#the killing of three thousand crows

[xiaolanhua]

Love of Thousand Years (2020) Dir. by Hui Yu

[lyselkatz]

This happened last night, well, not exactly...

...☕?/commission

A coup took place in my brain's parasocial bubble last night, dà-Chéng stopped by in a dream, all charm and smile, fake-pouting and complaining that I've been neglecting him lately (and kicking YáoYao out) 😆.

Then I woke up to this nice photoshoot so I felt compelled to move a drama of his up my watch list and started binging An Oriental Odyssey 盛唐幻夜. If that's what the Universe wants me to do... Who I am to refuse appreciating Zhèng YèChéng's good acting, very nice original voice and handsome face? 🤭

[gonfrees]

"egg prices rising gave a huge profit boost to corperations" "cans of vegetables all over $1" "cans of beans all over $1" "produce prices skyrocket" "corporations profits rising" "minimum wage stagnant" "rent increase" "tip your landlord" "gas increase in price causes record profits" I am about to commit a crime do fucking henious.

[ravensvalley]

#HuntedUntilExtermination

Northern Raven...

I am extremely pissed off today of our "changing and depending on which region of Canada we are living in", because laws are flexible and can change at any time.

Example: Nearly all native birds in Canada are protected, even if they don't migrate. But this law concerns only the category of small birds. Which is terribly weird for me because these small birds are here in abundance, like thousands and more of them. But for most native species as birds of prey, they are excluded from being protected, like; Hawks, Owls, Eagles, Falcons, Kingfishers, Ravens, Crows, Jays, as for three other species in the blackbird family, like; Rusty Blackbirds, Common Grackles, and Brown‐Headed Cowbirds. Unbelievable if we think about the White Headed Eagles who can have only one clutch of 1-3 eggs per year, (and the first born, the strongest one, can kill the other two to have more food for him, which mother Eagle will also let him do) and can be hunted? As for the rarely seen, Royal Eagle, who is always moving further to North for fear of human. Weird right!

Regarding to the BC Wildlife Act, "Ravens are Schedule C Wildlife, meaning they can be hunted any time, but you do need a hunting licence, unless !!! "you are hunting them on your property or they are damaging your property." Ravens are protected under the, Wildlife Act, except !!! in those regions of the province that have a hunting season for them. Ravens can trigger a wide range of human reactions. It may be disgust for some people to see them feeding on roadkills.Or to see them from your bedroom window can be annoyingly diligent at letting you know that it is 4 o'clock a.m. For Native people, Ravens are still honoured in many First Nations’ cultures while for ranchers can be horrified at them to find the eyes of newborn beef calves pecked out." -bcmag

Ravens, foxes, wolves,… they only try to survive like any other wild animals. It is called, the food chain… hello??? Maybe we should exterminate Roosters too?

So to say, Ravens are protected by the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act in Canada but, don't have anymore any form of legal protection today.

It is like cannabis; it is against the law to grow marijuana in Québec but if you "live" in Canada, it is legal and you can!

What kind of Canadian bullshit law is this. Ravens have been hunted, trapped, poisoned, etc… for so many years until practically extermination. Ravens even teach their siblings to stay away from human as far as possible for all these reasons, but for some people, it is not enough.

So yes, I am right now fucking pissed off at our country. Ravens can now be hunted "again" because of some people that are disgusted by them.

@BenAdrienProulx May 15th, 2024

[gayandfairycore]

The prince, the magician and the physician

Summary when the witchfinder accuses you of having magic you must convince Arthur that your feelings for the boy have never been disingenuous. And Merlin must race against the clock to save you but can you be saved? Can your relationship with Arthur? Can love truly conquer Arthur’s prejudice?

Italics mean flashbacks

Word count: about 8k

Warning: torture, mention of execution, feeling betrayed, readers anxious, reader accepts death, canon divergence (but same overarching plot), Arthur may be a bit ooc sorry!

A/n: who’s back with the bbc Merlin fics? Me!!!!!!! Two fics in *almost* the same month-WHO is she? But seriously I’ve been writing more and I’m so glad I have I really enjoy writing these fics for you guys and to everyone who has supported me thank you so much!! We hit 900 followers a few weeks ago and it was such a milestone thank you all for enjoying my fics enough to follow!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The witch finders arrival had you and Merlin in shambles he had already been pointing fingers and he had been in Camelot for nearly a day and already had been accusing people of having magic.

What was worse, he had witnesses. Three girls from the lower town who had been seeing traces of magic a man coughing up a frog from his throat, to a goblin dancing in the flames of a dying fire. To faces of the drowned in the well. with every confession you sent an angry glare to Merlin beside you, since he was the reason this witch finder had been called in the first place.

Fear bubbled in your throat when the witchfinder said he already had suspects. and who the witchfinder had accused happened to be yourself, Merlin, and the lady morgana.

It was day three when he found “proof” you were a witch. (Of course you were but the proof was bogus. It wasn’t yours.)

It wasn’t Merlin’s either, it was an amulet poorly hidden in a pot. Neither yourself nor Merlin were skilled with charming jewellery, and you couldnt wear bracelets whilst being the court physicians apprentice, besides when would you even have the time to charm jewellery? Between saving Arthur, being gauis’s apprentice, and watching over Merlin you never had a second to breathe.

But despite having never seen the amulet in your life you knew the witchfinder would see no sense. Men like that never would, and what was worse the witchfinder happened to be an old friend of gauis, with a reputation based on brutality and hatred. He despised magic with a passion if he suspected you, you were already as good as dead.

But you couldn’t let Merlin die by the hands of the witchfinder, Merlin had far too much life ahead of him.

He had to protect Arthur. He had to unite Albion. he had to live long enough to see Arthur’s rule And believe me There was nothing you wanted more than to see Arthur unite Albion and bring magic to the land But you weren’t the one destined to unite Albion, you were however destined to protect those you loved and some part of you was okay with dying for the cause of keeping your family safe.

and if you were asked if you regretted taking the fall for Merlin or gauis, of course you’d say no. He was your best friend and gauis was like a grandfather to you. You’d let them sentence you to death a thousand times over if it meant Merlin was safe. If gauis was safe.

“Search through that cupboard and under the bed!” The witch finders commanding voice called out to the guards as they tore apart gauis’s chambers you were aware by now that the moment he walked in he’d already deemed you guilty.

By the way His eyes narrowed like a predator to prey, the atmosphere was tense like he’d been preparing to go for the kill for awhile now. and disgust permeated from his figure in waves this man watched you like you were the dirt on his shoe, some small disgusting insect that deserved to die if he even thought you had magic.

Sharing a nervous glance at gauis your hands wringing nervously in your lap as you watched these knights destroy your home your gaze asked gauis the same question he’d been dreading, where was Merlin’s spell book?

If you were going to go down for magic paraphernalia you fully thought it would be because of Merlin’s spell book not some poorly disguised amulet that wasn’t yours in the first place.

Leon had been the one to find the amulet a haunted look in his eyes you could tell Leon did not want to do this, but honour bounded the knights more than kinship. More than years spent with each other from childhood sparring, to treating his wounds when Leon grew from a bashful baby faced boy into a lean young man practicing to become a knight.

He was honour bound to tell this monster what he found And you’d hate to see Leon burned beside you under the guise of solidarity. It was better for one to burn than two.

“An. enchanted. amulet.” The witchfinder spoke slowly as he inspected the Jewlery, every word sealing your fate “whose is this? Perhaps the boy Merlin Or the girls? Or even yours, old friend.” The witch finder sneered pointing his finger in your face as he circled gauis and yourself like you were prey

Your horror filled eyes flickered to gauis and you watched as his mouth opened and his eyes flashed with familiar selflessness it was clear, what the old man was going to do, he loved his little family as much as you did and you’d hate to see the old man take the blame for you or Merlin again.

living with gauis has already been enough of a burden you couldn’t let him die for something he had no part in (not that you did either but you were nothing if not loyal.) your heart constricted in your chest, your stomach dropping

One of you would surely be executed for this but you would not let it be Merlin, or gauis. It would be you before it ever was them.

Taking a shaky breath you stepped forward your hand out to block gauis front from stopping you “it’s mine.”

And the beat of your heart deafened you the room went deadly silent guards hands went to their swords ready for anything, in the corner of your eye gauis’s face went ghostly pale filled with horror as he watched his youngest apprentice, the girl he practically raised as if his own stare down this false god with cold eyes the sent fear shooting through gauis, you were capable you like Merlin had the ability to destroy your enemies without lifting a finger but gauis knew you better than for you to defend yourself. But you would be brave braver than anyone else.

You steeled yourself infront of the witchfinder your eyes narrowed dangerously. You did not take kindly to those attempting to ruin your family.

“Guards.” With one word the witch finder sealed your fate, looking to gauis behind you, your eyes only let your guard slip for a moment and the old man saw the burning fear that filled your gaze. As Leon’s hands restrained you with hesitation.

“you can’t!” Gauis called pointedly to the witchfinder “it’s not hers! she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Gauis pleaded desperately after you seething from where he stood, he would not watch another child die.

you felt your heart break for the man who was like your father. “Leon, please.” You pleaded to Leon to release your hands for just a moment and the man you’ve known since childhood released his grip for only a second it was enough for you to break his hold and sprint to take gauis in a hug

Crashing into his arms you closed your eyes blinking away tears And you muttered the one phrase that could save you, that could reverse this fatal mistake, the one thing that stopped the panic in gauis for only a moment “It’s not mine.”

Before Leon’s hands had pulled you from gauis’s comforting arms, your tearful eyes met gauis and you expected to be met with fear but a newfound determination in gauis’s face calmed you, hope filled your heart Merlin would find a way to save you he always did.

Leon bent your hands behind your back and lead you down the halls of the castle

The witchfinder leading you through the halls, your Druid communication had been the most useful in situations like this, situations where Merlin was nowhere to be found

“Merlin, if you can hear this please find a way to get me out of this. The witchfinder has accused us of using magic be careful. Help me Merlin, Please find Arthur.” You didn’t get a response despite the fact You had never begged and you never had sounded quite as hopeless as you did then, even when you were behind enemy lines, in enemy dungeons it was different.

They weren’t your friends, weren’t your family sentencing you to die this was.

As you were dragged through the halls Camelot knights walked all around you, their billowing red capes with the golden dragon crest that once brought you so much comfort now brought only dread, the burning memory being wrapped up in Arthur’s cape on a hunting trip once dearly reminisced now just felt cruel.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The braying of horses and the taps of hooves on the ground as you, the knights, Arthur and Merlin set off on a hunt you found it silly to be hunting for game for fun but you couldn’t refuse the invite considering you were arthurs personal physician recommended by gauis (and Merlin babysitter) and atleast you were with your closest friends who are the loyalist of loyal.

As opposed to being stuck in gauis’s chambers mulling over books like you do almost daily you’d take any possible time with Arthur especially away from prying eyes.

The sun was starting to go down and you were too far away from Camelot to head home so Arthur called it and you’d be camping in the woods tonight, you didn’t mind. It was nice to camp under the stars with your friends away from all the expectations, The watchful eyes. Camelot was home but it was growing increasingly more dangerous.

Here, in the forest with Arthur and Merlin and the knights you were more than just a physician you were equal. You were more then just lower class, you were free and here under the constant cover of trees and the darkening blanket of the setting sun you could be more than some backup physician, you were just y/n. And Prince Arthur was just Arthur.

And if you could have just cupped this moment in your hands and held it tightly to your chest you would have.

Camped by a large oak tree in Arthur’s arms his red cape with the golden pendragon sigil covered your body from the elements keeping you safe and warm and in the light of the fire there was no fear, no worry about expectations. Or watching eyes all that mattered was being truly yourself with the man you love in his arms unashamed.

When sleep finally stole you away from Arthur Merlin couldn’t stop the question that was brewing for months “do you love her?” The young man asked scouring the ground with a stick his arms rested on his knees as he watched the couple together Merlin knew this would turn out badly his best friend, a physician with no title dating the crowned prince of Camelot? A recipe for disaster

He knew what his destiny foretold, he knew the perils and he knew that your role in destiny would surely not let this freedom, this unabashed love stay happy. There could be no room for happiness when you had magic.

“Of course I love her.” The prince found himself telling Merlin hesitation in his voice fear rolling from him in waves, by now it was the late hours of the night, the knights and yourself long since asleep and Merlin and Arthur the only ones still awake

“You know your father would never approve?” Merlin spoke assured that if uther found out you’d most likely be executed

“I know that Merlin, but one day it will be different my father will have no say and I will be king when I am king I want her- to be my queen.” Arthur’s fingers run through your hair softly a promise Arthur swore to himself he would keep his arms wrapping tightly around your waist the soft sound of your breathing calming Arthur’s pounding heart he knew this was reckless and senseless but this was love. And love has no logic.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now a bitter taste of betrayal sat heavily on your shoulders as you were flanked by those you call friends as they lead you to your death you couldn’t blame them it’s not their fault they have to follow uther but it leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

How things had changed.

It was sad to feel Leon’s grip firm but not brutish still trying not to hurt you as if he wasn’t leading you to what would be your death. You were aware from the moment Arthur managed to steal your heart you’d end up on the gallows or burnt at the stake or you’d face death in battle intentionally scheduled by uther. He hated anyone who was not of noble blood for Arthur.

And No good ever came from destiny, and if it was your destiny to die in place of your loved ones you’d die a valiant death. But it didn’t stop the shake in your hands.

You could mask your fear you would not give the witchfinder what he wants. He would not break you.

But leon could feel the shake in your hand and feel the erratic beat of your heart from the pulse point on your wrist and he wanted nothing more than to damn the consequences and save you but he couldn’t. you could only rely on Merlin to prove the witchfinder a fraud and you to be innocent you could only pray for Arthur’s forgiveness. After your innocence is proven.

But the horrible feeling of dread that was building in your stomach as they were leading you into the dungeons a cell- no doubt already made up- And down every step you felt like throwing up when you finally made it to the bottom of the stair case the scent of wet earth and straw filled your nose the bricks that lined the dungeon and its torches that burned steadily along the side of the stairs made you feel ill.

The witch finder swung open the first vacant cell and Leon was forced to keep you there walking you the the center of the room, the suns rays that slipped through the cracks of the small window warmed your face but it didn’t comfort you, soon the sun would be your clock, your tally mark for your final night alive if Merlin failed.

Leon’s hands left yours and still the ache in your shoulders stayed “I’m sorry” he spoke lowly in your ear before he stepped away you turned to finally face your friend

“Leon, let Arthur know I’m sorry” You called to the man who grew up beside you who had been growing up pledging to die for Camelot even if that meant dying young he never expected the young girl with so much light in her eyes, and gentleness that always managed to calm her patients, he never thought she’d be the one on deaths door before him.

Before the man could reply the witch finger slammed the cell door shut and sneered through the bars “not to worry he’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart constricted in your chest as you watched them all walk away the iron in the Camelot dungeons nullifying your powers and your connection with Merlin you couldn’t hear his reply to your plea you were well and truly alone you could of course break out from the cells the iron didn’t make you powerless only dulling your connection with the earth, the place your power comes from. But you couldn’t put your friends at risk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was hours later when guards came to haul you away to your sentencing, heavy iron handcuffs clicked into place over your hands large chains weighing you down & tight enough to make the skin on your wrists rub painfully.

As Guards lead you through the castle to the throne room, there you stood at the large mahogany double doors two guards on either side as they flung the doors open all your friends and family, all your previous patients were standing there watching as the witchfinder lead you in as the number one suspect, the guilty witch. two guards gripped your arms and threw you to the ground in front of the king, a man who you’ve spent countless hours mending, and stitching up alongside gauis.

Your hands shook as your knees took the brunt of the force, your chains rattling from where you were you couldn’t see Merlin, or gauis. But You could feel Merlin’s energy over the crowd

“I’m going to get you out of this y/n, I swear.” Merlin promises to you through your Druid telepathy and you bit back the tears as You scowled at the sight of the ground. you couldn’t bare look up at the sight of morgana in front of you, of Arthur infront of you fear that you’ll see nothing but disgust, embarrassment and regret on his face.

“Here is the first witch I’ve uncovered in my short time here in Camelot. The court physicians apprentice. The princes! Physician!” Every word the witch finder spoke booms over the crowd as he exclaims to the counsel shock no doubt painted their faces you’ve treated every single person in this room and you’ve used magic on quite a few to save them. Why was that a bad thing? If you have the power to save someone was that not the right thing to do? Magic is not bad but people are.

“WHO can imagine what she could have used on the prince unsupervised! What magic she could have used and at what cost to the prince!” By the gasps of those standing around the room the witchfinders words seemed to make them angry, seemed to make the king angry he loved Arthur in his own way so for the witchfinder to use Arthur to sentence you, god. You were surely going to die.

“No.” Arthur’s words were quiet this was the first time he had said anything “y/n a witch? I mean come on we’d know! She’s lived in Camelot since she was five. And she wouldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur called like it was laughable resting his hand on his hip like it was obvious but by the look in his eye the look of realisation but you couldn’t find disgust you didn’t have time to search for it.

But It made you turn your gaze to the floor Arthur knows. he knows. you have magic. You’ve healed him countless times. no stab wound, or arrow wound could be healed as quickly as his has or all the time he’s been injured in battle only moments before, before the searing pain has been replaced with a dull ache. Or the times as a child where any scrape or scuffed knee had been eased by a soft kiss over the wound. The look of betrayal passing over his face when you gained the courage to finally look at him made you shrink into yourself

“That’s exactly what someone under her spell would say. I fear, uther that the prince is too close to her to see clearly.” The witchfinder spoke with a voice like acid and you couldn’t stand making yourself small if he was going to do you for magic you would not be ashamed. You would not hide from his gaze.

Your chained hands pushed you from your slumped position on the ground your hair messily falling over your face you stood on shaky legs looking at the people in the throne room, all your friends watching you with pity filled faces you couldn’t stand it.

It made you feel sick, especially the fearful teary eyed look from morgana like she was seeing her future you hated this.

Uthers response felt like it took years, “y/n l/n I sentence you to death.” The room fell eerily silent before a scream filled your head, it was Merlin you whirled around to spot him in the crowd tears in his eyes and anger flashing across his face you wouldn’t be surprised if the next attempt on uthers life would be from Merlin.

“No! Father you can’t. What evidence do you have?!” Arthur pleaded with his father quietly by his throne anger glaring in arthurs eyes pointed not at you, it gave you hope that he didn’t hate you enough to want you dead.

“My word is final.” The king sneered and your hope filled heart broke. Swallowing hard your eyes searched for Merlin the fear in your eyes hit him hard as he watched

you be carted out of the court room your eyes locking with Merlin’s anger and tears filled his eyes before your eyes swept to Arthur’s & the sheen of betrayal sat heavy in his eyes and before you could stop yourself you called out for him one last time. As the guards dragged you to the doors.

“Arthur!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cells in camelots dungeons were always your most hated place to be from the horrid stench to the chill that cooled your bones to the straw that littered the floor In wet mangled clumps. To the extent it weakened your connection to your magic. Your magic was your strength the very essence of you to have it be weakened by the iron felt wrong.

The dungeons were perhaps the scariest place in Camelot there you’d sit, forced to rot as they’re building a funeral pyre for you and your execution is due in a day.

But you’d been there for now two days, and Day by day you were becoming more and more sure that this was the one situation Merlin could not save you from.

by the betrayed look on Arthur’s face when you were lead through the large doors infront of the entire court for your sentencing and the cold look in uthers eyes you were a dead woman walking.

And maybe you deserved it by the look on Arthur’s face as the pieces fell into place and he realised all the times his wounds eased that were not with the help of adrenaline, but magic. it made you wonder did he believe you had enchanted him? Bewitched him to love you? It pained you greatly to even think that Arthur may be in his chambers rethinking every kiss you’ve shared with one another. Would your love ever truly be enough for him to forgive you for magic? Of course he didn’t like magic that was to be expected but he liked you. At least you thought he liked you…

And He liked Merlin, he’d shown countless times indifference to magic, magic that had saved his life countless times, and still the look of betrayal in his eyes made you wonder Were all your secret picnics and stolen kisses in corridors just something to occupy him?

Were you nothing more than Arthur’s dirty little secret, a silly little romance that would have only ended in tragedy?

was it all for nothing?

Were you nothing to him?

No you were not nothing. You were everything you were his in private. the only place he didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to agree with his father’s actions he could just be Arthur pendragon not the prince.

besides It’s better to have loved Arthur and to die for it than to have never had him at all. You may never be his queen but you were for a fleeting moment, for a fleeting moment you were his and he was yours.

And now you would burn because you loved your family too much to watch them die, you half wondered as you sat in that cell if uther knew.

If he had known you and Arthur were courting in secret and if he called the witchfinder to get rid of more than one the little scandal waiting to happen and you wouldn’t put it past uther to condemn you to death so long as Arthur is still under his control.

The longer you sat in your cell the more you stewed, a slue of emotions crashing over you, from sadness to anger, to acceptance.

You would accept the fate of burning for your loved ones but you would not accept the fate of losing Arthur. Not like this.

You would not be separated by death, if Arthur didn’t want you after knowing the truth you would live with it, but you would not live with not knowing.

Your love for the boy had been too strong you were going to marry Arthur in the future, it wasn’t to far away having a family with the prince, having a life.

That could have been your future. If you were not awaiting execution.

You sat there in drenching sadness that crashed like waves, what was worse was the sound of key’s jiggling. Did you misjudge the days? Was this going to be the end? already?

“You and me are going to have a little talk.” The witch finder sneered unlocking your cell and looking down at you with hatred still you didn’t gaze in his eyes. You watched the floor with intensity as he hauled you off to a different cell leading you through the halls past the staircase you caught sight of a shaky morgana your eyes found hers and suddenly you felt a lot more scared than before.

In the cell there was a chair and a table and a small cart of various medical and surgical weapons ‘oh shit’ your mind screamed as the witch finder forced you to the chair “So we can do this two ways. It’s up to you confess why you’re in Camelot and who else has magic. and maybe I’ll let you live. Don’t tell me and I’ll find out myself.” The cruelty in his tone made you rear back subconsciously eyes narrowing at the witchfinders gaze

“Then” you sighed shakily looking at him through your lashes coldly“you’re going to have to find out yourself.” You summoned every inch of anger and willed it in your tone. Trying to be brave despite the frantic beats of your heart.

But It was hours spent in that damp Camelot cell hidden from the other prisoners clamped to a chair and the witch finder inches from your face and array of striking weapons on a small cart made your breathing hitch.

But you’ve had worse, you’ve had to fight wilderin in hengists kingdom for sport. Both yourself and Gwen had been kidnapped under the guise of being morgana and her physician and so yourself and Gwen were forced to masquerade as morgana and yourself and you were stuck in different cells both damp and smelling of blood and wet earth.

And then there was Lancelot who happened to be hengists champion, and a champion who only days later you’d be thrown into the pit with a wilderin with no weapons with a tied up Gwen and Lancelot. Both yourself and Lancelot had stayed behind to give Gwen time to escape and ultimately were the first to be thrown in the cage again you didn’t mind as long as Gwen escaped you’d be fine.

But Truth be told the odds were very against you, but magic was always going to save you, but using it would doom you especially in front of everyone in hengists court. With the use of magic and a bloodied broken bone from the wilderins last meal made for a convenient way to murder the beast. Until another one came and Merlin and Arthur had saved you just in time From its hideous rat jaws the huge bleeding scar of its teeth in your arm made you detest the stench of blood and earth.

That was probably the worst experience of your life until now. And the scar from the wilderins teeth was still healing but the physical scars meant nothing the torture of being in a cell that smells the same as this dungeon was the worst that and the feeling of knowing your life is going to end were probably the most humbling experiences.

But, the only saving grace was that night in camp where Arthur had taken it upon himself to patch up your wilderin wound (poorly might you add as a physician it was odd to let the only man with very little experience patching someone up, patch you up.)

But you let him anyway and Arthur’s hands held your arm with feather light touches the needle threaded through your flesh with clumsy fingers the stiching off centre and rough around the edges but it was Arthur’s way of telling you he cared, the silk thread slid easily through your flesh but it pained you every stitch Arthur was no physician but he was trying.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And Gwen told me when they questioned you about any secrets of Camelot you never cracked.”

“never Camelot is my home.” You smiled at the prince but your attempt at reassurance failed miserably and he ducked his head

“I wish you, cracked. Then they wouldn’t have given you that.” Arthur pointed to the growing black eye rapidly swelling over your left eye a bruise you got for refusing to rat out any information on when guards were on duty, the way to the Camelot armory or anything you overheard as a physician from any loose lipped clients.

“I am not weak Arthur. I can deal with a black eye and brutish men. I’ve been sparring with you and the knights for years” Your eyes pointed angrily at the boy crossing your arms over your chest despite the half finished stitching feeling the half sewn wound twist painful as you did so but you hid the pain to appear strong something you’ve done since you were young

“I never said that! But you- you aren’t weak. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” Arthur’s blue eyes bore into yours with such an intensity his eyes flashing from your lips to your eyes his hand cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips softly against yours shock prevented you from kissing back as the blonde went to pull away you chased his lips kissing him back with feverish passion.

“I love you Arthur.” You rested your head against his the exhaustion of the day catching up to you he didn’t say it back but you didn’t care he just had to know.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The memory of Arthur made you feel loved it kept you strong, hit after hit, once against your ribs twice against your face, four times against your legs and once more against your face with enough force to split your lip licking the blood that dripped from your lip your bruised body heaved in pain and still you never cracked.

“Come on miss l/n, just tell me two little names and all this can stop”

“You’re deluded.” You sneered before spitting a wad of blood into the witchfinders face smiling gleefully when your blood tinged spit stained his face but the glee was short lived when the man had sent a quick hit to your chest stealing the air from your lungs.

Before he grabbed a tool with a screw and roughly pulled your thumb into it “you will tell me miss y/n what your intentions are with the prince and with Camelot or I will force it out of you.”

The witchfinder shredded his coat as he leaned over you tightening the screw into your thumb the pressure of the screw against your finger had you squirming in your seat as he tightened the contraption more and more

“All you need to do is confess your accomplices. And this will stop.” His voice echoed the room but the feeling of a sharp screw drilling into your finger tighter and tighter puncturing the nail and skin the pain otherworldly and unbearable you tried to hold your scream back but when the man still did not relent and instead tightened the thumb screw you let out your blood curdling scream.

“WHO! Are! Your! Accomplices!” His voice yelled now as he tightened more and more gut wrenching screams ripped from your throat you would let yourself scream, let yourself cry but you would not tell him a thing.

The crushing feeling of your thumb bones breaking made your heart beat incredibly fast your other ironed hand gripped the table with force your nails digging into the wood

He still tightened the screw and by the loud haunting screams that ripped from you and the smile on the witchfinders face he enjoyed your pain you couldn’t help the salty tears and horrible screams the pain unbearable and overcoming your sense but still your mouth locked on any information like a vault.

“Come on!” His voice boomed as his hands squeezed your bicep his eyes crazed as he watched you

“Fuck you!” You screamed eyes red with tears and fighting the approaching darkness in the corner of your vision

“Aredian, sir. The king has called a meeting and requires your presence.” The servant at the cell door had spoken quietly to the witchfinder nervous in his presence

The witchfinder sighed straightening his posture rolled his eyes and moved close to your ear “no matter, miss l/n. The lady morgana, and Merlin will burn with you soon”

Your heart dropped and you struggled against the restraints the excruciating pain from your finger and the rest of your beaten body the pain in your ribs alluded you to the potential broken bones it caused your panicked shouts to echoed through the dungeon and the witchfinders laugh filled the room

“No! Aredian stop.” You cried to his retreating figure “I’ll confess to the use of sorcery if. And only if, you spare Merlin and morgana.” Your eyes close in defeat

“Good choice, miss y/n. take her to her cell.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

And there you were again cut off from anyone and anything unsure if Merlin would be able to prove you innocent, or if he’d burn with you, or if Arthur still even cared the woman he was courting was about to be executed and had just withstood torture. Hengist was bad but he never had broken your bones or tortured you only tried to feed you to wilderin.

The pain in your thumb had dulled but the bleeding hole had still gushed the measly bandage that consider of your dress did barely anything to stop the bleeding and the iron cells mixed with the torture made your magic virtually ineffective making you unable to fully heal your wounds only dulling the pain of your thumb.

your time was running out and you were truly alone in the cells your connection to Merlin via your druid telepathy was proving useless he wouldn’t respond you couldn’t warn him of the witch finder and by the shine of the moon in your cell you only had hours left.

There is already a funeral pyre with your name on it in the court yard. You couldn’t help the tears that slipped down your cheeks you didn’t want to die not like this and a prison break wasn’t even on your mind they’d just kill Merlin and gaius in your absence there was no way out. and the crushing guilt of something you cannot change began to pound against your skull. Were you born wrong?

Was it wrong to have this magic? This power that has saved those you’ve loved for years why was it seen as inherently evil? Why were you seen as inherently evil? All you wanted was your friends to be safe.

And between the pain that debilitated you from the physical blows to the broken bones in your thumb and the emotional pain of Arthur most likely hating you made you want to just give up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried the stupid scent of blood, earth, and straw polluted your nose. And you found yourself thinking about how lucky Gwen had been to have Lancelot visit her cell in hengists kingdom determined to break her and by extension yourself out.

You had Merlin in your court but you still wished you had someone to hold your hand through the vent even if it was the last thing you’d ever do you didn’t want to die alone.

“Y/n” you heard whispered from the doors of your cell “Arthur?” You called confusion lacing your voice as your red rimmed eyes met Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but run to the cell door resting your head on the bars sobbing in relief at the sight of him the pain from your body put on the back burner for a moment.

“What happened?” Guilt filled Arthur’s heart at the sight of you, your eye healing from your previous beating and now the sight of your bloodied broken thumb and bruised body Arthur saw red.

He felt betrayed at the revelation of your magic of course but he understood why you had kept it a secret and if Arthur had been paying more attention he would have seen it plain as day when you were kids.

Your magic was obvious since childhood Arthur was too blind to see it.

“I know” was all he said eyes stoney and voice unwavering “I know you have magic the witch finder is right.”

Any hope that bubbles in your chest died with his words “Arthur I- i can explain” You tried shaking your head lacing your uninjured hand in his through the cell pleased when he didn’t pull away

“Shhh Merlin told me everything, everything you’ve ever done to save me. Save everyone. I understand why you did what you did.” Arthur spoke lowly his eyes staring into yours trying to convey his apology

“Merlin has come up with a plan to save you, he’s doing it right now but I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret. I can’t stay for long but- but y/n I love you.” Arthur spoke with all the love he could muster placing a chaste kiss on your lips through the cell

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I was afraid of my father I am supposed to be king one day to marry someone of noble blood, but I don’t want that. I want you.” Arthur’s voice is quiet as he confesses he wants to spend the rest of your lives together

“I want nothing more.” You felt like crying he still wanted you, magic and all.

“Arthur, I was so scared.” You felt so exhausted from the torture to the ticking clock you couldn’t help but cry

“Shh” Arthur’s fingers ghosted over the skin of your cheeks wiping your tears. “We will prove your innocence, I’ll keep your secret. I promise you.”

Arthur placed a kiss on your lips once more pressing a necklace with his ring into your hand before promising Merlin has everything under control.

With your heart a bit lighter you finally sat down on the hard cell bed clutching Arthur’s ring in your hand you let sleep overtake your body trusting that Merlin will save you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When the bright light of the sun shines through your cell window today is the day you are supposed to die, and part of your questioned if you dreamt Arthur’s presence to save your sanity but by the slight pressure of his ring on a chain in your hand reassured your beating heart.

You were not dreaming, Arthur loves you and Merlin just spent last night trying to save you but there’s still a ticking time bomb of the noon execution and by the switch shift of the guards it was almost 12

Time was ticking and still there was no sign of Merlin you felt sick like your heart was going to fall out of your stomach

You prayed to whatever god or deity was out there that you would not burn today but by the size of the growing crowd outside the cell window your prayers would go unanswered there was nothing you could do but just sit there in anxiety

The rattling of keys and heavy sound of chainmail made you accept the fact that Merlin would be too late to save you and Arthur would watch you burn

When the knight reached your cell his keys turned the lock and he walked towards you slowly your eyes met the floor the pain in your thumb still debilitating but you held Arthur’s ring in your hands tightly if you were to burn your burn knowing you were loved.

To your surprise when the knight takes you by the wrist silver key in hand as he unlocks your handcuffs

Confusion takes over your face as you watch the knight with intensity “what?” You can’t help but ask rubbing your now freed wrist nervous when he takes your injured hand but this knight grips your hand with gentleness that’s beyond you

“You’re free to go miss” the knight smiles he looked to be a newer knight of Camelot one you didn’t grow up with but he is kind

“Thank you” you nod to the knight as you stumble from your cell gauis is standing at the end of the hallway white as a ghost but pleased to see you freed from your cell

“Y/n!” Gauis smiles opening his arms and you can’t help but fall into them holding onto gauis tightly your sobs wet his shirt shoulder

“Gauis how did you do it? How did you prove me to be innocent?” You cry your hands shaking and body weak from days spent eating little food and dealing with aredians torture.

“It was all Merlin and Arthur.” The old man smiles his arms supporting you as you walk up the stairs from the dungeons to your chambers

“Tell me everything.”you smile at the old man walking side by side down the corridor gauis’s laugh fills the empty hallway

“Not here, let’s get your wounds treated.” His eyes glance at the bruises littering your body, and the bloodied thumb

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had never been so happy to see your chambers in your life, the comforting smell of herbs and bread the familiar scent of old books and the sound of your boots against the stone floor sounded like music to your ears

There’s no scent of wet earth, or blood aside from the metallic smell emanating from your finger you could almost forget the pain of the cells now that you’re back.

But there’s still very obviously signs of damage done by the witch finders raid broken pots, damaged shelves potions and poisons leaving residue on the floor

But still it is your home. gauis filled a pitcher of water and fills a cup for you and once the water passes your lips you come to realise just how parched you were gulping down glass after glass

gauis busied himself with fixing his work station pulling ointment after ointment and an array of bandages from his kit.

“Sit please” gauis pointed to the table and you sat yourself on the wooden bench gauis had begun to take your makeshift bandage from your wound the gaping hole in your thumb and the blood that spurted from your wound made gauis’s breathing hitch

As he gentle distributed ointment over the wound to fight off growing infections and bandaging up the wound with a fresh bandage Merlin would work on reconstructing your thumb when he gets back

Gauis had felt over your ribs and when he had found another break Merlin would be healing that too for now gauis would sit beside you on the dining room table fresh food would be laid out gauis knew what it was like in the Camelot dungeons and the lack of food

So he didn’t comment on how much you ate when approaching footsteps made your heart beat faster and your eyes flicker to gauis his hand rested on top of yours to reassure you, gauis and Merlin would always reassure you you were safe here you weren’t trapped in the cells of your own home.

