#i like the path i have chosen now (which was at the beginning at least also against my mother's wishes but she thinks it 'has money' so-

[chloeseyeliner]

help, now that i have stopped tearing up at every mention of the series, the young royals forever documentary and the bts videos have brought my past obsession with film-making back-

#beware: rambling ahead!!! #so when i was in high school a secret dream of mine was to go to film school #because i was mesmerised by the whole process of writing and directing and everything the crew typically does during filming #and i was reading so much stuff about all the different angles and symbolism and the like #but of course my mother wouldn't let me #(very neil perry of me lmao) #and i mean i was trying to be realistic too #because i don't come from money and greece is not exactly a great place to be an artist #(since i wouldn't be able to go abroad and chase my dreams or something like that i am not the main character in a disney movie) #so like i threw this dream into the bin along with being an astronaut (i was bad at physics because no one ever explained anything to me- #-before last year of high school i still don't know how i technically aced my uni entering physics exam lol ANYWAY) #and don't get me wrong #i like the path i have chosen now (which was at the beginning at least also against my mother's wishes but she thinks it 'has money' so- #-she 'allowed it' as if- i won't say anything worse i'll regret later i'll just leave it be) #i like it very much because i can help people and maybe contribute to making this world a better place #i just... #i watched the documentary some days ago and it's all i can think about (along with the show of course) #like i LOVE the cast #but the crew is magnificent as well #what they create is like magic #anyway #young royals #filmmaking

[amourdivine]

PAC ઉ YOUR CURRENT ENERGY!

Hello, lovelies, I know it has been some time, but I missed you. I hope everyone is doing ok these days. Let's look into your energy today, shall we?

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

the piles.

1 → 2 3 → 4

how to choose your pile.  take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

disclaimer. this is a general reading! tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

PILE ONE

queen of cups ✧ death ✧ ace of swords ✧ the high priestess

Before I shuffled, I couldn’t help but feel lonely, like there’s this pang in my chest whenever I think of life and the current state of the world. It reminds me of the term “loneliness epidemic” and how so many of us are struggling to make friends or maintain pre-existing relationships. I think you are beginning to find emotional fulfillment in different things than you did before. Nothing may have worked out - at least, the things that used to work out aren’t working out anymore. There’s this voice inside of you begging for a new beginning, for clarity, and it’s slow but surely coming towards you. Where your energy is will wildly depend on how much you’ve listened to that inner voice already, but it’s a calling towards something new, regardless.

I think you’re scared because you haven’t done this before. You may be discovering things about yourself as well that are quite surprising, like new hobbies or gifts. It’s refreshing too, both painful and refreshing. Sort of like the concept of growing pains - growing up is not easy and there are no guidelines, no roadmaps. Often, we discover things through trial and error. 

You may have withdrawn your energy as well, especially from old social circles. I get the feeling you were unsatisfied. Things felt stuck. They may still feel stuck, boring and completely lost in the routine of it all. It’s okay. You’re growing. Bones can hurt when they heal and grow. The same goes for you. I see snakes here, shedding their old skin. In your case, I don’t think you have found a “new skin” already, but you’ve shed your old life either way. It’s okay to want more, pile one. It’s okay to change. We’re ever-evolving. What suited you then won’t suit you now, that’s how life goes, with the changing of the seasons. It’s beautiful to witness - and when you look back you’ll realize just how much we can shift, how many places we’ll go and how much more there is to life than our old selves.

It’s okay to let it go. You’ll be okay even if the waters are muddy for now.

This is a very spiritual pile! Make sure to cater to your emotional and spiritual needs, taking care of your physical body and being around soothing, comforting or quiet places while you tend to this new self.

channeled messages & songs: white snakes, ring, scarf, life path 8 (or 8 in general), silver jewelry, bodies of water, sleeping, bed-rotting, kundalini awakening, modern loneliness by lauv, scorpio, pisces and cancer, hermitting, social batteries, introvert, epiphany, books, the bible, prophetic dreams, chocolate, ego death. 

PILE TWO

six of cups ✧ the hanged man ✧ eight of cups ✧ seven of wands

You are returning to yourself, it feels like a sort of homecoming. Fighting for your peace while, at the same time, learning to accept what you can’t control. You have walked away from old beliefs, from restraints of the past and renewing your faith in yourself. Even the picture you’ve chosen is a close-up of someone’s outfit walking away. You’ve found dignity and you’re not willing to sacrifice it anymore. Maybe you’ve left a situationship or relationship that was draining you, molding you into someone you weren’t. Props to you for that. It’s not easy and I know it.

Your guides are proud - they’re very serious and regal. They think you deserve more than what you’ve had. Not in a self-serving way, don’t mistake it for self-indulgence, but in a human, dignified way. They see you as royalty, too. They don’t want you to settle for breadcrumbs in life anymore. No matter how difficult it’s been, they don’t want you to stop believing that things can get better.

For most of you, this is a time when you’re shifting into a more peaceful but assertive phase. You’re taking charge of your joy, your future and your responsibilities without clinging to self-blame or guilt. Maybe it took you a long time. I heard “recovery” in my mind and this has possibly something to do with a specific illness or disease you’ve battled for so long. There’s a huge feeling of relief, of taking a long breath after a tiring day. 

It’s okay, you’re home now, you’re safe now. You can relax. You’ve got this, pile two.

channeled messages & songs: therapy, journaling, barbie or baby doll, sage green, green tea, pastels, tiktok, doomscrolling, healing, “i’m not the girl i used to be”, rainbow by kacey musgraves, self-acceptance, shadow work, “i’m still standing”, camping, nature, libra and taurus.

PILE THREE

three of swords ✧ the hermit ✧ the star ✧ queen of pentacles

Your heart is broken. Someone or something has left you to lick your wounds and tend to the bruises they gave you. You’re in pain, so much pain that it may be unbearable to wake up everyday. You’re questioning your worth, your self-esteem has crumbled.. and you don’t want anyone to find you, to see you in such a vulnerable state. All you do now is hope for better days, pray a rainbow comes after the storm because the current is heavy and has taken you astray.

Unfortunately life can’t always be what we want or expect. Allow room for these heavy emotions - this too shall pass. It’s okay to be disappointed, to feel betrayed and hurt by what happened. If the ground was pulled beneath your feet, was it ever really that solid to begin with?

This is the aftermath of something painful. And that’s okay. You can’t force yourself to feel good. In the meantime, you can take it slow, nurture the hope for better days and hold onto it. I know we tend to view hope as mostly something negative and passive, but you can take baby steps towards emotional fulfillment. The Queen of Pentacles suggests you take it slow - there is no rush to healing, nothing to be accomplished, there is nothing for you to prove. You’re human, and therefore, worthy of compassion, patience and healing. Remember the Wheel of Fortune: what comes up must go down, what goes down must go up eventually. You’ll feel better, pile three. I promise.

channeled messages & songs: taking a walk, flower pot, cacti, heartbreak anthems, olivia rodrigo, punk rock, “i’m angry all the time”, hurts like hell by fleurie, capricorn, saturn, personal year 5, backstabbing, depression, navy blue by muna.

PILE FOUR

the hanged man ✧ the hierophant ✧ six of pentacles ✧ the star

You’re learning and teaching. Giving and receiving. Letting the scales balance themselves out, remembering that balance is not always fifty fifty. All the piles have had somewhat similar themes, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you have felt drawn to either pile one or two, but this one feels like a continuation of it, so it could be that you’re transitioning from one to another. Naturally, please take only what resonates for you!

You may have found a new job, a stable relationship, a good circle of friends. You know, despite the positive feeling of these cards, I can’t help but wonder if you’re waiting for it all to crumble again, feeling like the shadows of your past are going to haunt you forever. I keep wondering if you’re okay, I keep wanting to ask you. You’re scared, you’ve got your guard up. You can’t really trust it will last - and while it’s true that it all comes and goes, you can trust nothing is ever wasted. 

Let your guard down. Not everyone has your worst interests in their heart. Maybe self-isolation suited you before, didn’t it? You weren’t used to being loved, you still aren’t. But you still deserve it. Sometimes it’s easier to endure the hard things because they’re all we expect. It’s difficult to take in the good things, isn’t it? To feel worthy of them. To realize there is more to life than survival. You’re finally living now - and that’s a good thing. Uncertainty is scary, but in a way, so is the familiarity of hurt, of unrequited lovers and callous friendships. Are you ready to be loved, pile four? You can ask for the good times as much as you want, but when it is here, you have to remember to enjoy it, to not be on the lookout for the bad things so much.

We’re rarely in control. I know it’s difficult, but that’s often a good thing. Not being in control means you can worry less. You can fret less. You can take it day by day, knowing that the outside forces will do what they must and we’re all silly little souls on a giant floating rock.

PS: You’re doing well, I promise.

channeled messages & songs: self-sabotage, nightmares, attachment issues, bulletproof by la roux, bones, candles by daughter, earrings, 2024 planner, five year plan, entj, istj, quiet singing, “the pen is mightier than the sword”, studying, sweater weather, stress cleaning, autumn girl.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

#pick a card #pick a card reading #tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot reader #tarot community #divination #witchblr #mine.

[countessqin]

Some voicelines about our dear [Name] as a playable character of Honkai Star Rail! - Xianzhou Luofu

Character : Jing Yuan × fem!reader romantically (lovers, husband-wife relations); Yanqing × fem!reader platonically (mother-son relations); Fu Xuan x fem!reader, Qingque x fem!reader, Tingyun x fem!reader, Sushang x fem!reader, Luocha x fem!reader, Yukong x fem!reader - platonically (friends)

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[Author Note]

I did voicelines OF our dear [Name] about the Xianzhou Luofu characters and about Astral Express family, so I decided to make voicelines ABOUT our dear [Name]. My apologies for any typos and/or mistakes, I'll edit them a bit later.

It is based on my impressions of characters and is purely my headcanons and so on. It includes Yukong, whom we saw at the beginning of Luofu story, Luocha, whom we saw at Dan Heng's part of story (both of them didn't quite open their personalities) so if they are a bit OOC, it's because I don't know their personalities as good as I want, but I tried my best!

PS. I still have exams and this writing was in my drafts for a month, so if it doesn't make any sense at some point, my apologies!

Thank you for reading!

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Small intro: - Name : [Name] - Age : ??? - Occupation : the advisor of the Luofu region - Status : ??? - Path : The Hunt - Element : [which you like]

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Yanqing

[About [Name]]

- Oh, you mean Lady [Name]? She is amazing strategist I must say! She has a huge collection of the of different antiques and swords, and even allows me to take some of them for practice! Oh and she is good at martial arts, I remember when I was younger, we were having small tournaments and she was just as skilled as the General! Mom... I mean Lady [Name] is very kind, so if you will have any questions or troubles you can ask her for assistance

Bonus [About family of three]

- M? Oh you want to know about my family? Well... Lady [Name] and General Jing Yuan took me in and raised me together. I have huge respect and gratitude towards them both... I-I don't remember my biological parents, but I heard that they were wonderful people. What I think about Lady [Name] and Master? Mom and dad, they...*warm smile* they are the best, one of the best parents a person could dream about

Jing Yuan

[About [Name]]

- Ah... advisor of the Luofu. Lady [Name] have a unique character, she can be both calm as a lake, swift as the coursing river yet fierce like a fire. A wonderful person for such position as the advisor of the whole region. Mn? What do I think of her as a person? Ha-ha, she is very kind, caring lady, always thinks about others that about herself and prioritizes others before herself. What is my relationship with her? Haha, take a guess...

Bonus [About a family of three]

- Advisor [Name] and I decided to take care of Yanqing after both of his parents died because of mara. We both never had a child of our own, but we still decided to try and give Yanqing everything he need and now, the Luofu have such a good lieutenant. [Name] and Yanqing always got along together, she was teaching him calligraphy and history while I was teaching him sword art and martial arts... ahhh what I wonderful memories...

Tingyun

[About [Name]]

- M what it is benefactor? What do I think of Advisor [Name]? Wonderful and hardworking lady. To be honest, I rarely see her not busy with her tasks... poor thing

Sushang

[About [Name]]

- Oh Advisor [Name]... well if I can say that our General-Lady of Yaoqing is more hardworking than the General of Luofu, I can't say the same about our Advisor in Xianzhou Yaoqing. Lady [Name] is much more competent than the advisor of Yaoqing, well at least in my opinion

Luocha

[About [Name]]

- I didn't personally met Advisor of the Luofu, but I heard that she is pretty reliable and hardworking. From what I heard, she was chosen out of 10 people what applied for position. They were given a task to solve and write an essay to explain why they solved case this way... and her one was the most logical and considerate

Yukong

[About [Name]]

- Lady [Name] is an amazing ally, advisor and friend. She loves to fly, but ... unfortunately she can't control Starskiff, be a pilot. No, that does not mean she is incompetent in this way, she is just too scared that one wrong move will result in catastrophe

Fu Xuan

[About [Name]]

- Position of Advisor of the region is equal to being the General of a region. One is diplomat, while other is a warrior. They both equally important. But, I think the work of an advisor is more complicated than being a General. I want the position of a General, but of an Advisor... no, thank you... I think Lady [Name] is the best person for such position

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail yanqing #honkai star rail jing yuan #honkai star rail sushang #honkai star rail yukong #honkai star rail luocha #honkai star rail fu xuan #honkai star rail tingyun #qin's stories~

[veintrry]

HAUNTING SOUNDS

an: I have four other Halloween fics and this is the one i rolled with. can u tell I got tired at the end. (ifyk the ac feel free to comment!)

tagz: 3k. casual at the beginning, smut, minor degradation, fingering, brief mentions of groping, creampie, scaramouche was forced to volunteer

A trip to a haunted mansion leaves you abandoned within the eerie isolated rooms of the vacant home till a familiar face decides to make the chilling night grow in warmth.

Wooden boards creak beneath your feet and each step you take towards the darkened path before you is a risk of being taken by surprise. You and a couple of your friends had chosen to visit a haunted house. It was your first time, and you'd never been to one before, so why not?

However, you were left abandoned after everyone split up due to a panic. You decided it wasn't worth calling their names when you could meet them outside...when you get out of here that is.

You had stumbled onto a narrow hallway, one with many doors all of which are vandalised or partially ajar. There was no reason to peek, you'd be met with webs and a void. Continuing to progress, you held your phone for light. The sounds outside of people had long vanished and you were left with the sound of your own breaths, the house, and whatever else was there with you.

A creak cuts through the tense air. You still. Tempted to look behind you, around you, yet your body is frozen. You swallow your nerves, hoping that maybe you had misheard or maybe it was just one of your friends who is nearby, but the noises don't stop as you had wished, they seem to be actively doing the opposite.

A whisper here, a squeak there. It felt like your mind was being toyed with and your breaths were growing heavier- A deafening crash came from behind you, something like shattering glass, a vase? You peer over your shoulder, squinting your eyes in an attempt to see if there was a figure in the spotted dark.

A row of footsteps resound, thunderous and agile… Yet, it wasn't coming from behind you. The sooner the realisation sunk in and you turned your head forward you were met with piercing stormy violet irises, lit up with thrill and conniving mischief as hands grab at you.

Not a sound leaves me and yet the prior anticipation has piled atop you, and you frantically push him away with a gasp as you stumble back, feeling your heart beating out of your chest. Your legs feel weakened and the space between the two of you grows. Blinking, he only gets closer, till… Wait. "Scaramouche?"

"You're really easy to scare, aren't you?" A smirk was plastered on his dark wine lips, some 'blood' leaking from the corners. You can practically see how glad he is to have humiliated you like that, even if he was the only one to see it.

"Shut up, I didn't know you'd do that." You retort weakly, although evidently more relaxed compared to prior now that there was someone you knew here.

In turn, he raises a brow at you, hand on his hip as he looks at you as though you're the biggest moron he knows. And in his opinion you might be. "It's a haunted house. What do you expect?" You can only remain silent. Though, you use this to take in his appearance. With a ragged cloth draped around his neck, filled with holes and tattered at the bottom.

He still somehow maintains his ability to stylise his clothing with black button up, decorated with a brooch that reads 'Haunted House Staff'. Unexpected…. A violet necktie is knotted tightly and securely, though he seemed to disregard his flimsy collars. Rustles dressed the wrists and torso of his attire, and it's hard to not tell what's happening here.

Your eyes linger down… This guy still wore shorts even in October… At least he had sole knee stockings on, though, I'm not sure how historically correct that is for vampyres.

"Are you going to keep staring?" His tone was harsh and seemingly annoyed. Well, he likely thought being put in a somewhat prissy outfit is agitating. Actually, "How'd they get you to do this?"

You are met with a stone cold face and apparent distaste. "Don't ask." And maybe that's for the better sake of both your conscience. "So, what, are you gonna stand there all night?"

"Why did you even come here alone, are you stupid or something?" That man could not hold his tongue if he had a gun to his head. He seemed like he already wanted you gone, hell, if you asked maybe he'd show you the path out himself. Then again, that's just how he sounds most times: Uninterested and aloof. The vampire sthick makes sense now.

Approaching him to a more comfortable distance, you angle your phone so the light is revealing to you both. "I didn't come here alone, moron. I'm not that lonely." You swear you hear him mutter under his breath, 'could've fooled me', but you decide to ignore it, for the spirit of Halloween.

"Either way, I lost the others so I was roaming around on my own." This seems to capture his attention and his head perks up with an all too familiar grin. He wasn't one to be so blatant but it was like even he was elated by whatever scheme came into mind. "So you're alone,"

He inches closer, leaning into you with darkened indigo irises and you swear his pupils expand at the idea. "All alone?" A hum leaves his throat and he pulls back. His smile cools and his arms cross over his torso.

"Stay with me."

Opening your mouth to ask why he'd even offer, especially because he is part of the staff, you don't think it'd make sense to have someone of the crew help a participant. And to add onto that, it was strange for him to put it on the table in the first place. "I'm only keeping you company." He interrupts, "You'd get too scared by yourself. That much is clear." You wanted to argue otherwise, but you held your tongue and swallowed your retort. It was better to have company than nothing.

Turning on his heel, he walks off crossed arms and takes casual strides in his raven black platforms, expecting you to follow behind him, so you do. "How long ago did you lose each other?" Scaramouche asks, gaze straight ahead unlike your wandering ones, inspecting the scene you travel through. "A while ago. I thought I'd just get out and meet them that way."

"Why not call?" He suggested, peering over his shoulder back to you. "Didn't think it would be this hard to get out." A chuckle leaves his throat but the small lifted corners of his lips quickly disappear as he halts. "They must be far." He begins, tone laced with a certain ominous vine and you wonder what misconduct he was plotting. "Yeah… What of it?"

His body faces your direction and you can see him bite on the inside of his bottom lip, almost appeased at the perfection of this outcome. "I haven't gotten a break in well over three hours." The dark-haired man mentions, stepping towards you. "I'm hungry." Raising a hand to his face, he swipes off the paint along his chin, smudging it along his porcelain skin.

Those unforgettable amethyst eyes glaze over the crimson that tints his fingertips before meeting your irises in an almost enrapturing look, as though he intended to take your soul.

"I prefer the real thing…"

With sudden movements you watch him come closer to you, yet before you can process it you feel how one of his palms rests against your waist, another on your upper back as the gentle yet prominent sensation of his teeth meeting with the skin of your neck makes itself known, not only in feeling but with a mark.

This takes you by surprise. You cling an arm to his tricep, as if to ensure that he wasn't just losing it. Maybe he got so bored he went crazy. Though, the shove he acts on proves otherwise as he holds you against the wall, the ceiling above decorated in webs and fake bats.

His tongue licks at your skin, as if to seal the mark he left, but he doesn't end there, trailing kisses up to your jawline. "Scaramouche-" You interrupt, voice filled with an amount of confusion and something else.

"Don't think too deeply about it. I just need something to cure my boredom." He muttered, answering your unspoken question. Nibbling along the skin of your jaw, he takes in your scent whilst his fingers stroke your skin through the fabric of your clothes.

"We have all the time. I have so much I want to do to you…"

It becomes crystal clear that he has not been joking nor underselling what he meant when he voiced those thoughts. His almond-shaped nails can be felt digging into your skin, his hold ok you growing stronger. "I'm going to ruin you." Delight permeates his tone, his lips moving closer to your ear and his tongue pokes out, swiping at your lobe before chewing on it, his face plastered with the smile of a predator toying with their next meal.

"Won't someone come?" You make no attempts to push him away, only looking at the blackened hallway. A mocking laugh leaves him like you had asked something naive. "No one's gonna pass by, unless you want me to fuck you in a room you can't even see in?"

The risk was high but you'd rather not enter one of those rooms only filled with decor and piles of ruined furniture and books. He takes your silence as your answer, "That's what I thought."

"Just relax, I got you."

A firm hold was on your body, his warmth growing more and more apparent against you. Placing a hand on the side of your face, he revolves your head away from him, granting more skin for him to feast on. Shivers run up your back as you feel his hot breaths meeting the skin of your neck, his sharp canines grazing you before he digs in with a relieved moan.

The hand on your back doesn't remain still for long, his nails scratching down the centre of your back till they reach your thighs. Squeezing the mould of flesh possessively till crescent marks taint your beautiful skin. He continues to kiss your body as if he was praising someone superior to himself, a being above his reach.

His palm massages the skin of your legs, moving inwards as he hums. You swallow thickly, feeling the raspy vibrations against you.

Letting your hands find home at his nape, you bring him closer to you, his bites growing rougher and more painful, feral like an unstoppable force of hunger and yet, it only serves to fuels the growing heat inside of you that makes you roll your hips against him, pleading for him to proceed faster. "Stop wasting time…" You complain, but he only snickers in return. His digits reach your underwear, tracing the patterns of the design before giving you what you've been waiting for and rubbing your clit slowly through the fabric, tormenting you for his own amusement. "Be patient," He reprimands hoarsely, "I'll fill you up when I want to."

A whimper leaves you and you push your body to meet his fingers repeatedly. Still, you need more than that, you need to feel all of him. Your hands trail down all of you till a finger hooks onto the side of your panties, yanking them off in one swoop, eagerness prominent in your moves. There's no hiding the amusement in his eyes, it's as if he's pleased with your actions.

You don't need to tell him again what you want for him to start touching you again, this time his pace growing faster, more than you even wanted.

Leaning into you, he captures your lips with his, biting on your bottom lip before taking you in as though he wants to taste every inner part of you, memorising it like the back of his hand. Sliding your tongue along his swollen bottom lip, he guides you into his burning mouth, pressing himself against you and forcing your back to the wall as he lets you feel the strength of his body.

He was starting to grow impatient himself and his actions revealed that as his free hand slipped under your clothing with ease, groping at your chest, touching the supple softness of your breasts and pinching your nipples in between his fingers. God, how he wanted to shove his dick in-between them and cum on your pretty face.

The growing hardness was making itself more evident and you can feel his skin meeting your abdomen. Metal resounds as you unzip his shorts, sliding them off partially, just enough to slip your hand inside and palm him through his pre-cum stained thin boxers.

A whine leaves his throat and if divinity existed you were certain you had just heard what it must be like.

Taking out his cock from the confines of his boxers, you feel up and down his length rapidly as though memorising each vein beneath his skin. Your thumb traced the slit of his tip again and again, causing his kisses to grow sloppier into wet tongue kisses as he merely desires to feel you.

Forehead-to-forehead, his crimson stained lips separate from yours, remaining parted as he groans with every move that you make, practically paralysing him under your touch. You could feel him inching closer to your entrance and when his finger enters you, you nearly melt in glee. He pumps up into you with growing speeds, adding another digit as he stretches you out for his cock.

"I'm going to make sure you never forget me."

Scaramouche promises, hand wrapping firmly around his dick as it throbs in anticipation to be embraced by you. Lining himself up with your entrance, it was the furthest thing from gentle. Snapping his hips up into you sharply, making you gasp at both the force and the rapid size you had yet to come accustomed to.

Still, he wasn't completely inconsiderate, even if you did feel him throb at the sight of your surprised face. Coming off slowly, he goes in and out of you so kindly you'd think it was an apology for being so rough prior. Though, the sweetness doesn't last as he begins to thrust with intent similar to that of a madman. He didn't know if he was fucking you to the beat of his heart or the other way around. Something was certain though, Scaramouche wanted to ensure you were going to leave stained with his cum, your body holding his essence inside of you. He was going to make sure you needed his help to carry you out of here.

The noise of flesh meeting flesh echoes along the empty halls, the grunts and pleas that leave your throat only echo back to you, like some form of humiliation. You feel your mind slowly lose thought as your body aches in a numbing pleasure. Your moans are choked as breaths get stuck in your throat and you meet his merciless shoves, but the deeper he goes the weaker you grow. Strangely, you wanted it. You wanted to be rendered useless by him. "Deeper- Ah…Go deeper." You murmur, your temple rested against his shoulder, kissing at his collarbone and leaving marks and lipstick traces in its wake.

When he discovered the spot that would make you break, he did not hide or cover up his abuse as his tip kisses your insides frantically in perfect recreation again and again. His palms wrap around your thighs, hoisting you upwards against the dark weakened wooden wall, assaulting your skin like he needed to know how each part of you feels. "You're mine… You hear that? mmn.. You belong to me." The way he pumped through you was like he only had one goal and that's to use you as his toy, getting himself off with your body. "Yours… I'm yours to fill."

He could feel his body beginning to reach its limits and the whimpers he tried to suppress only grew till he couldn't hold them back. The mewls he let out were so soft and vulnerable you'd think it impossible to be coming from someone as cold and ruthless as him.

Only focused on shoving in and out of you, he relishes in his love for how tightly you wrap around him like he is your saviour, what you desire to not leave you. It feels so good he might cum just from the idea that you crave him so. "Haah… You're such a whore. You like when I fuck you like this?" He spits out with venom, though there's no hiding how much he likes being balls deep inside of you, with both your clothes clinging to your sweat-ridden skin.

Scaramouche can feel the knots inside of him threatening to come undone, pushing him to the edge. Not once do his tantalising amethyst eyes part from yours, and for once they looked to hold something comforting within them, appearing warmer.

Maintaining his speed, his muscles tense, hardening when a string of cum shoots out of him with a loud moan that morphs into an almost weakened joyful whimper. His seed fills you to the brim and you bite into his shoulder, attempting to stifle the sound of your moan as your eyes roll back. Scaramouche continues to fuck you as you reach your high, clamping tighter around him and milking him of anything left he has whilst your cum surrounds him in this encompassing sensation of unmatchable heat he would not find elsewhere.

The both of you breathe heavily, exchanging oxygen with your bodies still pressed together like they're glued to one another, and to some part you were with how he seemed to be avoiding pulling out. Your cum mixes together, leaking out of you and down the length of his cock.

Reluctantly, Scaramouche pulls out of you and resists nearly shoving himself back in the moment he loses your warmth. His fingers swipe up the leaking juices, bringing them to your sweet lips. "Open." He orders firmly and when your pretty lips do as such, he shoves his fingers into your mouth and makes you suck on them, your tongue swirling around and in-between his fingers as you taste the saltiness of your mixture.

There's a smirk stuck onto his lips and he doesn't mind the idea of spending another Halloween like this.

#i wrote this on halloween night #its now november 1st #its 1am help #can he suck my blood lol #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #genshin scara #scaramouche smut #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #wanderer genshin #kunikuzushi #genshin kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi smut #genshin impact

[bietrofastimoff23]

«the child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.»

this pain and rage of Tai Lung on the second pic.

abandoned by his biological parents, Tai Lung definitely had his basic trust in the world violated. a world that rejected him before it even knew him. how could he see his self-worth when even his own blood, which should have loved him unconditionally, left him? from the very beginning, he was doomed to wander all his life in search of confirmation that he was really worth something, that he was important, that someone could love him and be proud of him.

and Shifu became the main object in the search for this. he became literally everything to Tai lung. his teacher, his master, his father. for his sake, Tai Lung devoted his entire childhood and youth to kung fu, shed sweat and blood, and broke bones. all this is for the sake of fulfilling a dream imposed on him. he was ready to make any sacrifice, just to hear the cherished words from the master, capable of dispelling deep fears. tai Lung didn't need the recognition of the world he was born into. he needed recognition of the world he had chosen for himself, and that world was Shifu. the only person he had ever trusted, loved and respected.

but history tends to repeat itself. and now the day that was supposed to dispel the last doubts, on the contrary, only confirmed them. the world rejects him again. coldly, silently. and everything inside Tai Lung turns over. the one who led him along this path, who was supposed to be a support in difficult times, leaves without deigning to look at him.

Tai Lung leaves the palace in confusion. there are constant questions in his head about why. why wasn't the scroll handed to him? why didn't Shifu stand up for him, why didn't he tell him anything? why is everyone acting like it's nothing when Tai Lung has been working hard for decades for this scroll.

and then confusion is replaced by resentment and anger.

and so Tai Lung bursts back into the palace, intent on getting the scroll at any cost. he is ready to resist the decision of the senior master, he is ready to hurt his master, because if they could not help him in the fight against inner demons, then the treasured scroll should definitely help. this time he fails to get to it, and therefore the determination and motivation remain with tai lung for many decades (and when he succeeds, he opens the scroll and comes face to face with himself. "i'm nothing." Ironically, the road he took to escape from his inner fears led him straight to them.).

and returning to the pics, I want to draw attention to the difference of views again. in fact, all of this could have been avoided. at least most of it. for this, Shifu only needed to say anything, but he did not do it. cause the only person he was disappointed in was himself and never Tai Lung. and he couldn't find any words to justify himself.

Tai Lung was ready to forgive the master who had misled him, but not his father, who had so easily abandoned him and had done nothing to prevent his downfall.

#[ A formidable warrior with the soul of an abandoned child #<- My fav with narcissistic disorder #He relied too much on others and failed to form his own authenticity #TOO many words and all this is just for the sake of the last line LMAO #it doesn't even really fit in #but here we are. #With love. me and my magnifying glass <3 ] #tai lung #shifu #my post #kfp #kung fu panda

[scarsmood]

Step-by-step manifesting a kintype for fun!

(Otherlinking)

Read time (10-15 min)

Methodology:

It is heavily recommended you follow the process order as follows:

Research

Meditation

Hypnosis

Be sure to remind yourself that you can do this cycle multiple times in order to gain a stronger connection. Be aware that this involves hypnosis which is a powerful tool and something that can pose legitimate risk to some people (see FAQ for clarification)

Process:

-Research-

To start off this journey begin with learning more about your kintype. You should watch videos, documentaries, read the wikipedia page, read essays, conservation efforts. Truly become knowledgable with this animal and learn its in's and outs. From there go into specifics. Study anatomy, behavior and environment. Learn about how their body works and why. What diseases they can carry and pass on. What sort of behavior they exhibit. How do they socialize? Do they create roles of systems? Are there politics?

Once you've done a decent amount of research begin drawing connection's between you and the target kintype. Start with basic stuff like "they're black and I like the color black" and build up to more advanced connections like "they have a matriarchal society, I specifically like the role of female 2nd in command best as it reflects my day to day role in life"

If you cant gather a lot of connections you may need to make a bridge kintype first something more familiar to you, then once comfortable branching out farther. For example if your target kintype is a crawfish and your current kintype is a horse. A bridge kintype may be something semi aquatic like a beaver or salamander.

Once you feel comfortable with that kintype you can extend yourself farther to your target kintype. It may take some patience to get there but everything comes with time and dedication.

Now that you know a decent amount about your kintype it's time to dig deeper!

-Meditation-

Meditation can be done through some scripts i'll drop below. (Also a type of self hypnosis just not as intense as an fyi)

If you're new to meditation I would start with learning how to clear your mind. This alone can take weeks of work if you've never done it before. Essentially the goal is to relax so much you are able to wipe away your thoughts that typically run through your mind. Your inner thoughts and monologue should be silent through your will as an end goal. People with ADHD will have a harder time but Its still possible.

Clearing your mind:

Pick a comfortable place to lay down. Close your eyes. Take some deep breathes. Feel your body relax slowly. This meditation is a game of attrition so be ready for patience. Notice the thoughts in your mind and step away from them. Try to watch them from a detached point of view. The ability to hear them but not so close. Slowly pull yourself farther and farther away from them. Let them stay behind you as you drift off. This may be easy for only a moment but you may feel them come back. Don't be discouraged each time you practice you'll be able to keep the thoughts tamped down for longer and longer. Practice this until you're able to hold a strong silence in your mind for at least 15 minutes. This will be good practice for what's to come.

The path:

Pick a comfortable place to sit or lay down. Choose an area your able to feel safe in and do any rituals or habits you may need to do in order to feel completely safe or relaxed. This could be lighting a candle, locking your door, listening to music, cleaning your space ect... once you feel relaxed sit down.

You'll want to practice this a few times with your eyes open to understand what to imagine as you read. Once you understand the hang of the script close your eyes and envision it fully.

You are in your hearthome. The place you hold truly dear to you. Your in your chosen form and can look around to fully take in what's around you. You'll notice a path ahead. Walk through it.

Each step as you walk focus on one sense. sight, what do you see? What's in front of you? Whats to your sides? Next is smell, what do you smell as you travel along the path? Is it humid? Is it windy? Then hear, what can you hear? How do your foot falls sound? What do you hear in your hearthome? Then touch, how does the path feel? How does your form feel? Can you feel your true body?

As you become familiar with your senses let them grow stronger as you travel down the path. When they become very strong let the intensity fully relax you. Get lost in the world around you as you discover this place. As you begin to get more enveloped in your world focus on your instincts and follow them in your mind. Do what your heart desires in this place. In this world there is no consequence for being what you are you can do whatever you want.

when you feel satisfied return to the path and walk back towards the way you came. Each step bringing you slowly back to the physical world. Each step intertwining what you've learned about yourself back to your physical body. Once you return to where you started you'll be grounded again and able to do whatever you need in your day to day.

Familiarization:

Once you become familiar with the script above you can stretch your muscles so to speak with a few more scripts below. This is practice in widening your scope of focus and ability to adapt and change.

Bring yourself to your hearthome like you have before and bring yourself down fully. Once your relaxed and ready imagine a new place that isn't your hearthome. It may be something like a different ecosystem, a grocery store, a bouncy castle. Whatever strikes your fancy.

Here you'll take a moment to explore this new area and note all the ways your kintype may interact with this new space. Be sure to stay positive even if the environment feels unnatural at first. Notice as time goes on how you begin to adapt to the environment. Do you walk a little differently? Do your eyes adjust to the new light? Getting used to these changes is key. Noticing them is important. Once you feel comfortable in this new space explore it further and interact with it.

Once you feel tired you can head back from the way you came again. Leading back to your hearthome then back to the physical world.

Body morphing:

Bringing yourself down again you'll want to focus on your forms body. Try to change the size of yourself. Give yourself feathers. Maybe claws. Maybe become softer or smaller. Notice the differences and what parts may be difficult for you to note down later. Once you feel done return to your normal form.

-Hypnosis-

For hypnosis, I would recommend doing the first script once for the first time you drop yourself and try to not do it again (unless you feel it is really necessary) the second script is more so a reinforcer which is made to cement a new kintype into place. (I used this one the most) a third script is relatively simple to tie loose ends you may have after a roughly 4-5 month process. (for me, year long process so far)

First script:

At this stage your now in-tune with this animal and basically roleplay as it often. You may not feel as though it's fully you yet and need to cement this identity further. I would suggest mastering the two above steps. Being able to seamlessly go through "the path" meditation and having done enough research to info dump around 2 pages of content to someone if they asked. (Not a strict standard, just my recommendation. You want a very solid foundation which can take time but is worth it)

At this point (I hope) through mediation and research you can see some stronger connections that may have developed or become more aware of. Using "the path" meditation bring yourself to the same trail this time with the intention of becoming the target kintype. As you walk forward think of those new stronger connections. Imagine yourself turning into that animal slowly as you draw on those connections.

Remind yourself how good it feels to be this kintype. How this aspect of you is growing and your nurturing it. Knowing you are fully in control and able to make this commitment to a new sense of self. Imagine imagery that represents you and this kintype meshing. What that looks like. What you look like as this kintype.

Feel your instincts shift over. Drawing on your previous experience of familiarization and body morphing imagine your body changing as your perception changes into something new. You are not "shifting" but becoming yourself. Something you want to be. Something you always have been but never got a chance to express it.

Let that freedom sink in that you are now closer to understanding yourself. That you are free and can stop anytime you want. When your done morphing you can feel something in your core locking into place. Listen to yourself and answer any questions you may have about this new form. Deicide if it's truly for you. If so push yourself deeper into the feeling of your new kintype and feel it sink into you permanently.

As if a new aspect of you has taken root. You can wake up as your kintype. Your the same person you always have been but now with a new facet to explore the world with.

Second script:

Bring yourself to a state of deep relaxation and meditation. Imagine you (in your target form) in your desired hearthome. Explore similarly like you did in "the path". While noticing the connections you made previously to this new kintype. Praise them and even show them off in this world. (Ex: i am a good hunter, so hunt!) do this at least once a week! Practice makes perfect.

Third script:

For tying loose ends. Figure out what may feel missing and bring yourself back into a meditative state. Line up the problems and conflicts and look for possible solutions. Some conflicts may be issues with ego, self esteem, anger issues, disconnect, ect... Experiment with a few solutions such as "i dont think im cool enough to be x" perhaps challenge it with compassion and understanding. See yourself as an adult helping a child. Listen to yourself honestly and kindly. Give yourself support and offer solutions of kind words.

Once every question that can be solved is solved you can wake up. The desired effect will be a greater confidence in your identity. You may need to repeat this script a few times as well.

Notes:

Practice makes perfect!

FAQ will be posted when people ask me questions. (This will be a growing collection)

Repeating this entire process will make connections much stronger even if you already mastered all of the steps. The act of repeating alone is very powerful.

FAQ:

How do you Choose a target type? -

whatever you want tbh the sky is the limit. If your like "that seems fun why not" and feel ready to commit your time to it then sure!

Are there any other Meditation and hypno techniques?-

this could probably be expanded further into a collection of hypnosis scripts and meditations but the ones i listed are a solid foundation. I would focus more on specalizations if i made more hypnosis like tying an identity to a trauma (in a healing way) or spiritually connecting with an identity (rituals)

Should I do any External stuff to?- i would recommend expressing your new kintype in anyways you see fit. For me i made a grackle statue and drew them a lot along with trying to do vocals and eating garbage so go nuts.

What would be a good outcome? Ideally you feel connected to a kintype you never felt connected to or wanted to feel connection but felt it was being stumped by something.

Do you think this would impact different Nerodivergencies? Yes!

‼️Systems are more at risk of creating full blown alters instead of a kintype!‼️

‼️Clinical lycanthropes will be prone to integrating a kintype into a delusion or developing new delusions. This process can also de-stabilize reliable and predicable delusions‼️

ADHD will probably struggle a lot with this technique and will probably need to do something external or multiple steps at once to feel stimulated

Autism should be fine? Same with cluster B disorders

Most noteably systems should take the most care to try this method because its **hypnosis** which is something systems are extremely prone to since they have an innate ability to dissociate easily. This can mean your brain can take the scripts "to far" and manifest something completely out of your control

If your a system and still want to do it id say go ahead but be aware of the risks. Taking breaks or taking the process very slow to make sure your stable may be the best course of action.

Resources:

None so far!

#otherkin #therian #writing #essay #how to #hypnosis #meditation #alterhuman #kff #otherlinking

[suitetarts]

reasons to be honest

Astarion x Original Female Character, Dark Urge Tav (Good) Angst, Comfort, Kissing, Fluff (Link to AO3) After Astarion’s confession, Delilah is conflicted but still very in love–which she hasn’t quite admitted to yet. Unfortunately for sober her, she is a sad drunk on a mission after the celebrations in Moonrise Tower. Angst-fueled barbs and comforting words ensue.

Another one shot with my Tav, Delilah. This one happens to make no reference to her features or gender, just that she's a drow with mommy issues. You can go to the AO3 series for the other fic I have for her, or click here.

“Another… please.”

The red tiefling boy hesitates as Delilah’s head rolls awkwardly to the side, the previous shots of liquor clearly hitting her hard. Her piercing red eyes dart to his unmoving hands and then meet his own in a cold glare. With a squeal, he grabs a new liquor bottle from Ketheric’s stores and begins to pour once more.

Another child, a bluish tiefling with tight curls, collecting bottles from the small goblin hovels hidden throughout the first floor of Moonrise, comes marching over to chastise. “Drow Lady, oi! That’s enough!”

“Mmm? I saved your sorry little hides ‘nd you’re cutting me off?” Delilah exhales out of her nose indignantly, easily swiping the nearly full bottle from the boy’s hands.

“Oi oi oi! But that’s s’posed to be mine to sell on the road,” the blue tiefling cries.

The darkness within her, the other parasite on her psyche that pulls her to violence, begs her to reverse her grip on the bottle and crack it open, spilling red across the floor in a viscous new style of carpet. Delilah lets out a puff of air and pushes the thought away with a spot of effort. As she walks away with a stagger, she raises her free hand to wave the children good night.

The various hallways and great meeting spaces that were host to a battle between her companions and the Absolute cultists only a few hours ago is now just a bloody path of stones, one that she hopes will lead her to her bedroll. These cursed lands had truly been a nightmare in every sense of the word. Delilah is hopeful that being one step closer to their goals will allow her some peace and rest. However, she knows that defeating Myrkul’s Chosen can’t possibly help the matters of the heart that tear her from a good night’s sleep.

As the liquid inside the bottle hits her lips, she winces. Blood red and horrendously strong like it was distilled from pure malice. Whoever had decided to keep this in their stores either had something powerfully flavorful to mix it with or hated themselves. Delilah ponders if there is anything in this tower that would be sweet enough to cover the taste, blushes, and takes a decidedly large and bitter sip.

She curses under her breath as she finds herself walking the ramparts of Moonrise, her mind wandering back to Astarion despite the severity of all their other issues surrounding the tadpoles. Delilah continued to mull over their talk the other night and had been unintentionally distant, even though she knew that there was still so much more to say. The discussion replays in her mind once more. Astarion had, at least initially, lied about it all. He had manipulated her so comprehensively, body and soul. He told her such sweet things, some that she recognized as flirtatious tricks, but others that she had come to actually believe. He laid with her nearly every night not because he wanted to, but to control her. The bastard had admitted to her face that the only part of his plan that failed is, essentially, he harbored guilt about doing it after catching feelings.

And even after hurting her so profoundly, Delilah had reassured him. The typical shrill tone with which he joked or complained or flirted during their adventures was absent, replaced with a lower, more melancholy genuineness that she couldn’t help but comfort. She said that she deeply cared for him, that she would stay by his side as he created boundaries for himself. The two had a productive yet brief discussion and she never lied, not a single sweet word or supportive touch. 

All despite her heart cracking down the middle, threatening to shatter. 

Delilah staggers, reaching to the cold stony walls of the tower for support. Her fingers grip the edge of one of the stones and she could imagine it was Astarion’s collarbones. Her nails dig into the sandy mortar for a moment as her temper flares, before guilt and sympathy eases the tension in her joints. She feels justified in her frustration, but he doesn’t deserve her anger. His situation is beyond complicated and she truly is trying to understand it from his perspective. She goes through the situation again, as accurately as she can manage:

After being kidnapped and implanted with ticking time bomb mind flayer parasites, a hot and powerful drow sorceress (with a tendency to murder without warning or reason!) prances around in the wilds of the Storm Coast with a group of equally powerful strangers, including a famous monster hunter and a fierce alien warrior. The sorceress comes across a vampire spawn that has done little else besides use his body to ensnare meals for his master and suffer indescribable abuse for multiple mortal lifetimes. It makes perfect sense that he would use the tools at his disposal to secure his safety with a band of questionable characters. It makes sense to deceive one of these powerful fools into a relationship. It makes sense to target her as the leader of the group. It makes sense to manipulate her until she is no longer useful. It makes sense to try his damnedest to not actually feel anything for her, because gods forbid she’s worthy of real love. It makes sense. It makes sense.

Delilah sighs into the darkness. Perhaps this was not the most favorable interpretation to Astarion’s reasons for pursuing her the way he did. He had admitted that he’d fallen for her, that he wanted them to be real. It was her who felt an implication in his words that he wanted them to be real moving forward and that everything before was never real.

A chill runs through her as she takes another sip of liquor and she decides to focus on finding her way to camp. She rounds the same door twice before going the correct path and finding a host of friendly faces. Lae’zel, Aylin, and Isobel are near the door, with the former two animatedly discussing fighting techniques while the cleric takes the opportunity to rest and enjoy the peaceful evening with her lover. Delilah stops for a moment to listen in before moving further into camp, where Wyll and Karlach speak in a more somber tone around the fire. She almost goes to join them, but Karlach’s heat and ire at the Chosen of Bane the group had seen right before the battle with Ketheric is palpable in the air. Perhaps it's selfish, but she doesn’t want to be angry for Karlach's sake. Not when she’s already feeling so anxious and irritated about her own stupid problems.

Owlbert barrels past Delilah with Scratch hot on his feathered tail, passing close enough to her that she dodges clumsily and begins to trip. Her hands are sent to break her fall but instead catch on the bleached white linen of Astarion’s shirt.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking with a coy grin. “Darling, I knew you’d fallen for me but I didn’t realize you were going to take it literally.”

A fierce blush overtakes her, bringing a pink tint to her gray complexion. Her tongue rolls awkwardly in her mouth as she tries to cover herself, “I– I didn’t mean to fall. But thank you.”

“You’re completely trashed,” Astarion observes with amused surprise as he attempts to help restore Delilah’s balance. He steadies her forearms before tentatively letting go. Her red eyes, so similar to his own, beam up at him as she only slightly wobbles. His lips pull into one of those sweet half smiles that he only gives to her. “Adorable.”

“Y’think I’m adorable?”

“We’ve been over this. You’re very attractive.”

Delilah narrows her eyes and snickers, doing her best to rub her hands together like a villain in a street play while still holding onto the bottle of liquor. “Again.” He rolls his eyes and begins to lead her towards her tent.

“This–” Astarion emphasizes as he easily snatches the liquor from her loose grip. “–is for not returning the compliment.”

While Astarion has it hoisted in the air, he inches his nose closer before reeling at the strong vapors of the alcohol. She does not opt to carry herself with the typical pride of a female drow, instead choosing to whine and reach for the bottle. The two are evenly matched on height, but he's a master at using his tricks to keep any item just barely too far away.

“Tut tut tut. You know how this works dear.”

She stamps her foot down playfully. “I’ve told you a million times, ‘Starion. You’re–” 

He cuts her off with a press of his index finger to her lips. “Ah-starion. If you please,” he asks with a shiteating grin. “Do continue.”

Delilah pulls her mouth to a straight line as she groans in her throat, but her eyes betray the annoyed facade she’s trying to convince him of. They’re smiling. She starts again, “I’ve told you a million times, Ahhh-starion. You’re perfectly gorgeous.”

He preens with satisfaction, tossing his hand through his hair for dramatic flair. “Thank you love, you’re quite perfect yourself.”

Delilah hums and turns away, in part to watch her feet as they approach her tent and also to avoid him seeing her as she repeats his words in her head. Her? Perfect? After all the nasty and selfish thoughts she’s had tonight, and every other night since he finally opened up to her? Hardly. Not to mention that falling for some charlatan with a pretty face and a sad life who tells her what she wants to hear is all far too unbecoming for a drow of her nobility and breeding. Her mother would literally kill her three times over for even an ounce of this behavior. It's frankly a miracle that a mistake like her made it to adulthood. And then there’s the whole thing with nearly uncontrollable murderous urges that, only a few weeks prior, had almost cost him his life?! Perfect.

Astarion notices Delilah’s withdrawal and leans forward to see her chin quivering and her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey, hey, wait.” His voice drops its usual mirthful cadence. She stops, still facing away from him. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

“I’m not perfect,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear. Delilah kneels at the rugs outside her tent, clumsily reaching behind her ass to take off her shoes. “Also, I think I’m mad… but I dunno.” 

“Mad at what?”

“At you.”

Astarion freezes for a split second before nodding his head in begrudged acceptance. He sets the bottle down and kneels next to her, leaning forward to make eye contact. “Better to be mad than leaving me, which frankly, is what I expected when I confessed what I had done to you. I deserve your anger.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, doing her best to maintain eye contact as the liquor and tears threaten to make her crumble. “Everything you did makes sense.”

He clears his throat, giving himself a moment to gather his response. “I had my reasons, but that doesn’t mean the things I did were right .”

Delilah’s throat contorts as she tries to suppress a sob. All at once, the proximity of the others makes her panic and she quickly retreats into the darkness of her tent. When Astarion doesn’t immediately follow her, she kicks the flap. He peeks in to find her sitting cross legged at the far end, her eyes darting between him and a pillow just out of arm's reach of her.

Nervously drumming against the stiff canvas tent flap as he holds it open, Astarion sighs. “Darling, I’m not sure you’ll be pleased that we’ve had this conversation when you’re so drunk. Maybe this should wait.”

She wipes her eyes with the collar of her shirt. “I don’ care, sit.”

As he crawls in on his hands and knees, his fingers splaying out as his palm leans into the plush of her bedding, she closes her eyes to steel herself. Of their many encounters prior to Astarion’s confession, most of those had been spent here. She was no stranger to the ways of pleasure, but he had brought her to rapture in ways she had never imagined were possible. She had thought of those nightly trysts as an escape from reality, an easy and fun passion to help them both get away from the looming despair of the tadpoles. Just the thought of how Astarion must recollect those evenings makes her own memories turn sour and rotten.

He mirrors her cross legged sit from across the tent, laying the pillow in his lap so that he can fidget with the tassels and flange. He is uncharacteristically quiet.

Was he expecting a scolding, for her to hit him, or some other form of anger, even cruelty? Delilah looks down at her feet. “D’you think I’m gonna yell at you?”

“No,” Astarion says quickly. He plucks at the silver threads of her pillow. “Maybe.”

“I’d never–” she starts, before seeing a fang poke out of his smile and one of his eyebrows shoot up questioningly. “Well, not never, but not about this. ‘Nd I’m not really mad at you. I dunno. You just hurt me–a lot–when y’said you lied to me.” The words seem innocent and childish as she speaks them to her toes. After a pause, she adds, “For months.”

Astarion draws his shoulders forward until his nose almost touches his knees, almost as if he’s trying to make his body as uncomfortable as he feels. “I know, I’m sorry my love.” He looks up at her through his white lashes, a move that could fit right into his flirtatious fop routine if not for the sincerity dripping from his words. “You have every right to be mad.”

“Stop that,” Delilah begs, a smile breaking across her face as she lets out a short sad whimper.

He pulls his back straight once more, looking down before looking back up at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop apologizing and being so nice to me,” she sighs around a smile. But the smile quickly fades. She continues, “And complicated. I dunno.”

“I’m supposed to cut back on the complaints about the niceties you give to me, but you tell me to stop? I thought you wanted me to be all empathetic and sweet to every body,” he says with an air of their usual banter. The pair sit in silence for a moment as the tension once again rises, like a taut bow string waiting for the call to loose. 

“What do you mean… ‘complicated’?” Astarion asks, without hardly using any air to carry his words, staring at the pillow flange’s thread between his fingertips as he unweaves it. She knows that he knows what she’s talking about, in general terms. Delilah huffs as she lays down on her side facing away from him, unable to explain this with even the possibility of eye contact.

“I had a lot of fun when we did, y’know, horizontal stuff. I thought you did too,” she starts nervously, holding onto her shoulders as she curls in on herself. “But now… Gods, I’m so gross. I took advantage of you. And you–”

“Stop. You didn’t take advantage of me.” His voice sounds strangled behind her. She can hear him padding closer to her, slowly. “Please, look at me.”

She curls further into herself. “But you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“Stop it, Del. Stop,” Astarion says sternly, pulling her back flush to the ground. He reaches over to hold both of her shoulders in place as he steadies himself on his knees to her side. His eyes unintentionally drift towards her neck, and she recalls this position, with him leaning his chest over hers, is much like that first night when he fed from her neck. His throat bobs, swallowing his sanguine hunger, and returns his eyes to watch hers. “I tried to explain the other night, but– Please understand me when I tell you that everything I did was what I wanted. My intentions weren’t, uh, always the most proper. But! I did want to fuck you. I want to fuck you now. It's just… not that simple.”

Delilah’s skin is hot underneath Astarion’s intense gaze and salacious words, especially the way his hands grip tighter at the idea of taking her at this very moment. She could almost be satisfied with this explanation if sex was truly all that mattered to her. Luckily for them both, it was not.

“Did you ever want to kiss me?” She breathes the question, her eyes softening under the heat of his presence. 

He scoffs, releasing her shoulders to kneel beside her. He snakes a hand along both sides of her jaw and tenderly pulls her head up as he leans down to kiss her. Her hands fly up to his ears, her fingertips dragging through his curls. He brings her in closer, their teeth just barely feeling the pressure of the kiss, before he pulls away to hover over her face. He lets out a breath as he answers simply, “Yes. Any time you ask.”

“Even at first?”

“Even the most cold-hearted bastard wouldn’t look at a pretty thing like you and not want to kiss her,” Astarion says honestly, although a hint of his flirtatious tone seeps through. 

Delilah tucks her chin into her shoulder, the blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck and threatening to envelop her whole. She deflects to save herself from burning up. “That better not be a canned line.”

“Well…” His voice cracks and the smile on his lips falters, before he searches her face for some evidence of forgiveness. She still looks like putty in his hands, flushed and pliable. His eyebrows pull together, from pity or guilt or a combination of, as he answers her. “It doesn’t matter, da– Del. It’s true.” He leans back down for a chaste kiss before pulling his hands away from her and returning to a comfortable sitting position.

As he pulled away from the kisses, she did her best to give him a sweet smile but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He sighs, laying within reach of her onto his side with his head propped up by his arm. “I’m sure you’re not having an easy time trusting me lately, but… Honestly, it's true.”

She sympathized with his mild frustration. He was saying and doing all of the right things, and they were true, so why was she still upset?

Rhetorical question: she knew.

“Astarion?” She turned to face him with her elbows together and hands gripped at her chest.

“Yeah?”

“I… I think I love you,” she whispers. By the tension between them and the blank look on his face, she feels that the air has been sucked out of the tent. She feels light and breathless, floaty even, at finally putting words to her inner turmoil, and so she continues. “Even though you’re a liar. And I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

Astarion lets out a large breath, rolling onto his back. As he fearfully studies the roof of the tent, Delilah wonders if he’s reliving some terribly sad memories of others who told him the same thing, others that were doomed to fall prey to Cazador. She wonders if it's the opposite, that he’s never been allowed to keep anyone long enough for them to love him. Or simply that he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to hurt her even more. No matter what his reason is, she reaches a hand out to lay in the empty space between their bodies. An offering that she allows him to take or refuse, regardless of how much she wants to pull him closer.

“Del, I– I’m not sure what to say, but I–”

“If you don’t love me back, or you don’t know how, or whatever…” As she continues, the words trip and catch on the emotion pouring through and threatens to burst from her very soul. “Don’t tell me the truth. I can’t, I’ll… But please, don’t lie either. No more lies.”

Astarion rolls back onto his side to look at her, to look at what he’s done to her. One of his hands finds hers in the no-man’s land between them, as the other snakes through to hold the other against her sternum. “No more lies,” he repeats, earning a nod from his crying lover. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to work on, well, me, and as I do, I will become better. Stronger. For the both of us.”

Delilah curls inwards around their conjoined hands, breathing warm but fading sobs onto the cool skin of his arm. “Are we… Are we going to be okay?”

“Unless you or the tadpoles have other plans.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

He pauses, uncomfortable still with the concept of optimism. Promises of good tidings she made to him were generally met with a bitter snap from a man who over centuries had the ability to feel hope beaten out of him. But, in this moment, he softens at her, as he always has, and says, “Yes.”

They lay in silence for a few too many moments, just holding each other's hands and sharing a peaceful moment of mutual understanding. Delilah begins to lose the fight against her heavy eyelids. The anger, embarrassment, and heartache all seemed so trivial as she laid there with him on the brink of consciousness. He was right; they would be okay. 

The last thing Delilah remembers is her grip loosening on his hand at her chest, but the lingering sensation of his cool skin on hers. When her trance breaks, she finds herself parched under a haphazard pile of blankets with a certain elf still resting at her side. She gently lays some of the warmest ones on top of Astarion before she leaves to nurse her hangover, just barely missing the way his eyes peek open mischievously. She misses the way he hesitates to follow her, instead choosing to snuggle into her warmth like a reptile to a sunny rock, trying to keep her heat to himself as the stones beneath the bedding already begin to sap it cold and dry.

#another self indulgent ficlet i made on a whim #honestly after his doozy of a confession i just know theres a second debrief where tav is like #“hey i know we ended things so nicely last night with the hug and all but lets circle back to the bit where YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT EVERYTHING #so this is me writing that scene and mild heartbreak for my homegirl delilah #astarion x tav #astarion x the dark urge #astarion x durge #astarion x female oc #drow tav #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #angst #fluff and angst #alcohol mention #love confessions #drunken confessions

[tennessoui]

T&t Anakin being a little bitch right now lol. He is throwing such a tantrum. Fuck ahsoka! Fuck his troops! Fuck the ppl that rely on him! ONE person made him upset so he's gonna fuck off forever. You've really mastered his personality. He certainly would blow everything up over one person (rots cough cough)

(2/2) I don't know why but I genuinely thought before this chapter that Anakin was actually going to think about his actions and what he was doing. From your tidbits I knew he decided to leave and I've no idea why I was under the impression it was a decision that Anakin had poured over and given the correct amount of contemplation. Like maybe he thinks he's not fit to be a Jedi because he'd chosen the path of revenge? Nope! He just wants to hurt Obi-Wan in the meanest way possible! Man-child Anakin activated!

oo ho ho this is such an interesting ask/reaction!! one of the reasons i really liked writing this last chapter is because anakin is just absolutely spiraling apart and as much as he can admit to himself that he feels betrayed and lost and empty and burning with rage, he also doesn't take the next step to admit that maybe any decisions he makes right now aren't going to be of sound mind and any new information he learns is going to be processed through that lens of anger and betrayal

i think him leaving the order can be put down to him having lost trust in obi-wan - and obi-wan is the order for him, obi-wan represents the entire order. there's no way he feels like he can stay because obi-wan deceived him and obi-wan chose to put the order above anakin ("when did anakin become less than his utmost important thing?") - and he is angry and he wants to hurt obi-wan ("i want to see his eyes when i tell him it's because of him") but he's also at least a little bit afraid of what he's capable of doing right now - more than representing the order, obi-wan was like the center of his entire world ("what do planets orbit when their sun implodes? nothing. they burn too.") and now he has no center at all because he's that mad at obi-wan. not even just for lying, but i think because the lie proves to him that he's never been loved by the person he has loved the most.

i really like examining the way anakin loves through fics like these and this one in particular because i think it's so....honestly, like. wild crazy. he's so consumed by rage that he was lied to and hurt by his one true love, obi-wan, that he can't see the bigger picture when master windu and master yoda immediately can put aside their emotions and think of what it means for the chancellor that obi-wan will not be undercover as hardeen to protect him ("we are at war, Anakin! This is bigger than your individual feelings of the matter.") and thats true!! they are not in any way wrong but anakin doesnt have the capability of ever seeing the situation like this because he loved obi-wan too much, was too attached, can't let go of what he feels for him--be it anger or love--for even a moment to consider the bigger picture

which he's never been able to do in this fic. i mean i think this is almost the natural conclusion to the tantrum anakin had at the very beginning of the fic where he went back to the past in the first place, though i wouldn't necessarily call that a tantrum.

except then he worked through his grief and pain and anger in the past, with the help of young obi-wan, and came back....but now he is filled with grief and pain and anger and he has to go away again to deal with it because the support system he learned to lean on when obi-wan died (the order and obi-wan) can no longer be trusted because obi-wan can no longer be trusted and the entire order is now to be held in suspicion

tldr the premise of the fic is really that he threw a tantrum and ran away from all his responsibilities like ahsoka and his men and the war; he's just doing it again but the target of his grief and rage have changed slightly and his methods of running away are different but this is all very influenced by my understanding of anakin's character and his capacity to accidentally and purposefully hurt those he loves

#asks #t&t #obikin #i love writing unreliable narrator anakin skywalker #because he is so unreliable in this chapter #but no i agree to an extent this decision isnt really thought out and it's because of this one person #but it's also because this one person was like. the center of his entire world #and his understanding of jedi morality and the thing he leaned on and has needed for years #and he feels things sooooo strongly and without reservation in this fic

[cottonraincoat]

making of monday: the stressed student's guide to binge writing a one-shot

(not that I'm a very good writer, but I loved seeing these on the dash, and decided to join. all this is only a little tongue-in-cheek.)

step one: try to work on an irl assignment*

(* not fandom related at all. preferably an intellectually challenging task that is also time-sensitive and reasonably important.)

There's nothing like the looming dread of deadline that stimulates the mind! Combine the perfectionist's fear of beginning, the procrastinator's tendency to distraction, and the pressure on the brain to produce something— for the most bizarre results. Namely, mildly unhinged fic ideas. Just sit down (curl up into a ball in the corner of the room), relax (stress), and wait for inspiration to come!

step two: "just, uh, just to note this down for later"

You never know when the idea would come, but it does. Now, you've got a seed, that your brain has instantly latched onto. It's growing and blooming and taking over every thought. "damn it," you think, "this is a fun idea. I can't write it before I finish the assignment though!" But the idea doesn't let you go, it's like a haunting, which is in all honesty very rude. Well, what can you do.

You open a doc.

Within half an hour, you realize that you should have known better than believing the idea (tm) would leave you alone.

step three: give in. you're writing the fic instead.

Congratulations! Your brain has once again chosen the path of least resistance instead of what you should be doing. But there's no time for guilt when you have to finish the fic (and finish the assignment after that). So you're writing the fic like your life depends on it, and the words come surprisingly easy because given the baseline stress, you aren't overthinking every single word or ridiculously lines of narrative. It's been hours, your mind's afloat, and you (unfortunately) forget approximately every duty to your body. But it's fun and you swear you've never written like this in your life.

From time to time you swap back to the page where your assignment stares helplessly back at you. You blink. You drop it back under the metaphorical rock.

step four: "fuck, the deadline is in [x] hours. I can't do this anymore"

By now, the first draft is probably sitting there in a messy, wonderful glop. And depending on the circumstance, it's either [start editing now, future rain can deal with this shit] or [despite all evidence to the contrary I actually do not want to fail this degree. time to pull myself by the hair into doing the Thing]. Either way, you've maybe slept for 6 of the last 40 hours, and you're contemplating the strange quality of your vision and why you can hear the inside of a conch at the back of your head, etc etc.

step five: sleep, and spare a moment to pause and wonder what the fuck is your life

when the assignment is done, it's like someone's poked a hole in your sand balloon and your entire being sags. it's a nice feeling, kind of. the fic stops you from spending too much time wondering why the hell are you doing the degree at all.

time to turn the glop into coherence! this is the most time consuming part, and could take up to days after the initial burst of [stuff].

step six: edit until your eyeballs fall out

what it says ^

step seven: when you finally cannot stand another minute of re-reading and editing, throw it onto ao3, and hopefully never think about the fic ever again.

that's a lie. you'll be checking the ao3 stats approximately every two hours for the next two days at least.

fics that actually happened like this:

Infinite Joy (the one that started it all)

Designation (in which I forgot Plo Koon had a mask)

on not sleeping with your students

(the first chapter of) the prophecies spoke of you and I

family line

#making of monday #shitposting

[lotr-bitches]

Silm Epistolary Week, Entry #3: A set of letters (Family/Loyalty)

A set of letters between Finwë and Ñolofinwë during the Exile to Formenos (Y.T. 1486).

My dear son, Ñolofinwë,

I do, in truth, desire to return to Tirion. There is, of course, my work there that I miss, but most of all, I miss you and your siblings, yonya. However, there is something to be said for standing by your elder brother. I vehemently disagree with the manner in which the weregild was conducted, as you yourself agreed.

In this matter, I must show solidarity with Fëanáro. The Valar as a governing body have overstepped my authority. I, alone, have jurisdiction over the Noldor. The Valar are simply meant to be our shepherds, guiding us along Eru's path. In this matter of the weregild for your brother's slight against you, I must display my rejection of their ruling.

I know it seems that I am choosing him over all of you, and over your mother. It seems that I am picking favorites, as you say. I wish to clarify this matter. I have not traveled to Formenos and gone into self-imposed exile because I love Fëanáro more; I have gone because there was a slight against my own honor and my own authority. Yonya, yourself and your sisters and brother are the dearest treasures of my heart. I do hope that you were aware of that already, but in the case that you were not: you are so very loved. I will never choose one of my children over any other.

I am certain that you are conducting yourself wonderfully in my place. You have always had such a talent with the people. Is the infrastructure initiative regarding the roads in the eastern most district still going forward? I should like to hear news of it! If you necessitate any assistance, I am at your disposal.

I love you very much. Say hello to your siblings and your mother for me.

Love,

Atar

Atto,

I am doing alright, but I miss you terribly.

As far as the infrastructure initiative, it is, in fact, going forward. It has passed through the inner council with little issue. As such, the pavers have been dispatched and the work will begin tomorrow. I am attending the first hour to supervise.

As far as the remaining content in your previous letter, I understand. I was angry at first. The weight of the responsibilities of acting in your place was heavy and I was unsure if I would be up to the task. I felt betrayed as well. Throughout my childhood, I always felt that Fëanáro had more time with you, and that meant that you loved him more. In this way, I felt that you had chosen him over the rest of us; that we were simply not as important.

I understand your motivations now. I, too, was unhappy with the way the weregild was conducted. The Valar should not have usurped your authority. Additionally, I wished to take the incident as cause to attempt to mend things with Náro; instead, I fear he will now believe that I have done exactly as he feared I would do and usurped his place as heir. Could you reassure him that I am simply doing as you asked? I can imagine his consternation at the whole ordeal.

I would like to send Náro a letter in the hopes that he will deign to read it. As much as he dislikes me (read: hates), I hope that we can find some common ground as we grow older. Will you ensure that he, at the very least, reads it?

How is life in Formenos? Is it as idyllic and peaceful as you hoped?

Send my love to Nerdanel and my nephews. I love you.

Love,

Ñolofinwë

Note From the Compiler: This is a different look at the motivations behind High King Finwë's move to Formenos. The weregild was an active part of Noldorin and Vanyarin society in Aman (it was not practiced by the Teleri). The weregild is typically a monetary recompense although it can take the form of service to the community or service in the household of the person offended or hurt by the actions of the perpetrator. The Noldor did not practice 'death for death' as part of the weregild as at this time, there was no such thing as murder. 'Death for death' was introduced by Turgon in Gondolin with the execution of Ëol following Lady Aredhel's unjust murder.

#silmarillion #silm fic #silm headcanons #silmarillion epistolary #fingolfin #finwe #house of finwe #years of the trees

[splatixboi]

My brainrot over it is driving me crazy, so I will now be rambling about my Honkai Star Rail x Hualian AU. I haven’t been able to discuss it with anyone because I’ve got no friends who are TGCF mains, who also enjoy HSR & know a decent amount of lore…

(If you are that person and are 18+, then please please please please let me spill the contents of my overfilled brain in your presence, thank you. I need more friends… especially ones who like TGCF.)

Anyways, time to let my rambling begin. For now I’ll talk about Hualian and relevant info about them, the plot I have in mind is still being sorted out.

Their lives take place on the Xianzhou Luofu, and the plot starts when they’re young childhood friends, around 100 years or so before the present (in game.)

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are both from the Vidyadhara race, though they’re drastically different. Hua Cheng isn’t as pure in blood, thus he resembles the various npcs with pointed ears you see walking around the Luofu. No horns, no tail, and no important social status. Xie Lian on the other hand, is more pure in blood. (this may be going slightly against canon hsr lore, since I’m pretty sure only those chosen as successors for the High Elder position can have a tail and horns. I think that’s silly though, so in this AU horns and tail can exist on Vidyadhara who aren’t the High Elder, it’s just rare to find one. They merely lack the power which is strictly for the High Elder position.) Xie Lian is a rarity among Vidyadhara as he has horns and a tail, thus he was held in high regard even in his past reincarnation. He has no interest in learning about his past self though, and was adamant about it ever since he could express it after hatching from his shell.

I am still debating where to place the “present day” plot. I’m not sure if I’d like to have everything occur before the Stellaron burst, or have it occur during and after. Most of my plot takes place in the present, as the past is for showing the childhood friendship between Hualian prior to Hua Cheng’s mysterious disappearance.

Now, for their paths, elements, and affiliations.

Hua Cheng:

• Path of The Destruction / Quantum / Stellaron Hunter

Xie Lian:

• Path of The Erudition / Imaginary / Judge in the Ten-Lords Commission

As for their weapons, Xie Lian will normally wield a sword which I will design based off Fang Xin’s manhua look. Ruoye will exist, I am just trying to figure out how to make Ruoye fit in.

E-Ming exists as well, and I DO have lore for it, thanks to the latest patch in hsr. E-Ming is a Heliobus that Hua Cheng encountered outside the Luofu, it took the form of a Scimitar. It approached Hua Cheng with a singular wish, to be wielded and used as a mighty weapon by a capable swordsman. Hua Cheng is not a fool, however, and knows that the Heliobi are parasitic in nature… at least, the ones he heard about on the Luofu were. In exchange for wielding E-Ming as his weapon, the Heliobus must agree to be bound to him permanently, and sealed in a way where it was under his control, not vice versa. Thus it explains how Hua Cheng lost the red eye he loathed so much. E-Ming was sealed within the eye Hua Cheng tore from himself, and with the blood he had spilled, E-Ming was then bound to him. E-Ming had no issue with this though, as it had not been exposed to human emotions and remained an innocent being. (This is me just taking the fact that a Heliobus can be sealed inside someone (HuoHuo) and running with the idea to make it fit Hua Cheng.)

That is all I shall share for now, forgive the fact that this is all kinda unorganized…

#heaven official's blessing #mxtx tgcf #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #天官赐福 #tgcf AU #hualian #Hualian AU

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 7

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

mentions of blood and injury

signs of PTSD and trauma

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 7: Nightmarish Visits

It was nice to sit back and watch the humans form their own dreams for a change.

You arrive in Maurie Ellis’ dream just as it starts. As you have seen in all your visits, her dream always begins with a memory: that of her getting lost in the woods as a child, from which she was rescued only the morning after. She had probably relived her traumatic experience night after night, being trapped in her five-year-old body, hungry, thirsty, and helpless. That was until she had chosen to participate in Ollie’s sleep trials.

By now, it was the third round of trials for his invention which he had temporarily named LeRêve – “It’s French for ‘the dream,’ I can’t think of anything yet,” you remember him saying. With his work now becoming increasingly popular among his peers, there are now three sleep laboratories running the LeRêve experiment, with three more on the waiting list vying to be a part of this groundbreaking study. He had a myriad of investors backing the study, and for the past eleven months, both of you had been busy – him overseeing the studies and rallying stakeholders, and you going back and forth between the participants’ dreams to observe the device in action.

Five-year-old Maurie, now aware of the nightmare she’s in, walks to a dead tree with decided steps and touches its bark. In an instant, the tree shakes violently before disintegrating into minuscule pieces. She picks up a piece of the tree and eats it, and when she swallows, the other trees also crumble, leaving behind tall mounds of what you recognize as tree bark. You watch your entire surroundings transform –  the night sky gives way to a pinkish, sunny glow; the forest floor, previously strewn with gnarly root trees and dead leaves and twigs, starts sprouting tiny blades of green grass, and right before Maurie, a cobblestone path appears, stretching on for miles until it disappears through the smaller patch of trees on the horizon. Now in her thirty-something-year-old body, she looks around in awe of her creation. A butterfly flies a little too close to her – she catches it, and like the tree bark she picked up, she also places it in her mouth and chews lightly before swallowing.

Curiously, you walk up to a pile of bark and pick it up. Making sure it is what you think it is, you bring it close to smell it – and the wonderful aroma of chocolate invades your senses.

Not the cheap, drugstore candy you’ve tasted in other dreams, no: Belgian, silky-smooth chocolate. Eagerly, you take a handful of pieces before sitting down on the grass. You regard Maurie with absolute pride – she had just managed all by herself to turn a recurring, nightmare-memory into a candy-filled hypnagogic dream that wouldn’t look out of place in Willy Wonka’s factory. Finishing your chocolate, you pluck a lollipop growing out of the grass to munch on as you watch her chase more of the poor butterflies, which upon closer inspection, are made of delicate, spun sugar. As Maurie crouches down to lick the cobblestone path, however, a resonating beeping is heard all over the dream, indicating that the dream is being drawn to a close.

You get up, stretch your limbs, and will yourself back to Ollie and his dream-space to report your findings.

***

Ollie sets down a cup of coffee on the coffee table right before you. Absently, you whisper ‘thanks,’ concentrating on the book you had propped on your knees. You hear him settle down on the couch before you and wait for him to say something snarky as always does, but surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. Putting down the book, you see him facing you with an odd expression on his face.

“Out with it.” You decide to say.

“With what?” He asks innocently.

“I know that look on your face,” Raising your eyebrow at him, you continue, “Come on and just ask me, Ollie, how bad can it be?”

He rubs the back of his neck, a guilty grimace growing on his face. Before you could find yourself regretting asking him what he had in mind he blurts out, “Uh, I…Imayhavetoldafriendaboutyou.”

“You what?”

“He’s my best friend. His name is Marcus Sutton, he’s the engineer I told you about that duplicated the prototypes. We can trust him.”

Why did you have to ask? You rub your palms on your face, involuntarily whispering a string of choice curse words.

“Now, don’t lose me just yet, I didn’t tell him that whole you’re-a-dream thing, or else, he’d have committed me to the psych,” His hands holding out to you as if trying to placate you. “I told him you’re the really smart… friend who kind of helped me discover this.”

You place your hands on your hips, trying to maintain an irritated expression, but it’s a difficult feat with that wide, innocent smile of his plastered on his face. “So what are you saying, Ollie?”

“I need you to come with me to the Waking World, please. To meet him, that’s all.” As he sees your jaw drop at his request, he adds, “Look, he’s been badgering me for the past few months. You’ve no idea how much of a nuisance he can be once he’s made up his mind. Come on, Mera, please.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I commit treason?” You ask him incredulously.

“Just one dinner? Besides, your boss isn’t here. It’ll be like taking an extra five-minute break on your terms. Goodness knows you need a damn break.”

You don’t deny his analogy, but you cross your arms in mock annoyance, contemplating the request. Certainly, a short visit wouldn’t hurt, especially in your King’s absence, right?

Crouching down in front of you, he takes hold of both your hands, his smile widening as if sensing your train of thought.

“Please? The restaurant we’re going to has this amazing, melt-in-your-mouth mango-crumble basque-burnt cheesecake.”

Not being able to hold down our smile any longer, you reply, “Fine.”

Ollie lets out a delighted giggle. “I knew I’d get you at ‘cheesecake.’”

You watch him as he slowly brings your right hand to his lips and plants a kiss.

Then he had the gall to flash you a knowing smirk that sends butterflies flying in your stomach.

Swallowing that lump in your throat, you tear your hand away and get up from the sofa, focusing instead on the view of the gardens outside the tall windows. In an effort to maintain your composure, you joke, “I get two slices.”

From behind you, you hear him chuckle, saying, “Get the whole damn cake, I don’t care.” He gets in front of you, blocking the view, and softly adds, “I just want you to be there.”

You give him a furtive nod, muttering ‘great’ while avoiding that warm gaze of his. This isn’t a date, get a hold of yourself. You force your treacherous thoughts away and clasp your hands together, signaling your readiness.

“Alright then. Wake up, and I’ll be there.”

“See you.”

With a wink, he’s gone, leaving you alone to finally concentrate on the upcoming task of traveling to a world you’ve never been to before.

Ollie had thankfully constructed the study to match his own in the Waking Realm, making the work so much easier. In your mind, the thread connecting the Dreaming and the Waking is as clear as you’ve seen it more than a century ago – with a deep breath, you steel your resolve, close your eyes and grip the thread firmly. In an instant, you feel a tug in your navel, and you begin to fall.

The journey is surprisingly much lighter and quicker than you had anticipated. This allows you to keep your footing as you land on the Waking version of Ollie’s office and, on impulse, change your clothing to one that could be more acceptable for the mortals.

“Mera? Is that you?”

You turn around to face the Doctor, but you’re greeted with a tight, enthusiastic hug. Ollie lifts you off your feet and spins you around, earning an embarrassing yelp from you, but his unintelligible shouts of joy drown it out. Finally, he props you back down, cupping both your cheeks and squeezing them lightly.

“You’re here! You’re actually here, in the flesh! You’re – what the fuck are you wearing?”

You’re still breathless from his rather animated greeting, but you laugh with him all the same.

Looking down at your clothes, you remark, “Hmm, I suppose I haven’t been keeping up with fashion trends, these days.”

“Oh that’s fashionable – granted it’s the year two thousand and one, and you’re a backup dancer in a Britney music video.”

Sticking your tongue out to him, you walk to a mirror in the study and, with a wave of your hand, change your attire to a long-sleeved black dress with a classic heart-shaped neckline and with an A-line hem reaching just a little over your knees. Your eyes dart to the ruby and the gold chain on your head – you take it off and put it in your dress pocket, feeling lighter than you have ever felt in a century. Happy with your handiwork, you turn to Ollie and ask, “What time is the dinner, anyway?”

“It’s, uh… eight, I-I think?” He stutters absently, staring at you with his cheeks and ears all red. Gulping and running his hand through his hair, he mumbles, “You look really pretty.”

You mutter ‘thanks’ and give him a small smile. You could feel your own face threatening to blush, so you distract yourself with the clock on his wall to take a look at the time. Get a hold of yourself. Clearing your throat, you note, “It’s only thirty minutes away.”

Seemingly composing himself, he says, “Yeah, we better get going. I’m driving.”

“Aw, and I thought I’d finally get a chance to test my driving skills,” you feign a pout, earning a small, affectionate pinch on your cheek from him.

“Fat chance. I’d like to get there in one piece, thanks.”

***

You glance up at the clock hanging just above the towering shelves of booze on the bar: a little over eleven o’clock. For the bartender named Gabriel wiping the glasses on the counter, his day is just getting started. With a contented sigh, you stir your cosmopolitan with the toothpick-skewered cranberries, looking around the chic, arte-moderne bar you had moved to after dinner. You watch the patrons with a certain fondness, getting lost in the mellow cacophony of chatter, laughter, and light jazz music. After a while, you feel Ollie’s warm hand on your shoulder, and he takes the seat right beside you on the bar and orders an old-fashioned.

Turning the chair to face him with a relaxed smile, you ask, “Did Marcus get home alright?”

“Yeah, he just got in a cab.” His tender, smiling eyes never leave you as he takes a sip of his drink. “I hope the Waking World has made a good first impression.”

The dinner with Marcus was fantastic. Although the food in the Dreaming was second to none, the fare was made more delectable with the first company you had since Ollie – Marcus proved to be just as energetic, bubbly, and full of ideas as his best buddy. They made an instant connection in college with the same interest in sleep technology, so he was more than happy to help with the prototype devices when he heard Ollie’s idea, even throwing in improvements of his own. He said he was glad you talked him into it, because according to Marcus, Ollie was bored to death with the routine in the old clinic, and had no creative outlet. After the hearty main course, the three of you proceeded to decimate an entire cheesecake, while they animatedly recounted their misadventures in medical school. Cheerfully, your eyes wander once more around this total gem of a bar. So, as far as first impressions go…

“Everything’s wonderful, Ollie. Thank you for convincing me to come here.”

As your gaze focuses on him, he inches closer to you, your foreheads almost touching together. “That’s good,” he whispers, lightly brushing the hair framing your face with his fingers. “Because I still have so much to pay you back for. So fucking much.”

You don’t exactly know who leaned in first between the two of you, but your lips brush together lightly for a few seconds, before he pulls away, completely flustered.

“I’m sorry, was that okay? I don’t know what came over me,” he apologizes profusely, running his hand through his hair.

You take a sip from your forgotten cosmo, trying to convince yourself unsuccessfully that the heat in your cheeks is just the effect of the alcohol in your system. “Well, I haven’t slapped you in the face yet, have I?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and, looking at you expectantly, asks, “So, could we…?”

“Could we what?”

“You know what I mean, Mera.” He says with a serious tone. “I like you. A lot. You don’t know how hard it has been these past few months, trying to work and act normal while you’re there. It drives me fucking nuts.”

You couldn’t deny the way your heart seemed to flutter at his confession. At this point, the realization that you probably feel the same way, that you have been feeling the same way for a while, hits you like a ton of bricks.

The face of one furious Endless invades your thoughts – against your will, you remember the heated stares, unwanted touches…Suddenly feeling queasy, you start regretting your decision of getting your fourth glass of the drink; it wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve had in a while.

Ollie seems to sense your hesitation. “I take that as a ‘no,’ I guess,” he laughs dryly, emptying his glass.

“I’m sorry, Ollie, I just…” Inwardly, you fight back the emotions threatening to spill, and your voice trembles at the effort.

He somehow easily recognizes your distress, so he tries to amend, “Oh no, no, sorry I didn’t mean to pressure you!”

When he doesn’t get a response from you, he places a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “Mera? Forget I asked, okay? Is something wrong? Hey, you can tell me, you know that, right? If you need me to listen as a friend, I’m all ears. Unless I turned you off that much. Is it my breath? Odd, I just took a couple of mints before –”

“Ollie.”

“Yeah?”

Whatever feelings he had for you, you know you have to nip it in the bud, regardless of whatever you feel. Ollie does not deserve to be dragged into whatever business you had with anyone who might take his affections against him.

“I’m currently committed.”

“Oh.” He is stunned by your confession, then he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his green eyes. “Yeah, I should’ve known. Someone as…beautiful and smart and talented as you…it wouldn’t be surprising.”

You could tell he's still reeling from the blow and he’s trying to hide it. I’m sorry, Ollie, this is for the best. “You know you’re quite the charmer.”

Motioning Gabriel for a shot of the whiskey bottle in his hands, he questions, “May I ask who? So I can congratulate the lucky bastard.”

There is no point in trying to hide it, least of all from him, so you say, “The King of Dreams.”

Halfway through his shot, he sputters, spilling most of the drink on his lap. “Wait. Your boss?” He asks incredulously. You could only nod in response.

“What the fuck? You didn’t tell me you’re practically royalty.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, grabbing a wad of napkins from the counter and throwing it on his lap. “I’m his creation. He gave me my current function, then he…changed it. Just before he left.”

“‘Changed it?’ That’s the most fucked up promotion I’ve ever heard. Doesn’t look like you want it, either.”

He’s looking at you with these wide eyes full of concern, but you shrug it off. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s my duty. I’m to fulfill it for him.”

“But, of course, it matters what you want. He can’t force you, can he? Have you told him about this?” You shake your head, so he adds, “Maybe you should tell him, then.”

But in your heart, you know that once the Dream King has made up his mind, there was no convincing him otherwise. So, you lie to Ollie through gritted teeth, no matter how much it pains you.

“Hmm. Maybe I will. When he comes back.”

“Good.” He nods in satisfaction, eyeing you sideways. “And don’t think I’m telling you to tell him just because… well, you know…”

Lightly chuckling, you reply, “Yeah, sure. So smooth, Ollie. Can we head back? I’m quite tired.”

He acquiesces, watching you finish off the cranberries on the toothpick. He pays his tab, leaving a generous tip behind. Walking out of the bar, he gently and wordlessly takes your hand in his. You give no sign of protest, and you swear you could feel him tighten his grip, only by a tiny fraction.

***

“It sucks that you have to go back to the dreams. I mean, we could have an actual, proper break…we could drive around the countryside, get some fresh air for once, admire the views…”

“Yeah, keep dreaming!” You shout from the kitchen, sitting on one of the dining chairs with a heavy sigh. From the hall, you hear his boisterous laughter.

After the drive home from the bar, you made a beeline to his kitchen and ransacked his cupboards for some drip coffee. You had just turned the electric kettle on, waiting for the water to boil. You’re bone-tired at this point, noting how much energy your brief visit to the Waking World had cost you. At least, you had some left to change into a pair of comfortable pajamas and a fluffy pair of house slippers. You hear the kettle click shut, so you slowly get up from your seat and pour the steaming water into the mugs, finding comfort in the waft of fresh-smelling coffee. You wait for the coffee to finish, then proceed to dump copious amounts of milk on both cups – Ollie likes it milky and sweet, the same way you do. You pick them both up and carry it them to the study, but you don’t even get past the kitchen exit when it hits you.

It’s a strong, mighty wave that sends you keeling over like you’ve been punched in the gut – it makes you drop the mugs you’re holding, and you collapse on the scalding hot mess of coffee and broken ceramic pieces. The pain doesn’t register; with shallow breaths, you’re filled with horrifying visions of a cracked circular glass cage, its shards flying everywhere; the sound of multiple gunshots is drowned out by the whooshing of strong winds controlled by the ancient, endlessly powerful being stepping out of the glass.

He’s back.

The ominous warning of the Voice awakens the dormant fear you had been downplaying and brushing aside for a long time. The return of your master might spell the salvation of the Dreaming, but what does that spell for you?

“Mera, what the – are you okay?”

Ollie comes rushing to your crumpled figure on the floor cursing under his breath. You’re soaked in coffee and one of your palms, now bloodied, had ceramic pieces sticking out of it. He scoops you up from the floor and sets you down on the kitchen counter. Taking your palm in his hands, he carefully picks up the shards and cleans the cuts, before wrapping your hand with a clean bandage.

“This is the second time you scared me half to death. Do it for the third time and I might just have a heart attack.” He tries to joke, but he fails to get a reaction from you. Cupping your cheeks so you’re looking at him, he asks, barely in a whisper: “What happened?”

Those green eyes bring you back to reality. You hold the hands cupping your face and tethering you to reason – having to lie to him once again sickens you to the stomach, but still, you find your voice and say, “I slipped. I’m sorry.”

The look in his eyes says he doesn’t believe you, but he’s sensible enough to let it go, so you get off the counter without preamble and go straight to the balcony on the study to get some air. You couldn’t be near him now that your time with him is coming to an end. Your King of Dreams, after all, would not take it lightly when he finds out the transgressions you had committed – coming to the Waking World being the least of them.

But if you go back now, what would you say? How would you explain to Lucienne and to your King your year-long disappearance? Would they believe you if you said you simply got stuck in the dreams and couldn’t find your way?

Can you go back, knowing you’ll be forever stuck to a function you dread fulfilling?

You rub your biceps, realizing it’s gotten cold outside. You step back inside the study, with thoughts of saying your farewell to Ollie. Perhaps you could do it once you see him, like ripping off a band-aid? You slowly pace in the study you had grown so fond of. Inside, you’re conflicted; you don’t know whether you could bring yourself to run away from the Dreaming and abandon the kingdom you call home, or just go back to your creator, confess your sins and let him decide your fate. You stop just before the bookshelf, lazily running your fingers over the books that you have read from cover to cover.

Without warning, your hairs stand on end, and you sense a presence behind you. Your breathing turns shallow, and you couldn’t help the tears brimming in your eyes from the trepidation – has your Dream King finally found you and come to fetch you himself? What will he do to you now that he knows you had willingly committed an act of betrayal by being in the Waking World?

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder finally breaks you.

You burst into terrified tears, mumbling all of the apologies you know to try to appease the being that had finally come to take you back to your world. A pair of strong arms wrap around you and pull you close, shushing you and trying to calm you down. Bristling at your closeness, you resist on instinct, and to your surprise, the arms let you go.

“Mera, Mera, it’s me, Ollie, it’s okay, it’s me!”

Through your tears, you peer, not into anger-filled blue eyes, but a pair of gentle, forest green ones – whimpering in relief, you break into a fresh bout of sobbing. You halfheartedly hit him in the chest with your bandaged hand, barely feeling the stinging on your palm.

“Don’t you ever walk up on me like that again, you, you fucking –”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He places both hands on your shoulders to still you, and when you offer no resistance, he wipes your tears softly with his knuckles.

“I-I thought you w-were h-h-him!” You exclaim through your mess of ugly tears and hiccups. “He’s b-back, a-and I thought you were him!”

He regards you with utmost concern on his face, whispering his ‘sorry’ over and over.

You sit on the floor and hug your knees to your chest. You will your inner storm to simmer down, sniffling as you do. Ollie follows your example and sits on the floor right in front of you. You both stay in the same position in silence.

“Jesus Christ, Mera, just what the hell did he do to you?” He finally whispers. His hands are balled into fists like he was trying not to touch you with great effort – one of the many things you have grown to appreciate with him – he knows just what you needed, or didn’t, in the exact moment.

Finding your words, you say slowly, “He tried… he made…inappropriate advances.”

His expression hardens as the meaning of your words dawns on him. “You don’t have to say anything further.” He tells you with tenderness in his voice. “Can I hold your hand…please?”

At your furtive nod, he encases your trembling, uninjured hand with both of his.

“You’re not with him anymore. You’re with me, yeah? You don’t have to hurt like this anymore.”

Your heart tries to take comfort in those soothing words, but your head shakes automatically. “You know I can’t stay.” Please make me stay. Please. Don’t let me go back there with him.

“Can I hug you?”

The moment your ‘yes’ leaves your lips, he pulls you to him and tucks you under his chin. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, not in this state. Damn if I let him near you and hurt you like this again.”

But what if it’s you he hurts?

This intrusive thought is the last thing on your mind before you close your eyes, falling asleep to the calming rhythm of Ollie’s beating heart.

***

The Dreaming Realm holds no fanfare for its returning, long-awaited ruler.

As soon as the ivory gates swing back at the command of its weakened King, it reveals nothing but the remnants of his empire – once the most majestic kingdom of all kingdoms, perhaps only second to the Creator’s – everything Dream of the Endless had built and nurtured since the beginning of time now lie in ruins. He is devastated at the sight – he’s also furious and bitter that his weakness had led to his capture, and his capture led to this – Lucienne must’ve felt this, for she explains how, in his absence, everything came falling apart.

She tells him of the library. The castle. The residents. The staff. Then she gets to you.

At the mention of your name, his heart wrenches in pain at the thought of a cruel fate befalling you. He recalls, with a pang of sorrow and regret, how your voice so desperately called out to him, and how, at that moment, he could’ve given up anything to come to your side, take all your troubles away and finally make you his.

His only loyal subject earns a glare from her King when she pauses at your name. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch, possibly aware of how urgent the matter is for him.

“You must tell me, Lucienne. What has become of her?”

Lucienne lets out a deep sigh before she speaks. “She said she was going to keep looking for you, for signs of you, in the dreams of the mortals, but the waters have been unsafe for her, Sir. Sometimes, she comes back weeks after, extremely exhausted. In her visits that led to her disappearance, I’d often find her unconscious on the shore. I have tried convincing her to cease her search for her safety’s sake, but she adamantly refused. That was about a year ago.”

Morpheus is rarely ever taken aback, but he is floored at his librarian’s recall of your relentless pursuit of his whereabouts. He allows his heart to soften momentarily at your unwavering loyalty – you had risked your own life to try and find him and bring him back to his realm and to your arms. Yet, he had no time to dwell on this – he makes an inward vow to reward you richly for your efforts. Lucienne’s as well, he adds. He worries about what has happened to you in the dreams: had something barred you from surfacing in the waters and, in turn, prevented you from awaiting his return?

He had much to do if he were to retrieve you from the sea of dreams. Stepping into the ruins of his palace, he gets to work, his resolve now ever stronger to rebuild his kingdom and bring it back to its full glory.

“I will bring them all back, Lucienne. I will bring her back.”

Whatever kept you away from him, he will crush with his bare hands, and he will need all his tools to unleash his fury.

***

Ollie made a rather convincing argument with you about why you should stay with him in the Waking. And you were sorely tempted to, except for the knowledge that the King of Dreams will eventually come after you, like the nightmares he had sought before his disappearance – or capture, if your visions had indeed revealed the truth. You are, after all, now a fugitive in Dreaming terms.

And you had revealed to Ollie this single misgiving – you trusted him with your life, now that you had no more secrets to hide from him. This big snag on his plan stumps him, of course – what could he, a mortal, do against one of the most powerful beings in the universe? The Dream Lord might have been weakened in his capture, but you know he will eventually gain his powers back to their full extent, as the Endless are all wont to do. It’s only a matter of time, the Voice adds.

Two days after your emotional breakdown in Ollie’s study, however, you’re hit by a sudden stroke of genius.

Who else, save Dream of the Endless, had enough knowledge about the Waking World to thrive in it for more than a hundred years? He might be a Nightmare, but at the moment, he is your best shot at perhaps keeping away from a master that would surely seek to punish you for your errors against him and the laws of his kingdom. To find him, however, you need absolute concentration, so with a word to Ollie about not disturbing you under any circumstances, you lock yourself in a room in his home and begin your search.

Finding the Corinthian was not an easy feat. Vaguely, you recalled how hard it was to find Candor in the Dreaming because she was masking her presence (and because you were juggling between your Dreaming duties and looking for her) – if the Corinthian is doing the same, you were likely to hit a dead end, potentially wasting your effort.

Dreams and Nightmares, however, have this unique way of sensing even the tiniest hints of each other’s presence.  While it’s true that your connections in the Waking World are significantly thinner than in the Dreaming, making it much more challenging to sense each other, The Corinthian hasn’t exactly been subtle. After six long hours of pure concentration and grappling through the thin, fragile strings of your connections, you find him at last – or a trace of him, at least, strong enough to tell he had recently been in there.

You focus on the trace he left behind and will yourself to it immediately – you had no time to waste.

You land on an empty, dimly-lit alley. It’s void of humans, at least until a door bursts open, and out stumbles a group of them in their early twenties, drunk on their heels and laughing raucously. Masking your presence, you get a glimpse of the establishment inside: you recognize it as a club with its flashing strobe lights and thumping electronic music. Using your Dreaming ability, you don a tiny, sequined dress and put on some makeup so you could fit in the crowd, and through this back door, you enter the club with senses on high alert.

You make your way through the frenzied, dancing crowd, muttering loud ‘sorry’s’ as you go, trying not to stumble on your high heels. Once you get to the bar, you order a cosmopolitan from the bartender. Realizing you had no money, you flash him your most charming smile, which seems to work – he sets your drink down on the counter with a wink, saying “it’s on the house.” You say your ‘thanks’ with the coyest smile you could muster, cringing inwardly at your behaviour. At the bar, you had a better view of almost everyone in the club, so you quietly scan the establishment for your target, ignoring the stares you’re getting and politely declining the men and women offering to buy you a drink.

It doesn’t take you long. You find him on the VIP balcony, leaning on the railing, wearing glasses dark as night: The Corinthian, staring back at you with a knowing smirk on his features.

Aware that you needed some sort of pass to get to the VIP lounge, you grab the waist of a tipsy young woman making a beeline for the stairs. She squeals with delight and holds on to you (shouting in your ear, “You’re so pretty!”), probably mistaking you for a friend. Finally, you get to the VIP section, shaking her loose, you walk to the Nightmare you’re seeking. His gaze does not leave you as you approach.

“Hello, doll. Come to buy me a drink?” He drawls, leaning close to you so he could hear, his charming smile growing wider.

With a serious expression, you respond, “Not in here, no. I need to talk to you, please.”

He lets out a knowing hum. “Stay close and try not to get lost.” He says, wordlessly motioning for you to follow him.

And so you do, until your way is blocked by a drunken man asking you to dance with him. You try side-stepping him, but he’s quick on his feet, making a move to grab your arm. Someone else grabs his, however, stopping the attempt.

The Corinthian tightens his grip on the man’s arm, danger rolling off him in waves, yet his charming smile never leaves his face. It’s quite a terrifying and mesmerizing sight: Dream’s perfect Nightmare, in action. When he lets go of the poor man’s arm, he says threateningly, “She’s with me. Scram.”

The guy backs away, still wincing at his bruising grip. The Corinthian then proceeds to snake his arm around your waist to pull you close.

“Don’t get the wrong impression, doll,” he leans in to whisper to your ears. “And try not to get into any more trouble; I don’t wanna have to murder anyone with all these people watching.”

With you in close tow, he leads you from the VIP lounge, downstairs, and to the back door. Once you were outside, he lets you go, and with a flick of your hand, your clothes change into something more modest. You let out a sigh of relief at finally being able to get rid of those heels, which you vow to never wear again.

The Corinthian watches you with amusement before gesturing once more for you to follow. He takes you out of the alleyway and leads to you a nearby dive bar, much quieter and a lot brighter than the club you were in moments ago. He chooses the farthest booth, probably to avoid being overheard. You sit on the cushioned chair, with him directly across the table. He orders a craft beer for himself and a cosmopolitan for you from the passing waitress, muttering how you seem the cosmopolitan-drinking sort. The waitress comes back after a few minutes with your drinks on a tray and a napkin with a phone number written on it, which she not-so-subtly slides near his beer.

Great, he’s managed to charm the waitress with just a look, you note inwardly with a slight shake of your head.

With a final wink in his direction, the waitress walks away with a spring in her step, leaving you both alone.

“I know you: you’re Dream’s little plaything. I believe we’ve met.”

He takes a swig of his beer before leaning back in his seat and resting his arm comfortably on the cushion.

You tilt your head, also leaning back on your seat. “I’m no one’s anything. And I believe we haven’t.”

“Oh, believe me, doll, we have. You just don’t remember,” he says with a knowing, lopsided smile. “Anyway, what do I owe this little date? You know Morpheus would hate to see us both this cozy.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of the Endless’ name. “Never mind him. I came to ask you how you plan on staying here, now that he’s back.”

“And why would you be interested in my affairs? I didn’t know I was your type,” he responds with a raised eyebrow.

With a grin of your own, you say, “Let’s just assume, maybe I’m inclined to stay here, too.”

His expression changes to one of genuine surprise. “Really? Well, I must say I’m proud of you, Mera! You’ve come a long way from following your King of Dreams like a lost puppy.”

“Things change. We change.”

He lets out a deep chuckle. “Not him, he won’t. So, what is it that makes you want to stay? Let me guess…”

You narrow your eyes at him, which he ignores. “Don’t tell me it’s a lover? Oh, he’s going to be pissed when he finds out his little dream has been playing around where she shouldn’t be,” he says with a gleeful tone. “He’s going to come after you.”

Not knowing how to react, you merely nod. “I know. Regardless of my reason, I don’t think I can go back.”

At your declaration, he leans with his arms on the table, losing his spirited tone. “Well, then. At least we now have something in common. You and I seek the same thing, doll: freedom. And he’s never going to give that,” With a flair, he fishes out a thin, silver dagger from inside his coat, adding, “But I have my methods.”

Understanding what he meant, you ask, “How? And I’m not saying I condone it – I just don’t think anyone can kill an Endless.”

“I know a few people I could recruit, doll. Believe me, it can be done.”

You shake your head at this outlandish idea. “I don’t think that’s the right question, either. Whether we like it or not, humanity needs Dream, and the other Endless, for that matter.”

“No, it doesn’t. One of them has gone for good, but look around you: they seem to be doing preee-tty fine if you ask me.” He then adds with a more serious tone – the most serious you’ve heard of him since meeting him: “So, if you really want to be free of him, doll, you have to fight for it. We both do.”

You place your arms on the table and clasp your hands in contemplation. Could you really take part in a scheme that could bring about your King’s demise?

“No, not in that way, I can’t.” You conclude.

Your Dream Lord might’ve demoted you to a role that you had absolutely no taste for, but he is still your creator – you owe him your life, and you sincerely wish no harm on him. Still, you acknowledge the Corinthian’s unconventional methods of dealing with problems are of his nature, and thus you couldn’t find it in your heart to judge him or resent him. You genuinely wish there could be a better way.

“But thank you, anyway. This has been insightful. I’ll find my own way, as I’m guessing you will. I wish us both luck. We’re going to need it.”

If he’s disappointed in you, he doesn’t show it. “Anytime, doll. Be careful of Dream. He’s not who you think he is. Oh, and next time you see him, ask him this: what happened to the others?”

“‘The others?’”

But he just gives you a secretive smirk. “Just ask him; he’ll know.”

He gets up to his feet, indicating that your conversation is over. His tone lively once more, he says, “Well, I hate to cut this date short, doll, but you’re not exactly my type. If you change your mind and decide to help, you know where to find me.”

He fishes money out of his pocket. “And next time,” he says, waving the note in front of him, “you’re paying.”

Even if you both had just discussed committing a crime against your creator, you couldn’t help the lighthearted chuckle that escapes you. Craning your head, you watch him saunter out of the bar, wishing you had met him in better, friendlier circumstances.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Our Lord Morpheus is back!! I promise you'll see more of him in the next chapter - I just wanted this to showcase Mera's internal struggle, as well as the PTSD she has from all the trauma she endured with her master. Please stick with me on this!! We'll have more touch-starved, bat-shit crazy Morpheus in the next!

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/3/22

Edit date: 12/3/22

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[gav-san]

THE QUEEN OF THE KING

10/15

Previous/Next

It’s the rumble of thunder that’s the first alert of the intensity of the oncoming storm. Topaz eyes, lined with thick black koal appraise the sky as the storm clouds roll in, large, dark and foreboding, narrowing in worry at the sight.

She didn’t know if their sand seal pelt would hold, or if they’d be reduced to waiting in a cold mess. Or worse, in one of those small Hyrulian tents, so very different square and smelly, the rough wool woven than in the cheap dye. It was not their custom to bunk separately. Nabooru thought they were silly, to have so many small, weak places that would be easy to attack. Their Gerudo tent was large, meant to fit many more people, and was much easier to set up and remove.

Nabooru couldn’t wait to return where the rain only came during the rainy season, unlike this wet, claustrophobic land.

“Captain. He is almost ready.” Minah said with a firm voice, hands behind her back, and Nabooru turned in attention.

She flicked her gaze to the center of the large tent where the Gerudo Guard had decamped.

The King kneeled, perfectly still, breathing deeply. He was near naked, wearing what amounted to a small cloth that covered the tops of his thighs and intimate areas. The rest of his body was gleaming, covered in pungent cactus rose oil and careful bands of rhythmical marks. Marks that snaked and covered his flesh like vines, sacred Gerudian symbols of unity, kingship, and destiny.

The King's Guards stood around him, fingers gleaming in the colors of the marks. And now, there was one space left, and one last preparation before the King could begin his hunt. And in the back, awaiting her word, Dinah stood, representing the King’s family, as he had none of his own left. She had come into the camp much later than expected, adding to Nabooru’s many fears and worries.

What path had the princess taken?

“He’s fallen into the Trance.” Minah added, breaking Nabooru’s thoughts, biting her own lip.

Nabooru took in a deep breath, steeling herself. She had carry to Gerudo, with the balance of things so delicate.

There was no time more vulnerable than this, for a Gerudo King. Without his senses, his mind, his magic he could easily fall victim to a number of horrifying possibilities. Not in the least which was hurting anyone who stood between him and his bride.

“I doubt he’ll wake until he’s brought her back.” Nabooru says, motioning for the ritual to continue.

But there was no choice, and she could be of no help.

There were things every Gerudo ruler had to do, and so far, the King had yet to fail. So she had to have hope.

A very necessary thing now, seeing as the King they were preparing was about to kidnap a woman that many in Hyrule considered their temporary queen regent. And while the King of Hyrule had given what amounted to a marriage agreement, the Gerudo knew better than to trust one outside of their own.

Which is why they had chosen to decamp away from the main group, and why the Gerudo would be well on their way to the desert by the time the rest of Hyrule knew of their deeds.

But the general pushed back her shoulders and walked to the king, mouth set in a firm line. There was no turning back, and the ceremony had already started.

Minah approached her again, this time holding a small brass vial of needy perfume, hitting the air with the sweltering smell of magic, among other things. Nabooru carefully accepted the vial, wary not to spill it.

Magic could be such a fickle thing.

With a nod, she steps forward, awaiting Dinah.

For a moment, Nabooru finds it hard to find her confidence, a strange thing for her to doubt her own inner circle. Dinah was full of worry, that was clear. But the ceremony would be broken if she could not perform her duty.

She watches the older woman, she clenches her jaw and nods to herself, gloved fingers tight. She has decided, steeling herself against her own feelings. The large box she is carrying weighs down her steps, but she does not stop again.

Four steps and she is at her side. The entire room watches, riveted in attention as they taste the magic releasing, the binding spells being readied as she sets it before the king, kneeling.

“To this duty, I bind you.” She says, chin straight. It only takes her a moment to unlatch the gold of the chest, letting the warm interior cast light on her face. The top thudded against the thin rugs they had set down for his comfort.

The King nods.

“To my daughter, I wind your fate.” Dinah continues, voice soft.

It’s like a halo from the hot desert sun that falls over the king, alighting the marks on him into shimmering bands the color of the rainbow.

A good sign, though entirely expected. The King had long worked to be worthy of the moment so that the magic would accept him.

Nabooru glanced down, into the chest.

There, resting on a cushion of red silk, are the Bands of the King’s Wife.

A specific title, as these are no jewels for a Gerudo Queen, but specifically the consort of a Gerudo King. Two for his thighs, two for each ankle, and a similar pattern for his arms, all engraved with the stories of old and engraved with the sacred triangles of the Goddesses.

They are made to protect his wife, in nearly any situation, once they are on. It’s a necessary part of taking a ‘stolen’ bride; They are dangerous, even to themselves.

The Bands are pure gold, mined and purified from the finest material, shimmering even in this low light. And though the King’s eyes are closed, he senses his beloved, feeling the power in the bands that bind them. A trail only he could sense, as the magic fulls him further in, thrummed under his skin as he stretches out his arms.

“I place this gift on you to deliver,” Dinah says, “And to the desert, you shall return.”

Dinah carefully pulls them out, still wearing gloves. One by one she places them on him. And though they look as if they should be too small, they seamlessly go over each dip of muscle and sinew.

As Dinah takes the last piece out, Nabooru shuts the box, latching it firmly.

Dinah holds it before the King’s brow, for it is a crown for his head. Shaped like the high noon sun, set with a large ruby that rests nobly on his brow. She carefully arranges it in his hair, pinning and twining gold and scarlet.

“I give you a crown, and ask you to return to me with a daughter.” She whispers, throat thick with emotion. She steps back, brows furrowed.

Nabooru nods at her expert braiding of the King’s locks in the front. He looks regal, leaving the back loosely to hang wildly down his back like a true beast of the dunes. He shines, colored like a late sunset.

And the king opens his eyes, looking at Dinah. Nabooru braces herself, knowing that it’s not Ganondorf that is here. It is, but it isn’t.

Even if his voice sounds the same.

“I accept this crown, but I shall return to you not only with a daughter but also a queen.” He states, voice deep. It’s not the tone, but the power he holds that makes the woman around him step back.

The power of the King pushes them aside as the King rises. He takes Dinah’s hand, now bereft of gloves, raising her, before leaving her.

All the women parted, letting the King pass, steps weighty with meaning. His body moves with an unnatural smoothness and walks perfectly straight. He made his way to the front of the tent, his gold clinking heavily as he dramatically ducked to exit the low exit.

He only pauses a moment, head-turning in a direction that seems random to Nabooru, but is no doubt the magic leading him.

For a moment, he glances back, eyes unnaturally back.

“Prepare for my Queen. We meet at the end of the forest.”

Then he was gone.

A collective breath is released as the women disband, moving to answer their King’s command. Nabooru folds her arms, moving to the entrance of the tent again, looking out, doing her best not to lose her nerves.

Minah, holding a shaking Dinah’s shoulders, comes up next to Nabooru.

“We will go ahead to prepare.” Minah didn’t need to say that it’s clea Dinah was in great need of medicine that their outpost unit had. The one waiting for them at the end of the forest.

“Go. I will send word to the Desert that we have been successful.” Nabooru says, letting them pass. “Do not send further word. I will track the King and intercept him and his bride. His nerve is weak and he will need help.”

“General Urbosa is going to be pissed if you break tradition.” She said with a frown, including some choice Gerudan swear words in the mix. Dinah just nodded, face pale.

“She will get her chance to chastise me.” Nabooru says, going to wrap her belt and swords around her. “But I do not trust these Hyrulians.”

–X–

The soil is like wet tar under your feet, squelchy, and dark. It coats your feet, fills the space between your toes, and becomes like a trap of its own making. One whose purpose is to suck you into the ground like sliding down the throat of an ancient beast.

The thin woolen cloak catches painfully into the black claws of brambles and you try not to cry aloud as thorns scrape your once pristine hands.

Your fingernails were cracked, some half torn-off, lost to hitting that tree some miles back. Or was that climbing that boulder? Or when you stumbled through that stream?

At some point, you had reopened the wounds on your throat and hands. And while you wrapped them as well as you could, there would be no stopping the itchy painful reminders, the pain of everything.

You had not expected to so clearly recall the night your home had gone up in flames taking everything you had loved. It surprised you that fire could rage so wildly so quickly, the colors so bright it could be like day and not night.

It seems that this day of endless pain would seamlessly transition into an endless night of one. Once again.

Wild, uncontrolled fear tasted the same.

At first, when you heard the whiny of horses, you thought the Gerudo had found you, and you had nearly given in. You were so tired, so hungry. Pain shot up your feet with every step, and you shook in a chill, hiding in the bushes, waiting to see that great black horse that would dash out of nowhere and swoop you up.

Until you realized who it was- and it was not your expected captor..

The Gerudo King, you knew, would be far better than this wild hog who now chased you. Not an actual hog, which would also be better than this.

“PRIN-CESS!” The singsong voice is called, nasally and nasty.

The Archbishop.

His company laughs with him as they catcall at you, leisurely tracking your steps. Why make haste when your prey has not the dogs and arrows you do?

“The King has declared that anyone who finds his runaway niece may marry her! They say you wish to run away with your secret sweetheart! But we know the truth, don’t ask!” They sing song, making a mess of the forest they trample under the hesitant hooves of their ponies. The Hylian king has abandoned you for peace!” They continued with their jaunts, and it’s clear they know of some of what has happened.

You held your breath as a man broke from the bushes, an arrow at the ready. You recognized him as one of the many priests who pandered to the Archbishop. You furrow deeper into the mud.

“He didn’t want the Gerudo King to see his daughter and covet her!” A thin voice say, making you freeze.

The man made no effort in concealing himself, calling loudly at you, letting you know just what precisely the Archbishop wanted to do with you.

Violent, unspeakable things.

You would barely be a person if they had their way. It was clear that spite had long turned to murderous intent.

If one of his men found you, you would not be leaving alive. You closed in one yourself, taking a deep breath as he disappeared into the trees on the other side.

You needed a better disguise if you were to escape and remain alive. And live you must as you needed to destroy the Archbishop for what he is doing.

You found yourself blistering at the idea, but nevertheless picked up some of the thick, gloopy dirt under you. Smearing down your face and body, thick goop covered your visage and the unholy necklace you had been gifted. Your hair became a matted disaster, and your clothes were thick with mud.

All the work of your maids, ruined, you growled in your throat. But it should do something to help cover your smell before they dared release their hounds on you. You hoped one day to be able to apologize to Tapo for ruining her beautiful clothes. Or to be able to thoroughly scream at the Gerudo King for the hell he’s put you through.

Rising you slowly push your way through cutting bushes. Step by step you hide like a doe, avoiding men who tramble and screech. You are almost at the break of trees, where you can see the road twisting up into the path. If you can pass the road unseen, then make your way through the tall fields of grass, you will reach the mouth of Mount Lanayru. From there you can beg sanctuary to the folks who live in Hatano Village. They are known for taking in women and helping them reach the monastery.

You had been forced to squeeze under some thick foliage for this part, to reach the road unseen. On hands and knees you twist your head to look around, seeing none. Rising slowly, you hide in the shade of a large tree, readying yourself to dash over the gap.

With wide eyes, you look at the field of yellow grass before you dig your ruined heels in the dirt.

Your mind said run, but every fiber of your being was saying that this was a trap. With the utmost certainty, you needed to run, every second wasting precious time. But you struggled to make that first step.

You must have been very deep in your thoughts not to hear the person sneaking up behind you, his large hands covering your mouth before you could make a peep.

“Quiet! Do you want that old fraud to find you?” A familiar, irritating voice says.

“CA-pt-N!“ You say behind his fingers, greatly relieved to see your favorite daily nemesis. The captain of the guard shushes you, pulling you down.

“Quiet-” He says, pulling you back under a large bush. “They are waiting for you to cross that. They knew you planned to go to the monastery- Good Goddess, is that the infamous brown dress?”

You rip away from him, smoothing down your muddied wear. He runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

“What a day.” He mutters. “I’m glad that old Gerudo woman clued me in. Still took me forever to track you. Man, you really must be part wolf.”

You flinch, offended. The captain of the guard was like a good friend, albeit a rather insensitive one.

“That is not important. What IS important is that you take me to the nearest chapel and marry me!” You demand, and he raises a brow. “I must be able to stay and serve Zelda, and I will serve faithfully as your wife to do so!” You fold your arms, voice daring him to disagree.

And though you know you don’t look particularly marriageable, you are still mad when he gives a dry laugh.

“Ah yes, what every man wants! A wife who only married him because she wants his help!” He chuffs. You shake your head.

“That’s not the only reason! We- we- are old friends! We have history! It’s a good match!” You declare, and he snorts. But then his eyes soften and he raises his hand to pat you on the head.

“You know, half a year ago, I would’ve said yes,” He admits, “But I can’t in good conscience marry you now, even to help you.”

Your eyes go wide.

“You… you’re in love?” You say, and he laughs.

“Actually, I’ve been married for two weeks.” He says with a soft smile. “With a baby on the way. I had planned to abscond to go live with Malliya in the desert when the Gerudo all leave.”

Your jaw drops open. “But-but-“

“Yeah, I know we sort of had something, but then I met my warrior woman and realized that I never wanted to look at another woman again. Besides, the day I saw you talk with the Gerudo King I knew you’d never look at me the way you look at him.”

You kneel as straight as you can, mouth in a snarl.

“I DO NOT love him!” You growl, and this time he folds his arms, mouth quirked to the side. “I demand you take me to the monastery! Or give me a horse to do so!”

He chuckles, patting your hand, and this time you push him back.

“Okay, okay. You can ‘steal’ my horse, but the Gerudo Commander said I can’t interfere if I want citizenship.”

You push him back, moving to stand.

“Where is Archibalo?” You demand, fiercely, trying to keep down your emotions

#romance #fanfic #ganondorf x reader #gosh dangit rehydrated ganon thirst art #hot desert daddy ganon #ganondrf thirst #breath of the wild #botw #loz #link #zelda #gav-san

[oppipopi]

Tragedy in AvA 5

I've been in fd sticks for almost 2 years now and how tired I am of seeing a Lord in the role of a villainous villain from time to time for the reason "Well, his name is the Dark Lord, so he's evil and does evil things" You don't think that I'm trying to justify him somehow, no. He's an asshole and it's true. But I just want to say that perhaps the personality of Lord is much deeper and more complex than it may seem at first glance.

In short, post-reflections on the personality of Lord, his conflict with Chosen, as well as their relationship. I don't pretend to any canonicity, it's just my thoughts. Let's go!

To begin with, the stick names have no effect on the personality and character of the characters. This is proved by Vic, who in the first minute of his life swore at the creator and almost "defeated" Alan, as well as Chose, who from the first second of his appearance decided to choose the path of ultra violence and blow everything to hell. I think no one will argue that these are slightly different associations that come to mind when we hear the words Victim and Chosen One. Thus, we conclude that the name of the stick affects only the abilities of the bearer, but not the personality.

let's move on

I often see such an interpretation of the personality of Lord, where he is arrogant, aggressive and does not disdain to assert himself by bullying those who are weaker. (I'll make a reservation right away. This interpretation takes place and I do not forbid anyone to think so, but now about something else)

I don't think Lord has the desire to assert himself at the expense of the weak. He does not have the same bitterness towards the world and unremitted rage that Chosen has (four years in prison is no joke to you, and he was kind of mad from the very beginning, so yes …), which he releases at large. I think Lord has more fear of being rejected and abandoned again (as he was abandoned by Alan during the battle with Chosen), so he arranges the whole debauch more out of the thought that "This is what Chosen likes. This is what unites us"

Have you ever thought about what a really big influence Chosen could have on the Lord, and that most likely Lord in AvA5 is what he is to a greater extent because he got involved with the "bad company" in the person of Chosen?

Just to remind you that they were friends for seven years. SEVEN YEARS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!!!?? And for at least five years, Chosen was satisfied with his way of thinking in the spirit of "arrange destruction, order sucks" and "there are bastards everywhere, cattle all around, give them heat, arrange a pogrom!"

I'm leading all this to the fact that it was Chosen who dragged Lord into all this. He showed him this world and how to behave in it. He held out his hand to him and offered to destroy Alan's computer to smithereens!

It's hard not to be grateful when someone who is capable of killing you, and was going to do it, suddenly decides to save your life and even offer cooperation. I don't know if Lord agreed out of fear, or for some other reason, but I think at this moment Lord mentally exalted Chosen over himself, put him in priority I mean, Lord is the only character who has been assigned a mission (and not just any, but the destruction of Chosen! I think this also played a role in his attitude to destruction and murder). What is it like to be born and immediately receive an order from above? Do not have your own opinion about the situation, but still faithfully execute orders… Despite the fact that eventually Lord stopped following the decree, I think he is still subconsciously waiting for orders. Only now from Chosen. And when he gets it (it doesn't matter if Chose says it directly, or if Lord himself thinks out what he might like), he does it. I am leading to the fact that Lord has completely lost his moral compass. He has no understanding of what is good and what is bad. On top of everything else, He is also follower! He has his own opinion, but no one has taught him how to use it. He only chooses a leader for himself and takes his words and views at face value. Of course, over time, from an authoritative figure, Chosen becomes a best friend in the eyes of Lord. But he still puts him above himself. He puts Chosen's ideals above his own. (although, I don't think that Lord had any ideals before meeting Chosen)

But Chosen's ideals have changed over time, and he forgot to tell Lord about it… Or is it a little different here?

As I wrote above, Chosen himself changed the personality of Lord, and therefore, we can say that Lord in AvA5 is in many ways similar in character, and even in habits to Chosen from AvA3.

By the way, have you ever noticed how much the Chosen from AvA2-3 and the Chosen from AvA5 actually differ in vibe? In AvA5, Chosen seems to me much more restrained, collected, quiet and thoughtful. And also immensely tired. We know that Chosen has rethought his views, but what prompted him to do it? Previously, he did not care about the screams of others, their fear. What has changed? I think that through destruction, intimidation, violence, Chosen released his endless anger and hatred, which seems to have been with him from the very beginning (maybe all the empty-heads created by Alan have their own conditional collective mind? And that's why Chosen got Vic's experience on some mental level? He doesn't know the situation, he doesn't have Vic's memories. Only a feeling of fear, rage and a desire to escape.) But at some point it just stopped producing results. One day he just froze in the middle of the burning streets and realized that he felt absolutely nothing but emptiness devouring from within. Then Chosen probably wondered for the first time, is this really what he wants? He wanted to be free, but is it freedom? Then Chosen begins to change and withdraw more and more into himself, trying to figure out what he wants. And he understands. He understands that he no longer wants to live like this, that he no longer wants to have anything to do with the person he was before, understands that he wants to be better. He wants to contemplate and create, not destroy. That this is the only way to become truly free.

Chosen becomes disgusted with the person he was in 2011. He hates him. He's disappointed in him.

And he sees this man in Lord too clearly.

The same habits. The same facial expressions. The same mindset.

Lord reminded him too much of the one he hated so much, the one he wanted to forget forever. Renounce. Expunge from life.

Maybe that's why he put off this conversation for so long? Maybe that's why he got so angry when Lord (usually docile) did not listen to him and went against him?

Speaking of Lord. Let's look at the situation from his side. You and your best and only friend have been keeping the entire Internet at bay for several years in a row, living soul to soul and just having fun. But at some point your friend suddenly changes. He no longer laughs with you, does not rejoice at the new trashed site. Does not look in your direction. Your friend no longer likes everything that once united you. All that he himself showed you. It's unclear. It's scary. And you're trying to fix it. To take revenge on the common offender. Increase the scale of destruction (maybe then Chosen will have fun again? Maybe he just needs more entertainment??) But he tell you no again. Without explaining anything. You're angry. Get angry because you don't understand. Get angry because you're scared. And you keep doing the only thing you know best, in the hope that it will fix something…

The main tragedy in AvA 5, as for me, is that Chosen created an enemy for himself. He had won Lord over to his side. Chosen himself raised the Dark Lord as we see him in AvA5 And then he changed. But he couldn't change Lord again, because he couldn't cope with his own hatred.

It's really very sad.

And, by the way, I'm not trying to put all the blame on Chosen. He has come a difficult way. He made himself and it's really cool. In AvA 5, he is in fact only at the beginning of his path of becoming the person he would like to be. So it's not surprising that things didn't go so smoothly. I believe that eventually Chosen will be able to accept his mistakes and take responsibility for them. Then his life will really begin to change for the better

#alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava dark lord #ava the chosen one #чорды #вот это я полотно накатала мда тэш #опять сто часов думать об этих двоих ну емае #ава5 делает моему мозгу такой приятный брбрбр вы бы знали

[evangelina-loz]

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

I'm just shaking at how dark Zelda REALLY is. And I'm not just talking about dungeons and Easter eggs in character dialogues. No, everyone is talking about it non-stop anyway. Of course, the Shadow Temple , the musical theme of the Fire Temple from the Ocarina of Time, the great flood from the WW, and the plot of all games in general deserve honorable mention. But I want to delve into the superficial ent of Zelda's game series.

So, let's start discussing what everyone already knows and understands, but at the same time my desire to talk about how beautiful and deep these games are overcomes common sense.

Let's start with the banal. Link and Zelda are kids/teens. All of them. Some of them started their adventure at 10, some at 17. I know that according to the canon in Hyrule, 17 years is already the age of adulthood. But it doesn’t really change a thing.And now I want you to remember about what kind of emotional stability we had in, not at 10 years old(*nervous laugh*), but at least at 17.It's just crazy. Because this is exactly the period of time when a person learns about themselves, the world in which they live,their being. And, of course,this process is accompanied by heavy introspection, thinking about *many* things. And without outside help, a person(kid)is unlikely to be able to draw the right conclusions about life on their own. But that's the catch. Outside help.

Link and Zelda don't have much of it.

I don't remember people actively mentioning the fact that the main characters are actually orphans.(Like,yeah,everyone knows it,so why should we talk about it,huh?). Maybe they became so over time, but that's not the point now. No one, and I mean NONE of the main characters in the games have people they could actually trust. (And I'll bring up the topic of trust later). On the one hand, we have a young hero who learns courage on his own as he progresses along his path, or is looking only for an example to imitate from his circle of communication, a figure that Link can only look up to (Rusl or the Hero Shade to the Hero of Twilight). On the other hand, we have a princess whose life, in fact, is a test from the very beginning, and who has to helplessly watch the death of her parents, her kingdom, and who is CONSTANTLY under pressure from even the people closest to her.

I am 100% sure that each of us would have closed at home for at least a month after such events and not gone anywhere. But Zelda and Link can't do that. Not only can they not complain to someone about their pain and fear, about the severity of their lives, but they will also be condemned for it.

I want you to remember Impa’s words from the SS

“𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘴

𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮

𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘋𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘰𝘺?

𝘋𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘡𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺.”

These words were spoken in order to encourage Link to become stronger, faster, better. But are they so right? Of course not.

All we see in this scene is humiliation. Humiliation of the main character. Link just walked through an entire temple full of dangers, killed countless dark creatures and defeated a thing that no one would ever be able to defeat alone.And yet he's nobody. He's a critter who doesn't deserve to be chosen by the gods. And this was uttered by Impa, the same chosen warrior ,who protects Zelda besides Link.

I gave the example of an Impa from the SS for only one simple reason. This dialogue makes one thing very clear to us.

Link is just a living weapon in the eyes of other people.

Just think about it. You were born just to fight. Your fate is predetermined from the very beginning. Let the power of the goddess be passed down from generation to generation in the royal family, and even a hundred years may pass before the appearance of a worldwide threat, but the Hero's soul is reborn in a new body only when the world needs his help. What kind of a thing is born just for the battlefield? When all you do in life is beat eternal enemies, and after all the horrors you win, it does not bring you the desired satisfaction, but only leaves a residue on your soul for life in the form of indelible trauma?

But you are still a human being, with your needs and desire to share your experiences with others about what is happening to you. But you can't. Because this is a war. Because you’re not the only one who suffers on the war, but others, weaker and helpless,who also need support.

In many games in the series, the main character is hunted by supporters of Ganon (Yiga or the cult of Ganon), who pretend to be ordinary people. Can you even imagine how paranoid Link might be about this? When he can't even turn with fear or suspicion(like oh my god).

In connection with all this, Zelda and Link ,to some extent, become just caricatures, characters on which history is built and legends are composed. These characters are INCREDIBLY strong and incredibly sad at their core. Because in the end, no matter what they do in life, no matter how they part with it, Link and Zelda always remain only legends.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙.

Their life is not a blessing. Their life is a 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲

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#LEAVE THE FUCKING CHILDREN ALONE #GODS I LOVE THESE GAMES #legend of zelda #zelda lore #zelda theory #skyward sword #hero of twilight

[thegeekcloud]

⚠️ BSD MANGA SPOILERS ⚠️

This is some theories I've gathered from tiktok and some i made myself and whether I agree with them or not.

Number 1: everything was part of sigma viewing fyodor's plan - although comforting i don't think thia theory is fairly stable. First of all, there are a lot of things happening in a lot of different places that are shown among the same pages and can't be part of fyodor's plan (particularly anya and bram). Furthermore, Sigma's ability is to exchange information and what he asked was fyodor's secrets. Though this could apply to his plan, the amount of secrets fyodor holds was so large that it overwhelmed sigma (as shown) and even if we got fragments of them in those pages they wouldn't be our characters but rather some more groundbreaking to sigma information . Now, is Sigma alive? Usually fyodor kills with a particular style, meaning that there is ALWAYS some form of blood splatter.

As you can see, there is none. Fyodor could had killed sigma but didn't. He seems to be just overwhelmed the way atsushi was.

Which brings me to

Number 2: Fyodor has a double personality ability. - although I doubt that is his whole ability, i believe it is a side effect from it. Fyodor's true ability remains a mystery to all but sigma. Fyodor told sigma about his other persona and then proceeded to say he lied about it. So the information sigma uncovered by touching him would not surprise him that much if that was all to it. However, the fact that I believe fyodor left sigma alive, also suggests that there is a part of fyodor who made the decision to show mercy. Ergo, the second, scared persona we saw in the last issue.

And now.

For the elephant in the room

Number 3: Dazai is still alive. - i honest to God want to believe that. As a writer myself I understand the decision of killing a character such as dazai. He is in the role of the "mentor", someone who accompanied the mc since the beginning and became a role model/father figure to them and ultimately dies to urge the hero forward. There is sense in killing the mentor. However, this does not seem an opportune moment for it. Other reasons for killing dazai would be to push tragedy into the story, chuuya waking up after the world is saved and realising that he was the one to kill dazai, or simply demonstrating the unfairness of life (basically how game of thrones shocked). Both these options seem reasonable for this case anf Asagiri might have chosen to walk down one of these paths. However, since atsushi is also incapacitated, if asagiri chose the former he would place the entire burden of saving the world to anya. Though jt would make a statement to have a little girl do what all these anility users can't, it would lowkey render the rest of the story meaningless as anya is not as explored as a character as others are. Not in the least. As for the second one.....i'm worried about that one cause asagiri is a f*cling masochist sometimes.

Now, how could dazai still be alive?

First clue that we all agree upon:

Though people have stayed conscious after being shot in the head, we are talking about a

Close up forehead shot

The gun was touching his fucking SKIN

There is absolutely NO WAY for dazai to have survived that shot and take another and also have life to chat.

No

So

That shot didn't fire a bullet. Even if a gun doesn't fire a bullet it can still ignite the powder and burn the skin, especially if it's touching it like in here. Someone on tiktok noticed this:

Could it be a design of the jacket? Sure. But it could also be the bullet that never got fired. In the end there are three fracture point on the wall tiles:

The first one happens when dazai is shot on his right shoulder

We see a characteristic blood splatter. Thing is, only two out of three holes have that trail.

Since he was definetely shot in his left shoulder as well we have to assume that hole is from there. So what is the third one at the bottom?

Did chuuya stop the bullet at the gun's barrel, brought it behind him and shot it at the lower wall along with his third gunshot ?

Guess we'll see. All i want is for my baby to stay alive. We should always keep in mind that both dazai and fyodor as also poisoned. My guess is that vampirism will be released in the next episode for at least one of the characters, so that is what anya's contribution.

He can definitely stretch it but he already pulled that chard with fukuchi escaping twice. It's gonna get boring and annoying at some point.

Question for then:

Will akutagawa return as a corpse afyer he is released? Or will he be healed?

#soukoku #skk #bsd skk #chuuya nakahara #bsd fukuchi #bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd akutagawa #bsd sigma #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #asagiri kafka #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor