#-> you are not free from your grief but in healing you learn that it's okay; you cherish your grief; it was there with you and for you

[evilkitten3]

ok so like i know the reason is just. sexism but one thing that really irks me about how the post-timeskip naruto manga handled which characters became medic nin bc it makes absolutely no sense to me

sakura's decision to train under tsunade makes sense, and i love that she got a super strength power up, so no notes there, but the other teams.... yeesh

so first off, team ten. we're told that ino decided to follow sakura into mednin land to keep being rivals with her... despite that at no point factoring into their rivalry at all beforehand. ino never showed any interest in that, nor was the yamanaka clan ever mentioned to have anything to do with healing as far as i can remember. it's like going to art school to stay with your bestie when your goal is to become a dentist. why are you there. find other ways to spend time together. it also kinda goes against her family's whole thing as. the guys who do the torture stuff. and it's barely ever relevant anyway

for team ten, i think the team medic should've been shikamaru, and i think this not just bc i think it makes more sense skill-wise (something about the way the nara clan's various shadow jutsu work just screams "you need good chakra control for this" to me), but also bc i think it would make asuma's death a thousand times more painful. bc shikamaru is a slacker. he's not learning medical ninjutsu bc he wants to, he's learning it bc someone on the team has to in order to stick together. they're all chuunin now; one of them has to be a medic. them's the rules. but he doesn't really care that much, even when he is trying to learn, and he's so used to being smart enough to not have to pay attention in lessons anyway that he's not prepared for classes that require his full focus. and then asuma dies and shikamaru is doomed to spend the rest of his fucking life wondering if he could've saved him by paying just a little more attention to those medical ninjutsu lessons (he could not have (but he'll never know for sure))

team eight makes some sense, since giving the girl who struggles with fighting the healing job isn't exactly out of nowhere, but i do feel it was the lazy choice. kiba already had a sister involved in the medical business, even if she deals more with animals, so he could've started learning from her and found that he liked it. plus kiba's goal is to be hokage, and the current hokage is a mednin, so it's not like it wouldn't support his goal. or shino could do it; would add another layer to his character. hinata works fine but. it's just not a very interesting development imo

but what really gets me is team gai. good freaking grief. out of every single team, team gai was the one with the most obvious choice. bc there was only one choice. lee can't do any kind of ninjutsu, and tenten's only real backstory is that her chakra control isn't good enough for her to be a medic nin. so it had to be neji. canon establishes that every team has to have a medic; this is a policy tsunade got passed even before she became hokage, so no way in hell is she going back on it now.

moreover, neji becoming a medical ninja - especially if hiashi encouraged it - would show some development for the hyuuga clan maybe starting to suck a bit less. bc as a medic, neji would be bound by oath to stay alive for as long as possible. imagine a world in which hizashi came back and hiashi was able to tell his brother that not only was their family starting to change, but his son had chosen a path that would prevent him from ever following in his father's footsteps. it would be the first step (of many) to show that the hyuuga clan was freeing itself from its own bullshit.

also it would've made sakura catching the zetsu pretending to be neji a thousand times funnier. like that's her coworker. they've shared shifts at the hospital together. she's seen neji drink vodka straight from a bottle and then crash on her couch after they got out of a twelve-hour surgery on the fucking dumbass chuunin who managed to step on his own boobytrap. she knows him.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #medical ninjutsu #iryou ninjutsu #haruno sakura #senju tsunade #yamanaka ino #nara shikamaru #hyuuga hinata #inuzuka kiba #hyuuga neji #white zetsu #hyuuga clan #neji should've been a mednin not hinata i will die on that hill

[kissitbttr]

exhale

summary: miguel’s trauma doesn’t stop you from loving him

a/n: fluff and bit of angsty? enjoy!

-

the first time you met miguel, you learned that he’s indeed a complicated man. haunted by a trauma that he can’t seem to let go nor move past from and you were okay with that.

you learn to live with his anger and grief that he has to carry everyday. he warned you beforehand that he is a complex being, how you won’t be able to take the amount of ‘burden’ he has weighing on his shoulders because it won’t be fair to you.

but your stubborn self refuses to go. your arms crossed, face forming an annoyed expression as he gave you a long speech about how he doesn’t deserve you. and he hates the fact you had an answer to everything. why were you so keen to loving him despite the flaws he has.

through that, you told him that you were willing to wait until he’s healed. no matter how long it takes.

from that moment, his soul burns for you. his love grows each day because you were indeed patient. luck had been in his favor ever since.

even that one night, where you watched him sit on his chair. watching clips of him and his late daughter ‘gabriella’ being replayed over and over. his expression soured each seconds with tears forming from the corner of his eyes.

who could blame him? grief is one hell of a feeling.

as you stand by the doorway, already in your nightgown getting ready for bed, you softly knock on the door.

“my love, are you coming to bed?”

hearing your soft voice speaks, miguel regains his composure. head craning towards you and you watch how his frown forms into a small smile,

you look like angel. how is it even possible?

“in a second, mi amor. just need to revise a few technical problems that keep happening back at the HQ, i’m sending the reports to Lyla right now” he confirms, eyes looking directly to you.

with a nod, you stride yourself closer to him. taking one good look of his state. and he looks exhausted.

“how are you, baby?” you sound concerned, kneeling down in front of him as you observe the details of his gorgeous features. “you look tired. what is it?”

as your knuckle reach out to thread lightly against his cheekbone, he sighs in contentment. eyes closing momentarily and feel your soft touch.

“nothing” he lies with a smile, grasping your wrist before giving it a kiss,

one thing you hate. you don’t like being lied to. especially by him.

“don’t lie to me, miggy” your tone sounds stern yet still soft. “what is it?”

he contemplates for a while, only finding himself get lost in your beautiful eyes. heart soaring at the sound of your concerns, which makes him feel like the only person he belongs to is you. and he loves the fact that his heart only beats for him and yours for his.

but, there are times where he wonders is it worth it? to drag you into his mess and makes you wait for him to finally break free from the grief that has kept him cages for a long period of time.

is he a good person to you? are you actually meant for him? he doesn’t want to let you go. you’ve become a part of his life and he sees a future with you,

“how could you always tell, cariño?” he breathes a small chuckle. he tends to feel amazed at how well you could read his mind

“you’re my person, miguel… of course i could always tell” you give him a smile, fingers softly running through his hair, earning a sigh from his mouth.

you watch how his eyes move down, gaze empty as he lightly shakes his head. a sob breaks from him and the way he hides himself from you makes your heart torn. because you know what has been occupying his mind,

‘dear god please let me heal him’ you think to yourself

“i just—I miss her— very much” his voice begins to crack, chest heaving as the tears now start to freely roll down his cheeks. “and fuck—lo siento mi amor—this is not…It’s been done too many times now and i—“

“hey no, stop” you hate how he has to say sorry for something he can’t control of. you move your body closer to him, palming his cheek. “you don’t have to apologize. never, miguel. do you hear me?”

“but it isn’t fair to you” he speaks, jumping his eyes back to yours. “it isn’t fair because—“

“what, because we’re married?” your eyebrows raised, seeing him nod with confirmation. “no. that is nonsense. you don’t have to put up this Mr.Tough guy with me. you get that? you can be vulnerable around me. I’m allowing you to be vulnerable around me.”

and it is true. you don’t find him crying is a sign of weakness nor is being tough is some sort of act like manliness. you want him to be comfortable around you because you love him.

“we made a vow to each other, remember?” your hands are cupping his face now, thumb grazing under his eyes. “ ‘through good shit and bad shit—

“ ‘i’ll pick you up when it gets too heavy’ “ he finishes the sentence before you do, remembering the vow you both took the night at your wedding.

his lips pulls into a smile. he remembers how the crowd erupted in laughter at your both silly antics, and how miguel had his hands around your waist and dipped you for a kiss before the revenant could even finish the ‘you may kiss the bride’ speech,

he couldn’t wait to make you his, that’s why he had to do it.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you find the tears starting to build in the corner of your eyes as well. “that’s right baby.”

both of you gaze into each other’s eyes. millions thoughts of love comes into your minds and hearts, it feels like an eternity watching each other like this but none of you care.

it’s home.

“and i am telling you once again… that you get to exhale now. you get to breathe with me, and i will be there by your side and allow you to express you feelings and be whatever you want to be because you are my husband and i love you.”

he adores how you speak to him. a true poet that you are who manage to give him warmth and closure. things that he has been longing for and he had no idea he would be this lucky.

“i love you most, mi alma” he mirrors your expression before leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips,

lust, happiness, adoration… he’s pouring it all into that kiss.

for the longest time miguel had prayed for an angel, instead he received something better.

he received you.

and nothing could ever compare to that feeling.

-

a/n: fun fact that vow? it was one that my parents took at their wedding night hehe, I’ve consulted with my mom about that. anyways hope u guys love that😚🫶🏻

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara imagine

[celestialtarot11]

Common Cards for Healing in Tarot 🌴🌺

Hi friends! Today we’re looking at different cards you can receive in tarot when it comes to healing + what they mean. As the pisces season wraps up into Aries, I thought this would be suitable!🌹 please like, comment, and reblog to your hearts content! 💗

8 of cups 💨- When tarot drops this absolute banger it’s an indication of leaving or walking away from something we once idolized, or put on a pedestal. It involves discipline, seeing the truth, and grief is associated with this card. Mourning the current circumstances but knowing a better future awaits. It hurts since it’s something we once cared about. Known as the phrase, “grief is love in a heavy coat.”

Judgement 💫- The card of truth despite the ego. A card of tumultuous shifts and changes all leading the reader towards themselves. Something unavoidable, and undeniable. Whatever the reader has been running from will eventually catch up to them. It’s time to shine the light onto what has been hidden. Associated with third eye openings and upgrades. Usually the perception of self and the circumstance shifts heavily.

3 of swords reversed 👻- Releasing the ex, but not always is it related to a person. Releasing baggage in a situation or circumstance, finding inner truth and salvation, resting. Expressing emotional pain with unconditional acceptance and clarity. Journaling frees the mind. Releasing mental control of a situation, because if its out of our hands it deserves to be out of our minds.

The Hermit 🌟- Going on an inner journey to heal and recover. Associated with heavy thinking into the past, being analytical of one self, digging deeper to find out an emotional truth. Being reserved to protect one’s energy and self. Social media breaks and disconnect. Coming out with awareness and understanding that one did not have before.

5 of pentacles reversed 💅🏻- Finding safety and security, repairing situations or finding refuge. Support and protection is offered, and the person feels comforted. Release of heavy baggage and grief. The grief is easier to accept and put down now.

2 of cups 🍵- Therapy and opening up about the past in ways the person may not have done before. Confiding in someone who they are learning to trust. Trying to find themselves in therapy, having a soundboard. If not therapy, meeting like minded people who sees the reader and understands them deeply. Feels safe, trusting, and free.

Queen of cups ☕️- Knowing your emotional truth, having better boundaries this time, and leveling up. Emotional abundance, security and feels at peace with what they created internally.

4 of swords ✨- Mental rest, healing and peace. Meditation to find ease. Trusting the path. Listening to intuition. Taking breaks to reconnect with self. Journaling and brain dumping. Breathing out and feeling calm.

6 of swords 🌹- Emotional abundance, moving on from the past. Moving towards a better future. Releasing stuck or stagnant energy. Transitioning from something painful to the light. Seeing the way out.

The Sun ☀️- Happiness, joy, clarity. Comfort and peace. Feeling carefree and safe to be oneself. Lots of laughter and meaningful moments. Truly connect to oneself.

10 of swords 🗡️- Complete stop, ending of a cycle or circumstance. Usually a lot of guilt or regret is followed by this card, and exhaustion. Mourning over how something went or the choices that were made. Mental unease, overthinking and overwhelming thoughts.

The World 🌴- At one with the universe. Connected to mass consciousness. Moves with awareness and presence, and feels fulfilled inside and out. The ending and beginning of a chapter. New experiences await.

The Tower 🌟- The end of something shaky. Shaky relationship, friendship, circumstance. The falling down to rebuild stronger and better. Now, better choices can be made. There’s room for awareness and improvement.

Death ⌛️- The end of a painful cycle and into the new. Doubts are still present and anxieties. Slowly, the reader will find themselves able to understand those fears and work through them. This card is felt very strongly in a spiritual sense. The endings ripple internally, as it’s not just the death of a circumstance but the ego.

The Star 💨- After the Death comes The Star. Reborn, rebirth, transformation. The hope after all was lost, or what one thought was the case. Reinventing oneself, new patterns, new beliefs, planning manifestations. Planting seeds of success.

Thats all I have for you friends! Enjoy and feel free to like comment and reblog 🌟❤️ Its always appreciated! Your support means a lot to me.

Paid Readings 🍵💫

#astrology community #devi post #astrology #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #tarot community #tarotdaily #tarot readings #tarot readers #tarot witch #daily tarot #tarot cards #divine feminine #tarotblr #exchange readings tarot #free tarot #pick a pile #pick a card romance #pick a picture #pick a card

[merakiui]

thinking fluffy thoughts about scaramouche.

When Nahida approaches you with a puppet, who drags his feet alongside her and looks like he’d rather shrivel than be here in this moment, she introduces him with an arsenal of aliases: a false god, the Balladeer, formerly Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, Kunikuzushi (a name he reacts to with a poorly concealed grimace). You’re delighted to meet him, offering him a friendly smile and a kind, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Scaramouche does not share your enthusiasm and only scoffs under his breath while Nahida happily informs him that you will act as guidance in his recovery. It’s up to you to help Scaramouche work through his emotions, sifting through past experiences and slivers of himself he’s buried so that he can heal emotionally. He’s in a poor physical state, bandaged all over in a way that’s reminiscent of mummification. 

