They spoke very little unless he asked for it, he saw her sneaking down the halls to avoid anyone, he felt her curious gaze when they were together. He’d cherished the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes creased when she felt joy, how gentle she was with everyone. 

They were not thoughts he could easily push aside. Hours, it felt like, had passed before he was given the opportunity to excuse himself from the hideous room and find peace somewhere he truly wished to be. Ignoring the calls of his advisors, or anyone who wished to tell him something other than her whereabouts, he went to the one place he usually found her. 

He opens the door expecting to see her on the bed, ready to jump and apologise for not being ready for him – like that could have been anticipated. However, he’s greeted with only an empty room, the bed untouched since the maid had pressed the sheets, the chairs empty, and not a trace of activity left within the room. 

“Aletheia?” he calls, searching the supposedly empty room for her presence. 

He could feel her, somewhere, but she somehow hid herself from him. He takes a step into the room, looking around the back of the door just in case. Everything was still. That was until a door on the opposite side of the room started to creak open, as though something had moved inside. 

“Aletheia,” he repeats, patience falling thin. He moves towards the door, clasping the handle and opening it with one swift tug. Expecting to see her wide eyes staring back at him, he’s unpredictably met bounds of books and records, old relics, and between it all, a pile of sheets and old clothes that seem to be… breathing. “Are you in there?”

Without a response, he hesitantly grasps a handful of the material, pulling it from the pile. Beneath sits the wide eyes he already expected to see, caught off-guard by his motion, a old looking headset covering her ears and some kind of device between her fingers. 

She slowly reaches for the headset, pulling it down from her ears and letting it hang around her neck. He can hear what resembles to be a woman talking, though the faint words can’t be made out. “I… I’m very sorry, your majesty.”

“Why are you in a cupboard?” he asks, ignoring her apology. 

“I’m not sure,” she answers. His frown tells her clearly enough that her answer was as stupid as all the others he had heard today. Luckily, she had found a voice that was often lost around him. “To tell the truth, I was… bored?”

“Bored?”

“I have read every book,” she tells him. He looks to the numerous bookshelves that were once in order, now untidy with paper sticking from them. “I wondered if there may have been more in here.”

He doesn’t reply. Truthfully, it was somewhat amusing. Of all the people he saw every day, none of them had ever gone past his expectations; Aletheia managed to break all of them.

“I found this,” she says, holding out the device in her hand, “it’s… clearly not a book.”

He takes the device from her, carefully inspecting it for any ideas to what it may be, as Aletheia removes the connected headset from her neck. There’s no indication, she he assumes it must be a recording of a someone historic who lived in here at a time. He takes the headset from her and places both on the table to the side of the door. 

He looks down at her for a moment, or two. She shifts the clothes and sheets from around her, clearing a path for her to stand. When she’s free from it all, she looks back up to him, finding him with his hand held out to help her up. 

Though cautious, she takes his hand and allows him to pull her up effortlessly. He skin feels so warm on his, it sends a silent shiver down his spine, though the feeling is gone when she stands and takes her hand back. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“Do not call me that,” he tells her, “we are married.”

She looks like she’s about to protest but stops herself before anything leaves her mouth. Instead, she nods once and asks a simple question. “What should I call you?”

Well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, in truth.

“I don’t know,” he answers. Night Haunter was a name to be feared, and he did not want that from her. He was more than just Dark King to her. “Do not call me anything.”

She doesn’t answer straight away, but eventually nods in agreement. She still struggles to look him in the eyes, to answer him with conviction or fumbling over her own words, but it didn’t particularly matter to him. He no longer felt like he was needed to protect her. No, it was more than that. 

The quiet between them seems unable to be broken. He had come here with specific intentions, but not finding her where he expected, the plan in his mind was no longer as easy to execute. Words outside of commands were never his strong point, just as patience was a long forgotten ideal that he thought, one day, he may understand. 

“I…” He doesn’t finish his thought, caught by her vigilant eyes that didn’t expect his words. She stands with her hands behind her back, her shorter figure elongated by the thin dress she wore without the usual layers beneath. His eyes, drawn down to the curve of her breast and slope of her waist, raise back to the rose-pink lips he had been drawn to the first time he saw her. 

He doesn’t speak, only approaches her with clear intent. He wastes no time in positioning her how he wanted her, only pressing his lips to her own to kiss her deeply. For a moment, the world outside of her doesn’t exist. Knowing he won’t harm her, that he could tame himself for her, drove his passion beyond just wanting to kiss her. 

Her eyes are closed when he pulls back from her. Her fear had not dissipated, but she may have started to realise that he was not all bad. He had to be like that for people to listen to him, to bring justice to those who deserved it. She was starting to understand. 

“I want you,” he tells her. His words are laced with anything sweet he can muster. She’d never truly understand. He wanted her to cure the lasting effects of abandonment, isolation, and torture. He knew she would bring him more. “I want to share myself, with you.”

Aletheia neglects him an answer. He didn’t know what to say. He barely knew the words to navigate anything outside of ally and enemy, punishment and justice. He was trying so hard to replicate what he had heard from others. 

He takes her hand in his once more to lead her towards the bed. They’d laid here before together; he vividly remembers the feelings he had that night in this exact spot. The first time he had been vulnerable with her in any way, the first time he wanted to trust another. He sits on the side of the bed, leading her to stand directly in front of him, their height somewhat equal now. 

“Take it off,” he tells her, “the dress, and anything else.”

 He watches as she follows his ask. The dress is dropped down to the floor after some time spent messing with the strings at the front, the thin layer underneath pulled over her head and the matching shorts equally pushed to the ground. She stands, timid as she avoids his eyes, thighs pressed together and arms by her side with her hands balled into fists. 

Not a blemish marked her skin. He didn’t mean to look like he was critiquing her, but he was obsessed with looking at more. The traces of freckles from the summer on her shoulders, the dusting of hair over her body, the faint outline of veins that run where her skin is particularly thin. So fragile, so easily to spoil. 

“Knees,” he says, avoiding her gaze. He widens his legs, making room for her between his clothed thighs. She indulges his request, sinking so gracefully so she was once again beneath him. He evades her still as he removes his pants, the long-sleeved shirt also removed and tossed somewhere to the side. He finds her looking at him, though at his eyes, at the scars and marks which tarnished his paler skin. “Come here, Aletheia.”

“Sorry,” she whispers, shuffling forward on her knees. She kneels exactly where he wanted her without the guidance, her hands on her thighs as she waits for further instruction. 

He feels her eyes again on his body, something which unintentionally makes him conscious to her thoughts. He had been proud of bearing evidence of his prowess until now. He had never considered what another had thought of them, or how they made him look. 

He places a hand on the side of her head, tips of his fingers sinking into the strands of her silken hair. He wished to be gentler. She knew what he wanted. Without any need to speak, she leans forward to start what he had originally thought of. That need, want. He takes a deep breath as he feels those supple lips on the end of his cock. No need to move her, she was doing it all herself. 

As she takes his whole length into her mouth, he can’t help but twist his fingers into her hair, his thighs tensing under her touch. She uses one to keep her balance, the very edges of her nails touching his skin. He was susceptible to anything at that time, senses lost in a haze of unfamiliar gratification. 

He can feel her warmth subsiding as she moves her mouth back down his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut, teeth pressed into his bottom lip with such force he can feel the metallic taste on the tip of his tongue. As she repeats the motion, he opens his eyes again and looks down to her. He’s met with her gazing up at him, the doe eyes she usually sported accompanied by the slight prickle of tears, her dark lashes such a contrast to her skin. He swallows, hard, closing his eyes once more and using his hand to guide up and down on as much of his cock as she could take – though really, it was more so he had something to do with his hand. 

But he grew tired of just this. As enjoyable as it was, and how the image of her staring up at him would be forever burned into his mind, he wished for more than just a mouth, or a hand.

He pulls her from him with the fingers still firmly in her hair. Worry washes over her face for a moment, but when he puts his hand under her upper arm to get her to rise, she just seems confused. 

“Stand,” he tells her, ushering her up. He numbs himself to the pulsating of his cock, begging to feel her, as he supports her to climb onto his thighs. Unconventional, perhaps, but he wanted to feel her close. He didn’t wish to have her lay beneath him, subject to his movements and actions – he wanted to give the opportunity back to her. 

A doubt of her innocence runs through his mind for a second. She needed such little help, this couldn’t be as new to her. No, she would not have lied. They were made for each other. He was meant to find her, this was natural to them, intuition. He can feel her womanhood, just above his cock, and his legs trembled with need to feel her around him. How pathetic he must look to be like his over a woman. How love is such a weakness for men.

He tries and he tries to shake the niggling feeling at the back of his head but as he slips his cock into her, feeling her fingers claw at his shoulder and the sound of her heavenly cry, its all that can overcome him. Jealousy. Rage. Virtue. 

“You,” he mutters, teeth gritted, fingers grasping into her skin. One hand rests on her chest, delicate bones of her ribcage just beneath his grasp, the other is on the curve of her rear engorged in her velvet of her skin. He rolls her back on his cock to hear another of her cries. “You are the reason this is happening to me.”

She didn’t seem to concern herself with the meaning of his words. She looks up to him, lips parted as she pushes her body back down onto his. Did she crave a release, too? There’s merely millimetres between their faces, his lips ghosting her cheeks as he uses his hands to move her where he needed her. “How do I love you?”

Her eyes widen at his words, but he stops her thoughts with a kiss. Rough, no care for her fragility now. He needed to feel it, to feel her want him the way he needed her. He pulls back from her, eyes locked as she whimpers for more. She brings her hand to his face now, holding his cheek and jaw to kiss him once more, but he stops her to finish his though. “I… I do think that I…”

A groan leaves his lips before he can finish his words. Perhaps the thought of it alone was enough for him. Regardless, his fingers grip onto her harder than before as he pushes for what he wanted. 

The desperation must have been obvious. Aletheia’s holds him tighter, stealing another kiss to create a gut-deep groan of desire. She listened for a moment, silent as his sounds elicited almost a purr from her, her hips rolling down onto his with more drive, more ache. As he felt the knot in his stomach tighten, he gave her more, audibly acknowledging her. 

He cradles her, solace found in the burning of her skin as she pulls back from him. His hips stutter, though he does what he can to drive himself forward and ignore his own feelings, wanting to see to see her like this for longer. Her nails rake across his skin, wordless begging from the pleasure she derived from him. Their breaths were heavy, almost synchronised somehow, and he yearned to have every part of her at that moment. 

He was only a man.

Love does make men weak. 

****

Aletheia had grown used to waking with another beside her. She’d roll onto her side, expecting to see the dark hair and pale skin of her husband, usually hiding behind the guise of sleep until she rose and started to get ready for the day with whichever maid was on duty for her today. She enjoyed it, actually. She found comfort in knowing that the nights were never spent alone, she was safe from the horrors that swam in the darkness in the presence of another. Sleepless nights felt like something of the past. 

Except this morning, she was alone, and it felt like she’d been taken back to the start all over again. 

The bed was cold. He’d left some time ago, if he even had stayed past their nightly activity. She blushed at the thought of it, though sent the thoughts to the back of her head as she sat up to examine the room. 

Clothes gone; scent gone. Not even the memory of his presence lingered with her. 

It was bittersweet to not have the feeling of him watching her as she was dressed. She did little to resist the maid tugging at her hair or pulling the corset too tight around her waist. It was mentioned somewhere along the line that she was required in the throne room and that was the reason for extra formalities today. Her hair was braided and held in place with pins, her subtle make-up was drawn with the expertise of an old-time painter, and by the end of it, her maid was completely satisfied with her efforts. 

Yet Aletheia couldn’t explain the emptiness inside her. She walked the corridors like a child on the midnight streets, afraid of the inevitable. It was as though she knew, the side of him that had been so gentle with her, had held and cherished her through every word and movement, was no longer there. 

She entered the room with the valour of a recruit. His throne was empty, as were all other places he could be. The chill that ran through the room led her to the balcony, despite the apprehension in each of her steps. She could see him stood there, admiring the streets of his own creation, the silence eerie as it always came to be. She watched him for a moment. The black feathers of his cloak were blowing in the residual wind, but otherwise he remained still. She could hear her own heartbeat, but nothing more. 

“Aletheia,” he calls, snapping her from her disassociation. 

She drops her head as she walks towards him, hoping to not meet his gaze until she understood why he wished to not be around her. Her place is by his side, which she unenthusiastically takes this day – and it didn’t take long for him to notice. He looks down at her from the side, dark eyes bearing little emotion today, only burning holes into her side. She only looks down at the street. 

“Many criticise me,” he says, looking away from her. She wonders why he has asked her to come here when he has little to say. A test, perhaps? After all this time preparing her with kind words and empty promises? It would seem fair. His hands are placed onto the rail, skin covered with leather gloves. “But you are honest. Will you tell me the truth?”

She nods twice. 

“No words?” His voice touches her with an essence of irritation. She looks forward still. “Fine, no words are needed. Do you think I am cruel?”

Cruel?

The word runs over in her head more times than she could count. She looks up to him, brows pulled together as she wonders whether he had actually asked her what he intended to mean. “Towards your people, do you mean?”

“What else would I mean,” he answers her, brow slightly raised, “that I am cruel towards you?”

“Of course not.”

Her lie was disguised well, she thinks, give that for the past weeks she had not seen him as anything but kind. Before that, he was cruel, and this was no different. She could not explain it, he had done nothing to antagonise the feeling apart. From leave her this morning, but she knew well enough that if he had chosen to leave her, it was not the same man who wished to tenderly trace the outline of her features. Two personalities, with little indication of which she’d see that day. 

“Then you think I’m cruel to the people?” he asks again, words almost hissed.  

“Of course you’re not cruel to them,” she answers, words leaving her mouth without much thought. She looks up to him with the beginnings of a smile and bows her head ever so slightly. “You create a world for them that is safe and just. You… do not harm without reason.”

He doesn’t spare her his full attention, only a look from the corner of his eye. He hums softly, though doesn’t seem to believe her. “Many would say that I am cruel for harming just one person, regardless of fault.”

“Many are wrong, then,” she answers. 

“Maybe you are wrong.” His words are snapped at her, again without a single glance. She feels her heart skip a beat. Before she can try to retract or reform her sentence, he interrupts her. “You tell me what you think I wish to hear, Aletheia. I am not unwise to the opinions whispered on the streets, or within these walls. I know you are not impartial to those opinions. You thought I would kill you for, well, nothing.”

Aletheia thinks her silence is the best option. She looks down to the ground and takes a step back from the rail of the balcony. She knows he watches her like a panther stalks its prey. She knows it would be pointless to argue back against the truth.

He takes a step back so he’s parallel to her. To her surprise, he reaches for her hand – grasping it gently in his own and finally pulling her towards him with little force. Though she waits a few seconds, she does eventually look up to him, wide eyes glassy with the fright she felt coursing through her body.  He draws his thumb back and forth over her hand, beginning to soothe the heightened emotions she felt. 

“I always wondered why there was a need to take a wife,” he says. He’s interrupted by a gust of the wind, the chill running over them both. Aletheia ignores it, though he reaches across to her to place the loose strands of hair which had been displaced back over her shoulders. He sighs before he continues. “I always wondered why it was a necessity. I thought, they must be able to help with something. They must be able to reassure you, or pleasure you, or offer you an invaluable insight into something you just don’t understand.”

He takes her chin between his thumb and index finger, holding her head up towards him. He must have felt the quiver of her lip in response. He only scoffs at her, pushing her away a few seconds later. 

“You do pleasure me, but you do not reassure me.” His words are meant to hurt her. She doesn’t take her eyes off the ground as he steps towards her, refusing her any touch this time. “You do not offer me any insight, either. You tell me the same nonsense each of those advisors tell me, you wish to satiate my need to be right when the truth is that I am cruel. Cruelty, brutality, whatever you may call it. It is the only thing necessary to bring an end to the chaos and corruption of humanity. You know I am cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, corners of her eyes met with a sting, “I’m…”

“Sorry. You have already said it. That is all you offer me, apologies and a reminder that you do not see me as anything but a murderer. You will never see me as anything but. You will never see me like I see you. You torment me.”

He paces back from her, creating a few feet of distance between them. She dares not look him in the eyes, first focused on the floor, then on a small throwing knife he pulls from the scabbard sitting on his hip. She feels the heat drain from her face, fingers shaking as she curls them into loose fists. 

“Even now you think I would hurt you!” She hears his laugh, filled with bitterness, occupy every space around her. It only stops as he barks more words at her. “Look at me!”

She does as she’s told. His eyes have lost any sheen, it doesn’t feel like he is even looking at her anymore. His disjointed stare never leaves her as his hand, jittery yet mechanical in movement, raises with the knife between his fingers. Before she even has time to process, his arm snaps forward, the blade slipping free from his grasp and spinning towards her. 

The breath she drew in was stopped. She truly thinks for a moment that he had hit her with it and adrenaline had kept her from feeling anything. On hearing the thump on the floor next to her, she finally lets out the breath, eyes darting to her side. He had not hit her, rather what appeared to be a scavenger bird. Its beak was deformed and patches of its oily feathers were missing. A single stream of its blood pools from it, though the colour is a pale red, and it seeps from the wound like tar. 

“You still think I would kill you,” he says. His voice is lifeless. As she looks up to him, lips still parted, his shoulders seem slumped, weighed down by sadness. “You think me no better than one of the killers on the street, or than the man who killed your parents. I am the Night Haunter to you as well. It is pointless, Aletheia, this is all pointless. You are pointless.”

She still can’t bring herself to speak. 

“You hide behind silence,” he told her, his voice low and biting. “You think it shields you, but it doesn’t. I hate everything you do to me.” 

His closing words are said in defeat. His hands are dropped to his side as he approaches the door to return to the throne room, though he stops by the door to look back at her. His eyes wander down to the bird at her feet – she can feel its blood pooling at the edge of her shoes, the substance unnaturally hot. He doesn’t look back at her. 

“I will never hurt you,” he states, repeating his words from a time in the past, “but I do not want to love you.”

****

There had been an aura of dread that loomed since the lightless dawn had started the day. Though there was nothing apparent, every movement around him was questioned as an emanation of the disquietude which sat with him each day. 

He'd sent for Aletheia about twenty minutes ago, and the lack of speed with her retrieval had antagonised him in an unexplainable way. As his fingers tapped against the table before him, he revisited an idea that had first come about when he laid his hands on her the first time. Perhaps they should share a bedchamber going forward, and he would have her spend more time around him so that he would not need to wait for her in moments like this. 

Perhaps the trepidation that he had become so accustomed to was down to her. Every time he pictured her, the lustre of her eyes when something amused her, the tenderness of her touch whenever she was there, he was reminded that he could not change her fate. No amount of protection or salvation would have her stay for as long as he needed. 

It had been divination that led him to her, to save a soul that was destined for him. It had been divination that told him the truth he wished not to hear. Two knives, two men, two wounds. He had stared at the cards before him as an unwanted vision bestowed itself upon him – and he was ultimately the cause. 

Before he can dwell further on his thoughts, the door across the room from his is opened. Behind the houseman he could see her, and despite the elation that struck him, it was pushed aside to make way for the feeling of ennui that had grown ever-present.

“I expected you to be quicker,” he says, though undirected at either the Aletheia or the houseman. The latter offers him a bow in apology, opting to remain silence as they all did. Aletheia returns nothing to him, only thanking the houseman as she enters the room with the door shut behind her. “Did you not wish to see me?”

Aletheia frowns slightly. “No, I… I’m sorry. I will be quicker next time.”

“No apologies,” he tells her. He pulls the chair beside him from under the table and gestures for her to sit. “I wish to teach you divination.”

She rushes to the chair obediently, sitting down in the chair with the skirt of her dressed bunched in her hands. He notices the tremor that plagues her fingers, along with the bruise that lines the hems of her dress. “Thank you.”

“No thank you, either,” he answers sternly. He looks up to her eyes and, seeing the fright behind her expression, does his best to ease her. He unclenches his jaw and tries to relax his brows – though its effectiveness was not obvious to him. “It is for your own benefit. Fate has weaved a path for us since the moment we were first thought of. To recognise this is to begin to understand what is intended for you.”

His gaze lingers on her for a moment. She looks up to him, though little can be known to her feelings. A single nod from her is all he receives. 

He reaches for the cards on the table. Though treasured by him so dearly, a tool he never thought he would have trusted another with, he hesitantly holds them in her direction. She seems surprised, looking to the cards then back to him with wide eyes. He moves his hand closer to her so she will take them. 

“You must be at ease, Aletheia,” he tells her, feeling the tension as she takes the cards from him. She nods again at him, taking a deep breath and allowing her shoulders to relax. He can still feel how her heart races. “What are you afraid of?”

Any peace she had manifested was immediately displaced. “I…”

“Me?” he asks, bluntly. 

“It’s… No.” Her answer is given without looking directly at him. He can’t help the snicker in return, but the panic in her eyes stops anything further. “You told me that I shouldn’t fear you. But…”

“But you still do,” he answers for her. “I was a child once. Hungry. Forgotten. Alone. I know fear far better than you ever will.”

She doesn’t answer him, but it was an obvious statement. He watches her again for a few moments, unsure of how he was supposed to convince her otherwise. He wasn’t foolish, the fear he instilled in everyone was meant to save those deserving, to serve justice to the few. An unintended consequence was that the many did not see him as the judicator he promised to be.

“Make sure the reverse of the card faces you,” he tells her. She acknowledges, looking down to the cards to confirm the geometric pattern faces her. She looks back to him with a touch more ease. “Flick through the cards, but do not view them. There is a card in there which will tell you how I truly feel about you. Use your intuition, it will tell you when you have reached the right one.”

Though uncertain, Aletheia follows his instructions. He observes closely as she makes her way through the cards, though when she reaches the end without picking one, she looks back to him with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “I didn’t feel… anything?”

“Try again.” He expects her to just repeat her actions, but her swither was evident. Her thumb brushes over the back of the first card as she replaces them all back into a single stack. Her subtle glance in his direction compels him to give her a little more. “Take your time. Let go of your other thoughts, focus only on the cards. Do not ignore your feelings, when you think you have the right one, stop. That will be the right one, fate is telling you that is the correct one to pick.”

She nods, understanding more this time. She’s much slower this time as she flickers through, pausing a few times on different cards but ultimately moving on, until she makes a final, cautious stop on a card towards the end. She pulls it out from the rest of the card, though doesn’t reveal it to either of them until the rest of the desk is back in a pile on the table. 

“Turn it over,” he says. She obliges, turning the card to see the illustrations on the other side. “What do you see?”

The question unintentionally puzzles her. She refrains from answering for a few seconds, before settling on the obvious. “A heart, with three swords through it.”

“Literally, yes. But what does that mean? What does it make you feel?”

“Well… Love,” she replies. 

He nods, urging her to continue, so she looks back at the card inquisitively as though staring would give her the answer. Without a true answer, he tries to encourage her again. “Remember what I said. Take your time, follow your thoughts, it’s what fate wishes for you to see and understand. It’s what is true to you.”

“It feels painful,” she tells him this time. She briefly glances at him, which is the only time he can hide the melancholy that fills him when he realises that she can see the truth. “It hurts, but it doesn’t change the love that’s felt. You… You know what the future holds, you know that eventually you will experience loss, but your feelings remain unchanged. And…”

“And?” he questions, no end to her sentence following. 

“The affection you feel is real, but it confuses you,” she answers. Before he can give his own opinions, she finds the words to finish her thoughts, placing the card on the table with the others. “The three swords. One is your feelings, one is mine, and the other is the future.”

He can’t bring himself to answer straight away, despite her looking to him for reassurance that she was indeed correct. Even with her fear, and how he treated her so poorly to negate the affection swelling within him, she was still the only person who had taken time to consider how he had felt. Now she was beginning to understand. 

“It does not confuse me.” His words bring some dissatisfaction to her, though everything else was correct. “I do not want to love you, because I know it would not last. You would not live as long as me, even if it was age that came for you. You would not ever love a man you feared so much. But when it was clear to me what your future held, I wondered if perhaps my interference had changed your path. But it had not, I did not save you that day, I just delayed your fate.”

He did not expect a reply. Sympathy wouldn’t change anything, and empathy wouldn’t reassure him. An empty promise that he was wrong was even more foolish. But she doesn’t offer him words, only a silent acceptance.

Aletheia reaches for his hand on the table and squeezes it gently. Her hands are small compared to his, but equally as cold. They share a look of grieving, though he believes that hers is not because she will be without him – she knows she will die, and for any human that would be hard to accept.

They sit in silence for minutes. He didn’t wish to address her, and she seemed content in being in his presence. It wasn’t often many would be with him longer than necessary, and to be truthful, the loneliness that crept on him each day felt like it had started to fade. Eventually he looks back to her, noticing her watching him already, the smallest of smiles resting on her lips. 

“I won’t be afraid of you,” she tells him. She still holds his hand in a moderate grip, though it tightens as she laughs at her own thoughts. “If I’m honest, I thought you pitied me.”

Her words are amusing, though he can only find a frown. “Why would I pity you?”

“My parents were murdered in front of me,” she answers, “would that not provoke pity of some kind, even to just understand the situation?”

He hums. “It was tragic and something you did not deserve, but bringing you here was not out of pity. I told you I saw you. You terrorised my every thought for days. The most tragic thing to happen to you was an offering to my own clarity. It was prophesied, Aletheia, even if you are the most tragic thing to happen to me is you.”

Silence looms once again. It did not need to be broken; it only offered a chance for Aletheia to reflect on her feelings. He was no mind reader, but he truly believed she understood more of him now. One day he would share everything, but today he was content with sharing a small part of his feelings.

“I won’t be afraid of you,” she repeats, this time with more integrity. She offers a larger smile this time, nodding to herself as she offers something no one else would be able to. “I cannot promise that I will love you today, or tomorrow, or a month from now. But I can promise to try.” 

He seems to have dropped the coldness that belonged to his tone. “Do not try to pity me now.”

“It is not pity,” she tells him. 

The warmth that he had craved for his entire life, the feeling of someone who wished to know he was well, it was starting to burn right in front of him. This was not fuelled by depravity and the feral desire to meet his physical needs. This was worse. 

She takes one of his hands in both of her own and holds in over her lap. The innocence in her movements, her thoughts, its indistinguishable from the truth. Yet his heart can only feel heavy as she uses his own words. “This is tragic, and something you do not deserve. This is prophesied.”

****

Aletheia watches out the window, the building surfaces freezing to the touch as the morning mist had started to settle. The darkness that loomed seemed worse now, with the weather colder and season stuck in the middle of winter. This windowsill had been converted into her personal favourite seat, being larger than all the others and closer to the ground. Her breath fogs the glass from where she sits, and for a moment, she finds freedom in the small patterns she can draw. 

“Good morning, Aletheia,” one of the ladies greets. Aletheia turns to the lady, her frail and tired figure an echo to how everyone felt, though her cheeriness wasn’t forced. Anyone would be happy to spend their day with the quiet, timid wife than her husband. 

“Morning, Melle,” Aletheia greets, returning somewhat of a smile. She notices the concern paid over the bruises that had emerged on her shoulder and neck, not that they would ask her about it. Her face was untouched, and none would have stood up to him anyway. Aletheia tries her best to hide what she can. “I came to forget how much I hated winter.”

Melle nods in agreement, though her focus doesn’t remain on the small talk. Instead, she places a teapot on the table to Aletheia’s side, carefully pouring a mix of herbs, flowers, and another milky liquid into the hot water. She takes a step back, offering a kind smile. “We had some tea prepared for you, my lady.”

“Thank you, but I don’t…”

“I insist, my lady,” Melle tells her, gesturing to the teapot with a little cup placed beside it. They’d never prepared tea for her as Aletheia had never enjoyed it. Their fear of repercussion was too great to have just forgotten. “Please drink it.”

Aletheia swings her legs round on the seat to reposition. She cautiously removes the lid of the teapot, observing the inside whilst catching the pungent smell inside. It wasn’t something she had seen before. “Why?”

“We gave this to all the ladies of the old court, to prevent any problems,” Melle advises. 

“Forgive me if I am being silly here.” Aletheia replaces the lid. She stands, moving away from the tea and to the stack of books that sit on a table in the middle of the room. “What problems?”

Melle rushes to collect the tea, replacing it on the tray at the back of the room. “No, please forgive me, my lady. I will take this away and return with something you enjoy.”

Aletheia watches her with curiosity, though chooses not to press further, thanking Melle before she scurries away and almost slams the door behind her. Just as close as she was to conversation with another, it leaves. She’d have thought to try and seek out another but ultimately it was of no use. 

She’d realised some time ago that the maids and housemen didn’t talk with her. They said nothing of substance, they let her worries and concerns fall in deaf ears so they could avoid a punishment from their King. The bruises, for example – was it not common decency to ask if she was okay? Just for their own sanity? It didn’t matter that they were indeed a mark of the intimacy she’d enjoyed the past days, but to an innocent observer it looked much more cynical. 

She was only talking to them. No exchange, no care, likely no listening either. There was only one person here who actively conversed with her. 

Aletheia looks around the room, a sigh leaving her lips as she finds no book still left upright. She’d truly gone read everything she could. Even the stack on the table, a collection she had set aside from already reading them when she was younger, offers little enjoyment to her. 

Her fingers lightly brush the stack of books, pushing them aside until she came across a light-coloured spine. She pulls the book out and places it at the top. She leans on the side of the window frame as she traces over the illustration, the artwork an original piece compared to the copy her parents had owned. 

The woman, dressed in a pure white cloak and hood to disguise her, carries a single lantern with a dim light. She’s at the bottom of a long path, one which has stops across a great landscape of hills. At the end of the path is a manor bordering on a castle with pitch black peaks. She doesn’t look frightened, but she doesn’t look comfortable either. 

As Aletheia stares down at the book, still tracing the cover but never reaching to open the book, the cold of the room starts to feel more distant. Her breathing reaches a slow pace, and the frost on the window becomes less of a bother to her. She feels her eyes close as she yawns silently. 

She opens her eyes to an unexpected scene. She’s seated at an impossibly long dining table, carved from black stone with such intricate details. The surface gleams like polished marble, and as she looks down at the table all that is reflected is her pale face in the flickering light of a single chandelier above. 

Across the table is a spread of plates and goblets, filled with food that seems both vibrant and decayed. A bowl of oranges, their waxen skin a tiger orange, oozing with rot. A plate of golden bread, crumbling at the edges to a viridian green mould. The smell of fresh roses dances through the air, accompanied with rotten notes, like an oil painting still waiting to dry. 

Across from her sits the Dark King. He’s silent, though his obsidian black eyes are locked onto hers. She’s sure she can see a hint of crimson in their glow. He does not eat, he does not move, he only watches with an impassive expression. It feels like he could choose to stop everything, the whole world, if he truly wished it. 

She reaches a hand out to the goblet set before her. As her hand hovers above it, she can’t bring herself to take it. Her body does not want to drink, it does not wish to follow her command. She feels small. Trapped. Fading. 

The chandelier above them dims, causing the room to fall into a murky haze. The chill that had started to wrap around her bones begins to diminish. A soft glow begins to spread from the other end of the table, bathing the room in an unusual warmth. Her heart pounds, only until silence is bestowed upon her by a second figure stepping into view. 

Aletheia blinks. 

It is her. Another version of herself. A radiant version of herself. Her hair flows freely, unbound and caramel with a honied sheen under the soft light. Her skin glows with health, her posture confident and proud. Her robes are simple yet elegant, a pure white with golden accents, the kind of clothes she had dreamed of wearing as a young girl. 

The radiant Aletheia smiles. She seems gentle, knowing. There is no malice behind her eyes. She pulls a chair out from beside the Dark King, taking her seat gracefully with fluid movements. Her strength and power are quiet yet effortless, like sunlight after the rain. 

She holds her hand out to Aletheia, reaching across the table and ignoring the decay beneath. “There is another life waiting, Aletheia. But you must choose to take the first step.”

Aletheia glances from the hand to the Dark King. His expression does not change. He remains still, as though the radiance is beneath his notice, or beyond his comprehension. The crimson haze appears to dim briefly, like the embers of a dying fire, though he offers her nothing else. 

Until she sees a flicker of vulnerability. He does not reach for her, or speak to her, but his silence carries a weight of unspoken words. He sees that she might leave, she may escape. Is it because she would prove him wrong? Or because he would be without her?

Aletheia shifts her gaze between the two. Her radiant self does not press her, waiting patiently with an extended hand. Her fingers twitch with hesitation. As she moves towards the light, her chest begins to tighten. She could lose everything she knew, again. First her parents, and now him. For so long she wished to be rid of him, even recently she had felt he would kill her with no regret. But now he offered her security, and that strange but intoxicating love. 

As her mind races, her radiant self speaks to her once more. “Only you can choose, Aletheia. Only you.”

Her heart pounds. She glances at him one last time, silently begging him for a sign. Anything, a look, and feeling, something. He gives her none. Emptiness. Despair. But that was the sign she needed. Her hand moves toward her radiant self’s own, their fingers just about to touch. 

Before she ever feels the warmth the room dissolves around her. 

She wakes with a sharp gasp, her fingers clutching the edge of the windowsill as though she might fall. The frost leaves an ache in her spine, the edge of her face cold where it had laid on the plastered brick. The room around her is quiet. As she lets out a shaky breath that’s visible in the cold air, she wonders if it was all a dream. 

But something lingers. 

Despite the cold that bites her skin, she can feel the warmth in her chest. So faint she would have missed it at any other time, yet still fresh as though the radiant being from her dream had touched her right then. She looks down to the books, the window, and then to the replaced tray of drink that Melle must have brought. The scent of the strange brew lingers around the room, and she wonders if something inside it had caused her dream. 

Imposed or not, there was a truth she could no longer ignore. 

****

The coldest day of the last five years seemed like a perfect time to leave her secluded palace. Aletheia had wanted to leave most days, but her fear of the end that had been prophesised, as well as the one who told her of it, had kept her within its walls. 

But she was learning to take the steps she wanted, towards a goal she needed. 

He was nowhere to be found and it was her father’s birthday. She had counted down the days in a notebook kept hidden in a bathroom on the ground floor. She memorised the day, counted down from last year, and prepared to create a bunch of flowers to remember them by. Moonflowers, black lilies, ghost orchids and bloodroot. Some had been stolen from vases left in rooms, the orchids had come from a planter on the balcony, and the bloodroot specifically she picked up from patches of fauna that grew in the cracks of the concrete. 

She’d laid the bunch down on the headstone to commemorate her parents. It was a small patch of abandoned land, with commemorative stones laid around as a way to remember the dead. The silence felt heavy around her, paired with the weight of grief that felt so strong on days connected to her parents. She had passed many people on her way here, not that any stopped or recognised her. She felt alone.

She crouches down to her knees, brushing her hand against the stone belonging to her father. Happy birthday dad, she whispers, before sharing a small prayer. Not many of the other graves had any acknowledgement on them, bare past the stones originally put here. She doubts many even come here. 

Her parents always encouraged others to honour the departed. She takes the bunch of flowers with her as she stands back on her feet. The ribbon and paper she’d recycled to gather the flowers are crumpled into a ball in her pocket, and without any consideration, she begins to spread the flowers across the concrete, hoping to share respect with each of them. 

Once each of her flowers hit the ground, she takes a step back to admire her work. The light of the afternoon was fading, yet it looked so serene. The mix of the white and black of petals, seeped with the faintest of red dew, was so striking against the tattered floor. 

“It’s strange how time seems to stand still here,” a voice suddenly says, pulling Aletheia from her thoughts. 

She turns to the figure, greeted with the outline of a tall individual with indistinct features. The figure removes the hood of their cloak, revealing a woman beneath – an older woman, with lines of wisdom and understanding on her cheeks and eyes. She smiles warmly at Aletheia, as if they had been here together a dozen times before.

“You must have great strength,” the woman tells her, smile widening. It’s kind, comforting even. Aletheia feels at ease, until she notices that her eyes shine with more vibrance than anything else on Nostramo. “It is a rare thing, to see someone so burdened, yet still walking forward. Both your parents gone. I would not have wished it on anyone.”

Aletheia’s usual distrust of strangers leaves her with unease prickling at the back of her neck. “Death is unkind to us all.”

“To you, more than most.” The woman takes a small step towards Aletheia, now not too far behind her. She places her wrinkled hand on Aletheia’s lower arm, patting it gently. “You have been through the pain of loss, the pain of love, and the pain of choice.”

The woman bends down slowly, mumbling incoherent words as she places a small toy next to a stone a few down from her parents. It’s very small, a soft bear holding a heart. Aletheia tries to read the stone, figure out who this woman had lost, but is dragged to conversation before she has the chance. 

“He needs you,” she says, words stated as though it was a mere fact, “this man we all fear, the Night Haunter, he has a vulnerability in his eyes. You see what others cannot. That is why you must stay. You’re his only light in the dark.”

Aletheia feels her blood run colder, hand twitching so slightly. She assumed herself unrecognisable, or at least requiring true study for one to understand who she was, but that was evidently not the case. She pulls her hood tighter around her features. 

“Life never ends up as we wish for it, but a life like yours… You had dreams, didn’t you? A life of peace, a life of love. We fall in line for him and our reward is safety. But we don’t always get to choose the steps laid out ahead of us.” The woman smiles again. “He’s not beyond saving. The hardest choices are the most important ones. Sometimes, the most dangerous path is the safest.”

The words feel like an invitation, as though the woman is offering her something just out of her reach, something she could grasp if only she dares. Aletheia looks away from the woman and back to the sky. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“He needs you,” the woman repeats. She laughs to herself, though it is soft, not mocking – it is understanding. “You can stand beside him, then you are not alone. You can choose that path. Do you not feel the power that binds you to him? It is no chain. It is your choice, your will.”

“I don’t think he needs anyone.”

 The woman tilted her head, her smile widening in a way that made Aletheia’s chest tighten. “Oh, but he does. Even gods crave light in the dark, child. Don’t you see? You are the lantern that guides him.”

The woman’s eyes gleam for just a second, disappearing when Aletheia blinks. The chill returns, sending a shiver down Aletheia’s back.

“Perhaps, it’s already happening. Perhaps you’ve already chosen, without realizing it. Perhaps, you just need to accept that your future is not one of your making.” The woman takes a step back again, towards the path that exited the space. Her hood is replaced over her head, the shadows covering any remaining gaps. Before she leaves, she has a final message. “He is the flame that will burn away the shadows.”

She is left standing alone once more. The woman disappears back to the streets of the hive city, leaving thoughts swirling with doubt. In a time to mourn, she had been offered words of encouragement for a future that she felt was out of reach. A sense of purpose, foreign to her now, which won’t leave. 

The words linger in her mind. The lantern that guides him. 

She thinks it over in her head once, twice, then over and over again. She traces the outline of her shadow on the ground beneath her, wondering how it had come to look so small. She’s reminded of his empty stare at the end of the table. The inability to change anything with her.  That he did not try to stop her from choosing a fate other than him. 

It was almost autopilot, the way she weaved through the streets of a city she loved for the sake of her family. Ignorant to the people around her, those who matched her in silence as required by their ruler, she finds herself on the paths that many would have encouraged others not to take. 

She had felt trapped. Like choice was not a burden to her. 

But she could choose. That choice could include more than just her. 

She looks up across the to the fading lights of the day. She doesn’t stop her pace, but the lack of others around her would have been obvious even to a child. A quick look over her shoulder reveals nothing new – the street she had chosen is empty, lost of humanity alongside noise. 

At the end of her path is a sharp right turn. She slows her pace as she approaches, debating going back on herself to return to a path with others. Her feet shuffle along the floor, the hairs on her neck standing on end as the turn gets closer. Something tells her to stop, but she can’t. 

As she turns, there’s another to greet her. Mid-way down the path. 

His imposing figure is drenched in blood. The air is cold, but the intensity radiating from him chills her more than anything natural. She stops, her instinct telling her to flee – but she doesn’t. She only stops. 

She had time to run, she had time to pretend she was never here. Instead, Aletheia takes a step forward, still too far for anything to happen, but closer than anyone else would have been. The thoughts flood her mind. What had he done? What had happened? She had feared him for so long that she had never questioned him. 

“Are you hurt?” she questions, holding a steadiness she didn’t yet know she could muster. 

He looks up at her. There’s surprise in his features, though anything more is masked by the blood and his typical stoicism. He answers her with blunt words. “Not my blood.”

“Then whose?” she asks after a short pause of hesitation. 

She was curious. She had not seen him like this other than when he stood above her parents’ cold bodies. The dripping of blood red down his armour falls down the ground creating the pool around him. There was no one here with him, no body or pieces, meaning he had ended up here by his own accord. 

“A man,” he replies, the corners of his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “A sinner who preyed on the innocent.”

Aletheia swallows, his words truly sinking in. Though she had hundreds of questions popping into her minds, laced with doubt, with fear, she takes another step towards him. She keeps her eyes on his, searching for signs of truth. “Who decides which is the sinner, and which is innocent?”

“I do,” he answers. The authority raking through his voice is primal. He lets his arm drop to his side, more blood spilling to the ground below. “Will you run from me, lest I judge you?”

She said she would not fear him. “No.”

“Then are you afraid?”

“I’m terrified,” she admits to him. Her voice does not bow or crack. As she studies his tone, his expression, the way he stands defeated, she realises that he is not proud. He may be certain of his actions, but he truly believed there was justice at the heart of it all. “But not of you.”

His eyes never leave hers. This time he takes a step closer to her, leaving tracks of blood beneath his boots. He holds out his hand, bloodied and steady, asking for her acceptance. She hesitates, only for a moment, before reaching out and clasping his hand. As she touches his hand she see the corpse of a man, one who exploited those around him for control and money, tormenting those that once trusted him, trafficking innocents that couldn’t speak for themselves. 

Her thoughts flicker easily back to the present. Her hand is stained with his blood now, and the actions are forever tied to her. There was unexpected anger rising in her chest, but not directed at him. “Did you have to kill him?”

“I did. Justice, Aletheia, is not clean. It is not merciful. It is necessary.” He watches her carefully, gaze sharpening as he searches for any doubt or vacillation. “This is what I do, Aletheia. I root out the corruption that festers in this world. I act where others will not. It’s not a path for the faint-hearted.”

“And if I joined that path with you?”

She notices the way his other fist clenches. For just a moment, it was his turn to hesitate. “Do you even know what you are asking?”

Aletheia thinks she does. Her opinion is not voiced. The pause stretches between them, thick with unspoken beliefs. She thought that this was he had wanted the whole time. 

“This path is not yours to take lightly.” Though his words cut through the air like a blade, his voice has somehow softened. “You think you can walk beside me, Aletheia? That you can bear the weight of the choices I make? That you can look into the eyes of the guilty and cast judgment without flinching?”

“Your hands will be stained with the blood of those you assume innocent. Would you survive that?” He steps closer, looming over her now. As he leans to her, his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Would I?”

“For you, yes.” Her words are cursed with assimilation. She can be part of his world. One day she may not accept it, but one day she’d be past this life entirely. “Or shall I walk another path, one not prophesied?  Is that what you would prefer?”

His silence is his confirmation. He did need her. 

****

Aletheia’s concentration had begun to falter what felt like hours ago. She stood, still as she could, observing from the corner he’d left her in with a heavy feeling in her heart as to what comes next. She hoped for peace, but equally hoped for company; yet now she had both she wished that this morning had just passed by. 

On the other side of the room stood a woman, elderly and not accompanying them by choice, clutching a jug in her hands that contained something at request. She dare not look away from the man who stood between them, even after all these hours. Aletheia understood her worry, but she did not truthfully care at this point. 

He wouldn’t have killed her. He may have spiralled into another of his fits, obsessed with the idea that he could know each and every aspect of the future that he hated so much. He would not harm either of them. 

Both the women are caught by the slam of the Dark King’s fist on the table, words lost in anger as cards and pushed away. Anger, annoyance; she wasn’t sure which was the bigger burden, but whatever he had seen in his deck of cards had displeased him in some way. 

Quietness surrounds them again for a few moments. Aletheia’s eyes widen as she sees his figure turn towards her, eventually catching his dark eyes. He looks over her for a few seconds, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. Months ago, she’d have been scared of him. Now, she wonders if he looks to her for support, or a reminder that he has her with him. 

“Aletheia,” he says, voice unexpectedly gentle. She nods once in response, though he still waits a few moments to answer. “What does this mean to you?”

His question is in reference to the cards before him. She’d done what she could to learn more, mostly to try and communicate with the man who held her, but she was merely human. He knew more than she ever would, and their limited sessions to learn and his awful handwriting would never tell her everything she needed to know.

She still peers over his shoulder, his expectant gaze moving from her eyes to somewhere below. Her confidence is limited in her answer. “Change?”

“Change,” he repeats, his sneer resonant in his tone, “that’s all?”

“A change, of some kind?” She looks down to the cards before the two of them again, adjusting the furthest left card so it sat straight beside the others. She looks back from the cards to meet his gaze, intimidating her even further. They barely hold eye contact before she looks over to the woman stood at the other side of the table with a tray in her hands. There was no way out of it. The woman didn’t even look up from the floor. Aletheia takes a single, deep breath before looking back at the 3 cards. “Change, independence, and a journey.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this time, but she no longer feels him watching her. The cards stare back at her instead, calling out to her to not stop there. The world destroyed with never-ending fire, the king that stands by himself shrouded in darkness with the cups around him tipped over, and the general riding into a battle he can’t win. It was more than she wanted to see. 

“Destruction, loneliness, and war,” she says, looking down to her fingers. She places one of her hands over the other as her fingers grow colder, though both are soon covered by his own larger hand. At first she’s grateful for the warmth, but his true intentions become clear when her vision starts to fade to black. 

The streets of Nostramo covered in ash and blood, fire engulfing everything around it as the last few men and women try fight for whatever was left of their lives. The Dark King, stood in his throne room with no one left around him, the only memory of Aletheia being her wedding band and a picture of her mixed in with his cards. The Night Haunter, stood over his allies and enemies, waiting for fate to catch up to him and take him to her. The world around him was turned upside down. The buildings burned. The people dead. 

She’s returned to the present within seconds. He does not allow the vision to sit with her. As her head swirls, she’s struck with the overwhelming smell of incense and enchanted candles that line the room. 

She feels his hand on hers still, though he clutches onto her with apparent desperation. She looks down to him, but it is too late. A surge of magic, one she has not felt before, floods the room around her and envelops her senses in a iron-wrought cage. The world around her warps again. She is not seeing his vision. This is not his doing. 

A different time is upon her. A different place altogether. She sees herself next to him, stood in a field with little more than grass and thorns on the ground, the dark sky above them as though midnight had never left. Despite the darkness, they are surrounded by a strange, radiant flow. She can feel her heart beat, replicated in the vision’s version of her, until it stops suddenly. 

Another presence appears with them. Playful and innocent. Her breath catches in her throat as she sees a brief outline of a child, running towards them from the ethereal landscapes. The warmth between them is strong, yet a flicker of uncertainty dims the glow around them. 

The intensity of the vision rips away from her with unease. Brought back to her own life, she’s met with the concerned eyes of her lover, husband, as though he has seen it too. 

Her chest tightens as she clutches the edge of the chair, her heartbeat echoing in her ears as world comes back to her. She hears the laughter of the child in the very depths of her mind, but as she tries to listen closely, its fragile memories slip away from her. She feels her lips tremble as she tries to speak, words never forming. 

She feels his fingers dig into her skin, forcing a stop to the remaining tremors. His dark eyes narrow, as though reading her mind, but never seeing more than the vision he showed her. “What did you see?”  

Aletheia’s mouth is dry. She didn’t know how to answer. His uncertainty is unsettling.

“You saw something different,” he states. Behind him, she sees the fading image of the child. Like the laughter, it fades before she can reach it. He notices how she looks past him and tries to follow her gaze – seeing nothing behind him, he drops to his knees before her and cradles her hands in his. “Show me, Aletheia. What did you see?”

Her heart thuds harder in her chest, the questioning hanging between them. Their child? Impossible. Yet the child’s warmth was real. 

She tries to draw her hand back from him, but he doesn’t release her. His knuckles are white as he curls his fingers tighter around her own. She doesn’t understand how, but she feels him tapping into the corners of her mind. Deeper and deeper. When he finds her vision, he’s frozen.

The silence is broken by the faint crackle of a candle in the room, burning to its end. The maid makes some effort to clean the dripping wax. Aletheia had forgotten the others who stood with them – and it would appear he did as well. 

“Leave,” he commands to the room. No responses are made, just the shuffling of feet as they make their exit with as little attention as possible. Though dazed, she made somewhat of an attempt to move from his grasp. He finds some humour in her actions, delicately scolding her. “Not you.”

She whispers a quiet apology to him, though words never leave her. Still piecing together reality, she allows him to sit her down in the chair beside him. 

His usual stoic demeanour is softened by understanding. He does not speak. She wonders if he is processing her vision, a glimpse of the future she had seen, as his hands trace the length of her arms, down to her hands, then to her stomach. He still does not speak, instead offering the glimmer of something vulnerable in his gaze.

Then, stillness.

He doesn’t move. Not even a finger. 

The air feels thick, a mix of the incense around them becoming unbearable suddenly. She rarely ever noticed it, but now it could have stopped her from even thinking. 

Her mind floods with fears that she had done something wrong or harmed him by accident. She can barely breathe as she searches his empty eyes for just an ounce of emotion. Just as her thoughts turn to the worst, as she starts to wonder whether her life was finally at its end, something changes in his expression. 

“I can save you,” he tells her, words barely above a whisper. Though her brows fall together as she silently questions him, his usually pursed lips begin to lift at the ends. His hand moves, only a little, as he holds her in his graces and stares down at her body. He does eventually lift his gaze, meeting her eyes with a flood of elation and reprieve. “Aletheia, I can save you.”

A resigned smile is forced in return. She places her hand over his own, still unsure of the circumstances. “You can?”

His nod is fuelled by the rush of emotions that had neglected him for such a long time. She wished to share in it, she wished that she didn’t need to force herself to match how he felt after so long desiring more than the doleful disposition he usually gave her. It would be untruthful to deny the longing in her heart to join her parents in the hereafter, away from the world she had grown ambivalent towards. 

“You will not die,” he tells her, “not by the hands of another, you will not die.”

No, she would not die by the hands of another. She had known that since the moment she set her eyes on those two cards that her death would not be at the hands of another. 

She would die, and it would be by his hands. 

✧.✧

a/n: as I mentioned on ao3, please let me know if there is a better way to describe nostraman tarot because I read different things and thought it would be better to just stick to the tarot I know. regardless, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!

[thevelaryons]

Corlys has the same adaptational problems that Baela has: being the extension of their love interest. That is why Corlys’s every choice calls back to Rhaenys. Baela’s existence too revolves her around Jace. It is the same in fandom too. Corlys has to make his decisions (re: the Driftmark succession) just based off what his wife wanted not his own personal ambitions. He will serve Rhaenyra dutifully for the sake of his wife. I see it with Baela’s treatment by fans too. She might be a tomboy in non Jacaela works but every Jacaela art makes her a hyperfeminine traditional lady because she is there to be his wife and must look the part, so that means putting aside her own tomboyish nature. Her fan theories for the future are all about getting pregnant with Jace’s child in the middle of the war even though she is an active combatant and then will end up a single mother when Jace dies. She should cut her hair not because of her relationship with her dragon but as a symbol of mourning for Jace.

This is not what happens with a character like Rhaena, who has no love interest (Luke doesn’t count because he died in season 1 and barely had any development), and therefore she has her own personality and story. Despite the Nettles merge with Rhaena, she is not just a character who exists for others but does have interiority as her own person. She has things she wants for herself that exist outside of other people’s wishes.

See how in Fire and Blood, Corlys can do his own thing after Rhaenys dies but in House of the Dragon, it is all about following his wife’s path. Same will eventually happen to Baela, though she had her own life to live in Fire and Blood and moved on from Jace pretty quickly but the show will continue to use her for his story.

It is why Baela cannot want the Driftwood Throne when Corlys offered her to be his new heir. By rights, it should be her position and she would become a wealthy, powerful woman in her own right eventually. She says no only because she is angry with her grandfather for always going on long travels. Baela says she wants to honor her grandmother by serving Rhaenyra but her grandmother also wanted her as heir to Driftmark, though that second part Baela ignores. If Jace had told Baela to accept the position then she would do it. Corlys did not even want a female heir but suddenly went back on his decision and offered Baela the chance to be his heir only because Rhaenys wanted that to happen.

Oh, you might be onto something! While I don’t think it’s wrong for characters to mourn their love interests, I do not like the way HOTD goes about it.

Tbh, I found it very irritating whenever anything Corlys does for himself in the book canon is turned into an action done for others in the show. More often than not, his character gets used to prop up Rhaenyra or Rhaenys. Even the name of Corlys’ ship can’t be his own thing. That has to be about Rhaenys too. I still can’t believe all his infamous voyages that he completed out of his own love for adventure and treasure hunting got turned into a Corlenys thing. The show writers had the audacity to actually shame him for this by having Rhaenys blame Corlys for abandoning her to go on his adventures. Meanwhile in the book, he turned his back on a life of adventure to settle down with Rhaenys. 😤 “I came back from the ends of the earth for you.” >>>>> “You abandoned us for more adventure at sea, as has always been your way.”

I do agree with most of what you’re saying about Baela. Her book personality was so interesting. She’s supposed to be Daemon’s mini me! Instead, Rhaenyra and Jace are the ones who are trying to emulate Daemon in the show. Whereas Baela got turned into an emotional support therapist who’s always ready with a pep talk. For me, her dragon chase scene + sassing Rhaenyra about it afterwards were her most standout moments of the season particularly because it’s so book!Baela. Even the scene where she’s practicing with a crossbow seems more like foreshadowing for Jace’s death. She gets one line talking about her daddy issues and then the whole conversation shifts to discussing Jace’s daddy issues.

Although I will disagree about Baela being Corlys’ heir. More than anything, Baela should be wanting to be Queen, at this point of the story. There’s a lot more prestige in that position for her. Eg. Cersei Lannister as Queen was a lot more powerful than Ned Stark as the Lord of Winterfell. Yes, the position may be dependent on the Queen Consort’s relationship with her King, but since Baela already has a close, positive relationship with Jace, the Queenship will be to her advantage.

Unfortunately…the show does not make it look like Baela wants to be Queen. There’s no scenes of her talking about it. Plenty of other Queen consort candidate characters express their wishes for it openly.

A demure character like Sansa Stark is not actually shy about what she wants:

“I’ll be good, you’ll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen.”

.

“I want to be his queen.”

An assertive character like Alysanne Targaryen understands that being Queen Consort is a means of achieving power for women in Westeros:

“He will be a great king,” she told Septa Ysabel, Lady Lucinda, and the others, “and I will be a great queen.”

Interestingly enough, the book did give the impression that Baela wanted to be Queen Consort. The moment Jace took control of Dragonstone as the defacto head of Team Black almost as if he was a King, Baela declared her intention to marry him right away:

Baela also announced her intent to marry Jace at once.

That line is mentioned in between several paragraphs telling the reader about all the political decisions Jace is making. Baela is her father’s daughter as the book tells us half a hundred times. It makes sense that she would follow Daemon’s example and see the position of Consort as a means of asserting herself by marrying the current heir.

This does not happen for show!Baela. Her standout scene of the season, as in the scene that people hype up the most, is her scene at High Tide with Corlys (for me, it’s top three worst scenes of the season). Baela only talks about serving other characters’ rise to Queenship:

Baela is talking about Queen Regnants here, but even then, she should’ve had a line asserting her own wishes to be a Queen one day, since she’s meant to be holding an equal position with Jace.

I don’t see the issue with Baela rejecting the Driftwood Throne. Though I think it’s weird Baela didn’t offer up Rhaena’s name. I also think it’s weird that Baela just casually forgot that Joffrey is the present heir, so how is Corlys going to offer the heirship to someone of ‘salt and sea’? Baela doesn’t know about Corlys’ bastards. In order for Corlys to feasibly pass over Joffrey as heir for either his granddaughters or his own bastard sons, he would need to acknowledge Joffrey as a bastard and remove him from the line of succession. Though by acknowledging Joffrey as such, it also exposes Jace as a bastard. Which then makes Rhaenyra guilty of high treason and in forfeit of her right to the Iron Throne. I think it’s very weird that neither Baela nor Corlys considers this. In actuality, it’s more like nobody in the writers’ room even bothered to think about the implications of these changes. But I do believe the audience is not meant to think too deeply about Baela and Corlys’ conversation. Apart from the empty platitudes of Baela calling herself ‘blood and fire’, she is just there to be the writers’ mouthpiece.

Hard agree on Rhaena. She is actually allowed to exist individually in a way Corlys and Baela are not. But I fear this might not be in her favour. The narrative choices made for Rhaena’s story could be used to villainize her, if certain leaks about season three prove true.

[the-fairly-oddparents-unofficial]

Cosmo and Wanda’s Godkids

So Cosmo and Wanda have obviously had a lot of godkids over the 10,000+ years they’ve been doing it, and while I’m not going to look at every single possible godkid they’ve had, I wanted to kinda look at the different ones that we actively see them have in both the main series and the different continuations

Timmy Turner

Timmy is a character with a lot of external factors making him miserable along with one big internal one. Growing up his parents are basically helicopter parents with his dad in particular being obsessed with capturing every moment of his life. At school there’s a strict hierarchy where the popular kids are basically treated like celebrities with their own private and luxurious lunch tables and bathrooms while he’s at the bottom of it. He has a couple of close friends but he still struggles with that. Then one day when he was 8 his parents played a rather mean prank on him where they made him think they’d left him and he called Vicky in panic who promptly starts abusing him and probably blackmailing him to keep him from telling his parents. Then his parents start going out more and leaving him with Vicky more, which from his perspective must have been incredibly shocking to have them hovering over him all the time outside of school and work to suddenly not being around as much.Not to mention that while he might not have had direct issues with Crocker before getting fairies, Crocker is shown to be generally very annoyed by kids and fails them joyously, which was probably pretty disheartening as Timmy’s smart, but not naturally academically inclined. With all this going on for a year, Timmy definitely developed some attachment issues in regard to authority figures in his life. So when Cosmo and Wanda show up, he very quickly forms an anxious attachment to them, desperately clinging to them as their entire job is to be around him and make him happy to the point that he self-sabotages himself multiple times in order to keep them, literally stopping everyone from aging while making sure they don’t notice and making Cosmo erase his own memory so that he never has to give them up. In the live action he even keeps himself in 5th grade and refuses to move on with his life—refusing to even attempt to get a job or move out or have meaningful relationships with other adults (and not just romantic ones). He’s terrified to lose them because the last time he perceived he was losing the adult caregivers in his life, Vicky came and made him miserable.

Chloe Carmichael

Chloe’s full backstory pre-moving to Dimmsdale isn’t shown much outside of the one flashback, nor does she have nearly the same amount of screen time as Timmy, but she’s definitely quickly established to have issues that are making her miserable even if she covers them up as best she can. She’s initially introduced as a mary sue character whom everyone loves and yet somehow needs godparents, before it’s revealed that she’s not perfect and not everyone actually likes her all that much. Other like her when she’s doing things for them but she struggles with making genuine friends to the point that she literally cannot relax and is obsessed with always doing something to help others, even if it’s damaging to herself. She’s in Dimmsdale for a few months and the entire town collapses the one day she decides to relax for what she thinks are health reasons. She’s tied herself worth to this idea of being perfect to the point that she goes into panic mode upon making a small mistake or a bad choice despite only being 10. All of this is only encouraged by her parents who put a lot of pressure on her to be this perfect child and force her to not go do things she thinks are fun and instead make her go and do the things they think are important instead, along with with her being left completely on her own for large chunks of time with absolutely no supervision. She’s terrified of disappointing others or of not being useful or being an actual kid and not an overachieving mini adult.

Tammy and Tommy Turner

We don’t actually know that much about Tommy and Tammy other than Timmy is their dad and he unintentionally leaves them with an evil babysitting robot that may or may not be manufactured by Vicky but definitely looks like her and that this makes them miserable enough to need godparents. They seem to have a good relationship with Timmy, but beyond that there isn’t a whole lot to go off of other than Timmy needed to vet that robot better.

Marty and Mitzie Mulligan

Marty and Mitzie probably aren’t well known by fans since they appeared in the third of the live action movies, but they’re shown to be in a similar situation to Remy and Dev in that their parents are rich and neglectful, ditching their vacation with their kids at the last moment, an action that Marty and Mitzie are seemingly used to and yet still disappointed by, and sending them on ahead with Vicky as their nanny for the trip who of course proceeds to make the two even more miserable. They both seem like sweet kids who don’t lash out cruelly to others, so they are a bit distinct from the other two rich godkids, but not a lot is shown from them about how they feel about their situation with their parents other than they’re sad and annoyed by it.

Vivian Turner

Viv is someone who’s always been very shy and anxious, but she seemingly had a ok life over all until her dad met his high school sweetheart, married her a week later, and forced Viv to completely uproot her life to move to Dimmsdale very suddenly all while lying to her about where they were going until it was too late to do anything about it and she’s now stuck in a town where she doesn’t know anyone and living in a house with a new stepmom who doesn’t like her that much at first and stepbrother she only learned about and met right when she moved in. Her life was suddenly thrust into turmoil before she even had a chance to process it and her one possibly rock ends up leaving for college the same day she arrives, leaving her struggling to figure out where she fits in with both her peers and with her family even after she comes to accept that having a stepbrother isn’t all that bad all whole she has trouble putting herself out there in order to do so.

Roy Raskin

Roy is an interesting case as he wasn’t actually supposed to get godparents. He just got assigned Cosmo and Wanda because he fell into Viv getting them and Jorgen kinda just shrugged and went “miserable enough.” He does still have some stuff going on though, such as his mom who met her high school sweetheart again, married him a week later, and has him and his daughter moving into their house very quickly. Roy seems excited by this but it’s still a huge life change that just kinda got sprung on him. His mom in general is depicted as being very emotionally unstable and often depending on him for emotional support with him witnessing all of her issues, even getting disturbed enough to go off with his new stepdad to get away from it. He’s shown to be very popular, but he’s worried his friends don’t actually like him outside of that popularity and he even has a stalker who he is very uncomfortable around. Plus he has Vicky as a teacher at his school.

Hazel Wells

Not a lot is known about Hazel’s pre-Dimmadephia life, but there’s implications that her only real friend growing up was her older brother and now she’s moved to a new area while her brother and the only person she seemingly has any close relationship with leaves to go live his own life without her and she can’t help but feel abandoned and alone. She has to go to a new school where she’s immediately targeted by Dev and struggles to make any friends with anyone else and while her parents love her and are around a lot, they’re also busy and have ended up giving her the idea that she’s all mature and grown up so she should just be able to handle things. She buries all her issues deep, deep down until they come spiraling up and overwhelm her to the point that she panics and makes a rash decision. And when she does make friends she’s stressed and anxious about them not actually liking her or their relationship not being exactly like it was with Antony because that’s her comfort zone and it’s been completely shattered at this point and she doesn’t know how to handle any of it. Even upon getting fairies and making an insane amount of wishes very quickly, she has problems with relaxing and just having fun with her wishes because she’s supposed to be mature and responsible for her age.

[canichangemyblogname]

911 fans do understand that someone doesn’t need to be devout to still be Catholic, right? They don’t have to be actively practicing or a staunch practitioner to still be a believer and, crucially, culturally Catholic, something which will influence their lived reality and worldview.

Sure, Eddie Diaz has been far from the most devout Catholic and he has frequently been portrayed as the least likely member of the 118 to believe in the supernatural. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in God or honor the Saints or practice casually. Nor does it make Catholicism any less influential in his life. He might be the type of guy who’s a “Chreaster” (Christmas + Easter Christian; a.k.a. A “submarine Christian), but that doesn’t mean Catholicism is any less influential on his upbringing, lived reality, or worldview. In fact, it has deeply impacted how he views his place in the world as a man and even how he views other people’s place in the world relative to him as a man.

More on this below:

Cultural Catholicism— specifically Mexican Catholicism— is why Eddie hallucinated his former girlfriend as THEE Madonna. But not just any Virgin Mary, she looked to him like Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe del Tepeyac. The Catholic influence on his upbringing has had a large impact on how he views manhood, womanhood, and the relationship between the two. This Catholic influence, combined with the influences of the patriarchy in Mexican culture, like machismo, has led him to view women in the role of carer instead of partner. It’s why he seems to “use” his girlfriends as glorified babysitters. It’s why it seems he’s been looking for a woman to simply “take the place” as Chris’ “new mom,” instead of find someone he enjoys life with. It’s part of why he has a hard time getting it up or keeping it up when he’s in a loving and respectful relationship with a woman. It’s part of why he could only fuck around with Shannon when she wasn’t filling the role of “mother” for Chris, but once he let her back into Chris’ life, she ceased to be his wife and then became “the mother of my son” (see: the beach scene). He keeps falling into the trap of sorting women into either the Madonna archetype or the Whore archetype, yet people aren’t really talking about WHO he views as the Madonna, HOW he views the Madonna, or fucking WHY.

As @/talktonytome mentioned, it is the cultural influences in his life and the absence of his father that have taught him what “being a man” means. He was expected to assume the role of “provider” from a young age. He was forced to grow up fast, literally parentified by his paterfamilias. His own father told him that he had to assume the role of the “man of the family” as a child, and yet would continue to exert an incredible degree of influence and control over Eddie’s life course and decisions, as Eddie, Shannon, and Chris were completely financially dependent on Eddie’s parents (and dependent on them for child care). This dependency fostered an hostile and toxic dynamic. On top of this, he was literally just a kid when he got his girlfriend—who was also just a kid—pregnant. He believed that he and Shannon *had* to make it work for their kid and that they both *had* to “step-up” and “do it right” by getting married, despite literally being teens. There are reasons why babies should never feel pressured to or be forced to have a baby.

Because of his father, Eddie comes to believe that a “real man” devotes his all to his wife and kid, never abandoning them and always providing for them, unlike his own father. Which is why Eddie has spent every waking moment since moving to LA trying to make up for a life choice that he truly believes meant he abandoned his family: joining, and then reenlisting, in the army. “I ran out first. I ran out on both of them. … Instead of going back home, I reenlisted. I told myself it was to pay the bills—” “But you were running away too.” “Yeah…” It was all overwhelming because he wasn’t ready, so he sought an escape. He felt trapped by his circumstances and his family and saw only one “legitimate” route out: joining the army. He was then forced to grow up more by the force-arm of the (equally authoritarian) masculinist state: the United States Military. And this institution would continue to reinforce aspects of machismo that he’d learned through his father. Showing fear, pain, or grief makes you weak. Turn off your instinct to cry, embrace stoicism, and push through with any weapon you’ve got; it’ll award you accommodation.

This is also why he has spent every day since Shannon died punishing himself. He believes he abandoned her. He believes he failed her. He wasn’t able to devote his all to her. He couldn’t provide and he couldn’t make it work. All of this makes him a failed man in his mind. A failed husband and a failed dad and a poor excuse of a man.

Cultural Catholicism was also part of the reason for the familial and societal pressure to marry that he experienced as a teen after getting his girlfriend pregnant. It does, in fact, contribute to the social pressure to be partnered. And not *just* partnered, married. Through the church. There actually *IS* a reason Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to “marriage” when Tía Pepa set him up on a blind date. There is genuine pressure in Latiné families not just to be partnered, but to get married. Tía Pepa ambushed him with a date because it “breaks [her] heart to see [him] alone” and she’s afraid of him being alone forever. And she told him this immediately after bringing up how Alicia is getting married soon, and how Rafael, Fernando, and Liliana are all having kids. She might say “¿Que marriage? Who said anything about marriage?” (immediately after bringing up marriage, mind you) or “Let me introduce you to—” or “You need to get back out there—” now, but it will be “When are you getting married?” and “When are you having kids?” later. Being alone is stigmatized. Not getting married is stigmatized. Having a kid out of wedlock is stigmatized. And the thing is? Your parents and family don’t even have to be devout practitioners themselves to still contribute to this social pressure. Hell, you don’t have to be a devout practitioner to still believe any of it. Like Eddie hasn’t been the most devout and yet the seal of St. Christopher still holds a great deal of meaning to him.

Eddie doesn’t know who he is outside of being a provider. He’s never had the opportunity to discover himself. He went from being a kid to being a husband and father over the course of nine months. He then quickly went from a military career to being a single father in a new city, finally under his own roof at the age of about 28+. He never went on a long meandering road trip across the US and several countries in a quest to “find himself.” He never went to college where he’d experience new friend groups and ideologies. He has been under the thumb of authority or expectation since he was a teen. He’s never been alone.

So, how does he now find himself when he can no longer be what he’s long defined himself by?

[sisaloofafump]

Thoughts on Mom!Lois and Clark in Superman (2016–2018) written by Tomasi and Gleason.

The series is very domestic. The point was to showcase the home side of the new Lois, Clark & Jon family. On one hand, I'm not against Superman being a dad—despite not seeing the pregnancy & first ten years of Jon's life, the idea of him and Lois as parents had been hinted at since 2005, and really grew strong with Chris in 2007. I think it adds a freshness to his character and there are a lot of established sides of him that really thrive with Jon (like his mentoring and skill with young kids).

As for Lois... I wish her relationship to being a mother/wife had been more developed. Coming out of the Superman: For Earth, the 2005 comics, and Chris' story, there was so much groundwork about her hesitations and complicated feelings about it. And none of it was taken. Her characterization left me constantly asking "Is this an intentional Lois decision? Or is it domestic maternal stereotyping".

The stories weren't bland on Lois—she was a continuous major feature. However, when given emotional moments and reflections on her family, we never see inside her head. We never know why they wrote her that way.

When Lois clutches to the Kent last name, or being "Mrs. Clark Kent", is that because of sexism, or is it a rejection of her post-crisis family who were half dead and half evil nearing the flashpoint. Is it because, for a decade, Clark and Jon Kent were the only people she had?

Is raising Jon her "biggest adventure" because of maternal platitudes, or because she genuinely feels that way.

When she fights calling herself a "mama bear", is that reducing her rage to just female rage, or does she choose to fight instead of grab Jon and run because she is Lois fucking Lane

When she cries over moving out of their Hamilton house where they raised Jon, is that because women are more sentimental, or is it her losing the only stable house she ever had. Is it her mourning the fact that she was able to provide the unmoving childhood for Jon that she never got to have? (And would she have provided that if she had another option? Or did she feel cooped up)

When Lois has a secret identity as a writer, is that so she can be a stay at home mom, or is it to give her a mirror to Clark and to focus on her detective skills?

When she decides to do an Independence Day road trip, is that the author's propaganda, or a specific choice based on her military upbringing and Clark's belief in soldiers (as he, in this series, believes himself partially to be)

In the Silver Age, marriage and parenthood with Superman was considered Lois' unhappy ending—something she always strived for but was constantly shown through hypothetical stories to never make her happy. She would have had to stop working, be stuck in a house, be constantly protected by Clark. For decades, we got stories of how miserable she would be. They gave her that bad ending and never questioned it.

Instead of saying "look how things have changed, let's adapt the world so she can be happy and a mother", they said "let's change Lois, instead of changing the world".

I very much think Lois can be a great mother. But let her choose to be a mother because she feels safe, chooses Clark, and has learned patience and hope and softness. Let her be a mother because she wants to start a family.

And let her still be Lois Lane. Explore how being Lois Lane complicates things. Let her have conflicted feelings about her own upbringing, let her struggle with anger management, let her be a reporter and busybody and restless at home.

Of course, it wasn't Tomasi and Gleason who came up with the Hamilton home, Author X, and Jon, but time after time they were given space to explore how that would impact Lois, and they never explicitly did. (In contrast, Action Comics actively did explore the ups and downs of Hamilton living instead of just painting it as idyllic).

It wasn't a bad run. And I loved how Lois was a regular fighter and became so associated with Batman. But. It had a lot of flaws. Some were mediocre plots, but the majority for me were the social/political aspects—in Lois, in the patriotism/military glorification, the religious aspects (semi-practicing Christians Jon & Clark), and beyond.

RIP Goldie. You deserved better 🙏

(Misc thoughts on my favourite arcs below)

Main highlight for me was getting to see Lois as a fighter, and watching that take shape over time. From her hesitation before putting on the Hellbat suit, to joining the Female Furies, to (re)adding a stun gun to her typical gear. The stun does make more sense in terms of Lois' ambiguous body count, but it is an interesting step down from her handgun she'd used in Lois & Clark (2015).

Other highlights were the Manchester Black arc (except for the conclusion), the Lois vs Deathstroke duo, and Doug Mahnke's art. Superman Reborn and the cameo of N52 Lois & Clark will always break my heart.

Going into established married and no drama Clois would have been a nice return to current readers, though I personally was in love the n52 Lois and her friendship with Clark.

Main lowlight to me was hands down the flagrant American patriotism and propaganda. Whole issues were devoted to characterless history lessons where Clois and kid visit war memorials and talk about the great US constitution. While they changed his spoken motto to Truth, Justice, and family, that did not change the fact that "the American Way" was a central idea. I try to get by through thinking of it as a character choice. Maybe Lois and Clark are patriots and this does make sense to them; even if I don't think it should be in the comics in the first place.

Other low lights were definitely the first couple issues and the treatment of Lois and Goldie. Horrendous. Boyzarro World, Suicide Planet, and the reveal at the end of the Manchester Black arc were my least favourite arcs. None of the art was bad but they should have been more consistent with Lois' hair and I wish they gave Supes his trunks back. Also the memory story in the Superman Special... what was up with that.

Jon was the least interesting major feature of the series to me. Not that he was poorly written, just that I wasn't interested in him.

[th-compl-x]

hi, how do you guys share your life as a 300+ system?..I’m imagining surely there isn’t enough time for everyone to front, does the concept of getting less time to do things/less time to be alive because you have to share not stress you out? We personally are not sure how to share our life in a fulfilling way/overcome this stress…so how do you do it? Do some/most alters just live in the inner world when they’re not fronting?

-ray

This is a very interesting ask! Tysm for asking. 😊👍

(A good, long answer lies below... beware! Lol)

In truth, you're correct, that it's often only myself (Jessica) + maybe... 10 (at most!) that front in a day. But we have an incredibly active "inner world" where most individuals actually continue to live and thrive "behind the curtain", as it were. Like actors during a stage play, the entire cast isn't on the stage (fronting) for most of the show (my life) and instead take time backstage to eat, drink, get ready for the next act, etc.

In truth, being very connected to them and THEIR lives within is what helps me, and them, feel fulfilled. Having someone (or multiple people) to talk to about what's going on within is also incredibly helpful! My wife (for example) will often ask me how someone is doing, what they've been up to, if they've spoken to anyone recently, etc. I also do the same for her! (Since she's also a System) Through that practice, we keep tabs kind of like a community or close-knit neighborhood.

Sometimes, through these questions, I find out that two have passed from dating to engaged or are already elbows-deep in marriage! Sometimes, they've moved from one location within the inner world to another! (Like how Lyney is gearing up to move from Fontaine to Penacony because he absolutely fell in love with it ❤️) Sometimes it's as simple as realizing that a younger sibling has gone from "child" to "teen" literally just because of the length of time it's been between checking in on them/their older sibling...

But, through this practice, it's incredibly easy for my System to share my eyes and ears and share their thoughts with me almost constantly. Some of them are very funny and will crack jokes and then just disappear again! Sometimes, someone will be around a lot and then gradually grow quieter. But I'm not worried or stressed because I know they're still there: They just have their own lives. No one wants to be social 110% of their life, after all! Sometimes, they just need a break! And, like any other person, everyone has their own levels of social need. Some are extreme extroverts, others are extreme introverts...

Right now, for example, an "old" (original) Alter of mine - Steeltoe - just cropped back up because one of my wife's is currently struggling with their sense of self. (Funnily, he did this before, too 😅) He showed up again - after YEARS of sitting in the background - specifically to help this one person. He was never very social, enjoyed his solitude, and was never very interactive because of those things, but now he's suddenly been forward every day, checking in on her Alter, making sure he feels loved. Sometimes, Alters are just like that. 🤷‍♀️ They just leave everyone alone until they don't anymore, and it's that simple.

All-in-all, Alters are people.

They have their own ambitions, wants and needs, lives to live, and levels of fulfillment to seek. If they want to be forward/fronting, they will be. If they NEED to be, they definitely will be! They'll chatter on if they're a chatterbox, and they'll sit quietly alone if that's what they prefer. In the end, some might even fade... but, if that happens, it was probably by choice or ultimate necessity. No matter what happens though, they deserve respect first and foremost, and stress last, because just like any friend of yours, they live their own lives outside of hanging out with you. Sometimes? They're just busy, and that's okay.

So, don't stress. 🫂 Just talk it out as a group, or let the natural flow settle you all into your happy space!You'll figure it out in the end, and through cooperation and communication, you'll all live fulfilling lives...

We promise.

❤️💕

[tskumoyuuma]

I think it's completely valid if u dont like how riley was handled in midnight mass. it's a touchy subject, a sensitive one.

there was certainly a way to write it so it didnt have to end up that way. he didnt have to make that choice. he still tells erin and erin believes him. might have to prove it still, but it could have been done. techincally, he didnt have to do that. he could have made it to the end w the rest of them.

but that's not the kind of story midnight mass is. midnight mass is a tragedy for most characters. almost all of them, and riley is def included. in my opinion, in this kind of a story, riley's arc and character and decisions are perfect.

because its obvious from the start of the show how suicidal he is. let's not beat around the bush here, because that's what he is. he maybe wasnt actively planning on doing anything, but he said multiple times to multiple people how he didnt think there was anything left for him in life, that he served no purpose at all.

a show that wasnt a tragedy couldv given that to him in a nicer, more hopeful way. given him a purpose to continue living and finally moving on from the accident.

but midnight mass Is a tragedy, and that's not what happens.

instead, riley essentially commits suicide. he says he does this so erin will believe his story. and yes, she does believe him when it's all over and shes stopped screaming, but that's not the whole point of that scene. it's a scene that the show has been leading towards since the beginning.

when riley and erin talk about what happens after death, riley says he will have a purpose. his body will continue on in the world and universe long after hes truly gone from it. and he said this because, again, he was convinced he had no purpose left in life, and so the only way he could get it was in death.

and the thing is, he was so close to actually getting better. he could never imagine his future, could only see himself alone in that boat for so long. but the night before it happens, he sees erin there. and it's a start. it couldv been a start, had things gone differently. it couldv been the thing that helped him find that purpose, not just in death but in life, too.

but midnight mass is a tragedy, and riley's story is a tragedy, and so that's not what happens.

instead he gets turned, and suddenly hes an actual monster, one with an addictive urge that hes somewhat familiar with. he understands what the urge means, what following it would do to his loved ones.

so, he does the only thing he could think of doing. he takes himself to a place where he has nowhere to go, and he kills himself.

and in the process, he warns erin. if he hadnt, everyone on that island would have died. his death, his suicide, serves a purpose, not just for the narrative but for himself. because what was done to him erased any chance of an actual future he couldv had, any chance at the purpose he was seeking out. it even erased the purpose of his death. the only way he could die was to burn himself completely into dust. his body would have sustained microscopic life at the very least. his dust would not have

so by doing this, by essentially killing himself, it's not that riley's arc is thrown away for a few tears or narrative sense. his last scene is the ultimate conclusion to his story in this show that fits both his arc and the shows genre. and i wouldnt have changed it

[langfield]

Hiya. I notice a lot of fans seem to dislike Vinh's relationship with Max because he moves on to her too quickly after Safi died. They argue that if Vinh really respected Safi's memory then he would hold off on initiating anything with her best friend. The same thing with Max, after she found out about them, people say her character would avoid him even if she already had feelings for him out of consideration for her best friend. I know she writes about her reservations in her journal but it's another reason why fans are saying she's not acting authentically in DE. Wondered what you thought? Thank you very much.

firstly, i do find it very odd that fans want vinh to act as a widow of some sort in regards to his relationship with safi. while it’s undeniable he loved her dearly, the game makes a point to have vinh question if he was genuinely in love with her like he thought he was, or if his wires had been crossed somewhere ( aka devotion must equal romantic love? ). on top of that, i don’t think vinh owes safi anything where it concerns his love life because safi herself doesn’t care about it or him at all. he’s already spent four plus years being unable to move on from her and desperately hoping they’d make up eventually, idly clinging to her via their sexual relationship -- a relationship that safi, again, didn’t care about or viewed in the same sentimental manner vinh did. she is nothing but irritable in the photo of them in the afterglow and has never shown any interest in his other relationships before. she talks about him like they were never friends to begin with, is seemingly unfazed by the idea of vinh not being over it yet in episode four, doesn’t understand his love for the cheap hedgehog figurine she got him, and so on so forth. i don’t understand why vinh is obligated to continue his one-sided devotion towards a person who couldn’t care less about him … honestly, i think he should’ve moved on long before she died : at least then it would’ve been an active choice he made rather than an outcome he had no control over. vinh, for all intents and purposes, clung onto safi and his feelings towards her until the bitter end. so what more could he do? how else is he supposed to prove how much he loved her outside of what he already did? dead world vinh spirals so hard after safi’s death that he basically gives up, as evident by his more authentic behavior and the fact he was planning on leaving caledon to pursue acting ( a career he doesn’t even believe in for himself ) all so he could leave lakeport behind because safi wasn’t there anymore, meaning he no longer had a purpose. living world vinh commits a literal crime to try and save yasmin’s and safi’s relationship because he loves her that much, even if he thinks she’ll hate him forever if she knew, even if his plan was stupid and impulsive at best. loving safi isn’t good for vinh, and that’s more important to me than ‘oh no, what about the girl code?’ any day of the week, especially when said girl supposedly doesn’t care if vinh lives or dies. safi’s and vinh’s relationship is much more complicated than that, of course, but to see my insight of them, i’d go and read this post instead.

as for max, fans really underestimate her selfishness! a shocking thing to downplay given how most people sacrifice arcadia bay over chloe. she is considerate, certainly, but she hasn’t ever let how other people feel dictate her own feelings or her actions. in lis1, despite knowing that chloe is still grieving rachel ( a girl whom max is jealous of and knows chloe was in love with ) she still kisses chloe on a dare and relishes in it, without any thought to how things could change if rachel was alive and returned to them. she also agrees to ‘go ape’ with warren and, when stumbling upon the drive-in poster found in brooke’s locker, seems amused at how badly brooke wanted to go with warren instead … she can also kiss warren despite her priority always being chloe because, well, she wanted to. in that moment, max wanted to show warren how she felt and she did, and there’s no regret about it and no thought given as to what this might mean if she gets her happy ending with chloe and her hometown. i’ve said before that max is extremely impulsive with her romance, in the sense that she never thinks about long term scenarios and sort of ignores standard romance etiquette to act upon her feelings in a moment : a thing i’ve discussed more in-depth here. people seem to think that she is very conventional about love despite all the evidence to the contrary? while max does care deeply for safi, this wouldn’t exactly sway her to not kiss vinh if the moment presented herself … max also adores reggie and harbors a real soft spot for him, but similarly forgets about him the second she is within vinh’s orbit, and doesn’t seem to realize she fucked up until reggie straight up tells her he saw them kiss in a tone that’s all wounded shock. it’s only then that max feels guilty, yet she never apologies for kissing vinh -- she makes weak excuses ( ‘i was drunk’ ) or acknowledges that she should’ve been more considerate, but not once does she wish she could take it back nor does she actually apologize for the act itself. she is sorry for the hurt it caused. she isn’t sorry about what she did. with safi, it’s the same scenario except max is more aware that she’s fucked up, although if she tells safi the truth, it’s just excuse after excuse : you were dead, we were drunk, etc. excuses that safi cares little for and dismisses because it ‘still counts.’

i love max, and she’s perhaps my favorite character in the whole franchise, however she is undeniably more flawed than people are willing to admit. her views on certain things aren’t standard or normal, something that’s a given since max herself isn’t supposed to be just your run of the mill girl. she will do things that don’t make sense! she will cross lines and not really understand she is crossing them … and vinh, in particular, is really easy to get caught up with i think. it is almost natural to be ensnared by him or to be too immersed in his presence and the moment itself to rationally think things through. he is similarly impulsive like max and is bordering on desperation and loneliness the same as she is during spin, with them clicking in a way they just don’t with other people ; both able to bond over safi’s whirlwind effect, over this disconnect from themselves now and who they were before … the pain of their day ebbs as they talk and soon vinh is distracting them with a game that’s so juvenile and stupid it makes them both temporarily forget their issues while putting them in a certain headspace. all the world sort of melts away during the smash or pass scene and even important characters that max cares for ( like amanda and reggie ) blend into the background as they chat and flirt. it’s already stated that vinh’s able to forget about safi when him and max have these moments, and max operates similarly as well! i believe it was very easy for max to kiss vinh when her mind was unclouded by grief and when she was warm, happy, and stupidly attracted to him physically. the setting doesn’t escape me either! max approaches vinh like they’re two strangers at a bar and, while they most definitely are not, i do think the vibes mesh well … in this moment there are no consequences, there isn’t anybody to worry about, it’s just her and a really handsome guy chatting it up as they drink, and their actions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things. max’s ‘whatever, i’m drunk’ excuse isn’t her saying she isn’t into vinh, it’s just a crutch, a safety net, it’s part of the appeal and a way to rob max of any so called accountability, hence why she can bring it up to both safi and reggie as what it truly is … a flimsy, false excuse. it was less the booze and more of vinh’s company and max’s subsequent attraction to him, and max knows this but can’t exactly admit it yet because it would be more shitty than just. oh, i kissed him, but we were wasted and sad! she doesn’t even say it doesn’t meaning anything, she just tries softening the blow. it’s also worth noting that this drunk angle is definitely confirmed to be an excuse because max tries using it in her journal ( ie : i didn’t plan for it to happen so safi can’t be mad ) but then immediately admits that she has thought about it, with an implication of it being more than once. while she didn’t consciously set out to be woo’d by vinh, there was a subconscious part of her that was likely wanting that sort of attention, or at least a part of her was amendable to things taking that turn, if they did.

to further prove my above points, i think it’s extremely telling that if you choose the ‘i was drunk’ option with reggie, the conversation looks like this :

max : we were sad, and drinking, and he’s …

reggie : like an avalanche.

max : yes.

reggie : tell me about it.

it’s about how she can’t help but trail off and bring up vinh himself as a reason. how she doesn’t know how to word those feelings, or describe the way vinh is, and she just relents to reggie’s description with a twinge of relief -- you know, reggie? the man who’s so in love with vinh he can hardly go two seconds without thinking about him? despite the fact his best friend hates his guts? yeah! she is kind of helpless about her attraction to vinh and this little bonding moment between her and reggie really cements that for me. max is notoriously bad at turning away from those she feels so strongly towards, so i find it perfectly in character that she kissed vinh in spite of the whole safi thing.

tldr? yes, max knows it’s shitty and does fight with her shame and guilt over it! although that wouldn’t exactly stop her, especially not after safi makes it crystal clear that there’s nothing in her that cares for vinh in that way ( or any other way, really ). to her, that alleviates any guilt and makes him fair game. and maybe most people wouldn’t agree with that, but i think it makes perfect sense for max caulfield as a character … safi then leaves anyway, with max either supporting her or denying her, so there’s really nothing standing in the way of max and vinh anymore. vinh, similarly, shouldn’t have to let go of a girl who genuinely makes him feel happy and not shitty just because safi just so happened to be close with her. nor should he be expected to not move on at all or treat safi’s death like one would treat a girlfriend’s, because they weren’t dating and he doesn’t owe that to safi whatsoever. while i can understand the gripe itself, people seem to seriously simplify the whole max/vinh/safi dynamic and ignore the nuances and layers to it. on principle, max should always respect the girl code and vinh shouldn’t ever try to get with a girl he loved’s best friend. but it’s much more complicated than a typical love triangle ( it’s hardly that at all, unless you believe in safield ) and it shouldn’t be treated as such, in my opinion.

[celestialastronmy]

"Cullen Rutherford: Redemption Arc or PR Stunt?"

(Disclaimer I'm OK with Cullen. I just needed to slander him )

OH BOY, let me tell you about Cullen "I've Seen The Light" Rutherford, everyone's favorite problematic templar-turned-commander who somehow failed upward into one of the most powerful military positions in Thedas. Don't get me wrong—I GET why people love him. He's got that whole tortured golden boy thing going on, and his character design is basically "what if trauma was hot?" But let's talk about the MASSIVE narrative blindspot that is his redemption arc.

First of all, let's address the nug in the room: this man was literally part of a system that imprisoned and abused mages. And not just ANY part—he was actively complicit in Kirkwall, aka Magic Prison But Make It Worse™. Yes, he had his own trauma from the Ferelden Circle (which, valid), but using that trauma to justify participating in further oppression? That's gonna be a yikes from me, dawg.

But HERE'S where it gets really spicy: the way his redemption arc is structured is basically "Trauma Processing: The Ladies Edition." If you romance him? Congratulations! You're now his unofficial therapist AND girlfriend! The Inquisitor—particularly a female one(only elf or human bonus points if a mage)—becomes this weird combination of emotional support and validation dispenser. She has to carefully navigate his lyrium withdrawal, his past trauma, AND his current authority position, all while he... continues to be the commander of one of the most powerful military forces in Thedas? Make it make sense!

And can we talk about how his "redemption" never actually requires him to give up any real power? He goes from being a templar (power over mages) to being the commander of the Inquisition (power over... basically everyone). Where's the sacrifice? Where's the ACTUAL accountability? He gets to keep his sword and his status while everyone else does the emotional heavy lifting of helping him process his guilt. It's like he's playing redemption arc on easy mode with cheat codes enabled.

The writing treats his withdrawal from lyrium as this massive act of personal growth—and don't get me wrong, addiction recovery is HUGE. But it's wild how the narrative frames this personal health choice as somehow equivalent to addressing the systemic harm he participated in. It's giving "I stopped being actively terrible so now I'm automatically good" energy.

The most frustrating part? There's actually a really interesting story buried in here about power, accountability, and genuine redemption. But instead of diving deep into the messy reality of what it means to truly atone for participating in systemic oppression, we get... broody looks and chess metaphors. CHESS METAPHORS, people! Because apparently nothing says "I'm processing my role in magical fascism" like moving some pawns around.

Don't even get me STARTED on how the game treats his past actions as primarily a source of personal angst rather than, you know, actual harm that affected real people. His guilt becomes this weird form of character development currency that he gets to spend on being perceived as reformed without doing the actual work of material reparations.

Listen, I'm not saying Cullen is irredeemable. But his arc is basically "What if we took this man who participated in magical oppression and made him feel really bad about it... while still letting him keep all his institutional power and outsourcing all the emotional processing to the women around him?" It's the redemption arc equivalent of putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg and calling it healing.

And yes, I know someone's going to come at me with "but he changed!" Did he though? Or did he just switch from enforcing one power structure to enforcing another, while looking very handsome and troubled about it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks less like actual redemption and more like a really well-marketed rebrand.

The worst part? This is a missed opportunity to tell a story about ACTUAL accountability and transformation. Instead, we got "Hot Guy Feels Bad: The Adventure." Don't get me wrong—I still end up slightly tolerating him in every playthrough because the game basically requires it, but I'm not going to pretend this isn't some of the most privileged character development I've seen in modern gaming.

In conclusion: Cullen's redemption arc is basically what happens when you try to address systemic injustice with personal growth narratives and a really good haircut. It's giving "I've changed (but will face no real consequences and maintain all my institutional power while women do the emotional work of validating my growth)" realness. And that's the tea. Thank you for coming to my TED talk about problematic favs and the power structures they maintain.

(Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go replay Inquisition while aggressively side-eyeing every scene where someone has to process Cullen's feelings for him.)

[forkingandcountry-if]

Hi ! I was rereading the intro post and wondering if you had anything to share about Cassian if it's not spoilery? (also i was wondering since you wrote the enrollment was 4 year in 421, it got shorter?) And I had a request althought it's a lot of work for not much but as a player I enjoy seeing my 'behavior' stats to see where my mc lean; and following the 1st chapter (which gave us plenty of opportunity to act in diff ways) my highest stat is 53 and most are still around 50/51 (and i do think i was making coherent choices), so I was wondering if you could up the maths (?) so it's just a little bit higher ? no worries if not :)

There’s so much to say about Prince Cassian!

I’ll start with what’s already been revealed in the game so far, just to give a clearer picture of him. First off, he’s the older brother of King Edmund and the third-born child of King Wulfric. As you probably know, Cassian served as Edmund’s regent for five years, guiding the realm until Edmund came of age and ascended the throne. This is mentioned in the intro post and referenced in the game’s commonplace book, but the reason Cassian isn’t the one on the throne—despite being the older brother—is because of their elder sister Aroanne.

Before her death, Aroanne wrote in her final will and testament that the throne should bypass Cassian entirely and go straight to Edmund. The reason? She cited Cassian’s “choleric nature,” which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly an exaggeration. (Rightfully so, in my opinion! 😭) Let’s be honest: the man had a rough upbringing. His father, King Wulfric, was a domineering, warlike figure who was disappointed in all his children simply because they resembled their mother more than him and lacked his red hair. The only child Wulfric seemed to favour was Hendrick II, Cassian’s older brother (named after their grandfather). But Hendrick II tragically died just a few years into being co-king, and after that, Wulfric essentially withdrew from the family.

If that wasn’t enough, Cassian had to deal with The Usurper. His sister Aroanne—the one who passed him over in her will—was murdered by the Usurper after offering peace terms. The throne was rightfully his, but then he finds out through a very public and humiliating will that his own sister didn’t trust him with the crown. Instead, she handed it to their younger brother. And then, to top it off, he’s forced to serve as Edmund’s regent for five years while everyone in court knows he was forcibly removed from the line of succession. It’s… a lot to take in, right? Given all of this, it’s no surprise that Cassian is the most prone to anger, resentment, and hostility among his siblings, well more accurately his one surviving brother.

During his regency, Cassian focused on systematically eliminating the disloyal houses that had sided with the Usurper King during the Second Civil War and dealing with the demands of the peasantry and yeomanry. I won’t go into too much detail about what exactly he did—that would definitely veer into spoiler territory—but suffice it to say, he didn’t hold back.

Since his regency ended and Edmund took the throne, Cassian has stepped back from the limelight. He moved his wife and children to Wyndham Castle, the ancestral seat of House Wynd, and now essentially acts as the Lord Governor of the Wetlands. Technically, Edmund is the Lord Paramount of the Wetlands, but with his duties to the Empire, he doesn’t have the time to oversee the region himself, so Cassian has taken on that role.

A slightly spoilery (but fun!) tidbit I can share is that Cassian violently hates the Usurper King and anyone who allied with him. This extends to houses that didn’t swear loyalty during the Second Civil War and, even worse, to those who actively supported the Usurper. (Cough cough, House Greenspan.) And let’s just say he may have played a part in Lorn’s continued status as a ward of House Merivale.

As for boosting stats, that’s a great point! I can definitely tweak the math so choices have a stronger impact. I’ll make a note to adjust that when I start writing Chapter 2. Thank you for the suggestion—it’s super helpful to hear how things are working from a player’s perspective!