When Merlin’s figure found himself in the doorway you could see the relief on his face that you were okay aside from the bruises and bandaged thumb you were alive.

“Oh y/n” Merlin’s soft voice cried and before you knew it you were pushing up off of the table and running into Merlin’s arms

“Hi Merlin” you held him tightly you owed Merlin your life and so being in his hold meant being safe, he would never hurt you.

“God I’m so glad you’re back” his hold tightened and he could feel your magic strong and your connection to eachother he wasn’t cut off from you anymore

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.” Merlin’s guilt ate him alive as he pulled away the black eye and split lip made him see red if he didn’t already kill aredian by accident he would have and he would have made him go through what you did.

Merlin’s eyes flashed yellow and the unbearable ache in your thumb and pulsing pain all over ebbed into nothingness.

You could feel your bones reassembling in your thumb and your broken rib fuse back together the pain and bruises once a bright purple colour would dissipate into a light blue and then would turn into the colour of your skin again.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You squeezed his hand tightly he nodded his head and held you tightly in his arms

Before a smile broke out on his face “do you want to hear how I proved aredian to be a fraud?” Merlin helped you sit beside him and poured another glass of water for you

“Of course!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After Merlin had recounted the entire night from convincing Arthur of everything, that despite your magic you loved him with no enchantment and even if you had enchanted him Merlin asked Arthur point blank if what he told him that day you were cuddled in Arthur’s arms if it was still true, if he still loved you.

Arthur told Merlin he would always love you but he couldn’t trust you now with magic Merlin felt like slapping the prince.

How could you trust Arthur? He’s the prince of Camelot. A kingdom that tried to burn a woman at the stake the first day he arrived and you had grown up here watching that and still you treated its citizens and royalty with no malice?

Merlin understood why you couldn’t trust Arthur he can’t. Not because Arthur was a bad friend but he’s the prince.

No one can help how they are born, but you can put yourself in their shoes and Merlin spent hours convincing Arthur and then more hours enchanting aredian.

From the tincture of belladonna, to the bracelet, to even the frog from aredians throat! Merlin would not fail.

You loved Merlin a lot no one would go as far as he did to save you and you only knew him for a year and a half.

When three knocks sounded on the door Merlin had tried to hide his smile as gauis opened the door to Arthur, in a white shirt freshly showered hair and a Bouquet of wildflowers you felt your heart melt at his kindness

His blue eyes were filled with worry and fear his gaze flicking to gauis and Merlin before he lowered his voice “how are you?”

“Much better now I’m out of that god forsaken cell.” You felt your throat close up at the mention of the cell you spent so long in

Arthur felt guilty about his actions about not saving you or stopping his father. He tried but he could have tried harder

You could see Arthur was drowning in his guilt placing your hand on his shoulder you lead him past gauis and Merlin to your room and sat on your small bed

“You tried your hardest Arthur, it’s not your fault I was thrown in the dungeons.”

“I should have stopped them y/n. I should have broken you out I should have done anything!” Arthur blinked through tears

His hand holding yours in your lap, “Arthur I love you with my whole heart I do not blame you, so please do not blame yourself.”

“I love you and I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.” Arthur confessed his eyes full of sincere love

You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him your lips meshing against one another’s felt like home, it felt like love and warmth and like an apology all in one.

It wasn’t until your lungs burnt for air did you pull back. “I should go I don’t want anyone to become suspicious, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked tentatively a part of him afraid of rejection.

“Of course” you placed another kiss on his lip before pulling open your chamber door to reveal Merlin and gauis on the other side ears pressed against the wood looking guilty.

“Merlin…gauis what do you think you’re doing?” You chastise at the pair you expected this of Merlin but of gauis? That was surprising

“Gauis i expected better of you” Arthur laughed from where he stood wrapping an arm around your shoulder

[googleitlol]

I'm impatient so I'm getting right to what I wanna write. It doesn't take long for Zhenyuan to get back and figure out what happened to his tree and boy was he pissed.

He catches up pretty quick, fighting with the disciples before scooping them all up in his sleeve to take them back to the Abbey and make them pay for uprooting his ginseng tree. That's where the drama continues to unfold…

(PS this is a bit of a longer one)

Dove Masterlist:

Guan Yin

Last night was supposed to be relaxing, a break from camping in the wilderness. A moment of peace on this long and tedious journey. Now, after spending the entire night running away from the temple your group had disrupted, you all were presumably being taken back.

Zhenyuan, the immortal daoist that ran the temple and owner of the uprooted ginseng tree, had returned in the time your group made their escape. After fighting off the three demons followers of Tripitaka, the daoist managed to capture and drag you all back to the hall where the disciples were originally accused of thievery.

In the main hall once again, Zhenyuan orders his disciples to have you each tied to the pillars of the hall while the horse is left tied to a post at the gates outside. The immortal looks to his prisoners, his eyes shifting to each of you with a look of animosity. His violet cap nearly covers the stray crow feathers mixed amidst his hair, the pearl whit of his beard shows the extent of his time on the earth. If not for the current situation, you might have felt honoured to meet the old daoist.

One of his servants, likely one of the men he had taken with him on his previous trip, approaches. “What would you want done now, Master?”

The immortal whips his head towards his servant as he speaks, his frown deepening. “I’ve waited ten thousand years for my tree to bear its fruit. They will all be punished accordingly.” As he continues, he looks back to your group. “The Tang Monk is mortal, and so neither knives nor spears, hatchets nor battle-axes should be used.” Your hopes of survival widen at that, if only by a smidge. Perhaps you and Tripitaka could survive this after all. “Bring out the whip.”

Nevermind.

“What?!” Tripitaka shouts, his eyes wide as a disciple goes to fetch the whip. It’s quickly brought out, and you’re sure that if not for the rope keeping the monk tied to the pillar, his knees would have surely given out. You don’t trust any weapon owned by the immortal. Even if it wouldn’t kill a human, it surely won’t leave one in the state to travel ever again.

“You can start with the unworthy senior member of the party, the Tang Monk.” Zhenyuan orders, ignoring the man’s exclamation. “He will pay for the waste my years of labour has been reduced to.”

Before you can object, a voice calls out as the servant begins to wet the whip. “Wait!” The daoist looks to Sun Wukong, seemingly annoyed by his shouts. “Start with me, I’m the one who stole the fruit. I uprooted your tree.” Your brows lift up in surprise, his gaze refusing to look away from the immortal. He’s actually admitting to it? His eyes are wide, panicked as he speaks.

Zhenyuan grits his teeth, the confession only angering him further. “Insolent ape! Even if that is true, he should pay for not delivering the proper punishments for your offences.”

“He didn’t even know I did it!” Wukong objects. “When my brothers and I were asked by him and your disciples, I became spiteful and tried to trick them instead. If anyone deserves the punishment for your tree, it is me.” He lowers his head, as though he was ashamed.

You look at the demon, his head hanging low. It takes you a moment to realise you aren’t misinterpreting what is being said. Sun Wukong is really taking ownership of his actions. You never thought you would see the day.

Zhenyuan glares at the simian for a moment, sharp enough to pierce through solid iron. His servant looks up to him in silent confirmation, and after the passing of a moment, he nods. “Very well.”

With the command, the servant approaches the Monkey King instead. You watch, anxiety picking at your skin as the man raises his arm in preparation. Before your mind can register your mouth moving, you shout. “Stop!”

“What now?!” Zhenyuan’s head swivels to face you, his teeth gritting as the others turn to look at you more in confusion.

You take a moment to breathe, knowing what you have to do. You really didn’t want it to come to this, but there wasn’t much else of a choice. With one last glance of annoyance to Monkey, who was looking at you with wide confused eyes, you face Zhenyuan. “If you truly seek justice for your ginseng tree, we can revive it.” The daoist is silent for a split second before he keels over in laughter. “Revive it? And how would you do such a thing?” He asks, clearly amused by your claims.

Mentally preparing yourself, you shake your head. “I cannot give your tree new life, but I know who can. My master, Guan Yin.” Some of Zhenyuan’s disciples share looks of shock with one another at the mention of the bodhisattva’s name, some muttering to one another while the daoist remains still. “I am certain she has a cure to bring your tree back, I have seen her perform similar miracles before. If you release me, I can bring her here so she can heal it and bring your fruit back.”

The room becomes heavy in silence, the immortal narrowing his gaze as he considers your words. “And how can I trust that you won’t abandon these men to hide with your master?” He asks, gesturing to the pilgrims.

Before you can affirm your claim, Wukong jumps in with little hesitation. “I could go with her.” The response makes your stomach drop. Out of everyone in your party, why is he the one volunteering? Looking back to Tripitaka, his wide eyes seem to show he carries the same sentiments. “Trust me, if I tag along, Guan Yin will want to rush me back to my master as soon as possible.” You do suppose there was truth in the statement, though it carries truth in the context of any of the disciples leaving the monk. Nonetheless, the glare of the immortal slowly shifts. It feels clear how greatly he mourns his ginseng. You can’t blame him for his anger, after returning home to see the fruits of his labour be massacred in such a way. After a moment of contemplation, he sighs. “Very well, then. You have three days to return with your master.” As he speaks, his servants quickly approach you and Sun Wukong to untie you.

“Your companions will remain here under my care until you return. You have my word that no harm will come to them.” He promises, and you nod in thanks before looking back to Wukong, the two of you eyeing one another warily. You can only hope he isn’t doing this as some way to get back at you for slapping him. You doubt Tripitaka would believe any ‘unfortunate’ accidents that might happen on your way to Potalaka Mountain. You catch the poor monk’s eye, who’s making a terrible effort to conceal his lack of hope. You don’t blame him for the sombre look on his face, this very obviously isn’t how this stop was supposed to go. All you can hope for is that things can go smoothly from here.

One of Zhenyuan’s disciples ushers you and Wukong to the gates while others go to untie your companions. You can only manage to glance at your travel partner for a moment, uneasiness weighing you down inside. He looks just about as thrilled as you feel, which is more comforting than you thought it’d be. Better than seeing that devious telltale grin that usually meant he was up to something.

You think again of his confession to Zhenyuan, almost impressed by the fact he took sole ownership for what happened. It feels… uncharacteristic from what you’ve seen of him. At that moment, he had sounded genuinely concerned for Tripitaka. You always assumed he felt your travelling party was more an obligation, a means to his freedom. Even in his defence for his actions the night before, it sounded like he only used the disciples' rudeness towards his master as an excuse. But in the main hall with Zhenyuan, the trickster’s words truly felt honest.

The disciple leaves the two of you at the gates, and the tension only seems to grow in his absence. You quickly clear your throat, averting your eyes to the path instead of looking to the demon. “We should be on our way, then. We don’t have much time.”

He replies with only a grunt, supposedly in agreement, and the two of you begin your trek away from the abbey and towards Potalaka Mountain. The silence feels thick as you move, this tense feeling of awkwardness almost drowning you. It felt so normal to be bickering and at odds with the demon, and not having to deal with his insipid jabs for once feels off.

“…I didn’t expect you to volunteer yourself like that.” You finally break the silence, glancing to the side to see him rolling his eyes.

The monkey looks away, seemingly irritated from how he crosses his arms. “Things were easier before this stupid journey. I can handle any sort of punishment because I– I’m me! Poor Master is so frail, his heart might have given out before the whip could even touch him.” He shakes his head with a prolonged sigh. “I never intended for him to face the consequences of my actions. You were… right.”

The gasp that escapes your lips catches even you off guard, though not as much as hearing those words come from the supposed Great Sage himself. “What was that?” You look at him with wide eyes, the demon grumbling when he glances at your expression. Hearing the Great Sun Wukong admit not only that he was wrong, but that you were right? You’re almost feel unable to comprehend how he continues to surprise you.

“I won’t repeat it a second time. You heard me, woman.” You can’t help but grin at his seeming annoyance, amused by his obvious reluctance in admitting his wrongdoings. Despite how much you enjoy this, though, you can’t help but truly feel… you’re not quite sure. You have always been so sure of the Monkey King’s inherently selfish nature, seeing him act in any way that doesn’t align with it felt unnatural. “Why did you stop Zhenyuan?”

The question takes you off guard, the amusement dropping from your face when you take in the inquisitive look on Wukong’s face “What?”

The monkey demon smirks, a brow lifting at the sense of the tables turning in the conversation. “You didn’t think a little flogging could really hurt me, did you?” He leans over, stopping you in your tracks with a raised brow. “I honestly thought you would have revelled in my pain.”

“Don’t think so low of me.” You roll your eyes, resting a hand on your hip and glancing away. “The thought of asking my master for help came to me just moments before. Zhenyuan would have moved onto the rest of us after you anyways. I’m not so cruel as to watch another get whipped just because of my own feelings, even if that person is you.”

“Could have fooled me.” He laughs, making you scoff. There’s that annoying monkey you’re used to. Done with the conversation, you transform and take flight, in hopes of making the detour home quicker. You assume he’ll follow suit.

What you don’t expect is to be plucked from the air, ochre arms taking hold of your small form. You jump in a panic, your wings flapping manically before hearing Wukong’s sour tone of voice. “Stop! Calm yourself, Dove, the trip will be faster if I carry you.” He explains, huffing in a bit of amusement as he adds, “Your wings aren’t nearly as swift as my cloud.”

Of course he has to get one last jab in. You don’t find yourself too annoyed with it, though. If anything, it means you get to sit back and enjoy the sky instead of exhausting yourself. You silently tuck in your wings and try to relax, despite how bizarre this felt. It really crossed your mind earlier that Wukong volunteering was his way of making your death look like an accident, and you still haven’t crossed that situation out as a possibility. However, you can’t deny how you’re taken by surprise with how gently he holds you. He carries you in one arm, his other shielding you from the strong winds rushing past.

Though, despite the protection from the powerful gusts, you can’t help but reel from the whiplash of it all. So many of his words, his actions in these last few hours clashed with the loud and brash monkey you know him to be. Of course, you never really expected him to be heartless, but you find yourself surprised nonetheless. Atop Sun Wukong’s somersault cloud, it hardly takes any time before you spot Potalaka Mountain in the distance. In a blink, you start to feel your stomach twisting. Seeing your home again, it feels almost surreal after so long. If it wasn’t for the pressing matters you returned for, you would love to see everyone again. The mountain itself is beautiful, flowers of every kind paint freckles of colour over the grassy green surface. Bodies of water trailing from the top of the mountain run down in graceful twists, trees older than yourself towering over bushes of berries. As Wukong begins your descent, you notice the village home of your old friends. It seems bustling with life, but before you can take in anymore of the small home, you pass by it on the cloud.

Facing forward once more, you find yourself heading towards a nostalgically familiar bamboo grove. The cloud disappears, the Monkey King landing as you transform back and take in a deep breath. You quickly turn to Wukong. “Thank you, Great Sage. I am grateful for the… quicker trip.”

The King gives you a funny look, perhaps because of the more formal thanks but is unable to respond before you turn back towards the grove. You can feel her presence, an aura you can recognise even on the other side of the mountain. She emerges from the grove, a serene figure cloaked in white holding her precious vase in one arm, a willow branch in the other. A small smile emerges from the warm feeling that grows in your chest when you see her, and you quickly bow in greeting.

“Hello, Master. I–” You can barely continue when your words get stuck in your throat, caught by surprise when you feel Guan Yin’s arms wrap around you in a warm embrace, pulling you closer.

“It is good to see you again, my little Dove.” Any resolve you had mustered quickly dissipates at her words and you quickly find yourself returning the gesture, holding your master tightly in your arms.

Your smile cracks wider ever so slightly when you feel her embrace tighten. “It is good to see you as well, Master. I’ve missed you.”

You slowly release from the reunion, your mind brought back to the problem at hand when you see Guan Yin glance back at Sun Wukong. “And I see you brought company as well.” You turn to look at the demon yourself, the man giving a somewhat awkward wave to the bodhisattva, his worried smile saying enough about the situation. “Tell me, if the two of you are here, where have you left the Tang Monk?”

“About that, our travelling companions seem to have found themselves in some trouble.” You lower your gaze as you speak, searching your mind for the right thing to say. You felt bad having to come here and bother the bodhisattva at all, and now the words feel caught in your throat.

“I angered the Great Immortal Zhenyuan, Bodhisattva.” Sun Wukong steps forward, in front of you. “I stole some of his ginseng fruit. When his disciples accused us of stealing, I struck down the tree in a bout of anger. Now we have come to ask for your help in restoring it.”

The answer makes Guan Yin’s eyes widen, and you look away when you feel her gaze focus on you. “My help?” She sounds surprised, but you keep your eyes trained to the ground. Even without looking, you can hear the smile in her voice. “I am impressed.”

The words have your head whip back to face her, your mouth almost going agape. Even your monkey companion shares a look of befuddlement. Impressed? By what?! “You are?”

Slipping the willow branch into her other hand, Guan Yin holds out a hand that you take, bringing you closer as she addresses Wukong. “My little Squab has always made it a point to show her independence. Though, it was the right decision to call on me for this. I will revive the ginseng tree.” She looks at you with the same comforting smile you’ve seen since you were a child, and it quickly absolves your anxieties. You had been worried that asking for her assistance on a matter like this would be tedious to her, but the bodhisattva quickly settled your fears with her words of reassurance.

“Squab?” Wukong snorts, quickly dragging you back into reality with his snickering.

You feel your face flush, and try your best to ignore the ape. “Shall we be on our way, Master?” You clear your throat and turn to face her. The Bodhisattva lets out a titter of amusement herself, which does little to tone down the growing warmth of your face.

Luckily, she doesn’t comment on it. “Yes, the faster your journey can continue, the better.” With her words, you turn back into your dove form.

This time, Guan Yin is who you accompany on the flight back to the Abbey, perching on her shoulder. Fortunately enough for you, the importance of the situation at hand left little time for conversation between Wukong and Guan Yin. You soon catch sight of the home of Zhenyuan once more. As you descend, you spot a servant catching sight of your group and quickly run inside.

By the time you reach the ground and transform back, the old immortal Zhenyuan, accompanied by your own travelling companions, are at the gates of the temple ready to meet you. “Bodhisattva Guan Yin, it is an honour to have you with us.” The daoist bows in greeting, your master doing the same.

“Thank you, Great Immortal. The Great Sage and my disciple have informed me of your misfortune.” She nods politely, gesturing to the two of you. “Please, bring me to your ginseng tree so that I may restore it.”

“Of course.” At her request, your group is led to the gardens. You follow behind your Master, your companions a little ways behind. There’s a slight tension in the air you try your best to ignore while you are all escorted to the tree, a nervousness amongst the others. Maybe they were unsure of whether Guan Yin can do what you said she could, but if that is the case, there’s no need for them to be antsy. You have faith in your master. Entering the garden, the damage outshines the beauty of every other plant in the space. Grass and dirt overturned surrounds the thick roots that point up towards the sky. Shrivelled leaves lay scattered beneath the branches they once decorated, pieces of bark and twigs chip off the trunk, the aftermath of prideful destruction.

The group looks back at the Monkey King, who lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. Guan Yin raises an unimpressed brow, and points to the tree with her willow branch. “Sun Wukong, will you step forward, please?” With a small nod, he complies. “The hand that fell this tree will be the one to lift it back up.”

The Bodhisattva dips her willow branch into her vase, using it to brush a charm onto the sage’s hand before closing his fist. “Now, place your hand at the base of the tree, and– do you perhaps own a jade ladle?” She turns to Zhenyuan.

“We have wine goblets and tea cups made of jade.” The daoist responds, and she nods.

“Good, have one brought here.” Guan Yin smiles, and he turns to give one of his servants the silent command to retrieve one while she returns her attention to Wukong. The demon places his fist against one of the roots of the tree, one of the few that were still in contact with the ground. The dirt beneath the root starts to tremble as he follows her instructions, the ground dampening before a pool of water spurts up from below. A few of the disciples gasp at the trick, though Guan Yin remains unfazed. “Thank you, Great Sage. Now, if you would please reorient the tree to its original position.” Wukong is quick to obey, lifting the tree with relative ease and placing it carefully back so that its branches could reach up once more. The Bodhisattva then has several of their observers help in covering the roots with more soil, you and your fellow companions putting a hand in yourselves.

Just as you all finish in replanting the tree, the servant returns with the jade goblet. Once it is given to Guan Yin, she hands it to Sun Wukong. “Use this to pour the water over the tree. Once you have done that, the bark and the roots will grow back together. The leaves will come out, the branches will turn green, and the fruits will appear.”

The Monkey King nods, following the bodhisattva’s instructions and uses the jade goblet to scoop up the water from the ground. On his cloud, he hovers over the tree before drizzling the water over its branches. Guan Yin begins to recite a spell under her breath and as the water makes contact, the leaves begin to grow once more. The spots where the bark had chipped away reemerge and the uniquely-shaped ginseng begin to grow and ripen spontaneously. The servants and disciples of the temple begin to murmur amongst one another, shocked by the miracle performed.

However, it is Zhenyuan whose voice carries above them all. “Thank you, Bodhisattva.” He is almost beaming with joy as he speaks, relief transcribed over his expression. “This deed must be celebrated. Please, allow me to hold a feast in your honour. To celebrate the revival of my ginseng tree.”

Your master looks at you with a smile, one you return happily. You guess it was a good thing to have called on her for assistance after all. “Of course, I accept.” With that, Zhenyuan and Guan Yin left to speak while you finally have a chance to speak with your friends that were left behind. Tripitaka is the first to approach you, relief radiates off him in waves. “Thank goodness you came back. I’m impressed with how quickly you were able to return.” He admits, looking over to where Monkey King was talking to Sandy and Pigsy. “I thought you and Pilgrim Sun would have more of a… difficult time reaching Potalaka Mountain.”

“The trip was… quiet.” You give a shy smile, not sure how else to describe the short journey. Surprising was the first word that came to mind when describing it, but you’d rather not have to explain why the monkey’s actions felt so surprising to you.

As though he could sense being thought of, Sun Wukong jumps between the two of you, taking Tripitaka by surprise. “Looks like everything has turned out alright in the end. Right, Squab?”

“Squab?” You let out a groan when Tripitaka echoes the nickname. He really isn’t letting that one go anytime soon, is he?

With a sigh, you begin to walk away from the boys. “If the two of you would excuse me, I would like to catch up with my master while she is still in our company.” You dismiss yourself, walking just a little faster than normal to get away from the irritating face of that demon. Even when he’s out of sight, his snickering echoes through the halls as you go to find Guan Yin.

~~~~

As night creeps upon the Abbey, Sun Wukong and his companions gather in the main hall for the feast hosted by Zhenyuan. As the feast is in her honour, Guan Yin sits at the centre of the table, the Tang Monk to her right and her young disciple to her left. Pigsy and Sandy join their master on his right while the Monkey King sits to the right of Zhenyuan and the left of Dove, though her other name is beginning to grow on him. With the matter of his tree resolved, Wukong feels as though Zhenyuan is much easier to get along with. The two have already spent some time talking and, well, having fun drinking. This was a side of the old man Wukong could really appreciate.

Only when the immortal excuses himself for a moment does the Monkey King begin to pay attention to the other side of the table. His fellow brothers and master seem to be deep in conversation with the bodhisattva, sharing with her chronicles of their journey thus far. “And she dove into the river while the others were planning on how to bring you onto land?” 

“I was so confused as it happened, until I recognised her, of course.” Sandy laughs, the girl in question offering a timid smile as he does. Wukong can’t help but furrow his brows at her change in demeanour. He questions whether or not it was possible for her to sit straighter, her body language tense. The usually bossy know-it-all is somehow even more composed than usual, it’s almost scary. “Our little Soother tells us she has been your disciple since childhood, is that true?”

The King almost misses the twitch in Guan Yin’s smile. “Yes, she has always been one of my most faithful. Despite the occasional pranks she would play, she has always been quite attentive from a young age.”

The room goes silent at that. Wujing looks between the Dove and her master, bug-eyed, Wukong himself feeling his mouth go agape. The pig lets out a dry laugh. “Pranks? Her??” The four men all look over to Dove, her eyes practically burning holes into the table, her cheeks growing red for the second time that day.

Guan Yin laughs softly. “Yes, it wasn’t a rare sight to see Moksa angrily chasing after her through my grove. I remember when she made him believe she had killed my favourite fish from my pond. The poor prince was distraught at the thought of me finding out.”

“Oh, really?” Wukong jumps into the conversation at that, leaning against the table to get a better look at the woman’s burning face. “Now that you mention it, I can see Squab being a bit of a troublemaker.” Her eyes flash to him as he calls her by Guan Yin’s nickname, the flames in her eyes so palpable he can almost feel their heat. Despite the very obvious anger, however, she remains silent aside from a quiet, “Hhmph.” The lack of reaction only makes the King grin. She’s obviously holding her tongue because of her master, maybe they could call Guan Yin in for some favours more often if it results in this. Wukong could get used to this poised-yet-flustered birdie.

Whether Guan Yin is aware of her disciple slowly dying from embarrassment, she doesn’t show it. “I wouldn’t say she was any trouble for us, those jokes were merely harmless fun. If anything, seeing how they made her light up was reassuring, with how reserved she was when she first came to me.” Reserved? The master and disciple look to one another, something silent in their eyes speak to one another, but before Wukong can get either to elaborate further, Zhenyuan returns.

“The food has been prepared. But before we feast, I would like to offer you all a serving of the fruit that was saved today.” He addresses the table as servants follow him into the hall, each presenting a plate of the very ginseng that Guan Yin had restored.

Thanking their host, the travellers begin to eat, Wukong remembers it well from the first fruit he stole and partly wonders if eating the fruit twice now means he has ninety-four thousand years added to his multiple immortalities. The fruit is bitter, with subtle sweet notes followed by a bit of an earthy aftertaste. As he eats, he looks to his fellow brothers at the table, enjoying the fruit. Tripitaka makes a slight face at the first bite, likely not expecting its taste while Guan Yin… she somehow looks even more serene and composed while eating the fruit.

That’s when he notices the Dove. She’s still, her fruit laying in front of her uneaten. It doesn’t take long for the bodhisattva to notice, either. She silently places a hand on her shoulder, snapping the woman out of wherever her mind had wandered. “Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, though Wukong’s more superior hearing is able to catch her words easily.

“Yes, thank you. I just find it a little funny, I suppose.” She gives the woman a smile, and though her master returns it, Wukong can’t help but feel there was something underneath the expression.

Her eyes are sympathetic. “I know, you feel it is too late. It’s not what I planned for you, but after all this time, you deserve something for your efforts.” Wukong feels lost in the conversation, likely a sign that he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but his curiosity will always get the better of him.

Dove sighs, her eyes falling back onto the fruit on her plate. “What was planned or not, everything I have has been given to me by you.” She looks back to her master, the bodhisattva’s smile dropping. “Now, what you’ve done today has given me something new. Thank you.”

“And who brought me here to revive the fruit?” Guan Yin questions. “Everything I’ve given you is what you have earned. Never forget that, Squab.” She brings the woman’s plate closer, the disciple nodding before taking the fruit in her hands.

“…Of course, Master.” She smiles, taking her first bite of the fruit. Sun Wukong can’t help but frown before turning back to his own plate. What were they talking about? Whether it’s his business or not, the Monkey King feels intrigued now!

Would she tell him if he asked? Likely not, but the monkey is sure he can figure it out one way or another. He’s clever when he wants to be, this surely won’t be too difficult to figure out. Besides, he has the rest of their journey to ask about it.

[steviewashere]

There's something so beautiful, so appealing, yet so sad about vampire Eddie Munson and normal dude Steve Harrington as a pairing. Cause like—

Just walk with me. Imagine Eddie turning into a vampire spawn, not Kas, just a normal fucking vampire spawn. A vampire spawn who exists by the normal rules of vampirism.

He can't go in the sun. He isn't invited into places unless otherwise told. He must stay in the dark, hidden away. And, the worst part of his new form—

Eddie Munson, the man who was supposed to die saving the people that mattered, is immortal.

He's immortal. He makes friends. He works alongside annoying coworkers. He lives with his wonderful uncle. He falls in love.

And slowly, over time, he watches as everybody around him ages. The finer wrinkles, the grey hairs, the knobby joints, and collapsing postures. Their fragile voices and softer bellies, as they grow accustomed and comfortable with life. Life after violence.

But Eddie gets older, sure. He turns twenty-five. And thirty. Fifty-five. Seventy. His hair remains a dark brown. Face forever twenty. Body as lithe and malleable as it was before the Upside Down. And yet, for all that he's sacrificed—

The biggest sacrifice is the people he eventually loses.

Uncle Wayne dies peacefully in his sleep. And Eddie's forty-four, Wayne would've been eighty-three. That's normal. That's a normal death. A normal age. Except that Eddie is still...twenty.

Dustin Henderson and the rest of his friends, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Argyle. They all die, too. They go grey and they gain soft bellies. They have crows feet. Grandchildren that look the exact same age as Eddie. They think that Eddie is a really young cousin, they think he's some lucrative relative.

The one that hurts the most, in the end, is the loss of one Steve Harrington. Who stole Eddie's heart. Red and raw between his hands. Kissed the tender outside with his beautiful, charismatic mouth. He was what sustained Eddie's dire cravings, blood and skin and tender moments. Steve shared many nights with Eddie in the dark, under the stars, in the glow of the moon. He shared interests, poked fun at Eddie, loved Eddie. He loved Eddie. And Eddie...God, he loved Steve.

Loved him so bad, that when Steve died, Eddie knew he lost himself, too. Because nobody will be as lovely and as young and as...and as lovely, as Steve Harrington. You don't grow to love a boy with golden skin, somebody who can go under the sun and bring home sunflowers. You don't grow to love the boy who knows your worst trauma and all your messy secrets. You don't just grow to love a boy. You come to love the man, the spirit, the hole that he leaves.

And Eddie Munson is immortal, cursed by his vampirism. He may have helped them defeat Vecna, he may have been able to aid his friends and his lover to their beautiful life-long end—seen them age and grow comfortable and happy. But, he assumes that the true sacrifice wasn't his death, it was his liveliness.

How is he supposed to continue on without the ones who know him best? So Eddie Munson is immortal.

You know what they say kills vampires. Does Eddie do it? Or does he reign himself to a million lifetimes of friendships and warm dinners, yet the loneliness at the mere fact that nothing can ever be replicated? Does he reign himself to a million lovers, hoping that in one instance, Steve will be the reincarnated body next to him in bed?

Or does he join the tender souls of his loved ones? Stake through the heart and a thousand new stories to tell.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Francis Spufford’s “Cahokia Jazz”

Tomorrow (December 5), I'm at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill, NC, with my new solarpunk novel The Lost Cause, which 350.org's Bill McKibben called "The first great YIMBY novel: perceptive, scientifically sound, and extraordinarily hopeful."

Francis Spufford's Cahokia Jazz is a fucking banger: it's a taut, unguessable whuddunit, painted in ultrablack noir, set in an alternate Jazz Age in a world where indigenous people never ceded most the west to the USA. It's got gorgeously described jazz music, a richly realized modern indigenous society, and a spectacular romance. It's amazing:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Cahokia-Jazz/Francis-Spufford/9781668025451

Cahokia is the capital city of Deseret, a majority Catholic, majority indigenous state at the western frontier of the USA. It swirls with industry, wealth, and racial politics, serving as both a refuge from Jim Crow and a hive of Klan activity. Joe Barrow is new in town, a veteran who survived the trenches of WWI and moved to Cahokia with his army buddy, Phineas Drummond, where they both quickly rose through the police ranks to become detectives.

We meet Joe and Phin on a frigid government building rooftop in the predawn night, attending a grisly murder. Someone has laid out a man across a skylight, cut his throat, split his chest open, and excised his heart. This Aztec-inspired killing points at Cahokian indigenous independence gangs, some of whom embrace an apocryphal tale of being descended from Mesoamerican conquerors in the distant past. That makes this more than a mere ugly killing – it's a political flashpoint.

The Klan insists that Cahokia's system of communal land ownership is a form of communism (Russia never ceded Alaska in this world, so the USSR is now extending tendrils across the Bering Strait). They also insist that Cahokians' reverence for the Sun and the Moon – indigenous royals who have formally ceded power to elected leaders – makes them a threat to democracy. Finally, the Cahokians' fusion of Catholocism with traditional faith makes the spritually suspect. A rooftop blood-sacrifice could cause simmering political tension to boil over, and for ever white oligarch drooling at the thought of enclosing the shared land of Deseret, there are a thousand useful idiots in white hoods.

Joe and Phin now have to solve the murder – before the city explodes. But Phin seems more interested in pinning the case on an Indian – any Indian – than he is on solving the murder. And Joe – an indigenous orphan who has neither the language nor the culture that the Cahokians expect him to have – is reappraising his long habit of deferring to Phin.

This is the setup for a delicious whodunnit with a large helping of what if…? but Spufford doesn't stop there. Joe, you see, is a jazz pianist, and his old bandmates are back in town, and one thing leads to another and before you know it he's sitting in with them at a speakeasy. This gives Spufford a chance to roll out some of the most evocative, delicious descriptions of jazz since Doctorow's Ragtime (no relation):

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/41529/ragtime-by-e-l-doctorow/9780812978186

It's not just the jazz. This is a book that fires on every cylinder: there's brilliant melee (and a major battle set-piece that's stunning), a love storyline, gunplay, and a murder mystery that kept me guessing right to the end. There's fakeouts and comeuppances, bravery and treachery, and above all, a sense of possibility.

Most of what I know about Cahokia – and the giant mounds it left behind near St Louis – I learned from David Graeber and David Wengrow's brilliant work of heterodox history, The Dawn of Everything:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/08/three-freedoms/#anti-fatalism

Graeber and Wengrow's project is to make us reassess the blank spaces in our historical record, the ways of living that we have merely guessed at, based on fragments and suppositions. They point out that these inferences are vastly overdetermined, and that there are many other guesses that fit the facts equally well, or even better. This is a powerful message, one that insists that history – and thus the future – is contingent and up for grabs. We don't have to live the way we do, and we haven't always lived this way. We might live differently in the future.

In evoking a teeming, indigenous metropolis, conjured out of minor historical divergences, Spufford follows Graeber and Wengrow in cracking apart inevitability and letting all the captive possibility flow out. The fact that he does this in a first rate novel makes the accomplishment doubly impressive – and enjoyable.

It's EFF's Power Up Your Donation Week: this week, donations to the Electronic Frontier Foundation are matched 1:1, meaning your money goes twice as far. I've worked with EFF for 22 years now and I have always been - and remain - a major donor, because I've seen firsthand how effective, responsible and brilliant this organization is. Please join me in helping EFF continue its work!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/04/cahokia/#the-sun-and-the-moon

[fearcrowz]

⚰ Fear's Stories ⚰

💉 Knell

   A girl with chronic depression gives up the fight after a long and painful battle. When she wakes up, she is in a Hospital, but not the one she was in previously. Creatures roam these halls, patients and staff alike. A bell rings in the distance, beckoning something. Confused and fearful, the entities that live here will test her resolve.

🌿 Wiccar Briar

   A town called Briar rests in the old world, where magick still flourishes. A girl named Charice is the daughter of the late Great White Witch, but unlike her mother she is very sickly and has no magick. Her caretakers are a bird man, a wispy eccentric shade, and a demon cursed to be trapped in a book. Unsettling things are happening in the forest, and the past is rearing it's head.

🕯Nightlight

   A town of monsters and gods, guarded by a lighthouse away from the human world. Creatures from myths, legends, religions and more can be found here, trying to live a different life away from those who hunt after them. A halfling young girl named Maggie tries to find her human mother, in hopes she can find out why she was abandoned and why humans are a threat. (This story branches out to other smaller stories with it's characters)

🗡 Under an Ivy Crown

   A medieval fantasy themed story. A cruel King kidnaps the Queen of the Fae in hopes that her golden blood will make him immortal. His plans are ruined when a mischevious Halfling and an unusual Knight/Doctor rescue her and try and take her back home before the forests rot. They meet many friends, allies, and enemies along the way.

🚬 Not Dead Yet

   Garden City holds a machine called Eden's Core, which allows the essence of a person or animal to be stored into a capsule like core, and be placed into a new body, causing a remarkable scientific fusing of the two entities. When they decide to use inmates to clear out their prisons, and fuse them with more helpful objects for goodly citizens like a parole program, it turns sour as these criminal's new bodies are stronger and end up more dangerous. Laurie, a girl who has struggled all her life with a mission to find her father-who once worked at Eden's Core- stumbles upon one of these infamous criminals... A serial killer that was fused with a mascot suit.

💫 In Between

   Elise, a lazy, overly tired and grumpy girl lives a very boring and unfulfilled life. The only exciting thing that happens to her is she sees things, and has to take schizophrenic medicine to keep her visions and hearing under control. Turns out, she is seeing and hearing an actual problem, and Heaven and Hell want to get their noses into it?? A fallen angel and a demon end up fighting over her and makes her life much more interesting.

🦷 The Ones We Buried

   After a horrible accident that killed her family when she was 9, Lucia has lived her entire life in the Hospital, going through surgeries and rehabilitation. Badly scarred and cold, she lives a quiet and lonely life away from everyone. One day, after hearing her grandmother passed, the funeral home/mortuary that was family owned by her grandparents was bought by a mysterious man. Not understanding why they didn't go through her first, she goes to see who exactly bought it.

🗝 Witching Hour

  A fantasy world of monsters, wizards, witches and demons. There are two great trees, the Mother and the Father. The Mother births those of light and hope, while the Father births those demonic and dark. Wormwood's (a 1920s time period city) boss Sinclair hears word that after over a thousand years, the Mother tree has birthed a new being before withering away. The news has struck the three planes of this world, though some more secret than others. (Stonehearst, Wormwood, and the 6th Gate) A young woman has been born, with unknown purpose and power, and to protect her from the Warden of the 6th Gate and the Wizards of the Council, they disguise her and keep her in Wormwood, with a very crabby spider and a crow monster to protect her.

💥 Endworld

   There are 3 worlds in this odd existence. The Overworld, or what they call "Utopia", Limbo which is a dark world that is the great gate, and Endworld, a city of crime, monsters and sin. Genny, daughter to "God", the Queen of Overworld, hides a secret that could stain her mothers reputation and the perfectionism of this pure world. She is half Endworldian, and she wants to find her father. After sneaking out and falling to this chaotic world, she meets two con-men brothers and they get roped into more chaos than they are use to when the Overworld officials go after their Princess. Not being able to survive for long from this pursuit, they end up hiring an infamous mercenary group to protect them from Overworld and God's wrath and help Genny find her father.

[imgonnabethatone]

q!Phil is kinda avoidant, and I love that for him.

He seems like such a righteous, strong character, right? The wise crow, the Angel of Death, but also a papa. You look at him for five seconds and immediately see a warrior turned father of two who's doing an amazing job and still has his morals and priorities straight. Cellbit (ooc) once commented on how in control Phil seemed that one time when he and three eggs were attacked by the code (he was this 🤏 close to aheart attack) and I haven't been able to let go of it since, especially considering how Cellbit immediately proposed that Philza should be the leader when they had to choose one and everyone agreed. Mr Philza Minecraft is respected and trusted. He is regarded as a strong ally, a formidable opponent, and a force of nature. He is mild and giggly, he loves and hates fiercely, he is calm in the eye of a storm and reliable.

He also relieves himself of even minimal undesirable mental strain without second thought.

He doesn't want to kill other people and doesn't want to know that they would kill him without hesitation, so he avoids them like the plague in hopes that it saves him from the reality of the Purgatory.

He sees the task to kill Pierre and refuses to complete it and initially runs from Pierre to avoid the fight.

He doesn't want to think about Etoiles and what him stabbing Phil in the back means for their friendship, so he turns into a ghost and prays no one finds him.

He feels like an underdog, surrounded by much stronger Green and Blue teams, the players of which are akin to sharks that smell blood in the water. But those were his neighbours just three days ago. Why are they out here, thousands of blocks away from their bases, in his back yard, killing their friends? Badboyhalo and Tubbo lose his trust during the first day, and so he rejects the complexity of their relationship and refuses to hear them out or sympathise. If they are here, then they're out for blood. If they try to talk to him or his team, they are weird. If they try to explain themselves, then they are making excuses that fall on dead ears anyway - he won't hear them out unless he is literally trapped in a conversation with them and he will probably refuse to contact with any of his other friends while they're in the Purgatory.

And then there's his team.

You see, Phil might be the democratically elected team leader, but he isn't really a bossy type. Phil fights exclusively to defend himself or his team and he doesn't cross his lines and that means that he is a good man. And, like, he isn, it's just that his teammates aren't and he really does not care.

(Tubbo sounded regretful about Badboyhalo, at least. But Tubbo is unreliable and an enemy and he was making excuses anyway, because if he wasn't, then Phil is actually not a good man either)

If Cellbit starts plotting to kill someone, he will laugh or look away or pretend he wasn't paying attention. If Charlie proposes an effective, but brutal strategy to eliminate their opponents, he will give a cheerful non-reaction or jokingly state what he thinks on the matter and he won't help, but he won't exactly stop him either - if it works, it works, you know? He wouldn't spawn camp someone, it's bad manners and annoying as fuck, but if it's funny then he will giggle at Charlie's story until he hiccups.

If his team dogpiles a member of opposing team, then well, Philza wouldn't do it.

But his friends just can't help themselves, you know?

[xiaolanhua]

Zhao Lusi as Qin Chuan Love of Thousand Years (2020)

[agentrouka-blog]

There is a speculation that Lady's death wake Bran up from his coma. What do you think about it?

I can understand anyone who subscribes to this theory, it's entirely respectable and it makes sense on its own.

I don't share it for two reasons:

The absurdity of the timeline.

The justification of life-for-life sacrifice.

Regarding the first point, we are given a specified timeframe between the Trident incident (Lady's death) and Tyrion's arrest at the Crossroads Inn. That's two sets of fortnights travelled on the Kingsroad in direct succession (First Ned, then Cat), four weeks. In those four weeks, Bran is supposed to have woken up, a raven dispatched to the Wall to inform Jon, Tyrion staying an additional day or two, Tyrion travelling all the way from the Wall to Winterfell, which took over three weeks one-way for on their way up, then trek down the kingsroad through the other half of the North, past the Neck and then the additional distance between the Neck and the Crossroads Inn. It's absurd to me. According to my own timeline calculations, Lady is killed around the time Tyrion arrives at Winterfell, giving him those four weeks to travel from Winterfell to the Crossroads. GRRM is no stranger to presenting chapters out of chronological order and I think it very much applies here. I don't judge anyone for disagreeing but that's how I read it.

Regarding the second point, it would give narrative justification to an absolute travesty of justice that shames every single adult involved. It would imply that Lady dying served a good cause. That Ned's failings here, the Cersei's cruelty, Robert's indifference, all of these things ultimately are good and necessary. I don't think that's probable, and I also think it's unnecessary. Bran had already magically survived with the help of the living direwolves and waking up is sufficiently explained by his inner decision to live:

He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks. Now you know, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. Now you know why you must live. “Why?” Bran said, not understanding, falling, falling. Because winter is coming. Bran looked at the crow on his shoulder, and the crow looked back. It had three eyes, and the third eye was full of a terrible knowledge. Bran looked down. There was nothing below him now but snow and cold and death, a frozen wasteland where jagged blue-white spires of ice waited to embrace him. They flew up at him like spears. He saw the bones of a thousand other dreamers impaled upon their points. He was desperately afraid. “Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?” he heard his own voice saying, small and far away. And his father’s voice replied to him. “That is the only time a man can be brave.” Now, Bran, the crow urged. Choose. Fly or die. Death reached for him, screaming. Bran spread his arms and flew. Wings unseen drank the wind and filled and pulled him upward. The terrible needles of ice receded below him. The sky opened up above. Bran soared. It was better than climbing. It was better than anything. The world grew small beneath him. “I’m flying!” he cried out in delight. I’ve noticed, said the three-eyed crow. It took to the air, flapping its wings in his face, slowing him, blinding him. He faltered in the air as its pinions beat against his cheeks. Its beak stabbed at him fiercely, and Bran felt a sudden blinding pain in the middle of his forehead, between his eyes. “What are you doing?” he shrieked. The crow opened its beak and cawed at him, a shrill scream of fear, and the grey mists shuddered and swirled around him and ripped away like a veil, and he saw that the crow was really a woman, a serving woman with long black hair, and he knew her from somewhere, from Winterfell, yes, that was it, he remembered her now, and then he realized that he was in Winterfell, in a bed high in some chilly tower room, and the blackhaired woman dropped a basin of water to shatter on the floor and ran down the steps, shouting, “He’s awake, he’s awake, he’s awake.”

Bran wakes up because he chooses to wake up, even knowing - if subconsciously - that it means serving a specific, scary purpose.

[racfoam]

Have your written anything about Harry and riddles first meet up in the chamber? If not do you plan to? Ps. I adore your fic nynn currently rereading it🤍

Hello!

I’m glad you’re enjoying the re-read. I was inspired to write nynn by a series written by @mayfriend called she walks in beauty. The author wrote the first three years (Tom and Harry's encounter made me scream, as did her encounter with Voldemort in 1st Year I am OBSESSED IT HAUNTS ME DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT HAUNTS ME), each its own work in the series, back in 2018. I love it and am obsessed with it which made me write nynn in the first place. The fics are locked so you’ll need an AO3 account to read them.

best of dark and bright by @mayfriend

What have we here, a voice crows from somewhere inside her mind, hmmm, difficult, very difficult… brave, but you would have to be wouldn’t you? Not a bad mind, and talent - oh my goodness, yes, such talent. And you want to prove yourself, don’t you? Have a hunger for it… to prove you’re more than a soulmate… but where to put you…

Not Slytherin, Harry thinks as clearly as she can, not Slytherin, not Slytherin…

Oh my dear girl, the hat mutters, are you sure? You could be great, you know, and Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness, it’s all here in your head…

I want nothing to do with him, she concentrates so hard that she thinks she might give herself a headache, I don’t want his words, I don’t want his mark, I don’t want to be in his house- Understood, the hat grumbles, well, if you’re so against Slytherin, then it had better be- “-GRYFFINDOR!”

A soulmate AU where Harriet Potter thinks she has enough problems in her first year at Hogwarts without her soulmate being the man who killed her parents, thank you very much, but she doesn't get a vote.

that tender light by @mayfriend

Harry’s dreams that night were frenzied, disjointed, terrifying. There was blood on the walls, blood on her hands, an animal lying prone at her feet. She was laughing. She was laughing, high and cruel. A flash of green light. A scream. Blood on the floor, not water. Blood going up her arms, as if she’s stuck her arms deep in a bath of it, and a voice - the voice in the walls - I smell blood, it chorused in a thousand languages, I smell BLOOD! She tried to run away, but only seemed to get closer to the crime scene with every turn. Moaning Myrtle was a girl, a real girl, but then she was on the floor, glassy eyed and empty, and always afraid, always hiding. I will return for you, Harriet Potter… promised the monster, and Harry believed him. Second year of my Soulmate AU, wherein Harriet Potter's hopes for a nice, quiet year are thwarted by a singularly determined house elf, two bickering best friends, and a strange boy in a fifty year old diary.

shade the more, ray the less by @mayfriend

Harry stepped to the front of the queue. She gritted her teeth as the sand morphed and transformed. She couldn’t think of what shape the boggart would take, but when it stopped, she suddenly realised that there was no other shape it could have been. Tom Riddle stood before her, scarlet eyed, still in his Slytherin uniform with his prefect badge. In his hand was a small, black book that Harry knew by sight. “Harriet Potter,” he said her name clearly, and he smiled, but his eyes were cold and dead.   Harriet Potter had almost allowed herself to be optimistic about her third year at Hogwarts. Almost. But then, she remembered her track record, and right on schedule, she learns an escaped convict is hunting her down, and that soulmates are not as cut and dry a business as she once thought.

ENJOY. YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT.

[paradoxical-scribbler]

FICTOBER WRITING CHALLENGE

i've seen quite a lot of october prompt lists so i decided to make one of my own..:)

—» Please tag @paradoxical-scribbler or link this post in your work to let me know these helped you write :)

“Trick” *cocks gun and aims* “or Treat.”

“Is that supposed to be a costume?”

“Once upon a time...” / “Legend says that...”

“Our family has a Halloween tradition where we...”

“Three candies for a prophecy. Five for fortune telling. And thirteen for a soul call.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“You truly believe that your pet crow is the lost prince of some fallen empire?”

“I have the worst superpower a superhero could ask for!”

“You don't need to ensorcell me. I'm already head over heels for you.”

“I'm the kind of beast that cannot be slayed.”

“Not enough humans dress-up as Werewolves and thats a crime!”

“Angels aren't supposed to be mean!” “And Devils aren't supposed to be crybabies.”

“You're the Sally to my Jack Skellington.”

“What part of "do not resurrect the dead" do you not understand?!”

“Time for a late night adventure!”

“First time being cursed?”

“Ready to sell your soul?”

“I've got nine lives. And I devote them all to you.”

“Forgive me. Feelings aren't programmed into my system.”

“Thanks to you ghosts lurking all night, my entire sleep schedule is fucked.”

“Don't venture into the woods at dawn.”

“That monster inside, is the only good part of you.”

“I'd rather swallow a thousand silver bullets.”

“Iron doesn't burn as much as your betrayal.”

“No quantity of holy water can rectify your soul.”

“So you're saying a mortal coerced you into drinking their blood?”

“Go on. Suck my blood! Kill me for all I care!”

“First I'll serenade you with my voice, then I'll strangle you with my tail.”

“We undead are a very civilized community.”

“May our bond be like that of Gomez and Morticia Addams— passionate, timeless and unwavering.”

“Happy Halloween!”

[ahamkara-apologist]

please hear me out. sagira comes back. and everyone comes together at the end of the story/raid to fuck up the Witness. and we get to see Osiris back to his peak as he unleashes hell with Saint

I appreciate how even tumblr agrees so much with bringing Sagira back that it sent your og ask (the one I'm answering rn) three times and your follow-up twice lmfao

But yeah if Cayde, (aka the guy whose death progressed the plot of the story more than he ever did when he was alive*) gets to come back, then I feel like Sagira should as well. I'm hesitant to think that we'll see her reuniting with Osiris- because I don't know if Osiris is gonna be in Final Shape when he was already in Lightfall- but I do really think that it's kinda a fucking shame that we never really got to see the full extent of Osiris's powers, given the fact that he was one of (if not the most) powerful Guardian who ever lived. Sure, we see his reflections and him popping a super in Curse of Osiris, but that's not even close to the shit he did in the lorebooks that I'd kill to see. And tbh, I'd love to see them reunite, reconcilliate over what happened, and then maybe have Osiris realize post-channeling her Light again that he really has found closure with losing it, sort of like driving past your childhood home and realizing that you've moved on for good. I also want Sagira herself to see that Osiris is okay, and that he's become more mellowed out (a teeny bit) now that he's living with Saint, allowed to do research on Strand, and has found fufillment in his job teaching Guardians on how to use it. They've been pair bonded for hundreds of years- thousands if you take into account the time distortion of the Infinate Forest- so it would be a massive wasted opportunity to not have Sagira as one of our guides, and for her to acknowledge how Osiris has grown without her. I think she'd be happy for him, even if the road to get there was hard and bittersweet.

As for the idea of bringing her back for good- it's kind of a mixed bag? I don't think that Cayde is gonna be undeaded at the end of Final Shape, so it probably wouldn't be the same for Sagira, and the arguments that people have about it undoing the whole purpose of their deaths certainly can apply there. (I also think that if Sagira was to ever be returned, it should be via the Young Wolf, Ikora, and Saint teaming up with the Sundial to do it once Mercury was returned, rather than through the Traveler itself.) But on the other hand, I think that Sagira differs slightly from Cayde in that bringing her back doesn't really undermine the impact that her absense had. For one, Cayde's death was a very fitting character beat for him; he always had a sad streak, buried grief from all he'd lost, so death wasn't something that was too jarring or terrible for him because he had lost loved ones presumably waiting for him on the other side (ex: his line 'I'm coming home, Ace'). It was also a fitting death, going out in a blaze of guns and glory, which I suspect is how he expected to die for a good long while- maybe even wanted. And his death was also a catalyst for a long chain of very undoable things to happen, the most prominent being the rise of Crow, and how he was shaped by Cayde's legacy. There is no going back from Cayde's death because of the sheer SIZE of the ripples it made.

(Personally, I think that Cayde being a ghost stuck in the Traveler Dimension doesn't exactly negate this at all, because if he's stuck in the dimension of what once-was in the Traveler, that still means Crow is needed to take his place as Hunter Vanguard- and there's a lot of potential there for Crow to meet him, come to peace with what Uldren did, and to gain the tutoring he needs in order to rise to that position. Cayde can pass on the mantle, endorse Crow to Ikora and Zavala so they don't feel guilty at giving his position to his once-murderer, and then his prescence in FS would be that last nick of closure needed to put him to rest. Which I think that he not only needs, but also wants.)

Sagira's death, on the other hand, was extremely in-character...and also extremely abrupt, and way more focused to a singular character- Osiris. It felt right that someone as stubborn and fiery and fiercely protective would have sacrificed herself to save him, and it was what allowed Savathun to posess him, but in terms of the death and the more widespread impact? Her death was abrupt, and the damage done by Savathun was reversable. Osiris himself was the one who suffered the most from her death (and Saint too, by virtue of being close to Osiris), but I'd argue that her death and its relation to him was less an earthquake chaining into a tsunami and closer to what Mara felt when Uldren died and was revived as Crow- a slap of cold water to the face. Osiris was stubborn, arrogant, entirely determined to save the whole universe by himself- and then his own actions lead to Sagira needing to sacrifice herself to save him, and he was suddenly forced to sit the fuck down and confront the sheer impossibility of his situation. He's mortal now. He's mortal, and he's vulnerable, and is now reliant on other people- so much so that it was Saint and Misraaks who saved his life, and barely. Before, he could just steamroll past all his limits and concerns- and he did- but now there are no second chances, and finally can see what that arrogance and high standards cost him. Sagira dying forced him not only to slow down, but also that he is no longer alone, and can rely on those he loves to solve the problems he used to try to take on by himself-problems far too big for only one man. It taught him how to process grief, and how to appreciate life instead of being so focused on the future that everything sped him by. And it taught him that not only was he no longer the exiled heretic warlock who did everything alone because he HAD to, but that he had a purpose beyond being a Guardian, and people other than Saint who valued and trusted him- people that he could trust in return.

Her death was the harshest lesson he'd ever been taught. Her death changed him. And that isn't something that can be undone, even if she returns and he becomes a full Lightbearer again. Truely, if she returns, it wouldn't have been for naught, because now Osiris has seen what happens when he Icarus dashes flies too close to the sun. It would just be an upgrade to the Osiris we have now, and might even soften him up further. Maybe. From super-hardass to hardass to medium-hardass, I suppose.

(And I really wanna see Ghost and her reunite, aaa. AND I want to see her meet Glint!! Just imagine the teasing that could happen if she met Glint)

Besides- Sagira is the ghost of the Phoenix. It would be fitting for her to return, and to potentially rise again. It wouldn't make sense for any ghost, but it would with her.

*Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I'm adding on a side note here that I don't think Cayde's prescence in Destiny pre-Forsaken was worthless, because it wasn't. He was a very beloved side character, and he did have his place in helping along other major storybeats, but it was BECAUSE he was the hypeman on the sides that his death became a major plot progressor. All that buildup of him being a steady constant was what cumulated in him dying being such a big bang. Sagira did the same, but the impact of her death was focused on Osiris rather than the Young Wolf

[toastpandadraws]

Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t a good couple

Before I say this, I mean absolutely no disrespect or hatred to Neil Gaiman, this is just the only thing I genuinely hated about season 2 and it’s been on my mind lately.

First off, Gabriel and Beelzebub were too changed for the sake of putting them in a relationship. I’m not saying this and talking about the actor change, I understand why the actor for Beelzebub was changed and I am not blaming the new actor for this at all. But we see Beelzebub get this sudden light switch change in their personality that came from nowhere, and nobody can say “oh they changed because of influence from Gabriel” because we’ve also seen that Gabriel is just a huge asshole. Beelzebub wouldn’t suddenly start being nice and forgiving because of Gabriel’s angelic influence, and all it took for Gabriel was a mind swipe and he’s suddenly nice now too? I’ve seen people talk about tropes where evil characters get a mind swipe and then being nice as a sign that they’ve gone through abuse that made them mean but Gabriel was supreme archangel, he was pampered and entitled. These two knew each other for a year and then without question they put away thousands and thousands of years of hatred and resentment just for the sake of suddenly being in love, ignoring the fact that they tried to kill Aziraphale and Crowley just a few years before for simply talking to each other. Then when all is said and done they just go off together with literally no consequences (I have my own theories on why they are allowed to be together but not Azi and Crow but that can be another post) which leads me to this last topic: their fates for season three. Assuming that any of their relationship is completely realistic for them and doesn’t involve glossing over a few plot points, I think it would be most in character for them to never come back. Because inherently, they’re both still the selfish assholes we saw from the first season, they’re love was not built on a love of humanity (and no Beelzebubs enjoyment of “every day” does not count) and due to their selfishness, they wouldn’t want to fight alongside Aziraphale and Crowley to protect humanity. In fact, I’d love to see proof that there’s still a scrap of those two from the first season and that these aren’t just two completely new characters by having Aziraphale try to encourage them to fight for humanity with him and both of them saying no simply because they’re only out for themselves. Because face it, Gabriel and Beelzebub are still both bad characters and don’t actually give a shit about humanity. 

TL;DR: Gabriel and Beelzebub were better off being a crack ship.