Nahida tells Scaramouche that he’s in good hands, and to that he scoffs again. How good could a pair of human hands possibly be? But he’s promised her that he’ll try to improve. This is part of his punishment, as much as he hates to think of it as such. Nahida has suggested he call it ‘taking a break from unhealthy coping mechanisms’ or, in simpler terms, a ‘vacation.’ Scaramouche rolls his eyes at such foolishness, but he follows you as you lead him to a clearing in the forest, a place surrounded with nature so vibrantly lush it practically breathes alongside him. He’d complain, but he finds that this view is much more freeing than a dreary hospital room. 

An empty table with two chairs awaits the both of you, and you gesture for him to sit. Scaramouche lowers into the seat with a frown. He’s not sure what you’re meant to do—what guidance you’re meant to impart—or if this meeting is even going to help him at all, but he remains because he has to. Because he promised he’d do better. He was a fool to make another promise, but this time it will be he who keeps it. It’s he who controls whether or not he breaks it. 

“How do you feel?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his.

Scaramouche can practically feel the way you dissect him, picking apart his body language with a keen pair of observer’s eyes, but, strangely enough, your stare isn’t unnerving. It softens when it analyzes him from where you sit, body angled directly at him. You’re listening, truly listening, and he’s never found himself in a civil conversation where his well-being is the subject. It’s...not a terrible thing, he realizes. 

Still, his lips curl into a nasty sneer when he replies, “Like death.”

“I assure you death feels much worse.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me there’s a worse feeling than this.” He gestures to nothing in particular, huffing loudly. 

“Then, tell me, what does death feel like to you?”

He hesitates. What does death feel like? Is it anything like the panicked desperation that clawed his throat to ribbons when he watched Nahida take his heart? Was it the grief that overcame him in his past when each of his relationships met poor ends? Was it the emptiness he felt soon after the Gnosis was taken, where he fell from the husk of a robot, alone once again? Was it the world of pain and sorrow he awoke to in the aftermath, where Nahida had sat at his bedside and welcomed him into the world? Not as the false god, but as someone else. A clean slate. A fresh page in a book with a stiff, unbroken spine. Morning dew on tiny sprouts—whatever that’s supposed to mean; he’s learned that Nahida has an affinity for unique metaphors. 

Scaramouche has yet to realize he’s been sharing all of these thoughts, letting everything fall in a torrent of anguished questions. He’s confused and hurt. He’s lonely and sad, but he’s not sure what the direct cause for all of this sadness is. He’s frustrated and alone. He’s ashamed. He’s...many things. He feels like he should hollow himself with a spoon so that he can stop feeling these horrid emotions, and as soon as he feels an oncoming onslaught of tears paired with a wavering voice he clamps his mouth shut and forces himself to look away. 

You’re nodding at him and he has no clue what that’s meant to symbolize. What’s the point of this anyway? Is he supposed to split himself open for your enjoyment? This punishment feels more like death than anything else right now. 

“You can cry,” you suggest and he scowls. “Crying helps. It’s not good to pack your feelings away. I think—and correct me if I’m wrong—you’ve put everything in coffins, sealed them tight, and allowed them to remain buried for years. And it worked for a while because they weren’t so stuffed. But now that you’ve nailed them shut over and over after filling them to the brim, things are bound to start overflowing. That’s what happened when you attempted to become a god, right? Some things broke free and you ran out of nails, and when a few nails came loose so did each panel holding those coffins together. And it became impossible to shove everything back down because it overwhelmed you and you didn’t know how to handle that.”

Scaramouche stares at you. He has half a mind to keep his jaw tightened, lest it slacken and reveal his astonishment. How did you get all of that from his rant? What sort of foul magic is this? Are you a Vision wielder? He can’t see one on your person. If you can’t manipulate an element, then how did you peer inside his head? Are you secretly a god? His guard raises at once, walls building faster than he can produce a retort. 

“That’s not true,” he lies. “You’re wrong.”

You consider your next words with great care. He can tell because you hum lowly, a soothing sound that lessens the tension in his shoulders, and you retreat into your head momentarily. Scaramouche should get up and leave. He shouldn’t sit before a mere mortal and listen to such ghastly accusations! But he remains because he doesn’t want to be alone. Because he’s not sure he could live another moment in solitude with his thoughts. Because, despite everything that happened, he craves a genuine connection. 

“Before we move forward, what would you like me to call you? You have many names, but I’m certain some of them carry more pain than others.” 

Scaramouche frowns. You’re right. Again.

“You may call me...” He pauses, reflects briefly on each title he’s ever owned, and eventually says, “The Balladeer.”

A pleasant smile crawls onto your face. Scaramouche doesn’t trust it. Not one bit. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Balladeer. I look forward to working with you.”

He can’t say the same. 

- - -

If Scaramouche thought he’d suffered enough misery throughout his existence, then this is just a cruel joke. Over the course of a few months, he’s spilled his emotional guts (slowly but surely) and you’ve read him like a book each time. He tries to be deceptive—to protect what’s left of his pride and dignity—but you see through that as well, and so now he just grumbles in his chair, his arms folded tightly around himself in his version of a self-assuring embrace. Nahida lied; this is far from a vacation. This is torture.

But you’re patient, and you don’t ridicule him when he falters and tears gather in his eyes. You validate his feelings. You tell him that it’s okay to react in these ways. His actions back then may not have been morally correct, but that was all he knew. It was all he thought to do because that was what guaranteed survival. 

Scaramouche learns more about himself during these sessions than he ever thought he would. At some point, he stops viewing it with contempt and begins to look forward to the weekly meetings. He likes talking to you. Of course you should also feel honored to talk to him! He’s only speaking to you because he must. Because of his promise to Nahida. That’s all this is, so don’t get it twisted!

But that’s a poor lie. He likes you, and when Scaramouche likes something he treasures it.

When asked how he copes, Scaramouche could only offer a halfhearted shrug. How does one cope with so many emotions—with so much trauma? How is coping even possible? Is someone like him able to cope?

“Have you tried writing?”

“I know how to write,” he had snapped, furrowing his brow. You’ve gotten rather bold in the time that he’s known you.

“Writing creatively,” you corrected with that calm smile he’s begun to see in his dreams. “Poetry. Fiction. Even writing words on paper and destroying it is a creative outlet.”

“What good will that do?”

“A world of good if you allow it to do so. Think of it like...the sun. Everything requires sunlight. It helps us stay warm. It helps plants grow. All of this life around you was fostered under countless days and nights of moonlight and sunlight. There were rainstorms in between all of that, but even so these plants are far from complete. They’re still growing. Some are even healing.” You’d gestured in the distance, towards a Withering Zone that had recently recovered thanks to diligent forest rangers, and smiled at him. “You are that forest and writing could be your sun.”

“My sun...” He gazed skywards and pinched that ball of blinding light between his thumb and forefinger. “My sun...”

“You can write about anything. Your troubles. Good things that happened in a single day. Your favorite hobbies. Sights you see on your walks. It might feel like a chore if you force yourself, but writing can be very therapeutic if you let it.”

“What if I’ve already found my sun?”

You had blinked at him, partially surprised, before nodding encouragingly. “That’s good. Let that sun, whatever it may be, brighten your life. Let it heal you. But don’t rely too heavily on it. You have to put in effort, too.”

“Do you think my sun would think of me as a sun?” As soon as he had phrased it, he’d felt childish. Small. Insignificant. Like that discarded puppet who was cast aside for being too weak. Like Kunikuzushi.

The look in your eyes betrayed your thoughts. So his sun is not inanimate. “I’m certain your sun considers you the sky who cradles them.”

The sky... How laughable.

And yet so very meaningful.

Scaramouche sketched a cumulus-spotted sky with a bright, beautiful sun. He wrote a haiku on the back of the parchment. You can see the ink stains on his hands when he brings it to you outside of your usual meeting time. 

“Read this,” he tells you, thrusting it at you like it’s something he wishes to discard immediately. “And...” He clears his throat, averting eye contact. “And tell me what you think.”

And so you do as you were told. 

Vibrant break of day

A sweet, little sun rises

Over a rice bowl

“It’s very...you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like it. It reminds me of you, little sun.”

“I’m not the little sun.” He huffs and snatches it from you, turning it over so you can view the accompanying drawing. What you assumed was just a speck of misplaced color is a petite bowl backdropped by an azure sky of pastel water colors. “I’m the rice bowl.”

“Is there a reason you’ve chosen to depict yourself as a rice bowl? And is this bowl empty or filled?”

“Empty...” he says slowly, as if considering the word. “But only because the sun will soon fill it once it rises. It’s as you’ve said. Sunlight grows and heals, and when it fills the bowl it gives it its shine. It gives it life.”

It fills me with life.

For once, you look speechless and that sparks both anxiety and pride in Scaramouche. It’s his turn to impress you with his intellect and yet doing so comes at the cost of scrutiny. He almost fears your response. The very thought of that would have seemed an insult to his past self. No mortal has ever struck fear in him—in Scaramouche! The ex-Fatui Harbinger Scaramouche. But he doesn’t want to lose you. He doesn’t want to ruin what he has, and so he awaits your answer with bated breath. He doesn’t have to wait long, for when you speak next your tone is wonderfully tender.

“Your sun must be very special.”

Scaramouche finds himself nodding in agreement. “Very special indeed,” he mutters and a small, secret smile grows on his lips. You’re so vibrant. You’re the sun to his moon. “My sun is the reason my bowl is repaired.” As if recalling something else, Scaramouche perks up. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Inazuman art of kintsugi?”

“I believe I’ve overheard a few scholars discuss it before. If I’m not mistaken, it’s when something that was once broken is repaired with gold.”

He nods and adds in a soft voice, “My sun is the gold that fills in every crack in my rice bowl.”

“That’s beautiful...”

His head snaps over to you. No one has ever used that adjective to describe his work. He’s only ever produced despair, hatred, malice. He’s only ever hurt others with his hands. He’s never created a miracle, love, hope. He is the catastrophe that swallows the helpless plant. He is calamitous, ruthless, and heartless. 

But he feels like he can finally use his hands—this body—for good.

“Spare me of the flattery if my comparisons are foolish,” he grumbles, cheeks flaring with color. “I’m not an artist.”

“And yet you’ve made art.”

You grin at him, playfully casual in nature, and Scaramouche can feel himself falling even further. He wants to be the sky that protects that smile. The sky that holds the sun up. 

For the first time since his creation, Scaramouche has found a new meaning to his existence—one that is not fueled by the vicious need for power and control.

- - -

Weekly meetings have become monthly now. Scaramouche’s mentality has improved and he seems so much happier. He manages his emotions well, and he indulges in the creative process to comprehend certain feelings. He’s getting better at expressing himself, and when he struggles he discusses it with you and you listen and provide advice as you usually do. He’s grown to trust and value you and the friendship you provide. He writes about his precious sun—a sun you’ve yet to meet. That is something Scaramouche keeps hidden from you and when you try to pry he shuts himself away and grows defensive. 

He’s begun to travel. It started as small trips outside of the city borders and it gradually grew into week-long excursions. He always finds a souvenir for you. He never forgets you. He always, always returns to his home in the city. To his sun. To his heart. Scaramouche huffs if you tease him about his generosity. “Either take it or I’ll gift it to the fish in the river,” he tells you, glaring impatiently. There’s a shelf in your home that’s filled with the trinkets he’s gotten you. Little pieces of his travels. You suspect you’ll need another shelf as the current one is running out of space. 

But you’re more than happy to accept his gifts. It’s sweet that he would think of you even when he’s so far from you. Last month he brought up wanting to travel to Mondstadt once more. You had found the idea simply delightful and had encouraged him to make lots of memories. Scaramouche, his resolve cracking, invited you along for the journey and you’d smiled a sad, distant sort of smile.

“I would love to,” you had admitted, “but I need to stay in Sumeru. I have other clients outside of you and I can’t take a vacation at the moment. But next time I’ll come with you.”

“Is that a promise?” he challenged with a smirk.

“It’s more than a promise, Balladeer.” You slid a bracelet off of your wrist. A dozen suns have been carved into the metal, and when it caught the light it winked at him. You held it out to him. “It’s a vow.”

Scaramouche stared at the bracelet in his palms. This is the first time he’s ever made a vow which, arguably, is far more special than a promise. 

- - -

When Scaramouche visits you, it has been a full year since he first started working with you. Like a bird drawn to its nest, he returns, waiting at your doorstep with stories of his most recent travels on the tip of his tongue. This time, however, there’s something different about him. His attire has changed and there’s a pretty Anemo Vision over where his heart would be if he were human. Your eyes widen at the sight. 

“Look at you!” you exclaim, pulling him into the comforting warmth of your home. It’s humble and cozy; Scaramouche prefers this to any inn he’s ever stayed at. He likes it because it smells pleasantly of delicious cooking and when he lingers in the sitting room he can wrap himself in the scent. “You’ve got a Vision!”

“Of course I do,” he replies, puffing his chest out, a proud smirk settling on his face. You admire it fondly. “I’d get one sooner or later, even if I had to pry it from a god’s hands.”

You glance at him sharply and he rolls his eyes.

“Pardon me. I would politely ask for it,” he teases, and you chuckle. 

“That’s better.” You disappear into the kitchen for a moment and when you return you’re carrying a plate of sweets and a pot of tea with accompanying cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

And he does just that, his fingers tracing the bracelet around his wrist. When you sit across from him, an eager smile adorning your lovely face, he’s overwhelmed with adoration. His sun has always shone brightly, but they’re the brightest when pure happiness scrawls itself on their features. 

"You haven’t forgotten our vow, have you?” he asks while you fill the cups with fragrant, herbal tea. 

“I’d never!”

“Good.” He’s smirking yet again, as boastful as ever. “I’d have to politely remind you if you forgot.” As a cheeky afterthought, he adds, “Little sun.”

You laugh, but the sound sticks in your throat. “L-Little sun?”

Scaramouche hesitates for a moment before reaching for your hand. “Can I...call you that?”

Your nod is too quick, but it eases his nerves. The tension in his posture dissipates and his confidence reignites. 

“But only if you’ll call me something else. Otherwise you won’t be my little sun. You’ll be my very big, tiresome burden.”

“Like what? I’d never want to burden you, so please tell me what you’d prefer.” 

His fingers interlace with yours. You gaze into his indigo hues. “Wanderer.”

No longer The Balladeer. No longer Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers. No longer Kunikuzushi. These names are his coffins—coffins he’s dug up and learned to accept. And going forward he won’t bury anything anymore. From now on, he’ll wander the world and unearth all that it has to offer, and he hopes that his little sun will join him. Until then, the vow will stay with him in the form of a cherished bracelet.

#meraki mumbles #scaramouche x reader #he deserves the world and everything in it <3

[naofaun]

i see people asking what morro's appeal to the fandom is, and after some thought, i think i realised what it is.

it's the tragedy of his entire story, from start to finish. the helplessness of it all, the grief, the longing, the parts of your past that haunt you forever (ghost pun not intended).

you look at morro and you don't see the big scary monster that the writers painted him as. you see a boy, a child, who spent his entire life pursuing one single goal that was just barely out of reach. you see a child who died for that goal suffocated in toxic fumes, who lost his home and family and safety for that goal.

we don't know why he was cursed. but as if he hadn't been through enough agony, as if the world hadn't broken this child enough, he wound up in a realm flooded with evil. his mind couldn't handle the trauma of what happened. as if he wasn't fixated enough, his desire became stronger.

he wanted nothing more than to prove himself.

you can see it in the way he talks and acts. he doesn't care about taking over. he doesn't care about the preeminent's goals. if anything, dying in that cave on that night made him all the more determined to prove himself worthy.

he had so much anger, so much terrible sadness in him that he didn't know what to do with it. he had to blame someone. the only person he could reasonably reflect his agony onto was sensei wu, the only man to ever help him.

he came back to ninjago years and years later. the person who got the green gi was no more than a little boy, who had never been trained like he was. who never spent years and years of his life pursuing this goal, dedicating everything to it. hell, he didn't even want it?

even his defeat was tragic. you can see him panicking, doing everything he can to escape destiny. destiny will always wrap its chains around him once more though, because he was finally dragged down to the depths. once more, he would fail his goal. once more, he would watch everything he dedicated himself to simply fade away before his very eyes.

he could have saved himself. he could have taken wu's hand, dragged himself onto that dragon and started a new life.

but he didn't want to. i love the “morro takes wu’s hand and redeems himself” aus as much as the next person, but he didn't want to. he made the active decision to shove the crystal in wu's hand and let death take him once more.

because in the end, he'd lost so much that living wasn't worth it anymore. his goal was never going to be achievable. he was never going to be truly happy. he never learned how to stop and appreciate life, how to love himself and reach his true sense of self like the rest of the ninja.

he died before he could reach his true potential, guys. that dragon was not his, it was lloyd’s. he died before he even got the chance.

unlike the ninjago villains both before and after him, morro has genuine emotion and life to his story. he's not bad for the sake of being bad. he's not just another enemy for lloyd garmadon to defeat. he's a kid who got in over his head, who wasted away trying to break free of his own fate. and he failed.

if anyone reading this has seen day of the departed, then you know morro came back only long enough to warn sensei wu of what was coming for him. the other villains immediately picked up their weapons and scurried off to cause mayhem for the sake of it, but morro was different. he changed. he let go of his grief and accepted his role in the world.

he helped the ninja despite his prior hatred for them (although i truly believe it was jealousy fueled by insecurity and grief, not hatred). sure, he taunted wu a little at first, but you could tell that it was nothing more than a little fun. he was a boy again, he was okay again. there was no reason for him to hurt anyone. he's moved on.

no one knows what happened to him in the departed realm, or why he healed and the other villains didn't. i don't think i want to know, though. it doesn't matter. all that matters is the fact that he's better now.

so, yes. unlike the other ninjago villains, morro’s story is so painfully and breathtakingly human. he has emotion and development that no other antagonist like him got to have. or at least, it certainly didn't feel as raw as his did.

#i am so sorry omg 😭 idk what got into me #{ ♡ } nao : ninjago . . . #ninjago #lego ninjago #morro #morro ninjago #morro lego ninjago #sensei wu #wu #morro wu #ninjago season 5 #ninjago possession #lloyd garmadon #ninjago morro #lego ninjago morro #long post #tw long post #does this count as an essay... probably /j

[justpoliteconversations]

Breakdown [Isekai!Reader + (Legend x Marin)] (Part 3)

Everything has a price, and you're about to be reminded of that.

The indulgence is real.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Nothing in life is free. Money, time, sweat, blood, tears, everything costs something. Equivalent exchange, as it were, though the rates of such things are not for mortals to decide.

Sitting across from Time, propped upright only by the assistance of multiple pillows at your back and neck, you were learning the cost of bringing a dream to life.

Fat. Skin. Flesh.

Looking down at the hands folded on your lap, it didn't seem real. They didn't look like your hands. Just days ago, you were hale and healthy. Fit even, after having spent months traveling with an enforced all natural diet.

But now, stripped of fat and flesh, patches of new and raw skin healing in discolored stripes, the weight of the consequences was coming down on your thin (too thin) shoulders. Looking into Time's eye, you could see the veiled grief, the quiet acknowledgement of loss.

You didn't like it. He didn't deserve to shoulder this burden you'd brought into the world. It wasn't his to bear and he damned well wasn't going to take responsibility where it isn't due.

You needed him to let you see Marin. But for that to happen, he needed to feel secure in your soundness of will. He needed to understand that just because you took responsibility for your actions, did not make you a damned martyr. You weren't them. You weren't his boys.

You weren't him. And Marin was not his problem. The ramifications of her existence was yours.

"I'd do it again." You said, keeping eye contact with the man, willing him to hear, to see, the conviction in every part of you. "This is not your burden, Time. I made a choice, fully understanding that I did not know the cost. And I stand by it."

You wanted to grab his shoulders. To shake the sorrows of loss and heroism from his silent gaze. To take that great weight from his shoulders. A weight he seemed so willing to grow with each lash of the heart, like the god-damned self-sacrificing idiot he was made to be.

This world should have let him retire when he put that sword back to the stone. He'd already paid his dues. Twice over. Thrice. They all had. These selfless, courageous boys without a thread of self-preservation between the lot of them.

They will take no more burdens upon themselves, if you can help it.

Time held your gaze, seemingly unmoved but for the gradual easing of his shoulders. You pushed your advantage, sensing the weakening of his own resolve. "This was my choice. I made it willingly."

His eye shifted, searching for weakness in your own resolve. You were tempted to straighten your back and feign strength you didn't possess, but decided against it. This was not the time for false bravo.

But still, you refused to give an inch. "I don't regret it."

"You may never walk again." Time said mildly, trying to get a rise from you with his blase tone. To pull forth resentment that did not exist. Marin was not deserving of your wrath for this, and the one's who were were well out of reach.

You'd simply have to accept that. One day.

"That will make traveling difficult. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll do my best to recover quickly." You said back just as mildly.

His brow twitched at the blatant jab, but he kept his cool admirably. "See that you do." He tilted his head, still searching. Prepared to push even more. "The others would be very upset if you had to stay behind."

"But not you?" You countered, redirecting the implications behind his words.

He didn't bite. "Wind misses you."

It was a low blow, and you were sure the unimpressed blink you leveled at the man was evident enough of your judgement. He didn't back down though, instead meeting your stare evenly with his one eye.

You smiled, pushing through it, determined still in the face of his stubbornness. "I'd imagine not as much as Marin." His face was carefully neutral, and you knew you had him cornered.

"No." He said, face falling into it's usual serious frown. Or, more accurately, his newest mask.

You frowned back, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'm within my rights to see the woman I dragged into this world. So, unless she told you otherwise I'd like to see her myself." You told him plainly, knowing his answer. It's been what Sky had told you, what Four had told you. You'd yet to corner Hyrule or Twilight yet, their sixth sense pinpointing your predatory interest before you could ambush them.

Damned survival instincts. You couldn't help but admire them, despite the inconvenience.

"The situation is complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it for me, Time. I can't just abandon her after what I did." You bulldozed through, knowing that this was the man you needed to convince. Not Sky, not Four, not any of them. Just this one.

His face went neutral again, and you wanted to soften, wanted to ease back and let the man just be. You couldn't though, even if it hurt you to pick at his own insecurities.

You didn't want to hurt him, but you'd prefer this old pain to settle upon his heart like a worn jacket then to allow this new ache to wear blisters into his skin. It was your burden. He didn't need another scar across his weary soul.

He closed his eye, leaned back heavily into the chair and sighed deeply. Progress. You were wearing him down, slowly but inevitably. He couldn't keep Marin and you apart forever, no matter how hard he tried. But, for him to concede would be for him to relinquish ownership of responsibility.

You needed him to let go.

Finally, he spoke. "When you pulled her through the portal, she was only half formed. You both were." You had- not known that. No one had had the heart to tell you, it seemed.

Your voice nearly trembled. "Marin-"

"She lives." He grit his teeth subtly, pushing forward with forced evenness. "Hyrule managed to stabilize her, and Sky used a fairy on you. Unfortunately, she could only do so much for such extensive damage."

You nod, glancing down at your rail thin arms laying crossed upon the blanket before looking back to Time's gaze. He had been looking too, eye brimming with compassion and frustration both.

"We initially tried to keep you together, as you both seemed to take comfort from each other's presence." His frown deepened. "However, we quickly realized that was infeasible. Whatever had been happening before you exited the portal progressed further after prolonged contact."

He leaned forward, narrowing his eye and you tightened your grip on the blanket with weakly shaking hands. You'd barely the strength to keep the bunched fabric between your fingers. The weight of his stare nearly made you falter, but you held his gaze.

"She began cannibalizing your body, to continue building her own. We moved her to another room shortly after. She's still unconscious, though stable at the moment."

Your heart dropped, the heavy weight of realization bearing down on you with harsh clarity. "That's why you've been keeping Legend away, and you're keeping Four, Sky and Twilight at my side." Your hands shook harder. Your heart squeezed in your chest like a cold vice. "It's why Hyrule's not allowed to be alone with me."

The dark look that settled on Time's expression said everything you need to know. A quiet admission of choice.

"Ah." You huffed, mirthless. Your heart was shaking. "I've caused you unnecessary conflict." You grit your teeth, and bowed you head. "I am sorry, Link. For the hurt I have caused you and the others."

Tears nearly fell from your eyes as emotion gripped you, but you held them in with steadfast resolve. This was not the time, nor the place. Especially not now.

The goal remains unchanged, but now the stakes are higher than ever. The consequences of failure unfathomable. You could not falter. You could not afford to lose this battle.

"I accept the consequences. I will fix what I have broken. Please, take me to her." You said, determination rising forth like fire in your eyes, your expression, your whole being. Overcome with purpose so powerful it boiled hot in your marrow. "Let me see them."

You could see the moment he broke.

He nodded, the weight of years on his shoulders. "Okay."

---

Time carried you through the halls of the house, arms strong and unmovable under your diminished form. Whose house this belonged to you couldn't say, but it felt safe and warm, colored walls and thick carpet ripe with the comforting feeling of home.

A flash of color stole your attention and you managed to catch a glimpse of curling brown and forest green before it disappeared around the corner. The absence of footsteps gave name to the elusive figure, and another piece of your heart crumbled.

Hyrule. Maintaining vigilance over you in the only way he could (that Time would allow). Torn between his need to help, and his loyalty to Legend. Too sweet to push, too pragmatic to yeild. Caught in the tragedy of sacrifice, the curse and blessing both of his blood.

You had so much to atone for. So much hurt to mend.

You turned your head, pressing the side of your face to Time's collarbone. You whispered. "I'll fix this, Link." Your hand fisted weakly into his shirt, trying to imbue the strength of your will into the contact. "Thank you for protecting me."

His arms tightened around you, the movement so miniscule it was barely the tensing of muscles against your thin body. But to you, it was a pact, the promise of protection of the highest degree. A vow made in the shedding of blood.

You realized once more, that you would never leave this world. These men. This bond that had finally looped it's chains around you, anchored itself into your soul.

Your fate was sealed the moment you shed blood for them.

No. From the moment Wind had curled his hands around your fingers to encase a rupee. From the moment Wild had left the bright firelight of their camp to bring you supper. From the moment Wolfie had curled beside you, shielding you from the icy wind as pride kept you from the warmth of shared company.

There truly was no going back. There never had been. Not for you. Not for them.

What a fool you'd been.

What a God-damned prideful fool. To think you wouldn't fall in love with these perfectly imperfect men. These bleeding hearts, these righteous idiots.

You tightened your jaw, closed your eyes and breathed.

'I'm sorry, Legend. I'll be there soon. I'll fix this. No matter what it takes. I promise.'

---

I return to the shadows once more.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #legend x marin #isekai reader #time is a bro and a dad #let time retire

[carlsdarling]

Could you write something where carl has always been super in love with the reader but she only starts paying attention to him after Beth’s death also can you include some smut once they get to Alexandria?

New friends & benefits

After losing your best friend Beth, you and Carl finally get closer and you show him your affection... Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving)

Beth had been your best friend, you literally shared everything; you had been inseparable - especially during your time in prison. Your cells were next to each other, and you stayed up late chatting together. Sometimes you told each other creepy stories, or you played cards, you put make-up on each other and did each other's hair.

Carl kept trying to join you, but you always sent him away. Sometimes you were pretty mean to him, but he got on your nerves. He was a little younger than the two of you, and you didn't know what to do with him. Plus, he was always gawking at you and peeping at you, whatever you were doing.

Beth often made fun of that. "Carl has a crush on you, Y/N. He literally adores you," she giggled. She was probably right about that, but it wasn't something you were proud of.

Then the day came when the prison fell, Hershel died, and you fled to all points of the compass. Not only had Beth and you been lost to each other; you found yourself completely alone in the wilderness, fleeing from a pack of walkers that the Governor had let loose before he died.

For weeks you wandered around, lonely, starving and thirsty; you were not used to being alone. Shortly after the apocalypse started, you had ended up on Hershel's farm, following the death of your parents, and he had taken you in. The farm had been a relatively sheltered place. And now he was dead, and you had no idea where Beth had ended up. Or the others.

Finally, Daryl and Carol found you on the bank of a river, and you fell weeping into Carol's arms. You learned from Daryl that he had been with Beth for a while until she disappeared. Kidnapped. That's what he said, anyway. They were going to free her.

And then the horrible thing happened. Beth was killed, shot to death. You were paralyzed with grief when Carol told you, and you didn't really realize that you had found Rick's group again. You and Maggie shared your sorrow and your loss, you missed Beth and Hershel so terribly, and for a long time you shut yourself off from everyone else.

One evening, when Maggie was already asleep, you were sitting by the campfire, and Carl surprisingly joined you. You looked at him in amazement. It had been perhaps half a year since you had been separated, but you hardly recognized him. He had grown so much, tall and lanky he had become, and he had developed some beard growth. "I'm so sorry about Beth, Y/N," he said sympathetically, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I liked her, too. Even though you two never liked me." He laughed humorlessly.

"That's hardly true, Carl," you replied, "Thank you. It's just... you were so young. How old are you again?"

"Seventeen," he replied, tossing a branch into the fire. "No longer a child," he pointed out, eyeing you. When you didn't respond, he said goodbye and went to sleep.

One year later

A lot had happened in the interim. You had gotten to Alexandria, and Carl and you had become close buddies. You were really starting to like him. Then Carl lost his eye and tried to push you away; he withdrew from everyone, but you wouldn't let him throw away your friendship and persisted in seeking his company, even though he kept saying mean things to force you away. "I've already lost Beth," you said heatedly, picking up the plate and the ham sandwich. Carl had slammed both against the wall and yelled for you to leave, that he didn't want you around. "I'm not going to lose you, too, Carl. No way," you vowed.

"Look at me, Y/N!" he yelled. "I look terrible! I'm not worth it!" The bullet wound hadn't completely healed and his bandage was still a little bloody.

"How can you say such a thing?" you said, affected. "I don't give a damn what you look like. You are, and will always be, my best friend. Period."

Carl sadly fiddled with a pillow. "And... and what if I still want to be more than besties?" he mumbled, barely audible, avoiding eye contact with you. "You know I've always had a little bit of a crush on you."

You held your breath. Several times over the last few months you had imagined that there could be more between you and Carl, you never thought it possible, but you had fallen a tad in love with him, which embarrassed you, especially because you had rejected him for years. So you didn’t admit it to him, and you also thought he had lost interest in you. He seemed to get along well with Enid, too well. Carl‘s accident didn't change your feelings at all, you only cared about him even more. "I'd be happy about that, Carl," you said, gathering all your courage.

He stared at you. Carl possessed such beautiful eyes - or, rather, a beautiful eye. "Are you kidding me? Before the accident you didn't want to be with me, why now? I do not believe you.“

You decided to prove it to him, and just pressed your lips to his. He flinched, taken aback, but then awkwardly returned the kiss. You embraced each other and continued your caresses. You were careful not to hurt Carl or touch the bandage. Carl was all tense from all the stress and suffering, his neck muscles felt rock hard. "Lie down on your back," you whispered in his ear, gently kissing his neck.

"What are you up to?" he wondered, but obeyed.

"Just let me do it. Relax," you commanded, shoving his shirt up a little and starting to kiss his stomach. Carl gasped excitedly. You played with his belly button with your tongue and licked along the line of soft dark hair leading way down, then undid his belt and jeans. Carl was already hard, and whimpering with arousal, he squirmed under you. "Lift your hips," you said, and he did, and you pulled his jeans and boxers down so that his cock was exposed. "Not bad, it's bigger than I thought," you teased, taking him in your hand and kissing the already slightly wet, reddened tip before sliding his shaft into your mouth. You massaged it with your lips and sucked gently on it, and Carl almost lost his mind. He moaned, thrusted vigorously into your mouth and tugged on your hair.

"I've dreamed of this for so long, Y/N," he confessed, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, his eye closed. Tenderly you continued to suck Carl off. After a short while, he became fidgety. "I, I think I, I'm about to cum," he stuttered nervously. „Where? Y/N, I…“ Apparently he was apprehensive about cumming in your mouth.

"It's okay, Carl," you assured him, kissing him on the lips. "Just let go. Let yourself go." Again you took his dick in your mouth and sucked and licked on it, Carl was beyond close, he just sighed and whimpered, then his cum filled your mouth. A load squirted, then a second one and a third. You swallowed it all and waited until Carl was finally done with his load before you let his now softened cock slip out of your mouth, licking him clean and lay down next to him.

Carl snuggled up to you, his pants still pulled down, he was all sweaty and sticky. He glanced at you in love. "I didn't know you felt that way about me, Y/N," he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, I do," you clarified, tugging the blanket over both of you and playing with Carl’s hair.

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes #carl fanfiction #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes smut

[lizzieraindrops]

Destiny is a story about shapes and grief.

I think I may have figured out Destiny. I don't think the primary conflict between the Light and the Darkness is the philosophical issue we thought it was.

I got thinking about it after all this talking, with many others but especially @jazzhandsmcleg, about the way all of The Witch Queen DLC and its 4 seasons have had overarching narratives surrounding trauma and cycles of violence and grief, and the way the Darkness and the Light are characterized by their different approaches to it.

In TWQ, Savathûn is given a true second chance for her species in the Light. But as Ikora points out, she struggles to break free of the learned patterns of the Darkness, continuing the pattern of deception and violence.

Same with Season of the Risen - it’s the Warlords and Dark Ages all over again, but this time it’s the Hive. It forces once again to ask: what does it mean to be given a second chance if this is what you do with it? Temper this with Saladin’s story about the girl from the Dark Ages who he protected, but who became a cruel mortal Warlord in her own right. Crow objects to the mental torture of the Hive Lightbearers and he tries to break from the cycle of interspecies violence, but unintentionally ends up continuing it by killing the Psion and heightening tensions between humans and the Uluran.

Season of the Haunted!!! Literally, the entire thing is about confronting your traumas and greatest fears and the worst parts about yourself and beginning to heal them, making something better from them. Completely changing the game by turning Nightmares that torment into Memories that guide you. Crow with the memory of Uldren, Zavala with that of Safiyah, Caiatl that of Ghaul - and most importantly, resolution focuses on how they, specifically have been held back from healing by their self-incriminating Nightmares. It challenges the cycle of continuing violence on a very personal level. Eris even has patrol dialogue describing the a Nightmare as a thing of pain craving only more pain: "Such is the cycle."

Season of Plunder brings up the very same questions on a much higher organizational level. It gives us Eido and Eramis taking very different jaded vs. new-hope approaches to the legacy of the Whirlwind, asking: can we change? Are we defined by generational trauma forever? Can we continue to grow and change for the better even though it can never be undone? Though Eido is clearly young and naïve, we're clearly given the opportunity and narrative nudge to sympathize with her desire and hope for growth and redemption, both for the Eliksni overall, and for Eramis in particular.

And we're not even done with Season of the Seraph, but it already goes incredibly hard asking the same questions, again from a more personal angle. How far, and through how many generations is trauma transmitted? From the Bray family to Rasputin, to Felwinter to Osiris to Ikora – how do we fix this? How do we fix this? How do you defeat an enemy who IS war itself? What can you do to end an endless cosmic cycle of violence?

Go back and back and back in Destiny's lore even back to D1, and the majority of conflicts seem driven by this cycle of grief and revenge and violence. The entire line of humanity's war with the Hive goes back through Oryx's grief for Crota and the First Crota Fireteam and Eriana-3's grief for her wife Wei Ning. Even the Hive siblings' pact with the Worm Gods, though manipulated by Rhulk, was driven by the pain and grief they endured for themselves and their people, and wanting to escape that cruel pattern. The entire predicament of the Eliksni and their conflict with humans is driven by the trauma and grief and loss of the Whirlwind. Even Caiatl's empire, a conquering force that would be highly regarded by the sword logic, now must reckon with the same kind of loss in the Fall of Torobatl.

How do you escape this cycle and stay free of it?

I think, this year, we are finally seeing the beginnings of an answer.

I can't highly enough recommend the TWQ Collector's Edition lorebook (page scans & transcript) and The Hidden Dossier (page scans & transcript) that immediately follows it. What I've been calling Ikora's theory of "memory and grace" that she develops through the course of these two lore books is a balanced philosophy of memory/Darkness and grace/Light (which honestly deserves an entire post of its own). I think it clearly points toward the final resolution the story of the conflict between the Darkness and the Light.

In light of this, something in the Calus part of the new Lightfall CE lorebook (images, transcript) really jumped out at me.

“The doomed and the damned left the record of their downfall in the OXA. Your star got its name from the oldest myths in that archive. And when your mother told your father that story…the star became your name. A prayer that all will go as it must…and the way it must go is struggle.” “Aiat.” Not a word in Ulurant or any other Cabal tongue. “But Caiatl means something else..” “Yes. ‘It may not always go as it needs to go.’ A good name for a soldier." "A strange name for a daughter," I say. "Your father chose it for your mother's sake. Out of love."

And because the parallel is so overwhelmingly striking, I am once again going to reference philosophy/worldbuilding from the Young Wizards universe, which has great resonance with Destiny lore and which Bungie has been long aware of and has even been referenced in Forsaken-era canon lore.

“all the fair things skewed, all the beauty twisted by the dark Lone Power watching on his steed. If only there were some way he could be otherwise if he wanted to! For here was his name, a long splendid flow of syllables in the Speech, wild and courageous in its own way—and it said that he had not always been so hostile; that he got tired sometimes of being wicked, but his pride and his fear of being ridiculed would never let him stop. Never, forever, said the symbol at the very end of his name, the closed circle that binds spells into an unbreakable cycle and indicates lives bound the same way.” [...] “Nita bent quickly over the Book and, with the pen, in lines of light, drew from that final circle an arrow pointing upward, the way out, the symbol that said change could happen—if, only if—and together they finished the Starsnuffer’s name in the Speech, said the new last syllable, made it real.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “So You Want to Be a Wizard, New Millennium Edition.”

CAIATL’S NAME IS LITERALLY THE UP-AND-OUT SYMBOL.

I know I'm probably only talking to the handful of Destiny players from the (very small) Young Wizards fandom, but what you need to know is that this moment is pivotal and sets up the series-long theme of hope for an eventual exit from the cycle. It's the incredibly small, overwhelmingly improbable possibility of a second chance, a new start for the Lone Power, the source of all strife and suffering, who itself is driven by loss and pain. A concept of extended grace that is inherently tied to the philosophy of the Light.

“Billions of years, it took. All the redemptions there have ever been went toward this; from the greatest to the least. And finally in the fullness of time you came along, and took my role, of your own will, and woke up a race powerful enough to change the whole Universe, and gave them the fire.” She glanced up at the mobiles and smiled. “How could he resist such a bait? He took the gamble: he always does. And losing, he won.” [...] “The Defender reached down and put a hand into the shadow. “And we are going where such matters are transcended… where all his old pains will shift. Not forgotten, but transformed. Life in this universe will never have such a friend. And as for His inventions… look closely at Death, and see what it can become.” The long, prone darkness began to burn, from inside, the way a mountain seems to do with sunset. “Brother,” the Defender said. “Come on. They’re waiting.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “High Wizardry New Millennium Edition.”

This is the devil’s second chance, its homecoming. Grace among the memory. How do we heal this? By fixing it. By making and TAKING that opportunity of grace.

Likewise, Destiny is shaping up into its own universe’s story of this Reconfiguration, the remaking of everything that exists through the act of a second chance, both offered and taken, with full awareness of the irreversibility of harm already caused.

Destiny isn’t the story of the light and the darkness fighting each other. That happens, but that’s not what it’s ABOUT.

It’s “And I know exactly what we are. We’re best frenemies with a history of intense mutual hurt and messy reconciliation, leaving a deep tenderness as well as an almost impenetrable knot of scars. What could be simpler?” (Chalco)

It's “For so long, I believed peace was beyond my reach. No more. I have found it in guiding others down the same path that saved me. But… I might allow myself to want more than peace. What, I am not certain. Is joy the word? Might I find that again?” (Eris)

It's “Second chances… hm. Turns out I've been using mine wrong. I thought being a Guardian was my destiny. That wielding the Light for good was the most I had to offer. But it's clear now. This is what the Traveler chose me for. I was reforged in the Light for a purpose. To remake something dead and gone… into something beautiful. To learn how to forge something new from what we were. Everything Uldren did to the Reef, the Scorn… Fikrul. I have a responsibility — no — a calling to make them whole. And… I can't replace Cayde. But I can cover his old patrols — maybe organize the Hunters a bit, if they'll let me. Clean up some of my mess. I don't know if I can fix everything Uldren left broken… but I can try.” (Crow)

We aren’t defeating the Darkness. That’s never what it’s been about. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and grief with memory and grace. We're transcending the Final Shape, but we're not here to destroy it or become it. We’re harmonizing the Darkness and the Light into a sustainable balance to create something new from the wounded remains.

We're here to heal the broken relationship between the Winnower and the Gardener.

That's all that it is, in the end. They had a falling out, and now they hurt, and they hurt each other, and everything else, forever. Breaking free from that cycle begins and ends with them.

Is that fair? No, it's not.

But Destiny is – unhingedly, brilliantly, paradoxically – a FPS game about how to stop killing each other, growing ever more into a framework of restorative and reparative justice.

The story says, we are all culpable, we have all done awful shit and have endless potential to do more awful shit – AND, most critically, we all have the potential to do better (grace). AND, the act of making the conscious choice to do so and letting that happen is the only way for things to get better (memory).

The Collapse happened and it was horrible, the Red War happened and it was horrible, the Great Disaster happened and it was horrible, Twilight Gap happened and it was horrible...AND?? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO RESPOND? The Whirlwind happened and it was horrible! The Fall of Torobatl happened and it was horrible! Your species' Choice was stolen and you became the most prolifically violent killers in the universe and it was and is horrible! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Are you going to make it more horrible? Or are you going to make it BETTER????

Are you going to fight for the Final Shape, or for the gentle kingdom ringed in spears?

#destiny 2 #destiny the game #young wizards #lightfall #destiny lightfall #the final shape #destiny lore #shapes and grief #memory and grace #the reconfiguration #lizzie taking up space #the winnower and the gardener #the winnower #the gardener #gentle kingdom ringed in spears #yw really was relevant #jazzhandsmcleg #long post #and i mean a lONg Ass Post. #some intense meta here #lore

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Pulling strings and aura reading. 3124 words.

1986

Hedy Lamarr: Golden Age movie star and inventor. George Antheil: avant-garde composer and inventor. Together, at the beginning of World War II, they developed a radio guidance system for the Allied Forces that could employ frequency hopping technology in order to overcome the issue of the Axis Powers’ signal jamming. Decades later, their innovation would become the basis for Wi-Fi and Bluetooth tech.

The Hollywood dinner party Hedy and George were both invited to would mark their meeting in 1940. Hedy hadn’t planned on attending.

“I hear you won’t be the only free thinker there, Hed,” Abby sing-songed from the passenger seat of Hedy’s car. “Maybe you should go. And besides, Janet’s parties are always so fashionable. I’m sure even more so now she’s married that little costumer designer of hers.”

And with that, Abby had pulled yet another set of strings. It was what she excelled at. Mostly, that was a good thing. She was a good witch. However, you hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, especially since she was prone to stealing your clothes. When she cleared her throat, you noticed she was wearing the purple lace top you loved. Not lost on the road trip to Hawkins then.

“While it is in a witch’s nature to romanticise… well, everything... I must redirect your attention to what is clearly the most critical issue…” Abby started. She shot you a look. “Where is your angelic vampire now?”

Gillian looked at Sally. She had assumed you’d left Eddie in Hawkins. Certainly, he couldn’t be within the walls of the coven. A vampire couldn’t cross the hidden forest threshold.

You felt Kelsey move closer to you, standing behind you, closing ranks.

“Somewhere safe,” you told Abby.

“Can’t be more specific than that?”

“Fuck, Abby, does that matter?”

“I just want to know if you’ve made the same mistake twice. Did you bring a fox into the henhouse again?”

“I resent the implication of being a defenseless hen,” Kels complained.

The witches were talking among themselves once more, Abby planting a seed of fear in the coven. Eyes darted around, often flicking to you with accusatory stares. Your stomach was churning and Eddie was pushed as deeply into the corner of your pocket as he could go.

“Doesn’t this boil down to – do the means justify the ends? Because we have never abided by that before,”

“If the ends are the survival of the coven and the safety of the humans, then yes!”

Arguments were breaking out across the hall.

“Why didn’t she tell us about the vampire as soon as she happened across it?”

“Because we are a coven, not a hive mind. We are allowed to explore and learn for ourselves.”

You couldn’t gauge if a consensus was forming. Questions were coming hard and fast.

“Can we trust any of them again?”

“Where is the justice?”

“If it really is good, if… he has a soul… were there others?”

“What else have we been wrong about?”

“Even if it is good, what if it makes more, and they are the monsters we used to know?”

The tension was continuing to build. Those in the coven who were conflict-avoidant began to filter out of the hall. Whatever happened, what conclusion came, they would accept unconditionally. Other witches who had hitherto said nothing, began to share their opinions with those near them.

A voice called from within the crowd. A demand to be brought closer. Guðrún sat in her enchanted rocking chair, letting it glide just above the ground until she came to a stop before you. She was the oldest in the coven, having lived lives upon lives upon lives.

You knew Guðrún would scold Gillian and Sally later. To keep her in the dark about such important matters showed her a deep disrespect. That matter would be settled in private, among friends. You, though, the way she looked at you was as cold as ice.

“You are a healer. A rare and special gift for a witch. It comes as no surprise that you believed you saw life in something undead. When you tell your story, conviction yellow. Beloving pink.”

Guðrún was the only aura reader of the coven. Ancient wisdom gave her additional senses.

“But now. As you stand. Green turning bad. Not yet deception. Something concealed.”

Don’t break eye contact.

Don’t hold your breath.

Don’t roll over and show your soft belly.

“Too many. Too many hues. What is concealed… It is a… void. Not black, but a vacuum.”

Guðrún’s gaze trailed down to where Eddie was in your pocket. She couldn’t see him, but she could see the empty space around him where an aura should be.

Sally had figured it out the night before. The way you sat, careful of the way your jacket draped over body. Other physical cues. It was that, and that she just knew you. You’d never be parted from Eddie again. She kept the secret from her sister.

Gillian worked it out only then, following Guðrún’s line of sight. “You couldn’t unhex him completely? He returned to the bat form?” she asked you, stepping closer, ignoring the coven’s growing sense of anger and terror.

You said nothing.

She narrowed her eyes. “No. You did. But… This is how you got him through the gate… A trick of form?”

Realisation rippled outwards. For a moment, curiosity and anxiety were radiating from the coven in equal measures.

“If it is good, such a well behaved creature, then show us,” Abby called.

“He is not a show dog, Abigail,” you spat at her.

“Obviously not a dog. A bat. You’ve always had a penchant for the poetic. It’s a bit on the nose though,”

“Shut the fuck up, Abby,” Kelsey growled.

A strange sort of anticipatory silence fell across the hall. You knew what they were all waiting for.

…

1986, a few days earlier

“It smells nice,” Eddie commented.

He was sitting on the couch behind you. You’d dragged your coffee table altar closer to it, so you could sit between his legs on the floor and do your work.

“It’s the sage. You always say something when there’s sage.”

Your protection spell for Eddie had been finished, but in the eleventh hour, you had a stroke of inspiration.

The potion was a total risk. It was more guesswork than witchcraft. Almost a Hail Mary. You’d probably be throwing up into the mix out of stress if Eddie wasn’t gently playing with your hair.

It was symbiosis. He liked to have his hands on you. You liked his nails on your scalp. Everyone was kept sedated.

“It’s a good idea, my love,” Eddie told you, again.

“In theory,”

“And in practice. It will work.”

…

1986, a few days later

You knew what they were all waiting for.

“Remember that what you put into the world comes back tenfold,” you warned.

After one last look to Kelsey for support, you reached into your jacket and scooped Eddie up. While keeping your hand touching your chest, you uncurled your fingers to reveal the small bat.

Mostly, the witches were underwhelmed. Some, confused.

“Turn it back,” a voice from somewhere in the crowd said.

“Again. He is not a fucking show dog,” you sneered.

“Then how do we know it’s not dangerous?” Abby asked. “Who says as soon as it’s back in its vampire form, it won’t try to kill us all?”

She’s a good witch, you reminded yourself. A good witch. Part of your coven. But every family has the shit-stirring little sister that could stand to be brought down a peg or two. Alas, it was not the time nor place.

“Me,” you answered.

“And me,” Kelsey added.

“If you come pleading for absolution, the condition of an introduction is not too great an ask,” Guðrún declared. “If it is not a monster, then a meeting should pose no challenge,”

“The challenge doesn’t lie with me. It is with the coven,” you told her.

“You fear violence,”

“Yes. Should I not? Can you tell me all the colours emanating around us are peaceful blues? I know you see red and black and midnight tones. Why shouldn’t I fear this?”

Guðrún studied your face, briefly read the room. Before she could say anything else, and before Abby could move things along with a tug of a string, you let yourself really feel the fear. You wanted to puke.

“I have everything to lose,” you said, voice cracking. Eddie’s tiny little bat hands clung to your shirt, your hands shielding him still. “I am entirely prepared to lose my place here. And, you know what happens to a covenless witch. I have spent weeks agonising over this. All the possible outcomes. Yet here I fucking am. Telling you, all of you, what I did. What I did wrong. Why I did it. Telling you that I was stupid and I feel embarrassed. But that I was in love. That I am in love. That I was hurt in an immeasurable way. But I have found a way from there to here, and that means something. It is worth something.”

Everybody was silent.

It was always going to come to this.

Turning to Kelsey, she pre-empted your request, casting darkness over the windows, then heading out the hall.

“His name is Eddie. Edward. He was twenty when he was turned. It was 1586. He had no choice. He’s almost finished The Lord of the Rings. He helps me forage. He does housework… Eddie has a list of cats throughout history he thinks are cool. His favourite is Unsinkable Sam… He’s… He’s not what you think he is.”

Still, nobody said anything.

Kelsey reappeared at your side, holding out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.  Taking them, you turned your back on the coven, standing close enough to Kels that you formed a small partition. Your teeth were trying to chatter, nervous energy screaming to get out of you.

Please. Please. Please.

You didn’t know who you were praying to.

You said the words, Eddie appeared.

The silence became a living thing. It ate up gasps and giggles. Words and wind.

Eddie dressed quickly, but not too quickly. No vampire speed. No sudden movements. He looked you dead in the eye, your reflection in that deep darkness. Hand in hand, you stepped to reveal him to your coven.

There was not a single face of indifference.

Becoming hyper-aware of everything in your surroundings, you first focussed on Sally and Gillian. Their slumped postures. Deep set frowns. Resignation. No threat.

Abby’s fast and shallow breathing. Blown pupils.

Guðrún was squinting so hard you could barely see her eyes. She could will it all she wanted, there was no aura to read. She had no better insight than you. Than any of the others. It made her feel powerless, but in that was grace. If she had no better vantage point, her vote meant nothing more. She ceded. 

The grief was written all over Sara’s face as she moved silently through the coven. You stepped in front of Eddie, held a hand out to her.

“Bug, wait,” you asked. Sara – Bug – who you used to spend hours drying and pressing flowers with. Preserving colour and beauty. Happy in each other’s company.   

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore,” Sara snapped. “You walked by our side for centuries, but by a single moonlit night you betrayed us?”

“Sara-”

“No. She died in my arms… You were there. You tried to stitch her together. But her skin was too shredded. Too much blood loss. They ripped her apart and now… Now this?”

Sara’s grandmother was older than Guðrún but perished at the hands of Eddie’s colony. You had tried to heal her. Save her. There hadn’t been any hope though.

Sara’s hand moved in her pocket and you became acutely aware of why she had not said anything earlier. She hadn’t been in the room. Sara had disappeared and filled her pockets with the death dust. Most witches had stored theirs away, the need gone. Not Sara. Not ever.

She moved fast, her palms flung open and a deep breath out pushing dust up and at Eddie with supernatural speed and force. It would only take a single flake of it to kill him.

It all happened in an instant. The magic hit the border of the protection spell and Sara was showered in the dust, as if she had been the intended target. Simultaneously, Eddie hissed, an innate and unconscious reaction to an attack. And you grabbed him by the arm and yanked him backward, putting space between him and the coven.

Everyone froze, processing your warning of tenfold and the events that had transpired.

Tears streamed down Sara’s face. “You’re choosing him over us?”

Abby walked to her, wrapped an arm around her waist. “Bug,” she said softly.

“I’m asking to not have to choose,” you tried to explain.

Sara wasn’t listening, not to you, not to Abby, who was whispering something to her. Distracted by this, you did not see Alexis.

Alexis did not come for death. She came for pain. She held a dagger made from carnelian, steel, and crocodile scales. She drove the dagger through the air, but hit the spell border just as the death dust had. The spell was a mirror, it would reverse the magic back to sender.

Alexis’ blade spun from her hands and glided too quickly at her. It aimed for her heart, as she had aimed for Eddie’s. Its trajectory would have seen it plunge through her ribcage’s gaps and into her still-beating heart. If Alexis died, it would all be over.

But Eddie was there.

He moved in a blink and caught Alexis with one arm, holding her safely. His other grabbed the dagger, letting it slice through the side of the hand so he could catch it mid-air. The room held its breath. Alexis’ green eyes were wide and set on Eddie. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t pull herself from Eddie’s embrace.

“I mean you no harm,” he murmured quietly, just to her. “And I like your freckles.”

Eddie let Alexis go; she stumbled a few steps before steadying herself. He moved slowly again, turning to the coven and dropping the dagger, letting it clang against the floorboards.

You rushed to him, throwing your arms around him. “Are you okay?” Looking down, Eddie had already healed from the blade. You held him tightly. He closed his eyes and melted into you.

The witches watched. Some submerged in waves of grief, some choking on anger. Some could smell honeysuckle, a sure sign of true love. Others felt a ripple of change, their skin prickling with goosebumps.

You looked to the coven.

“This is… too much. It’s too much for me. And for each of you… But it’s done…” You shook your head, then shrugged. “I just… I don’t know… We have been guided by so many forces. By what we learn. By fate, and life, and death. By the systems of morality we take from the humans. By each other. And I don’t know what’s really right. So, I’ll make my own meaning now. It’s… yeah, it’s been working. What I’ve done in Hawkins. It is good. There’s good to be done there…”

It was resonating. Ev, Meg, and Hailey. Ash, Mel, and Kelsey. More and more witches, lost in a liminal space of post-purpose. What did it mean to be a witch without a goal? What did it mean to be a woman in 1986?

Eddie watched you. I will diminish, and go into the West and remain Galadriel, the book echoed in his head. You held yourself with the same loveliness as Galadriel. Not always, but now.

“I’m going back. Maybe I’ll stay there. Maybe I’ll find somewhere else that needs help. But I don’t belong here anymore. And, maybe that’s okay. Maybe it will… it will be okay…”

As your thoughts trailed off, you met Abby’s gaze. She nodded once, a promise that you would be left alone. You nodded back, then looked for Guðrún. She had already left, putting faith in the youth of the coven.

Some of the witches began to leave the hall. You had no way of knowing who you had hurt and if you would ever be forgiven, but you were willing to pay the price of that shame to keep Eddie.

Kelsey was the first to come to you. “I’m coming with you,” she announced fearlessly.

“Me too,” echoed Mel.

The others stepped up, nodding.

“You don’t have to do this,” you told them.

“And you don’t get to tell us what to do,” Meg replied.

“You’re right. Maybe you don’t belong here. But maybe you’re not the only one,” Ev said.

A deep exhaustion was taking over. Your energy was draining into the protection spell, the mirrored bubble around Eddie took so much of your magic to keep intact. All you had in you to do was nod. You’d argue with them another day.

“Hi,” from Ash then. She grinned at Eddie.

“Hi,” he replied, flashing her a trademark smile. He took your hand. “I, ah, look forward to meeting you all. But I believe it might be best if I depart. For now,”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Do you wanna go ahead? I know this looks like a truce but it feels more like a stalemate. I’ll be on the road in a few hours... Sic fiat,” and the bat swirled through the air and out the open door. He flew up, up, up, until the wards of the coven were far below him.

Eddie covered miles of Catskills quickly, before finding a nice tree to huddle in, awaiting your arrival.

“You’re leaving already?” Kelsey asked.

“You don’t have to go right away,” Hailey told you.

“I’m causing more sorrow than joy being here. It’s not fair on the others,”

“What happened wasn’t fair to you,” Mel pointed out.

“I know. But… This isn’t black and white… But I’m kind of tired… Meg… Any cinnamon rolls ready? You know, for the road?”

You sat with your sisters, drinking tea and eating baked goods. They told you about their lives, about what the past few months had looked like for them. And while none of it was on the same scale as Henry Creel and revived vampires, you realised you were not alone.

When you imagined the path forward, you were always holding Eddie’s hand. You were the only witch walking though. However, all it took to build a coven was a couple of witches with overlapping notions of love, magic, and morality. Maybe there was room for more.

End Note: Thank you to @jo-harrington for teaching me about the very real Hedy Lamarr. If you don't know about her, she is absolutely worth a Google.

To the newest additions to the coven - @munson-blurbs and @littlesubbyflower. Thank you for being the face of objection.

And, to anyone that loves Catfish and the Bottlemen as much as I do... I had to do it. Hopefully, it wasn't too cringe lmaoooooo.

Grimoire is updated.

REBLOG AND TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELS!!!

Love yas.

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie Munson

[atravesty]

General Message From the Universe

This is a quick one! If you're currently feeling conflicted about a situation, there may be some guidance meant for you below (please heart/share/follow if this resonated with you):

Pick a Rune - 1. Raido or 2. Algiz

Pile 1 - Raido (Travel/Movement), Blank Side

Numbers: 3, 5, 6, 8, 33

Tarot: Ace of Pentacles, Queen of Cups Reversed, 5 of Wands Reversed, Strength

You may be stuck in a conflict with others in which you're waiting for the illusive "right moment" to resolve, which may never come. There may be a codependent dynamic that is causing you to live for other peoples' expectations that conflict with your true desires, out of fear that you don't have what it takes to break free and pursue what you truly want. External influences are contributing to your internal turmoil, and you may be compromising yourself to avoid conflict, but you are being encouraged to leave your comfort zone and address any issues that are preventing you from growing. Take the time to center yourself, meditating or journaling could be beneficial, and assess what changes need to occur in your internal and external world in order to move forward. Listen to your intuition, not the unrealistic expectations of others - what serves others may not serve you. The Universe is supporting you and giving you the green light to pursue this opportunity for a prosperous new beginning. Believe in your inner strength and wisdom to overcome any obstacles/conflicts to manifest your goals; trust that you have the capacity to achieve your true desires. Be calm and tactful, but always assert your boundaries with others that try to steer you into an unwanted direction.

Pile 2 - Algiz (Protection & Defence)

Numbers: 1, 3, 4, 6, 7

Tarot: Ten of Cups, Hanged Man, Hierophant Reversed, 3 of Swords

I feel two different energies for this pile, so please take what resonates with you and leave the rest.

You may be at the crossroads of a long-term relationship, possibly even an engagement or marriage, where you currently have to decide whether you should stay or go. Ongoing external difficulties and/or conflicts with your partner may have given you a new perspective on the dynamic - what was once deeply harmonious and fulfilling for you now feels unbalanced and stagnant. You may have discovered that your partner, or this relationship in general, is no longer aligned with your long-term visions for the future. You are being encouraged to face these difficulties head on and seize this opportunity to take decisive action to clear the way for a better future, despite potentially feeling a lot of grief and heartbreak over having to make this choice. Though it can feel incredibly soul-crushing in the moment, there is a lot of wisdom to learn from your pain, and you are being supported in your journey to reflect and change how you approach future relationships for the better. The Universe has plans for much better things to come into your life after moving on from this period of upheaval and lack.

Alternatively, you may have already left an unfulfilling long-term relationship, after realizing that the dynamic no longer brought you happiness and wouldn't harmoniously align with your visions for the future. You are already in the process of reflection, and you understand the importance of learning from this heartbreak and grief in order to create a more successful future. The Universe is congratulating you for facing these difficulties head-on and is supporting your decision to choose what is best for you. Take this as an affirmation that much better days are ahead after your period of upheaval. You may have left your relationship to pursue a more spiritually aligned path, which may include holistic healing or a different therapeutic art - I feel as though you are becoming, or already are, a master of alchemizing the outcome of negative situations into great wisdom to pass onto the world. You may also be in the process of decluttering your life to have a much more simple, meaningful existence.

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a reading #tarot reading #affirmations #self concept #self development #free tarot reading #pac #pac reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #spiritual growth #spiritual journey #message from spirit #channeled reading #spirituality #channeled message #general message #pick a rune #norse runes

[bliss-in-the-void]

SatoSugu complex relationship angst (pt2) wherein strength is what ultimately came between them.

They saw each other as rivals and the means to push each other to get stronger so as not to be bested. They acknowledged each other’s strength and in turn wanted their strength to be acknowledged by the other. Oh, he’s impressive. I want to impress him too. I want him to know I’m just as good.

(This is long so read full under the cut):

Suddenly they were two special grades and the strongest sorcerers in their generation. All while in high school. Together, they were the strongest. A unit. And so it was less about competition and more about harmony. He isn’t better than me and I’m not better than him in strength.

“Satoru, you didn’t sleep last night and you haven’t turned off your Infinity in two days, are you sure we don’t need to go back to Jujutsu High?”

Satoru thinks: I’m tired but I can’t show him that, he’ll think I’m weakened and I’m supposed to be strong. I need to be strong so he feels strong. It’ll be fine, we’re strong.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve dealt with worse and you’re here too.”

Suguru thinks: He’s acknowledging my strength, he trusts me to keep us safe because I’m strong like him. I’m nervous but I need to keep being strong so that he can depend on me like he is now.

They leave the next morning and as soon as they’re in the barrier of the high school.

“Satoru, you really worked hard. Thank you.” Now he can rest. Everything is okay.

Satoru turns his Infinity off and six seconds later, right behind him, right in Suguru’s direct line of sight, Toji stabs him.

Suguru is thinking: how did that happen? We’re inside the barrier. I’m looking right at Satoru, how didn’t I see him? I should have seen him coming. I couldn’t protect him.

Then Satoru tells him to leave with Amanai and get her to Tengen. Leave him to deal with Toji alone. Suguru hesitates.

He thinks: Leave him behind? But we always do everything together. We can take him on together. I need to get Amanai to Tengen but I don’t want to leave him. I can still fight with him, I’m strong.

But Satoru smiles reassuringly at him. He thinks it’ll be fine. He leaves.

Toji finds him and tells him he killed Satoru. Suguru sees red. He felt grief, anger, confusion, and the need for vengeance. How could Satoru die? Aren’t we the strongest? How could this man have taken him out? Was it because we separated?

Suguru gets defeated but left alive. He feels survivor’s guilt. Toji could have killed him but didn’t—only Satoru died. He dragged himself to Shoko, distraught. Satoru is gone. They aren’t the strongest anymore. He’s alone.

Then he goes to retrieve Amanai’s body from the cult and sees Toji’s weapon-holding curse running free. Someone killed Toji. Only one person would be able to kill Toji. He rushes in to find Satoru holding Amanai’s body.

Satoru is alive. Somehow, he’s alive. But his eyes are lifeless. Something is wrong. Did he come back as a curse? “Satoru, is that you?”

“You went to see Shoko already?”

I did. She healed me. And somehow you’re healed and you didn’t need her. You learned Reversed Curse Technique? I can’t do that. How can you do it? We’re equals, aren’t we?

“Yeah. She healed me. I’m feeling fine again. But that doesn’t change anything here, does it?”

Suguru thinks: He’s different because of me. Amanai is dead because I didn’t see Toji coming behind Satoru. I should have seen it. I should have done more.

“I screwed up pretty bad. You are not the one at fault.”

Satoru thinks: don’t blame yourself, I’m the one who got worn down and allowed all of this to happen. We should have just left the night before like we were supposed to. My judgement was bad, and I wasn’t strong enough. I was too weak. We both got hurt because of it. But we’re still strong. We can deal with these people right now. We can prove that we’re better than them.

“Suguru, should we kill these guys?”

Suguru thinks: it would be too easy. We could do it in seconds. We are strong. But we need to choose where to show it. Restraint is also a virtue of strength.

“There wouldn’t be any meaning to it.”

They leave. They are never the same.

Satoru internalizes the fact that he wasn’t strong enough and buries himself in training and missions so that it will never happen again.

Suguru internalizes the fact that no matter how strong he was, it wasn’t enough, and spirals down with victim-mindset thoughts of we shouldn’t have had to be strong and why do we need to be strong? Is that all we are?

Satoru is now so strong that he doesn’t need Suguru to help him like he used to, and it makes Suguru feel like his exorcisms are in vain. Satoru can take care of it all. Why does he still have to do it when they just keep coming?

And then it dawns on him.

He doesn’t have to be a weak sorcerer. He can be the strongest curse user.

He won’t have to exorcise for no purpose anymore, he can do it to build his arsenal of curses and make money. He can do it to create a world where sorcerers can live their lives as their own and not as self-sacrificing protectors.

So he does it. He becomes the number one curse user, and Satoru is the number one sorcerer. He’s the strongest again, but this time, it’s on his own.

Take that, Satoru.

“There’s no point of chipping away at something you can’t possibly achieve.”

That digs at Suguru. There it is, evidence that Satoru does not think he’s strong anymore He isn’t strong enough to kill all non-sorcerers. All the strength he used to acknowledge no longer exists, apparently.

“You’re so arrogant. You could do it yourself, couldn’t you? But you’d try to convince someone else that it’s impossible, when it’s possible for you.”

Suguru’s thoughts: you see yourself alone as the strongest. Which means it is possible, so don’t say that it’s not possible. You could do it. You’re telling me I can’t. That’s unfair.

“Do you think you’re the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo, or are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest?

How much do you identify with your strength? Did you become strong because of who you are? Or are you you because you are the strongest? Did the inner strength come from your personality or out of obligation and weight to become strong? Why are you strong? Was it your own desire to be so, or the expectation of the world that forced you to be?

It’s a dig. Suguru is saying, you’re strong because you have to be. I’m strong because I want to be. No one is controlling my life but me now, you can’t say the same for yourself. You are a puppet for the society, and I get to live the way I want from now on. Which one of us is truly weak now?

He walks away and challenges Satoru to kill him. Prove that you’re the guard dog that will obey my execution order.

Satoru doesn’t. He lets Suguru walk away, an act of defiance. But he doesn’t feel any stronger because of it.

Yaga meets him on the steps and he asks,

“Do you think I’m strong?”

“Yes. And arrogant about it.”

“Apparently being strong alone isn’t enough. The only ones I can save are those who are already waiting to be saved by someone.”

Suguru vibe-checked the hell out of him. He couldn’t save Suguru, because strength was what came between them. No matter how strong he is, he isn’t strong enough to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Suguru didn’t want to be saved. Strength meant jack shit.

You don’t just need strength to keep things the way they were, like he had thought. He buried himself in training to get strong to prevent a catastrophe from happening again and Suguru leaving just proved that strength alone isn’t enough. Because now the strength he has could have saved Riko, but it couldn’t save Suguru.

What could have saved Suguru was the two of them not being alone, and he realizes that too late.

So make up for it, he adopts Megumi to make sure he isn’t alone, he becomes a teacher to raise strong sorcerers to be strong alongside each other, to train with each other, to care for each other and have each other’s backs power-wise and emotionally, to never be alone again like he and Suguru became after the Toji incident.

It’s not strength alone, it’s love that you need too.

#i think i just cooked again #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk #satosugu #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #stsg #geto suguru #suguru geto #satoru gojo #jujukai #satosugu meta #satosugu headcanons #stsg meta #satosugu analysis

[choicesficwriterscreations]

January MC of the Month: Nora Rose

Please welcome January 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@inlocusmads's Nora Rose

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

The thing I like the best about Nora is how she has a killswitch alternative to any plan she comes up with. Even if it is something as simple as coming up with dinner options. She has this interesting perceptive ability that's akin to playing 4D chess, but at the same time, she has elevator music running in her head.

At the same time, she's sometimes terribly wrong and isn't afraid to acknowledge that. The things she's able to do today - from keeping a level head and a calm composure in the hardest of situations come from her childhood where things were hard, and she had to grow up quite quickly. A lot of times, she'd have to think on her feet, run through options, remember new stuff, and be able to work with her constraints, not just pertinent to her job but in her adulthood as a whole. Her capacity to be able to stand up on her own feet came from so many instances where she couldn't even get off the floor or look straight ahead. 

Nora's also a slow learner but an avid one nonetheless. She was kicked out of so many schools when she was young, mostly because of her not being able to focus properly or standing up to her bullies (something the school calls ‘stirring trouble up’), and it kind of stunted the faith she had in herself. She had to build up an open mind to be able to differentiate between what is good and bad for her. She had to learn how to carve out her own path, despite dealing with so much grief she could never move on from. All of these things stuck to her when she grew up, which made her more aware and sponge-like to gather the mental ammunition needed to face all kinds of problems. 

Nora's far from what she pictured herself to be as a kid, but she's kind of bittersweet about making it this far. Optimistic that if she just doesn't think too much about stuff, the space and time around her would heal even the bloodiest of wounds, but also disappointed she can't deal with things more openly and faster, like in a brawling match. But I'm happy for her, given the circumstances she was in. Nora's always had this ability to chew her way out of things - by hook or by crook. If she can't decode a lock, she'd just give it a slight nudge. If the nudge doesn't work, she'll just straight-up shoot at it and deal with the fallout later. Her main motto is to “just keep going”. 

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I'd say I took a lot from my experiences growing up and gave them to Nora - dealing with people at school, understanding where she truly “belongs” (before she realized that was a load of bull and she should just stop tunnel-visioning a perfect outcome and instead think about laying down a different road to her path). Nora and I share this trait where we can't sit still, but if something's up, we'd spend hours at the same place, even if it involves doing absolutely nothing. Plus, it takes both of us ages to respond to a message. Nora more than me, for sure, and half the time, she's just bored of the routine email chore (not a good sign in her line of work, but she manages.)

That's where the similarities stop haha.

She's a tough person. She throws a good punch, having undergone a lot of physical training to qualify for her NYPD officer job and more recently, for her private eye job (Mafalda had some strict requirements). She's also a great problem-solver as aforementioned. Besides the usual differences in physicality and all, she doesn't get startled easily - as in, the world could possibly end tomorrow and she'd still be at her desk, responding to a two-year old email. Her self-assurance at that instant (not anytime or anywhere else) but at that very instant is so strong, it is honestly remarkable. 

Nora also enjoys doing things on her own. Whether it be making dinner from scratch, down to the bread-baking, deducing information (without relying on scraping the bowels of the internet) or stitching her clothes if they don't fit her. It was one of the only lessons her mother taught her before she passed. Which is also the reason why she doesn't like frozen food. More on that later. 

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Vengeance. 

Just kidding. 

It is actually vengeance. I don't know how else to put it. 

Nora's been wronged by a lot of people in her life. From losing her mother because the hospital in charge neglected her to losing her father also because her co-workers neglected him, she went through pretty much the same neglect-arc in school and college. She was always dismissed as a “traumatized kid” half the time and the other half the time, people didn't listen to her when she'd say, for example, report a bully for what they did or critique a faculty member for showing their bias. It resulted in a lot of things that went wrong in her life - from not having a good support system to being an actual orphan when she was barely thirteen. 

This kind of manifested in horrible ways when she was a kid. She suffered from a lot of anger issues and would immediately resort to physical violence if she were confronted. It isn't fair to blame her either, because she was so helpless. She'd wanted someone, just anyone to listen to her - to be there for her. This desire to help her child-self developed well into adulthood. Nora began building back the stability she never had. She's still doing it. She allows herself optimism even when she doesn't believe in anything. She puts her faith in the arbitrary workings of the universe so there's less burden to carry on her shoulders. Even though the things she tells herself aren't all perfect, they would be something her younger self would have appreciated so much. 

Taking revenge for the child in her to rest easy, for the teenage girl in her to find joys in stupid things such as trashy television shows and emo music and for her to be at peace in her own skin without wanting to explode every five minutes has always been her plan ever since she grew up. That and simply because she uses it to feel more proud of what she does. When something isn't getting anywhere, she's like “Yeah well, f it, we'll get it done. A setback ain't shit.” It was always about the “we”. 

Nora is also driven by the motivation to finish something as fast as possible. Everything is like cross-country running to her because she relishes in the satisfaction of getting a chunk of time just to herself right after getting something done. Which means she's either very good at jumping through hoops or crashes and burns. If something takes longer than her intended expectations, she'll drop it in an instant or table it until she gets her motivation back to finish it. It resulted in a lot of half-completed, archived projects but a few she's proud of, including having made her own quilts and bedsheets for the winter. 

This mentality is something she can never get rid of. At school, she was either the best player on her soccer team or the absolute worst. (Hey, at least there's no in-between to her.)

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

She hates frozen food with a burning passion. Being from a Chinese household, her parents, in the few good years they had with her - taught her the importance of a home-cooked meal or just any cooked meal. Nora, being the impressionable naive child she was, caught onto it and developed this visceral hatred for frozen anything. While she digs the convenience, she isn't a fan of how it tastes either - apart from her family values. This seeps into how Nora sees everything. She's the weird survivalist aunt with a shotgun in her closet because her personal goal is to make everything she consumes. From food, down to the clothes she wears or the curtains in her window, everything has to have had her work and hours put into it. 

Nora is also not a fan of people who don't listen first and just yap, yap and yap. This is why she often got into “creative differences” with her co-workers in her precinct. This is also the reason why Mafalda gives Nora full control of the wheel when she isn't there at the Agency, because the fewer people yapping, the happier Nora is and the better she works. 

As for visceral dislikes, boy oh boy does she have a lot:

Starting strong with the NYPD because they suck, point blank, period. She also thinks there's a special place in hell for people who just assume a lot and can get away with baseless accusations. She can understand broken promises - after all, people move on sometimes, and it's hard to keep track of them, but she draws the line at a proper betrayal. Words don't matter much to her, but actions do. Nora also isn't a fan of people who jump to the easiest conclusion just because it's easy. She’s seen a lot in her life not to automatically red-flag them. It’s worse when it comes from authorities, y’know people you’re taught to trust.

Also, people who gate-keep their expertise. She’s come across so many pretentious people who’d rather let an important investigation hit a dead end than worry about spilling their “trade secrets.” Kind of a niche dislike, but if you’re running out of time and your only hope banks on a mystery novelist’s ability to describe what he saw and tell the truth like his characters would have done, you too would be frustrated if he’d rather drink his coffee when he knows he’s purposefully jeopardizing the investigation’s momentum. And that’s just one of her ‘good’ experiences. Nora loathes academia and wouldn’t touch it even with a six-foot pole.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Be blessed with a readable medical textbook so she could diagnose her mother earlier than her doctors ever can (and) get magical surgery skills to revive her dad after he got stabbed. 

She still regrets not being able to do anything because she was “just a kid”.Nora has learned to cope with it, knowing she can't do anything about it but she still has this itching feeling of what if things had turned out for the better. It's this heavy rock she's gonna have to deal with for sometime now. 

Nora has this tricky relationship with her heritage. She isn't a fan of how different she is compared to the rest of her family and how they'd ostracized her after her settling down far from home. She wants to be able to change that aspect but knows it is too late to repair the damage. If she could go back in time and “pick a side,” she wouldn't have to feel the FOMO.

This regret of hers, however, is attributed to her never feeling she belonged somewhere among her family. Someday, she'd have to find her own family, own circle of friends, and culture to build. Someday, she'll learn that she's as valid to celebrate her heritage as her Aunt Mei or Uncle Tommy. That there aren't true extremes to anything there's no “one way” to be something, but until then, she's going to angrily sew back some loose stitches and groan about not being able to speak Cantonese as fluently as her relatives or being a “true” New Yorker. 

Also maybe her hair. (Also it is so hard to draw her hair consistently.) Sometimes it gets in the way. And maybe fix her eyesight without needing contacts or glasses. Automatically give herself 20/20 vision whenever needed and blur her eyes out when she doesn't want to.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

It's hard to pick one song, because Nora listens to anything and doesn't really have a music ‘taste’ as long as the song she's listening to has some spunk to it. Something she relates to would be I Talk To The Wind by King Crimson. Combined with the slow pace and the lyrics that basically put her life as a picture, it's a bop.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

I've struggled a lot with naming characters before but Nora's was the only time I knew her name wayyy before I could give her a personality. I was like “yep she's Nora, she's definitely one, yep.” and somehow I didn't anticipate how much she'd like, write herself and the story just writing itself. It literally popped into my head as outlandish as it may seem. And somehow that process worked because I don't ever run out of new headcanons to add.

Nora's also the first character I've created a 100k-worded introduction for (which will never see the light of day and is chucked into my files). I honestly expected her to just be fleeting. I'd make up something about her character, and I'd leave it at that, but nope. 

She's the most organized person in the universe. Her clothes never had a chance to get folded since 1999. She is so methodic and yet will pull off stupid shit like kickboxing a door because she doesn't want to open it. Nora is the character to every character but she stops charactering if she's in front of any screen with something playing on it. She can calculate the angle she needs to throw something so it can hit something, but she fails at basic math at the checkout line. She's masterful at cooking up a storm in the kitchen but enters her flop era when she forgets to take her stuff from the oven when the timer beeps.

Honestly, Nora was such a good lesson in writing as well because people are not always black-and-white. Sometimes, their strengths are their weaknesses. Sometimes the things they are chasing after work against their benefit. Maybe their opinions are skewed after all, even though the narrative conditions into believing that they're the Hero character. They should be allowed to be terribly piss-pathetic poor at something before learning to solve the problem, and sometimes it's okay if they're just bad at something if they can improv a way forward.

Plus, she's cool and stuff. Sometimes. 

#cfwc mc of the month #crimes of passion #inlocusmads #meet my mc #choices fic writers creations #playchoices #choices stories you play #january mc of the month

[themculibrary]

Loki Needs A Hug Masterlist

A Place In Time (ao3) - SnakeCharmer2023 loki/mobius T, 7k

Summary: Loki knew what he'd signed up for, replacing the loom at the end of time and sitting alone on the throne.

But what if the end didn't have to be forever?

A fix-it fic after the ending of series 2, because my heart can't take it.

Beautiful Figments (ao3) - mudgems M, 104k

Summary: “Hold on,” Stark says, attempting flippancy but falling well short of the mark. “I’m confused.”

“I think that makes two of you,” Rhodes says under his breath, but his visible concern remains.

Vision is not confused. If anything, he thinks the situation is suddenly, painfully, clear. “You do not remember yourself, do you?” he asks gently, and Loki finally meets his eyes. The hollow fear Vision sees there is obvious, and he wonders why he did not notice it before.

Broken Beyond Repair (ao3) - kittyhazelnut T, 31k

Summary: Loki had committed treason on a level Asgard had never seen. He would not be welcome back to his home realm. He would remain at the mercy of those he tried to control: the humans, SHIELD, and, of course, HYDRA.

By the time the Avengers come knocking HYDRA's door, Loki's long gone in every sense but the physical. Fortunately, even in his silent, fearful state, he's managed to make some friends. Wanda and Pietro won't let anyone hurt him. The Avengers are nothing but a threat, and Ultron makes them a promise that they'll be free of those so-called heroes soon enough.

(Basically, it's an Age of Ultron au where Wanda and Pietro have adopted a very broken Loki and they're determined to keep him safe.)

Brother (ao3) - Lynsds T, 24k

Summary: Overwhelmed with grief after Loki's apparent suicide, Thor is overjoyed to hear that his brother may be alive, if not well, and invading Midgard. It's not Odin that sends him there, but Frigga, and in this world, Thor is ready to observe and to listen.

It's not just Loki who has a lot of healing to do. But they're not alone anymore, and where there's life, there's hope.

For Eternity (ao3) - himynameisv T, 2k

Summary: Sometime during his centuries of self-imposed time loops, Loki begins to hallucinate Thor.

This is perhaps not the best indication of his current mental status.

Free Fall (ao3) - Daffanddahlodil N/R, 14k

Summary: Loki tries to function after learning of his adoption, but he’s not doing as well as he’d hoped.

Here, Here, and Here (ao3) - AuroraWest M, 68k

Summary: Loki and Thor have returned to Earth after two and a half years in space, and Loki, even after a winter in New Asgard, isn't sure he'll ever feel at home.

It doesn't help that as the alien who invaded New York City in 2012, he's been placed on probation by the UN for six months. If he can go six months without leaving New Asgard and without causing any trouble, he'll be free to visit anywhere he pleases on Earth. It's only six months. He can handle it.

Except Loki is bored. And what harm would it do if he just broke his probation a tiny bit? What are they going to do—send him to prison?

Well, yes. Yes, as it turns out. That's exactly what they're going to do.

In The Dark Alone (ao3) - every_oak_tree G, 17k

Summary: It starts at the end, really, with Ragnarök, with Asgard's fall (but Loki's been falling for longer, hasn't he?). It starts with the Mad Titan and the Statesman's explosion. It starts with a dead brother, his broken body sprawled on a spaceship's floor, miles and miles away from a home that no longer exists.

___ Something stirs inside Loki. He acknowledges that this is what he wants—but not all he wants. A newfound anger makes its way into his heart, surrounding it with an impenetrable wall of ice. He will be stronger this time, ruthless and unforgiving. Because when the world has taken everything, when they have stripped you off your armour and left you for dead, you have nothing more to lose. He can do better—no, he will do better. There is no alternative. You either die a loser or live to see yourself become a winner.

___ Or: where Thor dies at the Stateman instead of Loki, but his death will not go unavenged.

Loved and Lost (ao3) - forever_whippoorwill loki/mobius G, 4k

Summary: Loki hadn't realized how much he had missed the man's comforting presence until he was here and he could see it. Let me sit here, Loki's bones begged, at the sight of Mobius just out in his yard, and watch the wind blow through your hair and ruffle it in all the ways I want to.

He was too tired to keep that thought from running through his mind.

Old Habits (ao3) - Yavvys G, 7k

Summary: Odin knows that Loki will not change - not a cycle, not a hundred cycles later. But still, weak hope and smoldering feelings pull him towards the new guise of his adopted son, and the All-Father goes to visit the reborn god.

Once More, With Feeling (ao3) - NovaWasTaken1 T, 25k

Summary: Loki survives Thanos' attack on the Statesman by the skin of his teeth, the Tesseract, and a suicidal plan to save Asgard or die trying.

This changes less than you might think.

rest your eyes, weary god (ao3) - panthor loki/mobius N/R, 3k

Summary: Something blooms in their chest with that touch, something they try their hardest to push back down. As they walk, Loki thinks about how kind Mobius has been to them tonight. Tender, even. Enough to where they let their guard down enough to sleep in front of him. As much as they hate to admit it, Mobius has shown them more humanity than almost anyone else in their life. Despite where he works, Loki can see the empathy radiating from Mobius.

or

Mobius is just a nice guy.

Stay With Me (ao3) - Bookwormgal T, 17k

Summary: Loki had lost almost everything important to him, one way or another. His place in the timeline, his family, his sense of identity, his purpose, Sylvie... Even his first true friend was snatched away, along with the familiar version of the TVA.

But part of what makes a Loki was that they never give up. He would claw his way back and reclaim some of what was taken from him. So he searched through countless versions of the TVA until he found his way back to the right one. The one that had the right Mobius.

And if fate wished to steal him away in a more permanent way, it would have to fight Loki for him. He refused to lose anything else.

Toil and trouble (ao3) - AnsibleMechanic T, 44k

Summary: “When he made it back to Asgard and managed to outwit Odin himself, he only thought of ensuring his own freedom and survival. When Thor refused the throne (his brother chose the worst time to grow wiser), Loki was still delirious in his glee of finally making the biggest, funniest joke in all the realms – the lying Jotun trickster on the throne, and not a soul suspects it!”

Loki didn’t just eat grapes and watched amateur theatre in his dad’s robes for five years. Everything from TR canon is thrown to the wolves, and we have Loki having mental health consequences of his actions in various locations, with some inter-realm politics thrown in, with eventual relocation to the Avengers Tower (in true 2012 fashion) for more angsting and agonising. Hopefully with some friends we found along the way.

to see the world (as you do) (ao3) - T, 16k

Summary: When Odin finds a newborn babe in the war-torn wasteland that is Jotunheim, he takes it home; Frigga is the one to insist they must treat it as their own, and Odin loves her, so he obliges.

And then she dies, and Odin has no time for a child that only reminds him of the very thing he lost - he barely has time for his own young, grieving son.

So he locks it in the Vault, and calls it a trophy from the frozen realm.

or

All Loki knew for a long, long time were there four walls that held them, and the distorted view into the room beyond - filled with trinkets they couldn't name.

There were flashes of something else, of a woman who held them close and hummed lullabies, of a boy with hair like the sun, and a bright blue sky - but the memories were insubstantial and fleeting, slipping through their fingers like smoke.

You Screamed For So Long We Forgot To Care Anymore (ao3) - GalaxyThreads T, 126k

Summary: Five months after Thor drags his half-dead brother to Earth to plead asylum, things take a turn for the worse. With the older Asgardian out of commission and a sizeable threat overshadowing them, Clint becomes aware of two facts: One: Loki was tortured, mind-controlled, and manipulated into attacking Earth. Two: Loki knows none of this. (gen, no smut)

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #loki #loki needs a hug #loki needs a hug masterlist

[aemondsladywife]

Helloooo

kinda have an idea for an alternate ending in My Lady Wife where the reader gave birth and managed to survive but due to the complications she had while giving birth she was too exhausted to hold her newborn daughter and passed out. Aemond enters the scene where he saw the maester and her handmaiden clean up and make her more comfortable in "a sorry excuse of chambers" given by Aemond said by her handmaiden coldly. Her handmaiden hated Aemond after what happened and is very loyal to the reader that she reluctantly agrees to let Aemond see his daughter. Aemond sees his daughter in the cot, sleeping soundly. The baby woke up and sees Aemond and looks at him curiously as he picked her up. His daughter inherited her mother's hair and complexion but has bright violet eyes.

Aemond wants to set things right and left her chambers and instructed the servants to place her things back in their shared chambers and move her back when she wakes up. He sets off with Vahgar to the markets to buy her food and flowers.

Nowwwwwww, reader wakes up. She still doesn't know that everyone knows she's innocent all along and starts to fear what will happen to her child. With a heavy heart, she packs up her essentials (mostly for the baby), dressed herself, and picked up her daughter to run away from the castle. Every step she took hurt her as she was still healing and tried to walk fast with her baby in her arms and a heavy bag in her back. She managed to leave the castle but saw her handmaiden. Her handmaiden saw her but didn't question her and helped her on the journey.

Reader had planned her escape to the free cities in fear that Aemond will take away her baby and managed to get to the free cities via ship as she lied about her identity.

Now when they reached the free cities, they went to the nearest sept to rest and heal. the ladies in the sept were nice and gave her medical care both for her and her baby. The reader is also good at lying so she managed to brew up some sob story about why she was here.

After her stay she thanked them and paid them. Time skip reader stays at some orphanage to raise her daughter and became a teacher to the children and planned to stay there. She still thinks about Aemond as time passes by. She still loves him but the mere thought of him reminds her of the pain, the betrayal, and the loneliness she felt during that time. Her trust issues worsened and didn't trust anyone aside from her handmaiden. Her personality changed too: instead of being kind to everyone no matter what, she had this personality of 'if your kind to me, ill be kind to you. if not, I'll fuck with you". She became more independent to herself and learned to only depend on herself because, in the end, no one will help her.

Now to Mr Aemond.....

My guy was miserable the moment he learned that she ran away. He knew why, who wouldn't run away after he threatened her to take away her baby and face punishment? He was regretful and grief stricken. It's only a matter of time Aemond sees them again.

THIS WAS VERY LONG IM SORRY BUT ALL ASIDE FROM THAT, I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

-Carm

CARM BABY THAT WAS AMAZING, i'm adding that to my alt ending list!

#aemond x reader

[camille-lachenille]

Day 2: the Darkening

Dear Nerdanel,

I am sorry to respond to you letters so late but mother has been unwell as of late. I read aloud each of you letters to her as she rested, and it brought her much comfort, but she bid me not to reply until she recovered. And the rising of the Sun seems to have greatly helped with her health as she is now almost back to herself, save the grief. Indeed, since she is now out of danger, I can tell you that the pain of losing father and my siblings in such a short time caused mother to nearly fade. And for much time I feared her fate would be that of Míriel and she would join the Broidress in the gardens of Lórien. But I thank the Valar that the new light lifted the darkness weighting over her fëa and she is now as well as she can be.

Mother is already feeling so well that, in a few weeks time as we count them now, she will journey to the gardens of Lórien to enter the tutelage of Estë for she is wary of the company of Elves, even her own family.

It saddens me to know I will not see her as often but the mere idea of learning the arts of healing makes Indis glow in a way I have not seen in far too many years, and I would never begrudge my own mother solace and a happier future after so much loss.

Yet, I am loath to admit I will feel lonely in Valmar without her. Uncle Ingwë’s family would welcome me readily, and I love them dearly, but, despite my temper and my efforts, I fear I am far too much of a Noldo to find a place in Valmar. I miss discussing poetry and linguistics at Tirion’s university far too much… Arafinwë would certainly find me some role in Tirion but I find myself faring so much better far from the matters of the court that I will go to him only as a last resort should I fail to find myself a purpose.

But enough talking of me! Tell me, my friend, how did you fare all those long years of Darkness and what are your plans for the future now that there is light again? And most importantly, do you have anyone to support you in your own grief?

Yours truly,

Findis Finwiel

***

Dear Findis,

I am relived to hear of Indis, though it saddens me to learn she has been ill for such a long time and that she dwells far from you now. I live in my father’s halls since before the Darkening, and I am glad to have my parents near me to lessen somewhat the loss of my sons. I confess I still find myself torn between anger and grief when I think about them and thus tend to work until I collapse. Only then I am free of the memories. But you must think me maudlin, dear Findis, and maybe even ungrateful for what I have. The newly risen Sun has done much to lift my mood already but I still find myself lonely. Perhaps, sharing our troubles may help?

Whatever is your answer, my friend, know there will always be a friendly ear and room room for you in Mahtan’s Halls.

Send my regards and well wishes to Indis, and may she find hope and joy under the tutelage of Estë.

Friendly yours,

Nerdanel Mahtaniel

#findis #nerdanel #legendarium ladies #the silmarillion #tolkien #silmarillion epistolary #this is actually part of a longer work in pause #tolkien fic

[calliesmemes]

RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS, ACT II

ASSORTED QUOTES FOUND IN FILMS, TELEVISIONS, MUSIC, AND LITERATURE.

CHANGE gendered words as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   A great force is asleep in you. ”

“   All I ever think about is you. ”

“   All I ever wanted was to know what to do. ”

“   Am I a good man? ”

“   Are you going to kill me? ”

“   Becoming the villain isn’t the answer. ”

“   Can you prove it to me? ”

“   Did you really think that I would ever let you go? ”

“   Do you regret taking the vow? ”

“   It was like a switch was flipped. ”

“   Fear cuts deeper than swords ”

“   Forgiveness is different from absolution. ”

“   Have I explained away any part of my guilt? ”

“   Help me. Remind me why I am here. ”

“   How many have died because of my actions? ”

“   How often will you repent? ”

“   How strange this is! What is the meaning of it? ”

“   I appreciate your concern. ”

“   I am beyond repentance. ”

“   I am destroying myself so other people can’t. ”

“   I am doing no injury to anybody but myself. ”

“   I am nothing if not merciful. ”

“   I am so glad to see you! ”

“   I believe you are perfectly right. ”

“   I can’t help but give in. ”

“   I cannot agree with you there. ”

“   I doubt I will be pleasant company. ”

“   I doubt everything, even my doubt. ”

“   I feel as though I have been living a long, long time. ”

“   I fought so hard to free you… ”

“   I have betrayed everyone and everything I know. ”

“   I have survived, but I have not been spared. ”

“   I have this grief and I don’t know why. ”

“   I will do whatever you ask. ”

“   I will not be a caged bird. I will fly free. ”

“   I played my part in the plan. ”

“   I pledge myself to your teachings. ”

“   I’m like a collection of paradoxes. ”

“   I’m sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel. ”

“   I’m not too gone to be healed, am I? ”

“   I'm not everything I want to be, but I'm more than I was, and I'm still learning. ”

“   I’m restless and harsh and hopeless. ”

“   I’ll do all that I can to make things right. ”

“   If I cannot be loved, I must be feared. ”

“   Is everyone in danger as long as I’m alive? ”

“   Is this fair? Is this just? ”

“   Is this what you wanted? ”

“   It ends as it began. ”

“   It would be impossible, I know. ”

“   It’s not my fault — I’m not to blame! ”

“   It’s been a long time since I’ve been me. ”

“   I’ve started this storm; gotta stop it somehow ”

“   Money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it. ”

“   My intentions were not always wrong. ”

“   None of this is your fault. It’s me and my head. ”

“   No harm will come to you! ”

“   Life is full of tough choices. ”

“   Please remove your blade from my throat. ”

“   Pity comes too late! ”

“   Save me from these evil deeds. ”

“   Sorry is not enough. Sometimes you actually have to change. ”

“   That behavior is quite inexcusable. ”

“   The end justifies the means. ”

“   The path of hate is a dangerous track. ”

“   This can only end one way. ”

“   This is why you never should’ve left. ”

“   There’s a revolution coming. ”

“   There’s trouble for all when there’s trouble for one. ”

“   They are not to be trusted. ”

“   What do you mean? ”

“   What is this fighting all about? ”

“   Where were you when I was still kind? ”

“   Why are they all trying to make me into a saint? ”

“   Why can’t you see me? ”

“   Would you like to punish those who wronged you? ”

“   You can’t trust a single thing I say. ”

“   You can’t run from this! ”

“   You changed me. You should remember me. ”

“   You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean that you were kind. ”

“   You don’t have to make a sound. ”

“   You have been loyal to a greater cause. ”

“   You know what’s best for me. ”

“   You were born for this. ”

“   You’ll always be a slave. ”

“   Your offer is meaningless. ”

“   You’re the one that I need. ”

“   You’re not as brave as you may seem. ”

“   You’ve gone too far! ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #ask box #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme