#went through every stage of grief painting this

[theinfinitedivides]

hey is it just me or does SRK turn every speech he gives in a film into either 1. a love confession, 2. a motivational message or 3. the most devastating/terrifying news you've ever heard come out of his mouth at any given time

[ahhnini]

Some Nights You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

young Coriolanus Snow x District 12! Reader, reader is basically Lucy Gray in this story, afab reader, not proofread!

wc: 890!

warnings: Coryo as a peacekeeper, him being toxic/misogynistic/possessive/overall a walking red flag, a sad attempt on the Appalachian accent, sfw!

oneshot!

The train back home to district twelve was…okay. You were relieved that you survived the brutal Games, but at what cost? For freedom? You knew that, if you stayed in the twelve you would never be free. You heard about how there will be another Hunger Games next year, and can’t help but feel guilty that you contributed to this system. But, you were just trying to survive.

Coriolanus was his name. The one who marketed you towards the Capitol citizens. He, out of all the mentors, was the only one who fed you, who gave you advice, but it was all for some school assignment, wasn’t it? At the end of the day, he never cared about you.

You trusted him. You allowed him into your heart. You allowed him to see you in your most vulnerable state.

You see the familiar atmosphere again. The thick, dense forests, the mountains no one dared to climb, your life before the Games was all coming back to you. So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?

As you hear the train whistle blow, you were quickly ushered down by a peacekeeper. No one payed attention to you as you were shoved down onto the rough ground. Quickly, you composed yourself and went to go find the Covey, your true family.

As you walk throughout District Twelve, the smell of smoke and chemicals filled your lungs. His scent lingered on your dress, the faint smell of roses along with the smoke caused your head to hurt. The tulle; dirty and filled with painful memories from the Capitol. What was once a beautiful, rainbow design, now painted gray and cloudy, a reflection of your mind. You can never recover from the horrid experiences the Capitol put you through. You can never perform the same ever again.

The Covey welcomed you with open arms, as always. They were your true family. You wanted to be free, but you didn't want to leave them behind, especially now that there were going to be more games; you didn't want any of your family to experience any of the trauma that you dealt with during.

Your dear cousin, Maude Ivory leaped into your arms when she saw you. You smiled. The last time you smiled was during your last performance; in the Capitol.

You caught up with the Covey, exchanging stories, just like what you've always done. This time was different; your stories were filled with guilt, grief, and sorrow. The Capitol broke you.

Coryo's train ride was no different. Sejanus attempted to make small talk with him, but Coryo was distracted. Ever since the Reaping, he wanted to possess you, he wanted to own you. He kept fantasizing about your life together, how you would be so submissive to him, obeying his every command. He wanted to go to District Twelve just for you. He sacrificed so much, just for you.

The next morning, Coryo putting on his blue uniform, ready to perform his duties for the day. He's been secretly looking for you, looking through every nook and cranny the District could offer.

You and the Covey were having another performance tonight, you had to keep your performances "private" as more and more peacekeepers were showing up. The stage was never consistent, as you never know where they would be stationed until the night of. Tonight, you were performing in an underground bar. The bartenders were gracious enough to offer you some drinks to warm you up. After the one drink, you grabbed your precious black guitar and strum the strings, playing your first song of the night.

Coryo didn't want to go to some measly underground bar tonight, he wanted something better to do than to party with people, especially those from District Twelve. He didn't want Sejanus to go on his own, so he got dressed into his light blue jumpsuit and walked along the gravel. Singing was heard as they crawled underground. He stayed close to the walls, hidden. Peacekeepers were not to be seen off-duty. He began to doze off, but then he heard beautiful singing. Beautiful singing that could only come from you. His head perks up and sees you, performing and dancing with the citizens from Twelve.

"Alright, we have one more song left for y'all. This one's a bit more personal to me, but I hope y'all will still enjoy this." You say, as the a somber violin instrumental accompanied with harmonica and accordion play. Your voice becomes shaky during the first verse, fingers struggling to strum the strings of your guitar.

Coryo can't help but notice your body language. His eyes were fixated on you. How you were no longer the same Lucy Gray, at least from what he remembers. His memories are tainted and manipulated from his own fantasies.

As you began swaying with the music, tears well in your eyes. The memories from the Games will never leave you, no matter how much you sing, how much you dance.

Coryo knows that it his fault, he pushed you too far, he knows that you were just an innocent songbird that was pushed to do something you weren't meant to do. He knows that you're never gonna be the same; he knows you're gonna dance with tears in your eyes for as long as you live.

my measly attempt at writing angst!

[bonezone44]

‘Stages of Grief’

Word Count: 1968

Joel x Reader

image credit

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it.

Tags: Reader gender unspecified, angst, grief, familial neglect, childhood emotional/physical abuse

a/n: Read if your family sucks. Read if you like crying. Read if you’re crying-curious. But also keep in mind that I’m a random person on the internet who writes fanfiction. Not a therapist.

++++++

‘It’s not fucking fair,’ you tell yourself. The pain shooting through your body in a way that feels unending. 

How can an emotion feel so much worse than anything else?

How can a thought trigger a full body nuclear meltdown? How can it send you burning and twisting and writhing and regressing into the small child you once were?

Years have passed since you were a little kid, being tugged around and shoved from place to place, trailing behind the adults in your life. All your curiosities being ignored. Your questions going unanswered. Your needs being shoved aside so they could do whatever the hell they thought was so much more important than you. Their child. Their responsibility.

But what about you? What about your needs and desires? What about all the shit that you wanted to do? 

You still remember staring up at the glowing carousel–the colorful, twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the night sky. The beautifully painted horses gliding up and down to a fun, jaunty tune playing loudly from some hidden location within. Your eyes sparkled with majesty and wonder. And you remember how the whole place smelled like popcorn–rich and buttery. The memory always made you hungry when you thought about it.

“I wanna go on that next!” you pointed and shouted with hope and excitement.

You heard an angry scoff. “We’re not going on a fucking kiddie ride.”

“But I wanna go!” you stomped.

They turned around and got in your face. “Well too fucking bad!” They yanked your arm, tugging you through the crowd. Other adults. Other kids. Other people with cotton candy and stuffed animals and new light-up toys and big smiling faces.

You started crying. It felt like your whole world was shattering. “But I wanna go!” You kicked and screamed. You wanted to have fun. You wanted what you wanted.

They shoved you into a corner and got into your face again. This time it was accompanied by their finger and a suffocating cloud of anger. “I don’t give a shit about what you want. Now shut the fuck up and don’t fucking embarrass me.” They whispered fiercely.

“But–”

They slapped you hard across the face. 

It stung. Badly. You felt dizzy.

But it got you quiet.

“Now I’m gonna go down there and hang out with my friends–” they said, pointing down the dim, smelly alley behind the stalls. You saw two men in dirty aprons, sitting on buckets and smoking cigarettes with greasy fingers. “--and you’re gonna shut the fuck up.”

You pouted and sniffled, but had no choice in the matter. They were your adult. You had to go wherever they went. There were no other options.

And now you’re older and wiser, but anytime you’re with them or think about them or meet someone who reminds you of them–it sends you into a spiral. As if they still have their hand wrapped around your arm and you’re still begging them to let you get your way.

“You gotta talk to me, darlin’,” says Joel.

You can’t even see him. You know he’s in the room but your head is a thunderstorm and it’s raining out your eyes. “They do this. They do this every fucking time!” You choke out through sobs. “They can’t be happy for me. They can’t let me have anything!” The last word comes out with a stomp. You clench your fists and dig your nails into your palm. The pain is sharp and you shake your head, burrowing into it. “They never give me anything!” Never give you their attention, their love, their respect. It didn’t matter if you still lived in their house or not–they still saw you as a burden. “It doesn’t matter what I say or-or-or how I say it. They just refuse to fucking hear me!” They wouldn’t even listen when you spoke. “I have tried everything and nothing works.” You wipe your eyes, attempting to compose yourself.

“Then why do you keep tryin?” he asks.

You stare at him dumbly. “‘Cause they’re supposed to! They’re supposed to-to-to–” You break down harder. You can barely say the words in your own mind, but somehow they come out your lips. “They’re supposed to love me!” Your anger recedes, replaced with pain. Pure heart-stinging pain. You rub your chest with your palm. “They’re supposed to love me, Joel.” Your head falls back, your eyes on the ceiling. You can feel the muscles straining in your neck. “But they don’t!” Your mouth is wide and grimacing as you cry. “I can’t even get them to care about me!”

“Then why do you keep tryin?”

“‘Cause they’re supposed to,” you pout. Your brow is tight and you can feel yourself getting a headache. 

“But they don’t.”

Hearing those words from Joel–it knocks a part of you back into place. Like you had spread out into a puddle of tears and he’s scooping you back together. You’re still hurting, though. You’re still crying.

“So why do you keep tryin’?” he asks again. “When you know they don’t care?”

“Because… because I want them to. I want them to care about me. I want them to know me. It’s not fair that-that-that I’m living this whole life without them and they just… they don’t even make an effort.”

“So stop tryin’.” He shrugs. His arms are crossed against his chest. “Stop givin them the effort that they won’t give you.”

“But I have to–”

“No,” Joel says firmly. “No, you don’t.”

“But–” you’re not giving in. You refuse. Your leg is shaking. You wanna beg him. Plead him. “But they’re my family.”

Families are supposed to love each other. Share stories. Call on the weekends. They’re supposed to learn and heal together. They’re supposed to be interested in one another’s dreams and struggles and achievements. They’re supposed to be lifelong companions. And when you’re an adult–they’re supposed to make the effort to heal whatever wrongs occurred during your childhood.

“I can’t just… leave ‘em, you know?” Your lips are trembling as you try to get the words out. “I can’t just give up on them.”

“Yeah–” Joel’s eyes are wide and serious. “Yeah, you can.”

“But–”

“You don’t owe them shit, darlin’,” he says. “It don’t matter if they fuckin’ raised you.” He shrugs. “It don’t matter how much money they spent on you or the time they took outta their shitty little lives to take you to school or soccer practice or to fuckin’ feed you.” He steps closer to you. “If you feel like shit every time you talk to them or try to… reach out–then stop.” He shrugs his shoulders again. “They coulda gifted ya a million fuckin dollars and it still wouldn’t make a difference.” He stares right into your eyes. “You don’t own them anything.”

Your sobbing has ceased, though your cheeks are still wet. “Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask. What are you supposed to do with this piece of you? This solid chunk of yourself that sits in your gut. What is it supposed to do if it’s not desperate and yearning for your family’s attention and approval and support? 

“Nothin’.”

“...What?” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says while shaking his head.

“But…” But that didn’t make sense. You were always doing something. You were always seeking and reaching and tugging and pulling and grasping for them. You were always begging and pleading and crying and aching and needingneedingneeding them. 

“But…” And you could feel yourself releasing–like the odd burst of blood flow you got after unclenching your fists. When you had been holding onto something so tightly for so long that you stopped even feeling your own hand anymore. Didn’t know you had fingers. The only thing you noticed at the end of your arm was a strange sensation.

And when you finally let go, unpeeling your fingers, your joints moved unfamiliarly and uncomfortably. Your muscles trembled and shook–feeling weak. Your fingers were warm and tingly and pulsed. It made you think of a balloon popping–without the sharp sound. It was dull and matted and flat, but also exploding and alive and free.

“I don’t have to do … anything?” you asked. Because how the hell was that possible? Because once again, you were always doing something. Always feeling some sort of way.

“All you gotta do is live your life and do what you wanna do. In whatever way you can.” He shrugs. “If they show up, they show up.” He holds his palm out. “But you don’t owe them anything if they do. Even if they try to tell you that you owe ‘em.” He shakes his head. “You don’t.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Nobody asks to be born, darlin’. But that don’t give them permission to treat you like shit for it. And you don’t owe them for doin’ the bare minimum to keep you alive.”

 “So I can just… do whatever I want?” The tears return and you’re not sure why. There’s still pain inside you, stored deep in your muscles. But the twisting ache in your gut isn’t as strong as it was before. You feel lighter. Lighter than you ever have in your whole life, you think.

“You can do whatever you want.” 

You start crying again, in a mix of confusion and hurt and relief. But you’re nodding. You’re agreeing with Joel. God, you can’t imagine what you must look like right now. Probably covered in snot, swollen eyes and lips. You just cried like a little baby and he watched you and talked you through the whole thing. You feel so silly and stupid and–grateful. You feel so grateful for Joel. 

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing back tears. “Thank you for loving me,” you choke out and you reach out to hug him and his big arms wrap all the way around you. 

“Of course, darlin’” he whispers and kisses your head. His hands rub up and down your back as you sway into each other. “Of course.”

Once the tears fully stop, and you can think of your family without immediately falling apart, you sigh and let go of Joel.

His big hands cradle your face and he kisses you on the forehead. “Gonna get you some water,” he says and leaves the room.

You know this won’t be the last time you do this–grieve your family. But it’s a start. It’s a baseline. It’s a feeling you know you can seek out again when the next spiral hits. And then the next spiral. And the next. 

But it will take less time in the future when you know the destination–when you can recognize the end of the journey. And even if Joel isn’t around for those, he was around for this one. The first one and worst one. And he didn’t judge you or silence you or push you away for having your feelings or expressing yourself. He didn’t treat you like a burden or toss you aside for being you and dealing with your shit. 

And he didn’t try to replace your family. He didn’t try to become the new target of your yearning and desire and need for approval. Because he knows he can’t be that for you. He can’t be your new family–your new lifelong companion. Only you can. Only you know your own thoughts and desires and ambitions and dreams. Only you can be there inside your head at every waking moment and every sleepy night. And when that solid chunk inside of your gut starts to spread, grasping like ivy for something outside of you to fix you or approve you–you have to scoop it back in and tell it, “No. I don’t have to do anything. I can do whatever I want.”

+++++++

a/n: I'm currently enjoying my ride on the 'Joel x Reader x Healing' train. Most of my fic titles end with "(18+)" and I was tempted to put "(Fun for All Ages)" on this one 😂

[elryuse]

Either Way (Rei)

In a quaint village nestled between rolling hills, there lived a boy named Y/n and a girl named Rei. Their story was one that began like a gentle breeze, soft and full of promise. They met in the village library, their eyes locking over a weathered copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Fate, it seemed, had set the stage for their love.

Y/n was a painter, and Rei was a poet. Together, they created art that spoke of their love, their dreams, and the beauty they found in the simplest moments. Their love was a masterpiece, a symphony of two hearts in perfect harmony.

But life, unforgiving in its unpredictability, had other plans. One fateful winter's day, Y/nfell ill. The diagnosis was grim, and the village doctor could offer little hope. A rare disease had taken root in his body, leaving him frail and weak.

Rei refused to accept the impending tragedy. She spent her days researching cures, visiting specialists in distant towns, and praying for a miracle. The village watched in sorrow as their love story took an agonizing turn.

As the seasons changed, Y/n's condition deteriorated. He grew weaker with each passing day, his vibrant spirit dimming like a fading sunset. Rei stood by his side, holding his frail hand, her heart shattering with every labored breath he took.

One chilly autumn evening, as the leaves outside their window turned to gold, Y/n whispered, "Rei, promise me something."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned in closer. "Anything, Y/n. I promise."

"Promise me you'll keep creating," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Let our love live on through your words, your art. Promise me, even if I'm not here."

With a trembling voice, Rei replied, "I promise, Y/n. I'll make sure the world knows our love."

Days turned into weeks, and Y/n's struggle came to an end. He passed away in the warmth of their cozy cottage, surrounded by the paintings that had once been vibrant with life and the poems that had once echoed with their laughter.

Rei was left alone, her heart heavy with grief. She kept her promise, pouring her emotions into her poetry and painting. But every stroke of the brush, every word she wrote, was a painful reminder of the love she had lost.

As the years went by, the village celebrated Rei's art and poetry, for they carried the essence of a love that had touched them all. Yet, Rei remained a recluse, unable to move past her grief. She had kept her promise to Y/n, but she had lost a piece of herself in the process.

In the end, the village remembered Y/n and Rei as a love story that had been beautiful but tragically cut short. And though Rei's art and poetry continued to inspire, she could never escape the ache in her heart, for she had loved, lost, and, in her own way, found a way to keep their love alive— Either Way.

[hellboundwrites]

Ghouls ships and how they love

Sunshine and Mist : Healing Love

Sunshine and Mist's love is redemption.

When Sunshine learns her voice isn't what the band needs anymore, she falls. One day, she's on the road with her family, and the next, she's left behind with the knowledge that they'll have someone else to take her place and continue her dream.

The abbey has never been so silent.

She never knew before what the past ghouls were to do once they were deprived of their functions. Where they went. She only guessed they just disappeared from the spotlight and became ghosts. How ironic. That seems to be the destiny of everyone who has ever been involved in the Project - even the Papas.

She never cared about all of these invisible spirits before. They didn't affect her. She was only rising.

Now she knows.

She knows the way to Mist's room like it's her own. Who found the other first ? Neither of them has that answer. It seemed they were both longing for each other long before they met. Mist who has been alone for so many years, and who long ago abandoned all hope of finding someone like her. And Sunshine who doesn't know how to hold her grief on her own without imploding.

Mist knows how to deal with disappointment and teaches all she learned to Sunshine.

They share love through their hands.

Mist's hands have always characterized her well. They used to be small, with short and colorful nails, but strong and able to hold her heavy bass. Their strength was once invested in music, but she has left most of it in the past. Now her hands are the product of slow and attentive labor, and unconditional love for all things left behind by others. Her hands bring back life to everything they touch.

It turns out, Sunshine learns, that there's a life after all that glory. It's modest and quiet but it's gentle and everything in it has value. Even a fallen ghoul like her.

Every day she joins Mist in her workshop, where everything is salvaged. Here, with a warm light behind handmade curtains, ripped sheets are sewed back together, stains are cleansed, electronics are repaired, shoes are patched up, and old furniture gets fresh paint. Rare are the things that do not find new purposes. Sometimes an object can't be fixed, so it has to be transformed.

Being here, assisting Mist in her chosen retirement plan instead of singing in a shiny costume somewhere beyond the sea - none of it was Sunshine's purpose when she was summoned. But alongside Mist, she learns, she fixes, she rebuilds.

Sometimes they allow themselves to fall back into their past. Sunshine hums while she works and everyone who picks up or drops an item for them at the workshop asks to hear more. Mist enjoys it the most, but never speaks a word about it. She just brings Sunshine to her room one day and lets her see her collection of instruments, also retired and only occasionally used to entertain old passion and nostalgia.

Nothing will ever kill their hunger for music. But they now perform on their own little stage, for each other and anyone who'd like to join.

Sometimes, they fix each other. Calloused hands, after a long day of work, find a body to rest on. They explore locks of hair, soft cheeks, the curve of a hip... And they know what to do with everything the Clergy doesn't see value in. Soft voices and experienced fingers meet and comfort and cherish.

This life is not smaller than what they were originally given. It's something different. Their presence in the confines of the workshop is a necessary one. They take everything the Clergy would throw out and give it back a sense of future. Some of the people who ask for their help forget the damage and simply thank them for giving them hope. Some people want the thing they love back and do not care for the shiny and new.

What their love does... It's giving new meanings to fallen ambitions and renewing faith in lost futures.

It's healing the broken.

Part 1. Rain and Dewdrop

Part 2. Cirrus and Cumulus

Part 3. Mountain and Swiss

Part 4. Ifrit and Zephyr

Find me on AO3

[ruinationz]

hey guys just wrote the requested fic ever. throws this at you like a rabid dog

thank you to @bambi-on-the-ps3 for additional help

hope you guys like this because i went through all the stages of grief doing this if you make this weird i'll fucking kill you

description from ao3 and shit:

(("Maybe some Caine x Pomni if you're comfortable with it, please? :D"-UrSw33t3stNightmar3, this one's for yuo))

(trips) kyaaah how embarrassing i tripped and fell onto the keyboard and made this oh noooo aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

(or, caine has many sides to himself.)

(pomni is somehow lucky enough to see one that he's never shown to anyone else before?)

actual fic under the cut

In Pomni's eyes, Caine was a highly complicated person.

Through the duration of her stay in the digital world (albeit short), she had seen Caine display his, often shifting, array of personality. Right when Pomni was finally starting to figure out his patterns, the ringmaster would somehow paint himself in new behaviors.

She could only compare his bizarre emotional patterns to a chameleon; One color for one moment, and a different one the next.

Some (and by some, she meant a majority) of his "colors" were...beautiful, in a strange sense.

And others, well...not as pleasing to the eye, to put it simply.

Caine really was something else, and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

But even so, Pomni took some sort of comfort in the fact that she at least had familiarity with every shade of his personality that he showed to the group.

...

"POMNI, MY DEAR!"

The ringmaster's characteristically loud voice soon cut through her thought process, and she looked up to find him standing before her.

"YOU DID ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS IN TONIGHT'S PERFORMANCE! STOLE THE SHOW, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF!"

...Oh, right. She'd gotten distracted from the situation at hand.

It had been a long day of one catastrophe after another, with not a single moment for the makeshift troupe to rest. And now, the only thing anyone could ever do was immediately collapse in exhaustion after all the antics they were dragged into.

Giving a sigh as she grounded herself back in reality, Pomni managed a small smile as she met the ringmaster's gaze. "W-Well, um...thank you...?"

"YES, YES, OF COURSE!" Even with the absence of facial features, she could tell that Caine was absolutely ecstatic as he beamed down at her.

"AND, YOU KNOW...I TRULY BELIEVE THAT ALL THAT HARD WORK DESERVES...A REWARD!"

...

What?

"...Huh? I-"

Before she had the chance to ask anything further, Pomni found herself taken by the hand as the ringleader dragged her away from everyone else.

For a moment, she was confused.

Where was Caine taking her? What was he planning? Was she safe? Was he safe? Pomni felt like her mind was running at lightning speeds as it sifted through all the possible scenarios, and each one only made the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach grow further once Caine finally stopped the duo in some unknown area of the circus.

Oh, dear.

Knowing the ringleader, he'd most likely do something rash and send everything into chaos. Perhaps his "reward" would be another bizarre "performance". Or...what if it was something harmful? What if it hurt her? What if it hurt him? What if-

Just as Pomni's worries reached their peak, the cluttered thoughts that filled her mind came to a screeching halt as Caine delicately took her hand and, almost hesitantly, bent down to press it to the lower row of the teeth that made up his head.

The ringmaster, in that moment, almost seemed just as shy as Pomni was as he released her hand and returned to his normal posture.

"...I-I, UM..."

He stumbled over his words, trailing off into an awkward silence. She watched as he shifted his weight from side to side, messing with his bowtie whilst he looked away from the jester, then finally clearing his throat before inhaling deeply.

...

"W-WELL! I'D...BEST BE ON MY WAY." He managed to stammer out, as if he'd given up on what he'd truly meant to say.

And just as quickly as he dragged her into it, Caine left the area, leaving Pomni to process the situation alone.

She gave a few surprised blinks as she held her hand close to her, gazing down at the back of it as the realization of what Caine had done slowly dawned upon her.

If that small, innocent gesture, that tiny "reward", was a glimpse into who the "real" Caine was, the shade of his personality that he'd never shown before...

...

...Then god, was it a pleasure to get to know him.

"Did you see where Pomni went?" Ragatha questioned Jax as she glanced around the area.

"Nope. Not my problem," The rabbit shrugged. "Probably never will be."

The doll rolled her eyes at his response. "I'm not too worried, to be honest. I trust her to pop up again!"

"If you aren't worried, then why'd you go and ask about it in the first place? That doesn't make much sense to me."

"..."

Jax snickered at the lack of response from Ragatha. "Don't got a good answer, huh? Looks like I win that one."

Giving a small, frustrated huff, she turned away from him as the two shortly went back to meeting with the others.

[littlefeatherwitch]

𝓢𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟎𝟓 : 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Chapter 06 of The five stages of grief

Wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Tags / Warnings : no smut, death, major character death

Word count : 2k

Summary : When you die you learn that grief is not only for the living and that there is a certain stage to go through before you really pass to the other side. A fiction based on the 5 stages of grief, a chapter will correspond to a stage. There will be 6 chapters, the first one is reserved for the introduction of this fiction.

This is the final stage of the grieving process. The person accepts the situation, comes to terms with it and begins to rebuild a normal life.

The person begins to regain their energy and to come out of their isolation. Life is reorganized without the lost person.

The person reaches the final stage of grief, where he or she is neither depressed nor angry about what has become of their reality.

_______________________

The period of depression in the stages of grief lasted about two years for Wanda, in fact when Yelena did not see her friend come back to New York after the summer vacations she was worried about the redhead. The Sokovian seemed to be struggling with some kind of deep depression, although the first year she refused to get help and stay at the cottage, Yelena had managed to convince her to come back to New York about a year after she left. 

Once in New York, Wanda began to try to get her life back on track, joining a support group for the loved ones of the deceased that she attended every week. She started seeing several therapists until she found the right one; Yelena was watching over her as were your parents and the Russian woman's parents. 

You continued to have gateway dreams whenever you felt that Wanda's spirit was calling to you, helping her to move forward.

Finally at the end of this second year, Wanda seemed to be moving forward, she was starting to eat properly again and to go out. She had even found a job as a psychologist in the small town of Westview, it was Agatha, the psychic with whom she had kept in touch, who had informed her that the town was looking for people qualified in psychology and she had immediately thought of Wanda. Moreover, the small house next to the psychic's had been vacant for a few years, since it had been abandoned. 

The Sokovian had decided that it would be a good thing to move, leaving New York behind her. She had sold the apartment in which you had shared so many memories together and had moved to Yelena's house, the time to make the house in Westview a minimum of habitable. 

Wanda went to Westview at least three times a month to check on the progress of the work, moving a few things of her own each time she went. So a few months later she made her last trip to this small town in New Jersey accompanied by Yelena, meaning that she was really moving out. The two women carried the boxes from the two cars into the house, which was painted in a vintage style that suited Wanda's style perfectly. You watched her move her things into each room with the help of the Russian woman; every now and then the redhead would slip a frame here and there that contained a picture of the two of you but there was no pain in the green of her eyes anymore, only nostalgia. Sometimes she felt a twinge of sadness when she thought of how much you would have loved this place but nothing like the pain she had gone through in the 4 years since your death.

Now you could see a fulfilled woman day by day and you knew that soon you would leave the world of grief behind to discover what was next. Your own heart was soothed knowing that you were leaving behind a fulfilled and happy Wanda. Yelena had continued her studies as an FBI agent, which you found to be a good fit. 

Your friends met at least four times a month, delighted to live only two hours away from each other, and once a month they each came to visit your grave and that of your other friends, bringing vodka and grenadine to remind them of your high school parties.

After moving house, Wanda had found an envelope hidden in one of her favorite books with her name written on it in handwritten letters, and she immediately recognized your handwriting. She didn't have the strength to open it on her own, so she waited to come to your grave alone to open it, needing to feel as close to you as possible when she read it. 

That evening had arrived, her hands trembled slightly, not knowing what she would discover; she took a deep breath to summon the courage to read it. The letter was dated a few weeks after your first kiss with the redhead, which surprised her since it had been almost 10 years. 

𝓦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ; 

I don't know how old we'll be when you read this letter, or if we were still talking, I just know that my illness will have taken me without me being able to do anything about it. I know you'll have done everything you could to get me into hospital, but I know it's pointless, the doctors explained it to me long ago, so I don't want you to feel guilty about it. 

I know I should have told you about my illness, but I never had the courage; after so much loss I couldn't add my name to the list, if I had warned you about this illness that would one day cost me my life you would have waited every day for that day to come and you wouldn't have enjoyed all those little moments of happiness we had. I know you need an explanation, so here it is: 

As a child I had a simple flu but ended up in hospital; the doctors realized I had a problem, my blood wasn't circulating properly to my heart, so they gave me a treatment that worked for years. When I got to high school a few weeks after we got together, I fell ill again and immediately told my parents, who took me to hospital. 

At that time, I was simply given a new treatment; the doctors considered the operation as a last resort, but there was very little chance that it would work and a lot of chance that I would die during the operation. So here I am, as long as this treatment works, I'll live to see the day when it doesn't. I'll have to try this operation unless a new treatment appears in the meantime, although it would have to be compatible with me. 

I promised myself I'd try to get away from you, to leave before your feelings become too important for me, even though I know it's already too late. I don't want you to suffer because of me so if I have to see you away from me falling in love with someone else I will; at least I hope I have the courage to do so. You've already lost so many people you cared about, I think it'll be easier if we've broken up because somewhere along the line you'll already have mourned me. 

There's things I wanna say to you but I'll just let you live... 

I'm sorry I'm not there anymore, no matter what we were to each other know that I still love you; I don't know what's after death but I know it can never separate us. I want you to realize your dreams, to have the life you've always dreamed of, even if I'm no longer a part of it. 

My feelings will survive this sunset and they can never cease, day, night, life, death... nothing can make me stop loving you.

Y/n

Her tears flowed, realizing that all these years you knew there was always a risk of dying and yet you'd never told her simply because you wanted to let her enjoy you as if you were both eternal.

On your side Natasha had appeared telling you that it was time for you to leave the world of grief and go join them on the other side. You didn't understand who she was talking about until you followed her and noticed all your friends gone too soon. 

"y/n how are you?" asked Pietro immediately taking you in his arms while Vision waited his turn to hug you 

"I'm fine, the last few years have been hard but now I'm fine" you replied with a smile on your face as Vision hugged you. 

"Welcome among us Detka" Natasha whispered in your ear

The world around you looked more or less as you had imagined it would, everything seemed calmer than you would have described if you had been asked what the world of the dead looked like while you were alive.

~

Some years later : 

"Hey come and see!" cried Vision as a sort of off-white smoke screen allowed you to see the world of the living as if you had a window

"What are they celebrating?" asked Pietro as he bent down to look. 

Wanda and Yelena were dancing around the tombs of the four of you, shaking a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne that spilled over the various marble stones as the two women laughed with euphoric faces that were almost disconnected from reality. Suddenly this cold and austere place that was the cemetery seemed to suddenly light up with joy and happiness. 

"We know," Natasha taunted, grabbing your shoulders as she made her way to the boys. 

"You cheated" to accuse Pietro pointing an accusing finger at you both

"Well I wouldn't say we cheated, I'd say we got ahead of ourselves" you said with a smirk 

"Well then what are they celebrating?" said an impatient Vision who was still trying to understand the scene that was unfolding before your eyes 

"Yelena got her place in the FBI" you announced quickly cut by Natasha 

"And Wanda got her own psychologist practice and on top of that she is pregnant with twins!" 

"My sister is pregnant with twins" asked Pietro as the news seemed to surprise him

"Yes she did, and since I had Miss Romanoff's permission I went to visit her in her dreams yesterday so I even know my children's names" you chuckled making fun of Pietro who absolutely wanted to know what his nephews were going to be called 

"What do I get in return if I give you their names" you teased trying to escape the young man who was trying to catch you to tickle you 

"Uh- well- you get everything you want" 

"Perfect, then I want to be tickled until these adorable little guys are born" you said 

"For nine months?!" 

"Take it or leave it" you laughed 

"Well that's okay". 

"Real kids" Natasha giggled as she gave Vision a pat on the back while both of them couldn't help but laugh as they watched you and Pietro bicker 

"One will be named Tommy and the other Billy; sorry but neither of them will be named Piet'" you teased as you dropped sitting in front of the smoke screen watching how happy your girlfriend looked.

That evening you decided to go back and visit Wanda in her dreams, you knew she didn't need to and so it was kind of against the rules but you wanted to congratulate her on her pregnancy and make sure she was okay after that day with Yelena in the cemetery and none of your friends said anything when you told them what you were going to do. 

"Hi Wands" you said as you took a seat on her lap as you used to do when you were alive 

"Y/n good to see you! Did you see that we're going to have two beautiful boys; I wish you had been there, I wish they had met you..."

"I would have liked that too..." 

"I'll tell them so much about you that it'll be like they knew you I promise" 

"I don't doubt it for a second" you replied with a slight smile on your lips as you slipped your head around her neck enjoying being able to inhale her scent and enjoy the feel of her warm skin against yours.

You put a hand on her belly delighted to feel the twins give small knocks against your hands 

"Be nice to your mom, boys, she deserves all the love in the world, she's a wonderful woman you know, you're very lucky to have her as your mom. 

Wanda looked at you with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes as you put on the same face as her; you both knew what was about to be said and neither of you wanted to say it or hear it 

"Life is hard without you y/n, but I'm getting by, I've stopped making plans for the future and I'm living day to day but I still feel like I could relapse at any moment" 

"I know Wands, I'm watching your every step you know, you're not alone I'll always be by your side maybe not physically but believe me no matter where you are in this world I'll be by your side. You're doing just fine without me and I know you'll be a great mother."

You continued to talk, the setting of the dream had changed, now finding yourself on a beach at sunset as your favorite flower was spread on the sand alternating with candles to build a pathway to a pile of blankets scattered on the sand with an open picnic basket recreating the scene of your first kiss with Wanda. 

You continued to walk feet in the water hand in hand with Wanda as neither of you wanted to end this idyllic dream of what your life together might have looked like. 

  "I wish I could stay longer" you whispered as the wind carried your words away as if you had never spoken them 

"I know..." replied Wanda as softly as you had. "And I also know that you can't, every good thing has an end, every dream must one day end because every night has a day and so every sleep is an awakening..."

"I promise to come back and see you; this is not a goodbye, only a long goodbye before we meet again" Wanda stood silently by your side holding back tears as your tears rolled down your cheeks in silence. "I'm not moving wands, I'll continue to watch over you until you join me; I'll continue to visit you in your dreams when you need me. I will always be there with you but please live a good long life before you join me; enjoy being a part of the growth of the twins because you will become a mere spectator far too soon. Grow them up, give them the best education they can get, watch them fall in love, go to their graduation and teach them to drive. Help them move across the country for college when your heart will ache to let them go when in your eyes they are still little babies, fledglings too small to leave the nest... Become a grandmother and play with your grandchildren... do all those things we wish we could have done together and live a full life with so many memories you'll be forced to have a whole library of photo albums, with so many memories you won't be able to remember them all. Once you've done all that then you can think about joining me on the other side, allowed to take the step that separates us; but before that live, live for me, live for us; but most of all... live for you my love"

Wanda looked at you with tears rolling down her cheeks as her green eyes looked into yours silently thanking you for your words. 

"Goodbye wands, I love you"

"Goodbye y/n, I love you" 

After those tearful goodbyes you exchanged a tender kiss filled with love until you disappeared entirely blown away by the wind as her hands held your face between her soft fingers, your own hands laying on hers. You flew away in a form of small dust like grains of sand carried by the wind and this was your long lasting goodbye.

[tloubraininfection]

I have no idea how I ended up in this rabbit hole, one second I was researching something about the second game and the next I was crying my eyes out watching that part where Ellie goes back to Joel`s house and ho boy! When I tell you I went through all the stages of grief all at once I mean it. And now I have to process this, cause I have thoughts!

This always gets me, cause look at all those flowers and cards! Joel was LOVED, people in that town knew him, cared about him and now they are grieving him. Not only that, they know and care about Ellie too and they want to support her through this awful time, show their love. They both live in a community that cares about their own. There are no words to make a loss like that better, nothing could possibly fix it, but having people care and be there for you? It still makes all the difference.

And now we go in, the house looks so peaceful and inviting. And it’s just a small thing, but I love the figurines on the coat rack. At this point Joel is gone, but you can feel his presence at every turn, as if he`s about to step into the room and invite you for coffee. There is so much personality in that house.

I love the living room, there is so much light and space and it`s filled with books and art and things to enjoy with other people. And there is the TV! So that means this is where the movie nights were held! And that table is perfect for board games. And on the mantel there is Ellie's drawing of Joel. He actually framed it and displayed it in the central place of the most public room in his house, you know, like a proud dad!

Also at this point I have to bring back this gem! May I present to you Joel's drawing of Ellie. I guess it`s safe to assume that the talent skipped a generation. (It was a collectible that never made it into the actual  game, but I love it so much I just kind of ignore that fact!)

And right next we have a dining room, with a big table and another fireplace. It’s a room ready for entertaining, for friends, for family, for dinner parties and game nights. And in the corner there is a  bar cart and a wine rack with some fancy looking bottles. There is also a nice tea set and an electrical kettle (although why would it live in the dining room and not in the kitchen beats me).

There are also two jars labeled “beans” and “seeds” on the shelf for some reason and one that I`m scared to ask about. I guess you need snack with all that alcohol?

We also have this photo, it looks like it was taken at some sort of party, Christmas perhaps? We can see Jessie, Ellie, Tommy, Maria and the fifth person that kinda looks like Joel? His general outline and the flannel would suggest its him, but why is he seated so far away from Ellie? Unless it was taken sometime during their estranged. Or Joel was sitting on Ellie`s right and was actually taking the picture. If the first I have so many questions!

Now that’s a huge ass kitchen! And it`s so well equipped, I don’t have half of those appliances in mine. It looks like a kitchen of someone who not only knows how to cook, but also enjoys it a lot. Also that to-go coffee cup is killing me, don’t ask me why.

Nothing to see here, just a girl crying over an owl mug. Let’s move on!

I love all of those details, because they show how much Joel was taking care of his house and himself. He was keeping it nice and clean, the things have their proper place and he was doing or planning on doing some DIY projects or remodeling. It`s all so intentional and comes from a place of care. Also he has linen shelves and even an iron and an ironing board. You better believe all those flannels were always nice and ironed.

I`m going to repeat myself, but I love this house and how bright and specious it is. And the fact there are painting all over, mostly of horses, it’s just so Joel. And on the landing we have this photo of Miller brothers.

This is my favorite room in the house, it always moves me so much, because there is something so human about it. Once Joel was no longer forced to burn all his energy on survival he turned towards arts almost immediately. He spent over 20 years barely being human at all, refusing to live, refusing to see the world. And now he`s healed enough to search for beauty, to let himself be surrounded by it. You can survive without it art, but you can’t live without it. And I like to think it gave him some peace.

I just wanted to include this too, because Joel and Ellie`s studios mirror each other so much, just like the artists themselves. And it always makes me cry that Ellie kept that rodeo figurine, Joel`s very last work of art…

Just a quick detour into this bathroom, because it`s just another way to show that Joel took really good care of himself, he spent time on his grooming routine and he wanted to look presentable.

(Although the twigs have me baffled again, what are they for?)

I also had to include this, cause it’s the most contraaactor thing, just look at this contraption! I bet it works like a charm!

Joels closet, with all his jackets and his pack. I wish we got to see him rocking that pink-sleeved jacket! I mean, c`mon!

Just a quick look into the second bathroom, because it’s a very silly place and I need a breather before we do the next part. There is a mirror missing here for some reason (I have a hunch it`s the one Ellie has in her garage house thing) and there are some mysterious bottles in the bathtub and a pot on a counter for some reason? And it sits on an electric cooker? What is going on here? What are you cooking, Joel? Meth?

Okay, this place really pulls on my heartstrings. The photo of Sarah, that once upon a time Joel was unable to even have in his possession, let alone look at it, is now on full display. He is able to live and be reminded of her every day and for those memories not to kill him, but rather hold him. He`s finally able to look at that photo and feel something other than pain. And right next to it, there`s a photo of him and Ellie (and a horsie, Shimmer perhaps?), Ellie looks very young in that one, so it`s most likely from their early years in Jackson. And both of those photos sit on a dresser right next to his bedroom, so he sees them every day right after he wakes up.

There is also a candle right next to Sarah`s picture and I believe it`s for both of his daughters. In memory of Sarah and as a guiding light for Ellie, to help her find her way home.

Joel`s bedroom is such a cozy place, he has a nice chair for reading and listening to music and he even has one of his guitars there. I also really love that wooden Texas outline, I bet he carved himself. And he has a silly throw pillow, we have so much in common!

And it`s time for some more crying, because “Space for Dummies” and reading glasses. They were 2 years into their estrangement and Joel was still not losing hope that someday she`d come round, that they’d get a chance to repair what was broken in their relationship and just hang out again. And then he would impress her with all his fun space facts? You know? He never lost hope…

And just to round this trip up let’s get outside for a sec and see the backyard. I think the vegetable garden is a nice detail since Joel cooks and fresh produce right form his own backyard would come in handy! And of course the back porch, the one for playing guitar and having heart to heart with you daughter.

Also I need to include this, because fishing. Ever since I read "Catch and Release" by SentientMassTransit (I can’t recommend it enough, go read all of Ellis`s stories they are brilliant!) I have fishing brainrot and just looking at this thing makes me so happy, just imagine Joel and Ellie going fishing! They are so so lucky, they have all the time in the world to chill and be happy, right? Right?

Anyways, I love this house and how it tells you a whole story about Joel and his journey. Because this is a house of a person who cares about themselves and their space, a person who knows how to live, how to enjoy fine alcohol and a fine meal, how to throw a party, how to make art, how to listen to music, how to create, express and enjoy.

Compare it to his apartment in Boston:

How dark, empty and desolate it was. I know it`s not really fair, since a lot of things that are possible in Jackson would never, could never happen in any QZ, but I still think that those two places represent Joel a lot. And they tell you a story about his growth, his change and his healing. A difference between those two spaces is a difference between a man surviving and a man living a full life.

It wasn’t time that did it, it was his relationship with Ellie that set in motion this whole process. And it was crucial, but it was just a beginning for him. Everything that followed was his decision and it required a lot of hard work. He rebuild his relationship with Tommy, he had a meaningful role in the community and he made friends! And after his falling out with Ellie it would`ve been incredibly easy for him to go back to his old patterns, but he fought against it, held onto life, art and people. He chose every day to live, to take care of himself and his house and he had enough passion for life to turn it into art! It shows how much he`s healed, how much he`s grown and how far he has come.

In this house we belive TLOU2 ended here actually, he went on fishing, playing guitar, making art, spending a lot of time with his daughter and even becoming a grandpa! He`s very happy, thanks for asking!

Most of the photos come from this page: https://thelastofus.fandom.com/wiki/Joel%27s_house

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Tragic Kingdom: Part 5

So I effed around and made this a reverse haram. I'm not sure if it's just for this chapter or not so don't get excited. But, just so we are clear on the warnings again: M/F/M, p in v, oral, mentions of child loss, magical spells gone wrong. 18+ please and thank you.

Geralt met you at the end of the long aisle in front of the dais. Loki trailed behind you looking grief stricken. “You look stunning, Dove. Did you let the prince down gently at least? He looks devastated.” You giggled at the question. 

“He did not come to steal me away from you if that is what you are implying, dear husband. We have been raised like brothers and sisters. He simply misses me. And, I admit I miss him too.”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I could smell him on you on our wedding night and I smell him now. Though, tonight you do not smell of sex. So I hope whatever transpired has ended. I do not like to share.” Your cheeks warmed at his admission. This was not the place to argue. The two of you walked to the front of the crowd where he presented you to his parents. You were filled with righteous indignation as you bowed before your father in law. He placed the diadem on your head and proclaimed you Princesse of Vanaheim and future Queen. The crowd roared in approval. You rose to your feet, turned to them and plastered a smile on your face. You and Geralt shared a chased kiss and signaled the festivities to begin. Once it was safe to slip away you pulled him into a quiet room to inform him of this evening's plans. 

He went through every stage of grief starting with shock and rage. There were tears and apologies and, through it all, he begged you not to comfort him. He should be comforting you. “You can leave. I will not stop you. I will not allow this ritual. You are more precious to me than a child who does not yet exist. Please, Dove. I’ve watched my sisters bury their children. I refuse to see the same happen to us.” You held his hands in yours and assured him that you would be perfectly safe. You tried to push him back into the party but he would not go. “If I have to look at my father right now I will murder him where he stands. My place is with you. Your pain is also mine to endure.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the cover of night Njord took you to a part of the palace that he used for rituals. You would not be disturbed. Geralt and Loki tried to no avail to talk you out of this. You would see it through. Frigga and Njord tied you down to an altar space and began painting your naked body with runes. Over your belly, the rune for fertility, protection and power for your heart and mind. They bathed you in lamb's blood and handed Loki and your mother athames to make precise cuts at your north, south, east and west. Your blood began to mingle with the blood of the lamb. Geralt stayed close by wishing you would stop. You had taken it all relatively well until it was time for the potion that Loki called bottled death. Frigga insisted it was not that serious but your mother looked as though she was going to pass out when Loki uncapped it. “Geralt, she will be in intense pain once I apply this liquid. Are you sure you wish to stay?” Frigga asked. 

“I will not leave her side. May I hold her hand?”

“Yes, of course. In fact, you”ll need to hold her down. Y/N are you sure? We can stop at any time.” 

“Allmother, please continue. Everyone stop looking at me in that manner. I will be good as new soon.” Frigga began to pour when Loki took the bottle from her hands. 

“I will do it. Kjære, if you will not reconsider then I will begin.” He kissed your blood soaked forehead and signaled Geralt to take your hands. You could hear both their hearts pounding in their chests. With a deep breath you signaled Loki to begin. 

At first you only felt cold. Your body began to shiver then you shook violently when it began to soak into your open wounds. You screamed and convulsed with pain. Geralt begged Loki to stop but you screamed at him to continue. The four mages flanked your body and choked out a spell in an old dead language. All that you could hear was Geralt telling you he loved you, willing you to live, begging you not to leave him. Finally, when every bit was absorbed, you went still. Nearing the brink of unconsciousness you faintly heard your mother crying and Njord ordering Geralt to get you in the tub of water. “Scrub her clean,” he barked. Geralt and Loki worked together to get every inch of you free from blood and grime that soaked into your skin and hair. 

“Please, Dove. Please wake up. I love you.” Geralt said again and again in your ear. He lifted you from the tub so Loki could wrap you in white vestments. Your husband carried you to your bed where the group held vigil at your bedside. You did not wake for two days. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In your dream state you found yourself face to face with Sarai. She was beautifully dressed in blue holding her son. “Your journey will be a fruitless one, little witch. There is only one way to lift my spell.” The babe looked just like you imagined Geralt did. She rocked him to shush his cries.

“You can end this, Sarai. Geralt should not be punished for the king’s wrongdoings. Please.”

“I did help him!” she raged. “He lives does he not? I died the day my son was taken from me and again to let your husband live lest you forget.” You would get nowhere with this conversation. You had to appeal to her as a mother. 

“He’s beautiful.” you said, gazing down at her son. “May I hold him?” She smiled warmly at the chubby boy in her arms bouncing him on her hip. He didn’t take his amber eyes off of you. 

“Of course you can. He is yours after all.” The baby smiled at you in recognition. You held out your arms and he flung his tiny body forward. He was your son. He had Geralt’s eyes and the elegant swoop of your eyebrows and curve of your nose. “Ivar will allow him to die in your arms. Why should he sit on the throne when he refused to protect his own family?” You held your son to your body and sobbed while he cooed and babbled against your chest. 

“Why would it matter if he has no mother?” 

“If Geralt is king, will he allow the council to hang you?” You knew he would murder them where they stood if any of them so much as touched a hair on your head. “You do not take their father you take the coward out of their lives who would sooner bury his sons and grandsons than relinquish his power. End their suffering. Their plan won’t work. I saw to that when I cast the spell.” 

“Plan?” you whispered “What plan?” 

Sarai cackled, “Of course they didn’t tell you. They struck a deal with the Allfather. He gathered the leaders of the realms and their mages to save Geralt, yes. But they had to find a way to break the curse. Your mother comes from an ancient line of healers but she and your father were barren. So they forged you out of the magic of all the realms. Your mother was the only vessel strong enough to contain the magic. You were bred to save Ivar’s line. Your marriage was arranged long ago. The deal ended the Vanir/Aesir war making Ivar forever beholden to Odin. Vanaheim has supplied Asgard with food for millennia.” 

You couldn’t breathe. You sank to the ground rocking your son trying to calm yourself. “When Loki said I was made for him…”

“It’s your power that called to him. The Jotuns used the Cask of Ancient Winters to imbue you with the frost giant’s magic. He feels it.” 

“Does he know what I am?” You were filled with so much rage that it tickled and burned the back of your throat. 

“No. Neither does Geralt. When Ivar came to me to ‘beg me to lift the spell’” she chuckled, “He really came to take my blood. All of it. Njord though, because Ari shared my blood, it could be used to break the curse. They were wrong. Like a true imbecile, Ivar told me of his plan. I died with a smile on my face because I knew they would fail miserably. My language was specific. It is only Ivar’s blood that breaks the curse.” She took your son from your arms and they both began to fade away. “If you want to see him again. You know what to do.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The vast space you were in began to darken. Smoke clouded your vision and enveloped your body. You felt a pull in your womb then nausea washed over you. Your infertility charm was fighting against the rune painted on your belly. The rune won. You found your way out of the darkness back to your body willing yourself to open your eyes. You took a piece of the darkness with you. If the spell would not work, you would end the king’s life. When you awoke, Loki was the first person you saw.

“Kjære?! Someone get the prince. Quickly!” He held you up and kissed your face. “Say something. Please.”

“Water.” was all you could say. He grabbed the bedside pitcher which you snatched from his hands and drained in lieu of a glass. Geralt and your parents rushed into the room. Loki held you up until Geralt was able to get you in his arms. Your father and mother clutched each other waiting for you to speak. It was only Loki who could see at first. Something was wrong. You didn’t look like yourself. 

“My sweet Dove. Please say something.” Geralt was beside himself with worry.

“You look like shit, husband.” He laughed rumbling deep in his chest. 

“I feel like shit, wife. Can you sit up on your own or are you too weak?” You feigned weakness for him but the truth was you felt like you could topple a mountain. 

“Just hungry.” you lied. 

“Do not move. I will get you whatever you wish. Name it.” He still had not let you go. 

“Meat and a lot of it. And a barrel of wine.” Everyone giggled nervously around you. Njord pushed them all aside to listen to your heart and check you over. 

“She lost a lot of blood. The meat will replenish her iron. We’ll send for it right away. Come, everyone. Let’s let the princesse have some space to breathe.” 

“You’re sure you’re ok, dear?” Your mother asked. You could not look at your parents. They would have to wait. You had a hunger growing deep in your core and you could not help yourself. They all had to leave immediately. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Promise.” You shooed everyone away to spend a few moments alone with Geralt. Loki looked on warely. He could feel it. Could hear the whispers around you. You were changed. Geralt could feel it too. They shared a look as Loki left the room. 

“I’ve asked you not to lie to me, Dove.” Geralt said in monotone. 

“I couldn’t speak freely in front of my parents. I saw Sarai. She claimed the spell will not work.” You would not break his heart any further. Not until you spoke to your parents and Loki. 

“Then you went through hell for nothing.” 

“Not for nothing. I’ll find another path….”

“No!” he slammed his fist on the wall. “I will not lose you. The line dies with me.” 

“Unless we can convince the small council to allow our first born daughter to sit on the throne.” 

He laughed, “They will never go for it.” 

“Does the council rule Vanaheim or will you? I’ll slaughter them and promote a new council if I have to. With me, you will have no need for a mage. Njord will step aside.” 

It was not like you to speak that way. It gave him pause but he thought better of asking again if you were well. “You are a murderous little thing arent you? Let us pray it never needs to come to bloodshed.” 

“Perhaps I can find a spell that would guarantee I only have girls.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and you felt him smiling against your hair. 

“It is my lot in life to be surrounded by beautiful women. I could think of a worse fate.” He nipped at your jawline, awakening an overwhelming feeling of arousal. You ran your hands over his and worked your way into his lap. Before he knew what you were doing, you pulled up your nightgown and ground into his stiffening cock. “Dove, what are you doing?” You did not stop. His arms tightened, “You need rest.” 

“No, I need you to fuck me.” A light sheen of sweat glistened on your skin. You were too hot in all the clothing and blankets it was suffocating. You tore at your clothing, your skin felt too tight. All the while you continued to rub against him soaking his trousers. “Geralt, fuck me. I need it.” 

“You are boiling hot, Y/N. Stop. Let me get Njord or your mother.” He tried to push you away but you wouldn’t let him go. The scent of your arousal was beginning to overwhelm him. He had to be inside of you. He had to fill you up. 

His refusal angered you. You were in pain and he wouldn’t help you. “It hurts. Please, husband fuck me. Make it stop.” 

“No. Something is wrong. Stop! Let me get you help.” You whipped your body around to face him. Your pupils expanded leaving a thin ring of color surrounding depthless onyx. Geralt shouted for help enraging you. You slapped him hard across the face and lunged for him. Loki was the only one still pacing outside of the door. He burst in to see Geralt holding you down. 

“What’s happening?! Let her go!” Loki reached for Geralt’s hands when he noticed your eyes. 

“Loki” you whined, “My Prince please help me. I hurt. Please fuck me.” 

“It’s a side effect of the spell.” He muttered. “It must have sent the fertility charm into overdrive.” 

“What do we do?” Geralt struggled. 

“Give her what she wants.” 

“Are you insane? I cannot take advantage of her in this state.” You managed to wiggle out of Geralt’s hold back into his lap where you rutted against him furiously. 

“Looks as though it is the princesse who is taking advantage of you, my lord.” He leaned down and pressed his ear to your chest. His touch was electrifying. You moaned loudly and Loki’s body responded on instinct. “Her heartbeat is too fast. You have to do it. Put her out of her misery.” 

“Fuck.” He lifted you enough to unfasten his pants and sheathed himself in you. Your whole body shuddered as you reached your first orgasm. Loki tried to leave but Geralt stopped him. “Don’t leave. What if I hurt her?” You did not seem any better and Geralt was nearing his tipping point. “Dove, you have to slow down. I won’t last much longer.” 

“I can’t. I need more. Harder, Geralt. Please.” Tears flowed down your cheeks feeling no relief. Another orgasm slammed through your body but you still cried. When you came, so did Geralt. He kept fucking you until he could no longer maintain his erection. “Not enough” you cried. He tried fucking you with his fingers but you still begged for more. 

Loki and Geralt made eye contact. A silent plea from your husband to help you. “I’ve got you, Kjære.” You lay on top of your husband kissing him deeply while Loki took you from behind. His pace was brutal, punishing. It was everything you needed. 

“Yes, my Prince. So good. Harder.” Your moans spurred on Geralt who was quickly stiffening beneath you. 

“Do you want your princes to fill you, pet? 

“Yes. Need it.” Loki pounded faster bringing himself to the brink pulling out at the last second to spill hot seed over your thighs. Geralt replaced him pumping hard into you bringing you both over the edge into an earth shattering end. Finally you collapsed on your husband's chest panting and sated. When Loki stepped away you pulled him back to kiss him more passionately than he’s ever been kissed before. Geralt peppered kisses over your sweat soaked skin helping to calm you. “Thank you. You’ve both saved me. I felt like I was going to explode.” 

“Norns, pet. Next time you plan on spelling yourself into a frenzy, remind me to stay outside.” He kissed your shoulder and excused himself to clean up. 

“Are you feeling better, Dove?” Geralt stroked your wet hair 

“Much. I need a bath. Come with me?”

“Of course. But just a bath. I think you broke my cock.” 

You laughed against his chest, “Of course.” 

The bath felt marvelously hot, relaxing all of your muscles. Loki washed up and sat on the settee in the corner while Geralt washed you. You told him of your brush with Sarai. His blood ran cold thinking of all the pain you went through for nothing. He was unsure if your episode would be the last or if more was coming. It could be the fertility charm burning its way through you or something else. Something worse. You were different. Something lingered within you that he couldn’t place. All three of you agreed that it was best if he stayed behind for a few days. No one wanted you attacking an unsuspecting guard or, Norns forbid poor Njord. Besides, if you got that worked up again, Geralt would be unable to handle you on his own. 

After dinner Geralt excused himself, too exhausted to even stand. You stayed up with Loki to tell him of your conversation with Sarai. He was horrified and confused then finally relieved. “So you were not made for me but made of me. Understandable why I feel compelled to always be near you besides being hopelessly in love with you. How do you feel?” 

“Betrayed.” Loki understood all too well. It was only recently that he learned of his true parentage. “I need to talk to my parents.” 

“Tomorrow, Kjære. Get some rest.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He paused unsure of his next move. 

“The floor looks comfortable enough I suppose.” 

You took his hands and kissed both his palms, “Come to bed with us.” Unsure if you were still feeling the effects of the spell he tried to pull away. 

“I am quite sure your husband would not appreciate me in your marital bed. Good night, Kjære.” He kissed you, careful not to spur you on and excused himself. 

You remained in front of the fire conflicted, rehashing your entire life. Every memory of each deliberate move your parents made whilst raising you brought you to perfect clarity. You were no better than a prized dairy cow. 

At first light you will wake Geralt and divulge your secrets then you will find your parents to confront them. Sleep never came for you. You stayed in your chair stroking your belly quietly singing to your son who was already growing. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt found you in the sitting room in front of the dying fire with the curtains drawn. You did not look up when you heard him walk into the room. You remained stock still save for the hand absentmindedly stroking your belly. Your skin was pale and a shadow formed under your eyes which looked black in the dim light. Or were your eyes changed?

“Y/n? Dove? Have you slept?” No answer. It was as though you were completely unaware that he was in the room. He ran a finger along your jawline and brought your face up to look at him. “Have you been out here all night?”

“We need to talk.” You told him every single detail of what Sarai told you. There was no way to mentally prepare himself for the raw emotion that spilled from him. “This ends now, Geralt. I have been sent here to save your line and I intend to.” 

“Let’s leave. I’ll abdicate. Let them fight out who will be king when father dies. Just me, you and our boy. Please do not put me in this position.” He rested his forehead against yours, “I have taken lives, my love. I have felt guilt every day since. Please do not do this to yourself.” 

You jumped from the chair and got in Geralt’s to make yourself abundantly clear, “Your father did not fight for any of you. Will you treat your son the same? If you will not fight for him, I will.” 

“This is me fighting.” he growled. “This is the honorable thing to do. I do not wish for you to feel the guilt I feel. You are too good to stain your soul this way.” 

“What will happen to me when our child dies in my arms? What of my soul then?” You held each other’s eyes for several moments before you could trust your voice to speak. “Let me do what I was created to do.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two of you left the conversation unresolved which made you even more angry on the way to speak to your parents. They were all enjoying breakfast when you bounded into the room in your nightclothes, your hair wild. “Mother and father, I need a moment.” 

“Elskan, you look terrible. Have you eaten? Sit down. Have some tea.” No one took their eyes off of you. 

“Now. Please.” Your father opened his mouth to scold you but your mother quieted him and followed you to your chambers. “What am I? And before you lie, I already know. I simply want to hear you say it.” 

“Who told you?” Your mother asked exasperated. 

“That is irrelevant. What am I?”

“Our daughter.” Your father chimed in. 

“Lies. Have I ever had a choice about who I married?” 

“No. I’m sorry, sweetheart but no. We tried to minimize any damage but you were just like any young woman. You had needs. Desires. And you were so happy.” Astrid tried to touch you but you recoiled. 

Tears started flowing down your face when you realized what she meant, “Fandral?”

“It had to be done.” 

“Norns, mother. I blamed Loki. Loki blamed himself. That almost destroyed us.” 

“That was a happy accident. Had to get you away from Loki or else you would have never asked to court. We wanted it to be your decision.” Kasper explained. 

“But it was never my decision. My life is not my own. I have no idea if my husband truly loves me or if his feelings are the result of some spell. Do you know how that feels?! You need to leave. All of you.” 

“But, Elskan, you do not look well. Let us stay to help you through this.” 

“You’ve done quite enough. Please leave.” 

“We love you, Y/n. You are our daughter and we want to be here for you.” Your mother tried and failed to hug you. 

“You are not my mother. You were nothing more than my incubator.” She winced as though you slapped her. 

“Then we will take our leave. Be well, Elskan.” 

They left to gather their things with only the sound of your mother’s sobs trailing behind them. You hadn’t noticed Loki slip into the room. “Am I included in the ‘all of you’ part? He asked sheepishly. 

“For now. Please don’t argue. Don’t make this any harder. Geralt and I have things we must work through.” You paced back and forth picking at your fingers muttering to yourself. 

“I take it your conversation didn’t go well.” 

“He wants to abdicate. Like that will do anything to quell the curse.” 

Loki stepped closer and sensed your tension, “May I touch you?” You did not stop him when he placed his hands on your shoulders nor when he stepped closer to hold you. “You will do what needs to be done. And, if you must flee, I will follow.” 

“So will I.” Geralt’s gravely voice sounded from the doorway. “No spell, no matter how powerful, could force me to feel the way I do about you. You are my wife.” You turned, still in Loki’s arms, to face your husband. “The mother of my son.”

A warm smile played across his lips as he tenderly touched your belly. “I will support whatever decision you make.” He pressed a kiss to your lips leaning you back against Loki’s chest. “I’ll leave you to say goodbye. Thank you for everything. And I am being sincere when I say I hope you return sooner rather than later.” He winked at Loki and stepped out of the room. 

[golden-rats]

If you had life eternal

Turning emotions into fics. This time, Copias thoughts about Terzos death.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Dealing with death of a loved one

Tags: Loss, grieving, hurt/no comfort

Can also be read on AO3 here

Terzo was gone.

Copia was struggling to come to terms with the enormity of his loss. He felt helpless. Didn't know what to do. How to stop crying. How to stop this grieving. It was near unbearable. His chest getting tight. So tight Copia feared it would crush his aching heart and struggling lungs. Every new sob rolling through his body. Shaking his shoulders.

The newly elected Papa tried to fill the void with work, with the ghouls and siblings of sin, with anything that might distract him from the crushing weight of his sadness. But nothing seemed to help. The world felt darker, colder, more unforgiving without his tesorino by his side.

And so he sat there, in the quiet of his room. It was dimly lit, with only a faint glow coming from the bedside lamp. Copia sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Hair a mess. Wearing his dark red track suit. It was wrinkly and stained. Unable to take proper care of himself lately. He had been sitting there for hours. Lost in a sea of sadness and despair. Consumed by the weight of his grief.

The future seemed bleak, uncertain, and he couldn't imagine ever feeling whole again.

As so often these past days, his mind was filled with memories of Terzo - his smile, his laugh, the gentle touch of his hand, the way he used his words to subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, flirt. All of it felt like a cruel tease, a reminder of what he had lost. He couldn't believe that he was gone, that he would never be able to see him again or hold him in his arms. Or being held by him.

As the night wore on, his emotions began to overwhelm him. He collapsed onto the floor, his body heaving with sobs. He cried out his name over and over again, his grief echoing through the empty room. Every moment felt empty, every space that was once filled with love and laughter now felt hollow and cold. The silence throughout the day was deafening, a constant reminder of the absence of the one person who meant everything to him. No doubt another Papa or some of the ghouls could hear him right now. But that was the least of his concerns at this point.

The tears flowed freely down his face, leaving wet trails on his cheeks. Smearing the paint he didn't wash off yet. Couldn't find the strength to get up and do it. With every glimpse into the mirror, he saw him. Staring back with mismatched eyes. Though, this time they were cold. Copia was almost surprised there were any tears left, with how many of them escaped him prior to this new breakdown. He clutched at his chest, feeling the emptiness where his heart used to be. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he couldn't imagine ever feeling anything else again. A constant ache in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away.

Every day felt like an eternity, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a terrible nightmare, a cruel joke that he would wake up from any moment. But deep down, he knew that it was real. Terzo was gone, and with him went a piece of his heart that he knew would never be fully restored.

For what felt like hours, he laid there on the floor, crying and screaming and mourning the loss of the man he loved.

At one point, Primo wandered over. Stopping outside his door in the hallway. Listening. This death affected him and his brother just the same. He knew how Copia must feel. While they didn't share a family bond, it was clear they did have a deep connection. Secondo and him accepted the cardinal into their family without question. While his younger brother was wary at first. But Terzo? He immediately took a liking to the chaotic, kind man. His antics on stage, the silly tricycle, the trail of small rats you just needed to follow if you looked for Copia.

But Primo didn't knock. Didn't disturb him. As much as he wanted to console the grieving antipope. It felt like a breach of privacy. He would come to them if he wanted to. When he was ready. Behind one corner of the hallway, the oldest brother could make out the silhouettes of a few ghouls. Huddled together, peering around said corner. Tails lowered between their legs, ears drooping low. But the retired leader only shook his head. Signaling them to retreat to their own quarters before leaving himself. A few wailing chirps could be heard while they disappeared.

Left alone with his emotions, Copia struggled to form coherent thoughts. Exhaustion tugging at his body and mind. He knew that his life would never be the same without him. The ministry wouldn't be the same. The ghouls neither. But somehow, in the midst of his grief, he found a glimmer of hope. He knew that he would carry his memory with him. Always. And that in some small way, he would always be with him. On the stage. In his songs. With their music.

Determined to continue his legacy. Not letting the memories of Terzo die that quickly. He would make sure that he lived on. That a fragment of his soul could be found in everything he created. His love would carry on and defeat the boundaries of death. It could only separate them bodily. For now.

Then, eventually, his sobs quieted and he was left with only a deep, aching sadness. And that was okay. It was a process. It will most likely happen again. Which is a good sign, no? A life that's missed means it's a life that has been loved. And Terzo was and still is loved. There is not a single doubt about that.

If they just had some more time together… Just another morning. Another kiss. Another touch.

If they had life eternal.

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba @dogblessyoutascha

Part Fourty

Summary:  Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a  lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of  mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to  irritate him every other century.

Also on AO3

They had been racing each other through the forest to see who could reach Sept Tours first. Try as he might to push his horse forward, Baldwin hadn't been able to outpace Martin since they started, which was why Martin saw the strange display in front of them first.

Martin burst out laughing, then called back over his shoulder to Baldwin as he caught up.

'Are we expected to dine in the grounds?'

'What?' Baldwin peered past him, confused, then stared.

Every single piece of furniture that the De Clermonts owned appeared to be scattered across the grass.

Astrolabes and books, scrolls and clocks and linen, cutlery and paintings and the paraphernalia of over a thousand years of life perched on or in the desks, chairs and tables. In the center stood Marthe; from where they were they could hear her muttering curses under her breath and loudly directing the servants on where to put everything.

'Smells of damp' Martin said, sniffing the air. There was a definite tang of mould; some of the furniture had been placed to one side, and a handful of kitchen boys were enthusiastically attacking the pile with axes.

They rode up and dismounted, leaving the horses tied to a boudoir to graze as they wound their way through the labyrinthine mess until they reached Marthe.

'What has happened here?' asked Baldwin.

'Matthew happened.' Marthe paused, then sighed and gestured helpelessly around her. 'He set up a new rain-catching system on the roof of the armoury and..'

'How unfortunate.'

'How far did the damage spread?' asked Martin, as Baldwin began happily snooping through everyone else's belongings.

'Only the armoury and the central tower, thank the gods.' Marthe nodded at Martin. 'A bed in the northeastern tower has been set up for you, and your usual rooms have been prepared for you as well, Lucius.'

'Thank you' said Martin. Baldwin looked up and nodded gratefully.

'Thank you Marthe.'

________________________________________________________________

Philippe and Ysabeau had cycled through the five stages of grief very quickly, so by evening they were laughing at their youngest son's lesson in failure. Marthe was still frosty, but Matthew had promised to help with the clean up which had gone a long way to thawing her temper.

'But what went wrong exactly?' Baldwin asked, while they ate dinner.

'I do not know.' Matthew shrugged.

'Perhaps it was the pipes.' Martin offered.

'Perhaps. There was nothing wrong with the receptacle when we tested it.'

Verin, who happened to have been available to join them for the night, pointed her knife at her brother. 'Fix your pipes Matthew!'

'Yes Matthieu, fix your pipes.' chortled Philippe.

Matthew's mouth twitched in a premonitory smirk. 'There's nothing wrong with my pipes.'

The table dissolved into giggles.

Author's Notes

Baldwin's just happy it's not his stuff that's been destroyed.

Toilet humour makes the world go round 😅

[selchielesbian]

tagged by @peachpulpeuse !!! 💖

favorite color: mint green and that like dusty rose pink. though when the kids at my job ask though i say blue, which is also true

currently reading: devouring my way through ‘gideon the ninth’ (while it devours my brain and heart in return). i also started the audiobook of ‘I’m thinking of ending things’ which has been interesting, I’m a big fan of the nonlinear storytelling. I’ve been digging back into fiction this year after getting stuck on nonfiction and essay collections for a long time. i can have a little escapism, as a treat

last song: andromeda - weyes blood. truly one of the most beautiful albums ive listened to in a long time. this song in particular presses a tender spot in my rib cage. ‘treat me right/I’m still a good man’s daughter/let me in if i break/and be quiet if i shatter’ 😭😭😭

last series: revolutionary girl utena; I’ve been rewatching it both with some lovely online friends who have delicious meta and with my younger sister who has never seen it before (watching her go through the 5 stages of grief in under a minute every time we get to a nanami episode has been its own reward)

last movie: nope which was SO much fun. keke palmer my beloved <3 first time I’ve been to a movie theater in years (even pre-pandemic) and I’m very glad I went.

sweet/spicy/savoury: a foolish question…one cannot exist without the others…

currently working on: i have about 500 paintings I’ve started and periodically cycle through that I really need to finish. also some fanfics that are like 1 paragraph away from being done but I’m a procrastinator at heart.

I tag @1tbls @hugbeam @roccobears @magrittr @ladyoftheharbour @pearlfemme @dogcopter @gothwizardspells @lilstinky and any other mutuals (or just any one) who wants to do these!

[rubyreading]

Heroism & Morality Inside "The Dreaming City"

Michael Moorcock's "The Dreaming City" begins straightforward enough, setting the stage. The kingdom of Melniboné ruled the entirety of the world with an iron fist for ten thousand years, and it was known as the Bright Empire. Then, as time took its toll, the nation crumbled and was succeeded by other lesser empires. Though the Bright Empire’s denizens had mostly scattered, the last rightful heir to its throne remained alive as a wandering, moody warrior named Elric. Elric had long since abandoned his seat of power and left his home city of Imrryr to be dominated by an usurper, his cousin Yyrkoon. However, Elric had a change of heart during his time away from his homeland and decided to return to Imrryr with an armada of mercenary ships. His purpose was to slay his usurper kinsman and regain the love of his life that still remained trapped in the city, Cymoril. The mercenaries that came along with him were only there for the riches to plunder. Elric guided his fleet through a maze of caves that guarded the city of Imrryr, and battling defensive forces as he went, made his way to find Cymoril. Atop one of the city’s towers he was confronted by his cousin Yyrkoon, and they battled. Using his rune-forged blade Stormbringer, Elric slew Yyrkoon, but in a cruel twist of fate, Yyrkoon threw Cymoril onto the blade as well. Tortured by accidentally killing his love, Elric leaves with his armada of mercenaries as the city crumbled into flames behind them. They are suddenly attacked by Imrryr’s “Dragon Masters” as they flee, and facing certain doom, Elric uses his magic to save his own ship and its crew, but leaves the others to perish.

The first thing to note about Moorcock's tale is that Elric is not a typical fantasy protagonist. He is murderous, often cruel, and holds ambiguous loyalties, even using demonic powers to aid him in his pursuit of vengeance against his cousin. And yet, despite this, it is easy to cheer for him. While his methods are altogether hellish, his motivations are still very human and relatable. Revenge and hate, love and loss, are familiar concepts to us all, and Elric must withstand them all during his quest. It is altogether refreshing to see a protagonist act on these human feelings in such a violently unapologetic way, pursuing what he sees as an honorable goal and dismissing anyone else as an obstacle. Sometimes, reading fantasy, it can be tiring to watch and wait for the fish-out-of-water hero to become heroic enough to make any dent towards his long-term destination. Elric has already made up his mind out of the gate, and ruthlessly barrels through the “hero’s journey” towards a bloody conclusion.

The elephant in the room is, obviously, whether such a protagonist can even be viewed as a “hero” at all. While getting too hung up on semantics will get the conversation nowhere, it is worth noting that it all depends on what you mean by “hero.” Is it the protagonist’s actions, their goals, or both that make them a hero? Elric’s initial motivations for returning to the Dreaming City of Imrryr were a mixture of vengeance and love. The vengeance is arguably justified, considering Elric’s cousin Yyrkoon has no right to the throne and he is abusing his powers. But then Elric uses demonic powers along the way to drag his opponents down to hell with his blade Stormbringer. Love is also a heroic motivator, but then there is the uncomfortable fact that Cymoril is Yyrkoon’s sister, and in turn, also still Elric’s cousin. This adds a layer of complexity, because incest is horrendous, but clearly Cymoril should be saved from being a captive in the city. This is, in a sense, the entirety of Elric’s plight in miniature: every moral situation is painted gray, not black and white. Even at the story’s conclusion when he abandons his armada to save himself, Elric is racked with remorse: He sobbed on, not heeding them, great griefs racking his soul. Should he have remained with the others and perished? What is the right thing to do in all of these scenarios? While Elric’s atypical means to his ends offer an easy out to be labeled as a “villain,” Elric is one of the few fictional characters that truly does belong in an “anti-hero” subcategory.

A detail far too easy to overlook is the sword which Elric wields, Stormbringer. It is described as a rune-forged and chaotic black blade, with a will entirely its own. It consumes souls and thrives off bloodlust, and it offers an immediate and powerful tool for Elric’s own drive and spirit to make use of and dominate. Without the sword, Elric would never have gotten that far. Being a frail albino, without the faculties to even use all of his ancient magic, he is reliant on the blade and the strength that it offers. The sword’s own fury was used against him when Yyrkoon threw Cymoril onto the blade point, and Elric is doubly wounded by the tragedy. Not only did he grasp the weapon that killed her, but the blade itself, his old acquaintance, was the unfortunate means to such sorrow. At the story’s conclusion, after he abandoned his fleet and remained brooding on the only ship that was spared, he becomes introspective about his old friend. Perhaps in an attempt to separate the responsibility of Cymoril’s death from himself and to cast it solely onto the sword’s will, Elric throws Stormbringer into the ocean. He tries to break the bond he holds with it, but seeing the magical blade hovering halfway in the water, screaming malevolently, he retracts his decision. He reclaims the sword and the weakness he felt seeping into him after throwing it immediately retreats. Stormbringer is not merely a crutch for Elric: it is a necessity.

Michael Moorcock’s Dreaming City is a tale which stands out from many other short fantasy narratives. It offers a refreshingly original protagonist, deceptively subtle moral conflicts, and most of all, an enjoyably violent story that is worth telling. It certainly lacks the wholesome humanity of other fantasy like The Hobbit, but it allows for a peek into a harsher side of human nature that is well worth exploring as well.

Written by Ruby Carpenter.

Moorcock, Michael. “The Dreaming City.” The Big Book of Modern Fantasy: The Ultimate Collection, edited by Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer, Vintage Books, a Division of Penguin Random House LLC, 2020, pp. 102–119.

[by-kilian]

My Love, how are you?

I went through 5 stages of grief while reading STH ch12-14. At one point, I was very sacred for Killian and Levi.

That cunning bastard! I was so dumbfounded that he assumed it was Killian, based on calculations?? Levi was very right about the mission very dangerous!

Mathias you motherf**** you stab my girl!!

Me when I see Mathias:

And Erwin apologizing to Levi, I don’t how to describe the emotions I felt. We can’t just blame him even if we want to, it was a part of his job and even if he wanted to bail it, he doesn’t have the choice.

I was so happy to see Annie and Farlan back. And, I am very glad that Farlan is living well and didn’t held grudge against Killian.

My Killian:

I just want to hold her and tell you deserve everything. Lucas, Levi and Sofia being her whole world I😭

I know what she felt in her unconscious state. She wanted to escape from her reality, just like us when things get so overwhelmed. But we all have someone who care for us and they wait for us.

She really loves Levi 😭

When she was crawling towards to reach Levi, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I don’t know if it was Mathias intention, he invited a woman named Sofia and the painting??? I am gonna kill the bastard 🔪🔪

Anyways, it was such an emotional, bit fearful, rollarcoster chapters. And, you really choose good songs that well matches with the vibe of the scene, the poetries you choose in the beginning chapters and how blend them in the chapters, hats off to you!!

And I’m very sad that STH is gonna end

Anyways, I will be eagerly waiting for the chapters. Take your time and plenty of rest.

Until then, take care!!!

Hi love, I'm well!

Lmao, I can only imagine the rollercoaster you went on having read so many chapters in one go!

Also yes, I know. I told you guys and so did every other character from the beginning that Mathias was dangerous. I hate that everyone only finally saw just how much now!

Honestly, I loved the apology Erwin gave to Levi! It's such a special and quiet scene. He never wanted to put them into this position but sometimes when you're @ your wits end, you don't know what else to do, and to your point, he felt like he didn't have a choice.

I was really happy to bring Farlan back, and honestly there would never be a need for him to hold a grudge. He's a big boy. It was a one-night stand. He'll live (and he did) lol. There's definitely more conversations to happen between the two of them, but it's been a long time since he last saw her. If he still held a grudge, he wouldn't even feel like his own character tbh.

And as far as Kilian's unconscious state, it's really less that she wanted to escape her reality, she was just dreaming! It's obviously a very powerful metaphor because to die in your dreams means to be born again or experience some kind of metamorphosis or rebirth, but she wasn't very aware of what was happening. She kind of had no choice but to not face reality since she was sleeping 🤣.

You're spot on when you say she loves Levi though. He is absolutely her weakness and tbh she is fine with that. She loves that man, DEEP. And trust me when I say it is returned.

Also I can absolutely clear the painting and Sofia up. The painting is intentional. Sofia is not. Mathias does not know details about Kilian's life like that, he followed her career and figured out who she was that way because as he stated himself, to bug and to dig information up on people takes away all the fun for him. 'Sofia' is merely just a coincidence that I wanted to drop in, and Kilian even notes that she reminds her of her Sophia in spirit. She's also the catalyst to get Levi and Kilian to spend one last time together by suggesting they dance. The painting was of course intentional since Mathias saw that Kilian had such an attachment to the story, but he did not deliberately invite someone named Sofia to mess with her. He's good at fucking with people's minds but he's not that good.

I'm so glad that you enjoyed the chapters though and thank you so much for sending me this lovely ask! Don't be sad that STH is going to end. As I said, all good things must come to an end but it doesn't always mean the end. There's always that way of the housewife AU I thought of with Kilian and Levi that I may do. You never know. ❤️

I hope you will take care as well, thanks so much for your kind words and words of encouragement. I appreciate you!! <3

[tgaeuanbaxter]

There are rumours of those who sacrifice everything they have to obtain the key to happiness. They say that every year, there is someone in the country who goes mad & kills their entire family, only to disappear a day later. Most of these people were family orientated, those with spouses, children and family. You dismissed these rumours as mere folklore, until today. You were walking down the cobble paved streets in the moonlight when you spotted a peculiar object. It didn't make sense, it was injuring itself, its eyes shone with dark, and it had a mouth for an eye-lid. This thing had no reason to just be sitting there in the streets for everyone to see, for you to find. Surely someone would have discovered it. But it is there, staring at you, beckoning you. This isn't something you should touch, but someone else might run into it, so maybe it is best to move it away. When you pick it up, you feel a searing pain in your hand as one of the creature's spikes pricks your hand. You feel something coursing through your veins, then all is well. Suddenly it speaks to you. "Bring me souls, those you love, and I shall unlock the way to true happiness, and a place where you can feel no pain." You resist the offer, but whatever that pain did, was whispering you that same offer over and over. Eventually the voice goes from a whisper to a growl. The offers become more frequent, to the point where you can't sleep. Your health worsens until you give in. It demands the souls of those you love, to use it as a weapon. You use the object to stab into your youngest child while everyone else is away. Their body writhes as daedric spikes skewers them in an instant. You feel a sense of accomplishment and relief, for some reason. It's addicting. You do the same to your spouse, your other children, your parents, each time with no response from law enforcement, to the point where it defies reason. Once satisfied, the object guides you to an abandoned building, the house of someone who went insane and murdered their entire family. The object says to you "You have done well, behold, the key to true happiness...." Your vision suddenly goes blank as you see the illusion of your spouse, your children, your parents, everyone you sacrificed before you; Your vision soon returns, and the key whispers to you "you have received the knowledge for true happiness. Do you wish to also go to a place where you can feel no pain or sorrow?" You feel like the victim of a cruel joke, and with nothing to live for, you accept. It is only now that you notice the skeleton on the floor next to you, as the key stabs into you, and everything goes dark. Inspirations & process: I had major inspiration from the idea of a folklore story about a Lovecraftian horror. I was particularly invested in the idea of a horror that you can comprehend but don't want to, rather than something that you can't comprehend. One of these ideas is the feeling of grief, where the first stage is denial. The purpose of the folklore story is to warn people of the destructive over-pursuing of happiness, and a tragedy of those who sacrifice themselves for a good deed. Most folklore stories such as Robin Hood have an underlying moral message, and I wanted to replicate that. I also used a lot of processes that I haven't really done before, most notably with the background and lighting. I wanted to get across the idea of something horrible in a place of innocence and safety, so I used a soft, bright blue light for the lighting, with a clean & peaceful background, like that you would find in a busy town. The lighting paints everything in a soft moonlike glow, something that would be more akin to a religious piece, which I think really settles in the idea that this kind of horror could be literally everywhere. I also tried reducing the detail in the image the further away from the center the detail is, which is something I am very inexperienced at. I hope you enjoyed - Euan

[luckycauldron]

I'm keeping this here. What for? I don't know... but I know that I want to look back into this on a happy note. One day.

I want to remember that most of the times, things in life won't work a certain way I expect it to be - and it's fine. It is. It completely is.

I just let out a sigh as I'm writing this haha.

I mean, who am I kidding? Life has been... how do I put this into words, hm? Bitter... sweet? Mindboggling? It feels like I got punched multiple times in the most hurtful ways, but every. single. time. I kind of... managed to survive? I couldn't dodge though, so I'm left with some real ugly bruises. But they're fading, so it's fine, except for the new ones I just got HAHA.

Ok enough with the metaphor.

Now on to the real talk. This would be the first time I'm voicing out what I'm about to.

And there goes another sigh.

Back on August last year, I broke up with my longtime boyfriend - 5 years and 8 months went down the drain. It was a mutual agreement, I initiated though. The guy was a coward, so I did what I had to do. I always knew it was coming, we were like spoiled milk, what do you expect? He made me wait, maybe too taken aback with my advance. I remember one time during my suffocating wait, I was praying and silently crying in the upstairs room, holding back a scream because everyone was asleep and I ended up with the most terrible stomach cramps I've had in my entire 27 years of living. That made me stop crying abruptly, and the next thing I knew I was clutching on to the nearest table tops because I thought I was gonna die from the pain. Very dramatic. Even my cats were judging from afar. 'Ugh, when will this end', 'Make it stop', 'What an embarrassment' were evident on their evil little faces.

So then the breakup happened. It was sad, but I was mostly relieved that the spoiled milk had finally find a home - yes, the garbage dump, duh! We also had this stupid thing where we say "Let's be friends. I have a feeling we'd make the best of friends even we're no longer lovers" as a closing statement. Total cuckoo move. Can't believe Vicky was right.

To be honest it was hilarious watching myself going through my first breakup. Definitely a journey not to be missed out. I'm not gonna go into details but let me paint you a picture through the songs I associated during this 'self-discovery' phase.

Phase 1: Astrid S - It's Ok If You Forget Me

Phase 2: Taylor Swift - Tolerate It & Champange Problem

Phase 3: Billie Eilish - Happier Than Ever

Phase 4: Cokelat - Karma

Phase 5: Tulus - Hati Hati di Jalan

Yeah, I basically went through the infamous 5 stages of grief without me realizing it.

Fast forward to October. I am ashamed to admit this, but deep down I kind of expected him to wish me Happy Birthday. But of course, he didn't. Fucking asshole. Let's be friends, my ass.

Then, came December. If this was a movie, it must be the crazy sister of Denis Villeneuve's Enemy - for its next level of mindfuckery. It actually left me saying 'what the fuck?' even today, because what in the actual fuck is happening, really? I blinked and what... he got married now?

He fucking did.

Now, this was the moment where it finally came down to me that; this is it - The Grand Finale. I've had billions of scenarios I always play in my head; what's gonna happen that now we're on our own. It did occurred to me that cases like this would happen but I calculated and the chances are slim, because I was confident that I'll have it first. I'll be happy first. I'll meet someone first. And he'll live a miserable life knowing I am the best he's had. Oh, I know I am. Still, what a dick. Good luck, though.

Lesson learned: please improve on your calculation skill, it is highly unreliable. /look self in disgust/

Just around the same time when the breakup was about to happen, I was offered an opportunity in my current job for an overseas relocation. The timing was just too perfect. I couldn't say no. No, why would I say no?! This has been a lifetime dream of mine. You see, the whole year I was struggling to find the time to prep for my scholarship permits and docs with Schoters which I subscribed to but never had the time for - now I didn't have to reach so high, because this time it's handed to me on a silver platter. For once, life finally gave me what I want.

So, I agreed instantly. I didn't even have to think.

Two weeks ago, I was informed that my IPA has been issued and I should be able to fly there by early Feb. What an opener for a new year, right?! Until today happened... they told me that overseas assignment will be hold until further notice. Apparently, the project I'm handling is causing quite a loss to the Company so they want to cut costs and might opt for offshore assignment instead.

I am at loss of words.

Lesson learned: i've spent 5 minutes just thinking about this, and i still can't come up with anything good. I'll see and come back to this on end Feb. Fingers crossed everything's settled by then.

Yep, that's all I want to say.

Before I end this entry, I want to put here these very cute pictures of me and my 10+ years girl friends, as reminder that nothing is or will be too bleak with them around.