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flemingsfreckles · 3 days

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Trying Again Part 2

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Read Part 1, based off this suggestion, basically this fic just goes through what each month looked like for reader and Jessie once they learned they were expecting.

Warnings: pregnancy fic, morning sickness, discussion of labor/birth (again nothing graphic), suggestive, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), cursing

WC: 3.0k

A/N: this isn’t necessarily a part 2, but it’s kind of a continuation of Trying Again, walking through each month of pregnancy, I’m just labeling it Part 2 because that makes more sense than it being its own fic

Month 1

You nearly miss month 1 just not knowing. You didn’t take the pregnancy test until you were about 3 weeks along. Once you found out Jessie immediately assumed the role of overly prepared parent.

She came home the day after you had given her the positive test with a couple massive shopping bags.

“What on earth did you buy?” You asked her when you saw the pile of bags.

“Just some things. I’ll show you.” She proceeded to unload baby book after baby book on every topic. Books on pregnancy, books on supporting your partner through pregnancy, books on the actual birth process, books on the baby’s first year, books on how to raise a teenager. It was safe to say she had gotten ahead of herself but you couldn’t even fault her. The way she showed you each one with such excitement in her eyes and voice was adorable.

The next bag was filled with other baby items, blankets, clothes, pacifiers, stuffed animals, and a tiny pair of Nike shoes.

“Jessie, the baby will wear those for all of 5 minutes before they fall off and they outgrow them.”

“I know but they’re just so cute and little.” She grinned at the shoes, holding them in her hands. “I can’t believe our baby is going to be this small.”

Month 2

Month two was filled with morning sickness. Jessie is a saint, getting up with you every time, bringing you water and new clothes. She’d gather your hair in her hand, holding it away from your face. She’d get your toothbrush set up with toothpaste and hand it to you once you were done throwing up. She’d help you shower if you wanted to feel refreshed and then she’d tuck you into bed, making sure you were comfortable with a fresh glass of water next to your bedside. She’d hold you tight, in whatever position made you the most comfortable.

Your hormones were starting to jump to extremes. Jessie found you crying on the couch one day over a sock. To be fair to you, the socks didn’t have a match and that upset you deeply. She had held you on the couch while your hand clutched the sock tightly, rubbing your back gently. She then went and found the missing sock. You got angry quickly, she hadn’t told you she was stopping at the store to grab you some snacks and when she got home, later than she had told you to expect her you had been at the door yelling at her. Of course you apologized and also cried when she explained she had just gotten you a little surprise, the basket she held out to you containing snacks, new slippers, some bubble bath, and some baby clothes. You felt guilty for yelling, but you were irritable, tired, and just relatively in a bad mood.

Month two was also when you told your teams. The Chelsea girls first followed by the Lionesses and Canada. Everyone was naturally excited and thrilled for you and Jessie. Niamh was your biggest supporter beside your wife, she was with you on both teams and was Jessie’s eyes and ears when she couldn’t be with you. The girl would get up with you when you got sick, offering you water. She checked in during training, making sure you weren’t feeling ill.

You also both told your families at this time, Jessie’s sister the most excited out of anyone, quick to claim the role of “best aunt”. You were overwhelmed with everyone’s excitement about your baby, you knew they would be so loved by your families both biological and your chosen families you had created.

Month 3

Month three was similar to month two. Your morning sickness continued and Jessie continued to be your biggest support throughout. Your body began to feel more fatigued, you were sleepy all the time, doing nothing but training and sleeping. Jessie cuddled up with you on the couch after training, scratching your back or your scalp. The tiredness also led to more mood swings, you were angry one moment and then crying and then crying tears of joy. Jessie handled it all with grace, you knew you were being a terrible person to her and she didn’t deserve it, but growing a human was a lot of work and it took a huge toll on your body.

Training was becoming harder. Your clothes start to fit differently, your breasts becoming sore that it hurts to run around for long periods of time no matter the sports bra you wore. You were still irritable, the early morning wake ups to be sick did nothing to help your mood. You started to have weird cravings and changes in the foods you liked and disliked.

You had woken up from a nap one afternoon to Jessie cooking what used to be your favorite meal, however when she placed it in front of you, it repulsed you. When Jessie asked you why you weren’t eating it you had to tell her you didn’t want what she made. Jessie of course took no offense to your disgust, getting up from her own plate to immediately start cooking you something else. You cried when she handed you a new meal, overwhelmed with her cooperation and kindness toward you. She just kissed you and told you she’d do anything for you.

It wasn’t an easy month, maybe the worst out of the whole pregnancy but with Jessie’s help and support you made it through, day by day and night by night.

Month 4

Month four was when things settled, your morning sickness started to fade, happening less and less frequently. Month four however was the time when you and your doctor decided it was time to slow down with training and playing. It was a hard couple of days, realizing you were about to take a break from the one constant in your life, but Chelsea was great about it. You still attended the end of season practices and games, just with less and less involvement until you were solely on the sidelines.

You had also developed the sex drive that was through the roof. Jessie would breathe in your direction and you were ready to jump her bones. Jessie couldn’t complain too much about this side effect, she was getting laid everyday. It was fun for her for the first few days. Then she was starting to cramp in her forearms, fingers, her jaw, all sore from the pleasure she was providing you. Her own sex drive was also not affected by hormones; she just wasn’t always in the mood for multiple rounds of sex, every day, but she happily gave you what you needed, often for nothing in return.

Niamh had poked fun to Jessie when the two of you walked in and Jessie looked exhausted while you were grinning ear to ear.

“Long night again?” She bumped Jessie with her shoulder as you walked ahead to your locker.

“Oh my god Niamh, this time it was before bed, then twice in the middle of the night when we were both awake, and then again this morning. My body can only handle so much. I’m sore. I’m sore, from sex!”

“Oh boo hoo Fleming, god forbid your wife wants you to fuck her an insane amount.”

Jessie blushed at Niamh vulgarity. “I know Niamh, and I love her, and she’s literally growing my child, so of course I want to give her everything she needs and wants. And I love having sex with her, but oh my god a person can only take so much, it’s like the second week of this too.”

“Then get something to help.” Niamh shrugged, hoping to help her friend while not upsetting you.

To solve her own pain, Jessie went out and bought you a couple new toys that the two of you could share while preserving her muscles. You were plenty satisfied with the new purchases, enjoying them with Jessie. Jessie was satisfied that she was able to go about her daily tasks and not have her fingers or forearm cramp up on her.

Month 5

This was the month you found out the gender of your baby. You had gone to the doctor to get an ultrasound, when you told the technician you didn’t want to know the gender right away they sealed the reveal in an envelope for the two of you to take and open on your own time. You then gave that envelope off to Magda and Pernille as they were in town, allowing them to set up your gender reveal. They weren’t around as much, you and Jessie had been close with them on Chelsea and wanted them to have a role in your pregnancy. When you asked them to help with this they were ecstatic. You didn’t want anything too crazy or over the top. They had set up a small gathering, you, Jessie, Niamh, Zerica, with Pernille and Magda hosting what made up your small Chelsea family. They had cooked everyone a dinner, making it a nice evening, in addition to the gender reveal.

They had made a cake, covered in a white frosting, the inside cake was dyed pink or blue. You were so excited seeing the cake, you had asked for something simple and not over the top, that’s exactly what they had given you, and it was cake, you loved cake. You and Jessie both held the knife as you cut a slide into the cake while everyone else stood watching, Magda and P watching your and Jessie’s faces, already knowing the gender they didn’t need to watch the knife the way that the rest of you were.

You had burst into tears when you pulled the knife out and the pink tint frosting and cake crumbs clung to the knife. Magda and P both looked horrified at your reaction, not knowing what happened while Jessie, Niamh, and Z laughed. The three of them having a front row seat to your emotional swings everyday at training. Jessie gently rubbed your back through your emotions.

“I’m so happy. I promise.” You really didn’t care what your baby was, you would’ve been an emotional wreck boy or girl. “I’m just so excited.”

Niamh takes the cake and knife away from you, going to cut it up and serve it to everyone. You dry your tears and Z pulls you into a big hug.

“I’m going to make her a keeper.” She whispers to you. “Don’t tell the rest of them.” You laugh into her hug.

Month 6

You were laying on the couch after a long day of doing hardly anything, but everything felt exhausting these days. You couldn’t sleep on your stomach like you usually did. Sleeping on your back was anything but comfortable, and your side wasn’t much better. Your legs hurt, your ankles hurt, your feet hurt, everything was miserable.

You often would just lay on the couch after you and Jessie returned home from training, her practicing, you watching and coaching. Jessie would lay next to you, her hands always finding their way to your belly, gently holding it, drawing circles, she’d lean in, placing her lips to your bump kissing it gently and softly speaking to the baby.

“You’re going to be so loved, you already are so loved. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Jessie had already told the baby about how you two met, all about your first date, how you proposed to her and how she proposed back, she talked about your wedding, she told the baby everything.

Jessie was resting next to you, her ear pressed against your belly as she whispered to the baby, her hand gently caressing your skin. One thing about Jessie was she couldn’t keep her hands off your bump. She always asked to touch you and you always said yes but once you gave her permission, her hands would remain on you as long as she could.

“Hi baby girl”

That’s when you feel it and Jessie feels it. Your baby is kicking. It’s not painful but it’s uncomfortable as you feel the pressure from her foot inside of you.

“Babe?!” Jessie pulls her head from on your stomach, eyes wide in panic as she looks up at you.

“Did you feel that?” You weren’t sure if Jessie felt it outside of your stomach, you felt it inside.

“She kicked! Oh my god she kicked.”

“She kicked!” You exclaimed, bringing your hand back down to where the previous kick had been. Feeling the baby kick again. Jessie looks up at you, her eyes slightly teary.

“That’s our little girl.” Jessie says, her hand on your stomach still, a tear spilling over as she looks at you with love in her eyes. “Our baby.”

You baby kicks a few more times, each time you and Jessie look at each other with big smiles. “With a kick like that she’ll end up a striker like her mama.” Jessie says after one of the stronger kicks she gives you.

“We’ll see, Z said she’s making her a keeper.”

Month 7

You came home from a day out with your own mom to loud noises and voices coming from the extra bedroom that was set to become a nursery. You walk over to the doorway and see your wife, hammer in one hand, the other holding paper instructions. You look further into the room and Niamh, Sam and Zerica are all standing holding various pieces of wood and hardware.

They’re all silent, staring at you as you step into the room.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” Jessie looks up at you from the floor. She looks concerned at your early arrival.

“I know but I was starting to not feel great so I had my mom drop me home. What are you all doing?” You look between your three teammates and wife. You’re pretty sure you can figure out what they’re doing but ask anyway.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, we were getting the nursery ready.” Jessie explained to you.

“We’re building the crib.” Sam pipes in, she holds out the piece of wood she’s holding.

You walk further into the room, reaching over to grab some of the tools wanting to help out.

“No!” Jessie says as she bats your hand away from the tools. “Sit there.” She points to what you assume is a newly built rocking chair. “You can watch and yell at us, but no helping, you need rest.”

“Fine.” You sit down on the chair hesitantly, you trusted Jessie when it came to following instructions and building something correctly but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of your teammates. The chair held you, it was surprisingly comfortable. Niamh brought over an ottoman for your feet to rest on and they all got back to work. You watched as the previously empty room became filled with wall decorations and furniture. The girls would ask where you wanted certain pictures or items within the room, it was nice to be involved while not straining yourself too much.

Month 8

You have the baby during the eighth month. 8 months and 3 weeks and a day to be exact. She arrives a little early, no concern to your doctor but her slightly early arrival has Jessie stressing in the hospital room.

“Is it too soon?”

“Babe, the doctors said it’s practically like she’s coming at full term, it’s okay. She’s just 6 days early.” You’re nearly sick from watching Jessie pace laps back and forth across your room. Her hands are either in her hair, picking at her skin, or playing with her shirt, all nervous habits.

Unfortunately your labor was anything but easy. You had started contractions in the middle of the night, you and Jessie rushing to the hospital with nothing except the perfectly packed hospital bag your wife had made.

Despite the rough labor, Jessie was the most perfect partner to have during labor. She did well under stress, despite her earlier nerves once you were actually ready to have the baby she was level headed again. Jessie was attentive to you, bringing you ice chips, new blankets, rubbing your feet, rubbing your back. She was advocating for you whenever the opportunity arose. When you decided you wanted an epidural after trying to tough out the pain for 7 hours, she didn’t question you, she happily held your hand as the medicine was put in your back.

It wasn’t until 12 hours after you had gotten to the hospital that your baby girl made her arrival. Jessie let you squeeze her hand so hard you were convinced you were going to break it and she never complained once. She helped you by holding one of your legs as she pressed her forehead to yours, whispering words of encouragement and praise. She occasionally would look, wanting to see her baby girl despite her being adamant that she wasn’t going to look prior to arriving at the hospital, she was worried about getting queasy, she didn’t always do well with blood.

When your daughter finally came out crying they placed her quickly onto your bare chest quickly followed by a blanket.

“You’re incredible. That was amazing, I love you.” Jessie whispered with tears running down her face. Her eyes look between you and your daughter on your chest. You got to watch as Jessie cut the umbilical cord, a huge grin across her face.

Nurses then took your daughter, cleaned her up and swaddled her into a soft pink blanket. They come to hand back your daughter to you, you look over to your wife who’s patiently standing watching you, she hasn't yet gotten to hold your little girl.

“You want to hold her?” You ask and Jessie just nods at you. The nurse passes Jessie the bundle with your daughter wrapped inside.

You watch as Jessie holds your daughter for the very first time, you get emotional, tears welling up. Jessie looks up to you, her eyes matching yours, on the brink of tears.

“Thank you for making me a mom.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt #canwnt x reader

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the-greatest-magic-of-all · 28 days

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With such a God-focused season, one day, once Junior Year is finished and I have both the time and energy to do it, I want to make a Fantasy High God AU zine. It'd be from the pov of a mythologist/theologian in Spyre who's found strange links between minor deities throughout different regions' pantheons.

Half-Elves have a God of Dance and Flames who has been said to have defeated a Tiefling vagabond (and tamed his Hellhound mount) and charmed Fire itself with only a dance and his silk battle sheet. And if you look deep enough into his history there are rare depictions of him wearing an oddly shaped pendant and riding into battle with a sling-wielding Goblin peeking out of his rucksack. Interestingly enough, there's a minor Goblin God of Justice and Mysteries, the son of a Goblin Folk Hero and the Goblin Goddess of Knowledge, Laws, and Justice, who famously wields his father's enchanted sling. Though he and his father are often shown with angelic wings. So, why would he dally with a God so closely associated with Fiends?

Tieflings have a trickster Goddess of Music, Rebellion, and Devotion. The daughter of an Archdevil and a Wood Elven Goddess of Archery & the Wilderness. She's said to be a paramour of a Half-Phoenix Pirate Goddess of Wizardry and Knowledge and once toured the lands, performing with a Half-Orc companion. A lot of artistic recreations of that tour depict the Half-Orc companion with flower motifs that correspond with a Gnomish/Half-Orcish God of Tinkering and Rage. One that once outwitted a Sphynx and regained his spurned Saytr paramour's love by speaking to/reaching the stars with the help of a band of Tinkerer Gnomes.

There are tales of a Twice Risen Goddess who was once the chosen one of the Demigod Helio, but took one look at him and thought she could do better. With the wisdom to raise Gods from the dead and remove unholy rites without any divine power other than her own, this God-Saint of Doubt travels across Spyre not to spread her own religion but to inquire about others. This deep curiosity is probably how she ended up in some Fallinel depictions of the First Elven Oracle, who upon death ascended to becoming the Goddess of Sight, Intelligence and Righteous Fury. There are even short hymns written about the Oracle foreseeing the God-Saint's rise (against the Elven Moon Goddess' wishes) and of the God-Saint banishing some dark entity from possessing the Oracle with only a profane curse of its name.

And even more stuff connecting them all. Like the fact that all of them have tales of them defeating an Ancient Red Dragon. Or the tales of The Festival of the Crab King: a strange, delirious story of mortals witnessing a euphoric revelry of the deific kind that involved all these Gods from different pantheons.

#idk i think it'd be a fun time #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #fig faeth #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers

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dotster001 · 9 months

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Whispers End

Summary: a for tuna custom content Ending

CW:Yan behavior, manipulation, angst, hypnosis

A/N: I did a Tuna Tuesday entry two weeks in a row! Everyone be proud of me! Ps. You can vote on the next end here

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose Another End

Jamil was patient.

Always patient.

He had laid the foundations.

And now it was time to act.

"Kalim, you're just too immature for me! This is the last straw!"

Jamil watched from the corner as Grim hastily tried to calm you down, and Kalim tried to wrap you in his arms and rock you. Something that had always worked on you before. Much to Jamil's dismay.

But he was stronger after the years of building up his control over you. Stronger than your apparent real love for Kalim.

And luckily for him, both Grim and Kalim were too stupid to have ever noticed the red tint that appeared in your eyes just days after you and Kalim got together.

Literally, Kalim had done nothing. He had made dinner and made it spicier than you liked, by complete accident. The only reason Jamil had chosen this moment to make you his, was because he had finally overpowered the true love in your heart. It had been acting like a shield. But now you'd be his.

"Y/N, please, let's just sit together a moment."

Kalim had the patience of a saint. He was convinced you were sick with something. He wasn't entirely wrong. You did have a parasite controlling your thoughts.

"No. Kalim," you exhaled angrily, seeming to collect yourself. "Kalim, I never loved you. I've always loved Jamil, and I have reason to believe he loves me. If you truly love me, you'll let us be together."

Kalim's eyes filled with tears, but he dropped his arms to his sides, muttering something Jamil couldn't hear. Probably giving you permission to love him.

But Grim…Grim's eyes widened and he gasped, full understanding dawning in his face.

"Wait-" he started, looking to the corner Jamil was hiding in.

Jamil hastily muttered a "Snake whisper" and sighed in relief as Grim's eyes tinted red, and he calmed down.

You and Kalim shared a hug, and you left the room. When you saw Jamil standing in the corner, you smiled excitedly, yet nervously.

"Jamil! Kalim said we could be together!" You chewed your lip, and dropped your eyes to the floor, fidgeting with one of the many rings Kalim had gifted you over the years.

"That is, if you want me-"

You barely finished the statement when his arms were around you, his hand keeping your head pressed to his, his tongue invading your mouth like the parasite he was.

Yes. Jamil was patient.

And patience always pays off.

The end.

....

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#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #yan! jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #jamil x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yan! jamil viper #yan! jamil x reader #for tuna

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maxsimagination · 4 months

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𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 -𝗲.𝗱𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗮

warnings: smut. car sex. 18+ under the cut.

a/n: let’s pretend psg make it to the finals

-----

the last game.

the final of the division 1 féminine.

paris saint-germain vs lyon.

it was my first final with psg for this season, having just joined the club from liverpool. it was big change, going from the wsl to the french league but so worth it.

both me and fellow australian, clare hunt had joined the team but she'd come from the a-leagues. in the almost year i'd spent at the french club, i'd met all of the players and they were all really welcoming.

the first player that greeted me was elisa, the slightly taller defender bumping into me on my first day.

since then we'd hit it off, become almost best friends and started dating after a couple months. now we were walking onto the field together, to play for the championship.

nerves were rolling through my body; the pre-game jitters never got easier. our captain grace led us out to the pitch where the lyon players were lined up and waiting.

it didn't take long and everyone was ready, in their positions. the whistle blew and i shot forward, we were off.

——

half time came, we were 1-0 down by a shot from ada hegerberg.

after the break everyone was determined to at least equalise. it felt like a lifetime but finally the ball was booted halfway up the field by our goalie and i was on it immediately. weaving through the defenders wasn't easy, i had wendie renard and ellie carpenter to get past before their goalie.

i was smaller, more agile however, and i managed to sneak past them and shoot a clean shot straight into the top left corner of the net.

the crowd went wild and i jumped in the air out of happiness. we were equal now, 1-1.

the second goal came roughly 10 minutes after my first, korbin had made a brilliant pass to lieke, who was bolting towards the box, 2 defenders hot on her heels. i was just on the right wing, close enough to the goal to get a tap in, and that's exactly what i did.

lieke saw me unmarked and slid the ball across and i made a one touch shot into the bottom right corner. the goalie didn't know what was happening by the time the ball was in the net.

the stadium erupted again and leapt in the air again. finally we had a chance, we were almost there.

when that final whistle blew after 5 minutes of injury time, i sunk to my knees. we had done it.

the whole team, subs included, ran onto the pitch in a huddle that ended more like a crushing pile of bodies. i wiggled my way out of it and found elisa.

"we did it mon amour, we won! thanks to you!" she picked me up and pressed a kiss to my forehead. i giggled and wrapped my legas around her body, to hold myself up. the whole stadium was filled with the cheers of the psg fans, but at the same time, the humiliated silence of the lyon fans.

i felt bad for the team, they had played their best but it wasn't enough. but the cheering of my team bought me back and both me and elisa were wrapped up in celebration again.

——

the girls had dragged us all out to a club, celebration they claimed. so i was dressed in a deep blue, shimmery dress that i thought matched our team colours perfectly.

elisa drove us while the other girls made their own way to the chosen club. it was semi-crowded when we got there but we found everyone else at a table and sat down.

sakina announced that the first round was on her and almost ran over to the bar to order.

around 3 rounds later and sakina, me and a couple other were on the dance floor. sakina was easily more drunk than me, hence why she was practically grinding on me. i wasn't too bothered, quite enjoying myself actually. we danced in sync with the music, matching all the other swaying bodies on the floor.

however i knew one person wouldn't be too happy, because i could feel her glare from across the room. elisa wasn't normally that jealous but when she was, i always ended up under her so i couldn't say i enjoy it.

the song ended and i twirled sakina away from me and she latched onto another teammate to dance with. i made my way over to where elisa was sitting, sliding in next to her.

"bonjour, mon amour." (hello, my love.)

my hand slid onto her thigh instinctively, elisa leaned her head down to mine to catch my lips in a searing kiss. when we pulled apart she had a hungry look in her eyes.

"sakina is too touchy."

i chuckled at how grumpy elisa looked, rubbing her thigh in comfort.

"do you want to get out of here?"

i didn't have to whisper, the club was already loud, but elisa heard me and was all too happy to grab my hand and get up. we bid goodnight to our teammates and headed for the exit.

our car was parked outside and we made a beeline for it. well, elisa did, i was just dragged along. however, she grabbed handle of the backseat not the front seat.

"elisa, what are you doing? we have to drive home?"

she didn't answer, just pulled me in with her. her lips were on mine the second the door clicked shut, hands roaming up and down my sides.

we pulled apart for a brief second then her lips were on my neck. she trailed her way down to my chest where she slipped the straps of my dress down to play with my nipples. a satisfied groan left my lips and i wriggled under her. she took her time now, giving equal amounts of pleasure to both the left and right breast.

"eli..."

"yes, mon amour?" (my love.)

she knew what she was doing to me, a cocky grin plastered on her face when she looked at me.

"hurry up and fuck me!"

i didn't think it could happen but an even cockier grin was now sported on her lips as she hiked my dress up to show my blue, lace panties.

"all dressed up for me, are we?"

a blush covered my cheeks at her words, i did have tiny hope that we would end the night like this but in her car, i never would have guessed.

her fingers were now hooked in the sides on my underwear, and with a glance up to me for consent, she pulled them down. her fingertips grazed my clit, before dipping further down to my soaked hole. she gathered my juices in her finger and brought it up to her mouth, not breaking eye contact once.

my cheeks heated with a blush again and i could feel the tingling feeling travel down to my groin.

"so wet for me, bébé." (baby.)

"elisa, please. just touch me already."

she did as i asked, fingers finding my clit and immediately rubbing small circles around it. i hummed, the pressure on the bundle of nerves was sending little shockwaves through my body and it felt so good.

my hips bucked up into her fingers, desperate for more friction.

"eli, your fingers inside me please."

she pressed a kiss to my lips, which turned into a make out session, while she thrust two fingers into me. elisa set a steady pace, before pushing a third finger in.

i moaned into her mouth at the stretch, urging her to keep going. i could feel the coil in my lower stomach start to tighten.

"elisa, 'm close. don't stop."

she kept going, if anything she sped up, determined to make me cum. elisa rubbed against my clit, adding to the pressure of the already-tight coil.

i mentally thanked whatever god was in our favour for the tinted windows elisa had on her car. i wouldn't be able to live this down if she didn't. inside the car, there wasn't much speaking, only the sounds of her fingers slapping against my wet folds and my moans. i was just on the edge, i could feel myself clenching faster, then suddenly i was there.

"elisa, i'm cumming!"

"cum for me bébé, all over my fingers." (baby,)

i didn't need any further assurance, i let it go and found myself clenching uncontrollably around elisa's fingers as she helped me through my orgasm.

slowly she pulled her fingers out, licking them clean then pressing a kiss to my lips so i could taste myself on her lips.

once i'd come down from my high, she made sure to clean me up as best she could, slipping my underwear back onto my hips and pulling the dress straps up over my bare chest.

"well clean up properly at home, yea?"

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso smut #elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida imagine

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thebestofoneshots · 8 days

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Hi love just wondering when the priest Remus fic will be out? I LOVE LOVE your writing and I am so excited for this one

I truly hope It's this Friday! Especially with the GC chapter we're going to have, I feel like you guys deserve a little compensation. If I can't manage though, it will surely be next week.

Now, and to build more excitement, a little teaser:

NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN | TEASER

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them. Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him). Warnings: The complete story will contain smut. Innocence! Kink, allusion to fingering and self-pleasure. Reader is seducing a catholic priest and has a bit of a corruption!kink. Smut under the cut.

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.”

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.”

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.”

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.”

“The way I see it, Saint Griffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see beautiful priest Remus.”

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been craved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and leaving exiting the church.

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be.

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his atention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him.

(...)

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray.

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?”

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.”

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was.

almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.”

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?”

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you?

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps it would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you.

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you.

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end.

“I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.”

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.”

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.”

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–“ Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.”

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it.

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.”

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course.

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–“

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.”

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.”

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man.

(…)

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in a way that was almost painful. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned.

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dead and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.”

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it.

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood.

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?”

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.”

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whinlatter · 5 months

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sirius and ginny: a meta (part 1)

“Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.’

are you a very brave, very reckless, very hot self-destructive rebel with a treacherous sibling and a flair for christmas decoration, harbouring complex feelings about your mother, close ties to crookshanks the cat and spend your days plagued by the memory of your worst mistakes and dark past? do you find yourself constantly being begged to stay in a state of protective confinement to save your life by a young man with a lightning scar, bad hair and crippling abandonment issues? if so, congratulations! you might be one of harry potter's chosen family members, sirius black and ginevra molly weasley!

basically - i want to talk about sirius and ginny. these are two characters who don’t share a lot of scenes in canon but who, i think, have some clear (if overlooked) parallels: stubborn, fiercely protective of harry, self-sacrificing, admired, principled, haunted (in different ways) by traumatic pasts and betrayals, with complicated relationships with their families and entirely uncomplicated devoted relationships with someone else’s cat. their narrative arcs are successive, with ginny ascending in significance in the series during sirius’ period of decline and ultimate death. and ultimately, they’re also the two people who become, over the course of the canon series, family to a protagonist desperately seeking to build one. sirius and ginny are the two people harry in canon most worries about, wants to protect, and thinks of as someone who embodies the promise of family and home.

sirius and ginny aren’t mirror images of each other. ofc, ginny also has parallels with the only other family members harry claims in the series, lily and james (i mean, especially james - she’s literally a cocky funny flirtatious chaser with a years-long debilitating mega crush who can also catch a snitch like a champ. come on now). it’s also clear in canon that sirius means more to ginny as a hero/role model/ally against her mother than ginny ever means to sirius. nevertheless, the text puts in work to let the reader know we should think about these characters together as somehow aligned. from the beginning of ootp, there are clues and signals in the text that foreshadow ginny’s emergence as someone important to harry, and that subtly let the reader know that the baton of being harry’s ‘person’ is about to be passed from sirius to ginny, two kindred spirits, after sirius’ death. so that's what this meta is about! (consider this my 700th attempt to show that, as the popular fandom complaint/all of reddit still insist, ginny as a character, and especially the harry/ginny romance, did not ‘come out of nowhere’.)

the following meta is part one of two (and yet it's still too long! sorry about it). o in this part, i look at the period from the end of goblet of fire thru the start of half blood prince, exploring how the text sets up the sirius and ginny parallels as a way of foreshadowing ginny’s emergence as harry’s main love interest and place as a family substitute. the second part (tbc) will be what the memory of sirius does for harry’s view of his relationship with ginny, and the kind of positive - and negative - ways this shapes harry’s ideas about love and what family do for each other. i wrote this meta as a way of thinking through some characterisation choices for my current WIP, beasts. if you're following along with that fic, this meta can be seen as a companion piece especially to my thinking behind chapters ten and eleven, so hope proves helpful for some of my thinking behind the sirius and ginny friendship that appears in that project. it's also dedicated to @ashesandhackles, queen of metas, who has reminded me to post this meta precisely 9 million times because she is a long-suffering saint.

ok - sirius and ginny. let’s goooooo!

sirius and ginny before ootp

before OotP, ginny is absent from any plot connected to sirius. ginny doesn’t know the truth about sirius’ innocence, nor does she know that harry, her brother and her friend are in regular contact with sirius and that harry now as a surrogate father/big brother figure to confide in and seek comfort in. in fact, in one of ginny’s few appearances in GoF, the narration is unusually insistent that the reader knows how little ginny knows about sirius:

“And have you heard from — ?” Ron began, but at a look from Hermione he fell silent. Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about Harry’s godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but themselves and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or believed in his innocence. “I think they’ve stopped arguing,” said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry. “Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?”

the only other tiny crumb of sirius and ginny we get is the news that the owl sirius bought in PoA and gifted to ron as a replacement pet for scabbers has been embraced and named by ginny. sirius gifting a tiny little spitfire of an owl that annoys ron? it's giving foreshadowing, your honour.

the reader, though, knows who sirius is to harry by GoF. throughout this book, for the first time in the series, harry has a person he can claim as something like a family: someone to worry about, someone who cares about him,who can advise, guide and mentor him, as well as offer him support and consolation in difficult times (‘someone like a parent…’) although sirius has not been able to offer harry a stable alternative home to the dursleys due to his status as a wanted man, he’s still filling a role that previously had been vacant in the series: he’s harry’s person, the surrogate parent chosen for him by james and lily. he’s close by, either by the floo or eventually living (at great personal cost) as padfoot in hogsmeade, and he’s present emotionally for harry in ways that prove incredibly meaningful to his young godson. in times of great of distress, sirius is there for harry to meet emotional needs that ron and hermione (understandably, no shade to them) can’t always meet. the floo scene early on in GoF, during harry’s row with ron, is a particularly good example of this:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. …Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days — about how no one believed he hadn’t entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn’t walk down a corridor without being sneered at — and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron’s jealousy . . . Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern… He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption’.

harry derives enormous comfort from sirius’ presence in his life during GoF. he writes to sirius, he repeatedly turns to him for advice, he worries for him more than he does any other person. sirius fulfils harry’s desire to be kept abreast of important information about voldemort and death eaters, doesn’t sugarcoat news for harry, and makes him feel important, cared for and understood. (harry even shows off to sirius telling him about how much of a slay the first task was. ugh). by the time of the third task, sirius is sending harry daily owls, a constant flow of reassurance and concern (‘He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry’s responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it. If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety.’) when harry returns from the graveyard at the novel’s end, it’s sirius who races to his side to advocate for him and offer him both words of comfort and physical affection as he processes the traumatic series of events that constitute the climax of the book’s plot. (my personal favourite part is where harry says ‘wormtail cut me with a knife’ and the text says sirius made a ‘vehement exclamation’, which i can only assume is children’s book speak for ‘fucking hell’.) harry goes to bed: sirius stays with him, a literal guard dog as he recuperates. after the most traumatic events of the series to date, the reader is at least consoled that harry potter has a person now, someone he loves for him to worry about and to worry for him, who catches him on the other side of traumatic events and makes them that bit much more bearable.

sirius and ginny during ootp

with sirius' role in harry's life established in GoF, OotP begins with harry, cooped up and restless at privet drive, angry with ron, hermione, sirius, and dumbledore for abandoning him at privet drive and keeping him in the dark. harry arrives at grimmauld place to find an anxious ron and hermione, with whom harry is angry and frustrated for having left him out of their summer hangs and having neglected him, by his assessment, in surrey. it’s the most conflict we’ve seen in the trio in terms of harry vs ron and hermione, and sets up one of the important themes of the book, which is harry no longer being solely emotionally fulfilled by the people he is closest to, including his two surrogate parents best mates but also his godfather. when he encounters sirius for the first time after the order meeting, he finds him surly, bitter, and depressed, furious that he is confined to his childhood home, and (understandably) much less able or willing to offer harry much in the way of comfort, apology or cheering words (‘Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded.’) in this sense, the book opens with harry disappointed and/or more distant from all the people on whom he most depends and is usually closest to, and that there therefore is already an absence of a certain kind of emotional support in harry’s life that the plot demands be filled.

fresh off the back of harry’s row with ron and hermione is ginny’s reintroduction to the reader. after years of being so shy in harry’s presence she was often nearly mute, the reader finds that ginny is not only now speaking, but that her presence turns out to be remarkably refreshing. from her opening scene where ginny enters harry’s bedroom at grimmauld place, the reader discovers the new ginny is confident, up to no good, in cahoots with her most troublemaking brothers trying to intercept the order meeting, enterprising in her mischief (and very happy to lie to her mother’s face about it). she’s thoroughly unfazed by harry’s great display of rage that has just startled and upset ron and hermione. (side note: in both ootp and hbp, ginny’s opening scene is her entering harry’s bedroom, which is the kind of foreshadowing i personally find delicious). everyone else is behaving pretty much as they have been up to this point, but it’s ginny who is showcasing behaviours new to the reader, a signal that she might be about to play a different role in the series than she has done up to this point.

cut to the dinner scene. sirius and ginny are in the room together for the first time. sirius is moody: though he’s still able to laugh, enjoying displays of mischief and humour (the twins and the knife), he’s more bitter than harry and the reader have seen him since PoA. it’s an important scene for lots of reasons (not least the sirius v molly beef), but it’s also one where sirius and ginny are repeatedly drawn into mental association in the reader’s mind. it’s also a great scene because the behaviour of crookshanks the cat literally serves to foreshadow the behaviour of harry james potter in ways that are frankly extremely fun.

so! the sirius and ginny hints start small. from the start of the scene, ginny is amused by mundungus the crook (a man, we will learn, so disdained by her mother):

“Some’n say m’ name?” Mundungus mumbled sleepily. “I ’gree with Sirius. . . .” He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. Ginny giggled. “The meeting’s over, Dung,” said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. “Harry’s arrived.”

sirius and harry, sat at the end of the table, are both greeted by crookshanks, sirius’ old accomplice from PoA:

'Harry felt something brush against his knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped onto Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absentmindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry…

when fred and george’s levitation goes awry, flinging a knife at sirius (now that’s how you foreshadow a death), crookshanks bolts:

‘Harry and Sirius were both laughing… Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness…’

during the meal, ginny’s with hermione, having a laugh with tonks, a character harry has just met but whom he has already decided to both admire and like. after the meal, when harry’s cheered up a bit and had his crumble (the man loves dessert), crookshanks finally emerges from his hiding place, having been coaxed out from his sulk by - you guessed it - one g. m. weasley:

‘…Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for him to chase.’

a grouchy character, initially drawn to sirius, but prone to lashing out and locking himself away, only to be lured back out into comfort and safety by ginny weasley? wow………. radical

after dinner, the argument between sirius and molly kicks off. sirius is arguing hard for harry’s right to know, though he makes no attempt to advocate for any of the other weasleys or for hermione. ginny’s noticeably singled out in her reaction to this scene, the text highlighting that she is particularly struck by this conflict as if it is of particular personal resonance, including someone standing up to her famously overprotective mother for once:

‘Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius.’

of course, molly loses the argument: harry gets to stay for juicy order deets (‘Sirius was right, he was not a child.’) after the row, ginny is the only person forbidden from hearing information about the order’s activities. suddenly, the roles are switched: it’s ginny who’s now furious and bitter to be kept out of the action:

‘“Fine!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Fine! Ginny — BED!” Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black’s earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke. “Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?”’

it’s not just the parallels of confinement between harry, sirius and ginny that are so revealing, it’s also the dual maternal conflicts. ginny loud raging at her own mother sets off the howling relic of sirius’, serving to underline two characters who continue to grapple with maternal relationships that are complex and full of conflict, though by no means solely negative (sirius i see you sleeping in your mother’s bedroom babe. don’t think i think your relationship with walburga is just one of straight hate ok). when ginny later gets knocked down the stairs by fred and george, there’s more direct mrs weasley/walburga parallels, with the two of them literally shouting over each other during the ordeal lol. as such, the readers see that the conflicts being set up for sirius’ character in this book - frustration at confinement, conflict with a mother figure, drawn to more reckless and arguably irresponsible characters (mundungus, the twins) and courses of action - are also conflicts subtly playing out with the new ginny we’re meeting, too.

as the rest of the summer at grimmauld wears on, there are more examples of sirius and ginny foreshadowing. the scenes where the two characters interact serve to place ginny and sirius firmly in the same camp of people harry admires and has fun with, the troublemakers and the rebels. over the prefects issue, ginny not only is sat chatting with the troublemaking adults harry likes most, but actively draws sirius into conversation on the issue, likely knowing the answer will comfort harry, but also showing a curiosity and interest in sirius that suggests she admires him:

“I was never a prefect myself,” said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.” “Like what?” said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato. “Like the ability to behave myself,” said Tonks. Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it. “What about you, Sirius?” Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh…’

ginny’s choice to try and draw sirius into the conversation bears fruit: sirius confirms james was never a prefect, and harry’s sour mood is suddenly lifted. (‘All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling unusually fond of everyone in the room.’) ginny is thus beginning to provide harry with subtle comfort and reassurance, especially as sirius, struggling with his own confinement, is taking a less active role in trying to cheer harry up. what i also like is that we have evidence of how ginny views sirius - she’s curious about him and his past, she clearly thinks he and the other new rebellious adults are cool as shit, and she’s drawn increasingly away from her mother’s cautious overprotective approach towards these resistance fighters who prioritise the fight over safety. (it is noticeable to me that ginny does not become a prefect in HBP, suggesting sirius' example proved instructive).

we see more small parallels between sirius and ginny during the cleaning scenes. the battle against grimmauld place is an important symbol of one of the important themes of OotP as a book: a battle over past traumas and their persistent and unwieldy symptoms that are seemingly never-ending. while it’s harry’s experiences that, of course, take centre stage, sirius’, too, loom omnipresent throughout the text. it’s significant, then, that ginny’s own past gets brought up for the first time in three books here, albeit briefly:

'They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry’s arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut…'

in this moment, we see sirius and ginny singled in the larger group as quick-thinking, shrewd characters, with a good instincts and common sense (if a bit of a tendency to get scrappy). their respective dark pasts are subtly alluded to. sirius whacks a spider trying to attack harry with a book that might as well be entitled my big book of family trauma. ginny, meanwhile, steps in when everybody present starts to be enchanted by a mysterious object luring them into danger by whacking it shut (gee i wonder why!) given this is the book that will see ginny mention the events of CoS for the first time in errrrr three years, it’s significant that the text is careful to draw ginny into this broader theme that unites sirius and harry, the constant reminders of traumatic pasts at every turn. we also see here the revelation that regulus black was a death eater. coming after news of percy weasley’s betrayal, sirius’ bitter dismissal of his younger brother deliberately mirrors ginny and the other weasleys’ attitude towards percy, this sense of pureblood families split over wizarding politics, often fatally.

while harry fears his expulsion from hogwarts prior his hearing, he continues to fantasise about coming to live with sirius at grimmauld, and about being with a family member and finding an alternative home to hogwarts. sirius, as hermione astutely observes, tries to manage harry’s expectations and not to get his own hopes up: still, when harry is exonerated, sirius is visibly depressed, showing the beginnings of an emotional dependency on harry that harry feels great guilt over.when leaving grimmauld for the start of the school year, sirius, as padfoot, accompanies harry to king’s cross: unlike in GoF, though, he is spotted, and harry begins to worry much more actively about sirius’ vulnerability to capture, about his recklessness and about his judgement. concerned for sirius, and absent ron and hermione, who are in the prefects carriage, the person who stays with harry and offers him company is ginny. she sacrifices her own train journey (presumably with her own boyfriend) to find a carriage with harry and make sure he’s not lonely, bringing him to neville and luna and sorting him out after his embarassing cho run-in. it’s not a coincidence that once again we see ginny here taking care of harry crookshanks:

'“Where’s Crookshanks?” “Ginny’s got him,” said Harry. “There she is. . . .” Ginny had just emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks. “Thanks,” said Hermione, relieving Ginny of the cat. “Come on, let’s get a carriage together before they all fill up. . . '

once harry’s back at school, having left sirius behind to languish miserably in london, we see he's more isolated and alone than ever. he’s tormented by umbridge, endlessly (though often unfairly) frustrated with ron and hermione, ghosted by dumbledore, yet absent the more stable, reassuring sirius he came to know in GoF, unable to write candidly to him and faced with a much less well sirius in the opportunities they do have to speak face-to-face. as sirius’ mental health declines as he is shut up at grimmauld, his ability to support harry and comfort him starts to falter, and he becomes a much more uneven source of advice and support, particularly during his car crash floo appearance, where he’s much ruder than he has previously been (cutting off, ignoring their pleas for him to be more cautious, the infamous ‘the risk would have made it fun for james’ moment). this new sirius, clearly struggling, is much more happy to do up guilt trip to his godson than we have seen him to up this point (‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’ - you petty little shit, padfoot). all of this serves to increase harry’s anxiety about sirius’ wellbeing and reinforce harry’s sense of emotional isolation. even sirius’ encouragement on the DA is, as hermione points out, partly bound up in more selfish motivations (‘I think he’s really frustrated at how little he can do where he is… so I think he’s keen to kind of… egg us on.’)

ginny’s largely absent in this section of the novel. in the brief moments she does appear, it’s to inject humour (eg. her impressions at the DA meeting) and in little reminders that she now has a boyfriend, no longer harbours romantic feelings for harry, making sure the reader continues to hold her mentally apart from harry. harry, meanwhile, misguidedly tries to seek out a relationship with cho chang, who is showing clear signs of her own emotional distress and inability to meet harry’s emotional needs given her own grief. still, among this, there’s still room for some small subtle sirius/ginny parallels. once the DA plot picks up, we have another little sign that ginny weasley and sirius black think somewhat alike:

“Yeah, the D.A.’s good,” said Ginny. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

“Trained in combat?” repeated Harry incredulously. “What does he think we’re doing here, forming some sort of wizard army? “That’s exactly what he thinks you’re doing,” said Sirius, “or rather, that’s exactly what he’s afraid Dumbledore’s doing — forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.”

with harry's isolation and need for more emotional support established in this first term, christmas at grimmauld offers more opportunity to subtly develop the sirius and ginny parallels, as well as to highlight ginny’s ability to fill the gaps left by sirius’ decline. after the attack on arthur weasley, the group arrive back at grimmauld:

‘Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him. “What’s going on?” he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured —”

could this be sirius literally lifting ginny up into plot significance? why yes it could

ofc the weasleys then argue with sirius about their right to go see their father. despite his own frustrations at being trapped at grimmauld, sirius proves the voice of reason and rational decision making against both ginny and the twins’ hotheadedness (ginny asks to borrow cloaks to go to the hospital: sirius: ‘Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!’) crucially, though, when sirius points out that there are bigger things at stake - the work of the order and the resistance movement - it’s ginny who listens:

“Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” said Sirius angrily in his turn. “This is how it is — this is why you’re not in the Order — you don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!” “Easy for you to say, stuck here!” bellowed Fred. “I don’t see you risking your neck!” The little colour remaining in Sirius’s face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. “I know it’s hard, but we’ve all got to act as though we don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?” Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats on either side of Ginny. “That’s right,” said Sirius encouragingly, “come on, let’s all . . . let’s all have a drink while we’re waiting…’

there’s a lot going on here: ginny’s willingness to follow sirius’ orders, but also her willingness to accept an argument based on some idea of the greater good before any of her brothers. she and sirius are aligned here, and it’s her decision to accept sirius’ reasoning that proves the catalyst for her brothers to follow. we see here how ginny has come to see sirius: someone she looks up to and admires, an adult whose judgement she trusts and whose worldview she subscribes to. (as a character prone to hero worship - see her view of her big brother bill - i think this is noteworthy, and is behind a lot of my characterisation choices for ginny towards sirius in beasts). but we also see that ginny agrees with sirius' worldview. there are some things worth dying for, and self-sacrifice is part of that.

when harry goes to sirius for reassurance about witnessing arthur’s attack, he finds sirius unable to properly console him and convince him that he was not to blame for arthur’s attack. the reader gets the impression of sirius withholding information from harry (‘He could only see a sliver of Sirius’s face; the rest was in darkness’), and the scene ends with sirius clapping harry on the shoulder and leaving him ‘standing alone in the dark’. while sirius throws himself into christmas preparations, obviously delighted to have company, harry shrinks from the cheer and isolates himself. in the end, ofc, the only person that manages to pull harry out of his dark, brooding thoughts is ginny. the text is careful to note she’s sitting beside him on the tube back from st mungo’s, when he looks very unwell. then, in the ‘lucky you’ scene, she showcases some of the same skills harry first came to appreciate in sirius in GoF. she tells it to him straight: she’s sympathetic, but not overly gushing, and she reminds him of her own intensely frightening experience which she endured alone, something harry can relate to, even if the experience of possession is not. it’s an important scene for lots of reasons, but it’s also, crucially, the intervention that causes harry’s mood to lift, and he gets to enjoy a christmas with his godfather, the thing he had most wanted in the run-up to christmas, and which becomes the only holiday period harry and sirius ever spend together:

‘I’m not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door toward Buckbeak’s room, singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Hippogriffs” at the top of his voice.’

of course, once christmas is over, sirius slips back into a depressed, gloomy state. harry wants a better goodbye than he gives him, merely giving him a quick one armed hug (there’s a real theme throughout harry and sirius’ relationship of very sparing physical contact on sirius’ part, which is obviously a hole in harry's life ginny will fill in - er - a big way). back at school, harry returns to umbridge’s increasingly draconian rule, maks a disastrous attempt at forging a relationship with cho, and continues to feel lonely, paranoid, and angry. unable to speak to sirius properly via letter or floo - and unwilling to open the present sirius has given him to communicate directly with him, the two-way mirror - harry is increasingly sullen, a mood that only worsens after seeing snape's worst memory.

the easter egg scene is obviously important for hinny for lots of different reasons. but here i just want to highlight how the scene serves to show ginny as both the conduit to sirius for harry, and someone whose behaviour echoes that of sirius in GoF when harry first began to open up to and seek comfort in him. harry is distressed by his now complicated feelings both towards the father he previously revered and towards sirius, who seemed to encourage james’ bullying behaviour. ginny hands harry a chocolate easter egg covered in snitches: chocolate, a canonical source of comfort against dark thoughts, and an egg that reminds him of the love of parent. the act makes him suddenly emotional, though he at first denies he’s upset. ginny presses carefully and sensitively, asking the right questions to get him to confess the source of his worry, waiting for harry to take his time to speak - all behaviours that echo sirius’ own effective listening techniques. ginny’s acquaintance with sirius, and knowledge of how significant he is to harry, is important here, too, and a subtle sign to the reader that he trusts ginny with knowledge about sirius after a long time of having her in the dark about his godfather. the reader leaves the scene having seen ginny breakthrough to harry emotionally in a way for the second time in the novel, in a way no other character has done (‘he felt a bit more hopeful…’)

of course, the course of action ginny has set in motion is itself risky and reckless (‘anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve’ is very marauders as a philosophy). the decision to go ahead with the plan the twins come up with is one harry sees as a decision on whether to be more like james and sirius - a risk taker - or to abandon the hero worship for the marauders he has lived with for so long. in the end, of course, it’s a win for the reckless troublemakers: he chooses to go ahead with the plan the twins have crafted and that ginny has set in motion, and to speak to sirius.

and yet. sirius is still alive - there is not need for ginny yet. for the remainder of the book, ginny has to beg to be included in the trio's plans and to be allowed to be a part of the plot to rescue sirius. she’s is often in conflict with harry, showing a lot of sirius’ bitterness at attempts at containment and to keep her out of the fighting. she grates against harry’s insistence that she is too young and inexperienced, and having to remind the trio that she, too, has come to care about sirius and wants to see him safe:

“I’ve got a broom!” said Ginny. “Yeah, but you’re not coming,” said Ron angrily. “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

of course, it all ends in tragedy: sirius, desperate to go to harry’s aid and absolutely gunning for a fight after months of confinement, is killed, leaving harry alone. there a subtle clues that something has shifted in ginny’s relationship to harry and the trio in the scenes after sirius’ death, including ginny positioned as the mirror image to harry in the hospital:

‘Harry was sitting on the end of Ron’s bed and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet. Ginny, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione’s bed…’

despite this, in the immediate aftermath of sirius’ death, harry is extremely alone. he is unable to work out what he needs (‘Whenever he was in company he wanted to get away, and whenever he was alone he wanted company.’) he tries to go to hagrid’s, but regrets it (‘He was starting to wish he was alone again’), leaving after hagrid reminds him of sirius’ core traits, an inability to stay out of the fight when he believes in the cause:

“But still, Harry . . . he was never one ter sit around at home an’ let other people do the fightin’. He couldn’ have lived with himself if he hadn’ gone ter help —”

unlike at the end of GoF, harry is isolated by his grief and the revelation of the prophecy's contents by the end of this book. he goes alone to a secluded corner of the lakeshore, ‘sheltered from the gaze of passersby behind a tangle of shrubs’, and ‘[stares] out over the gleaming water’, and cries alone. there is no sirius or other person to catch him and console him in his grief. his person has died, and there’s a gap in his life again, just waiting to be filled:

‘Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him. So much of what he had wanted before Sirius’s death felt that way these days. . . . The week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer: It stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.’

ginny and sirius parallels in HBP and DH

after sirius’ death, the parallels between sirius and ginny become more important as ginny moves into the centre frame as a character. at the start of HBP, harry arrives at the burrow and discusses his grief over sirius’ death with dumbledore in the burrow broom shed, acknowledging how profoundly the loss of a family member who cares singularly about him is affecting him. ('He felt stupid for admitting it, but the fact that he had had someone outside Hogwarts who cared what happened to him, almost like a parent, had been one of the best things about discovering his godfather . . . and now the post owls would never bring him that comfort again. . . .' beasts readers: there's a reason harry clings to letters!) of course, having reminded the reader of the gap in harry’s life that now needs to be filled, harry goes to sleep, the active reflection on his grief for sirius put to one side so the novel's plot can get underway. he'll go to bed mourning sirius and wake up in a sunlit bedroom. of course, ginny will walk into this bedroom too, only now things will be different: harry potter is back to the search for a loved one, for a family, and he's about to realise ginny is the one he wants to fill it. thus the start of the plot of ginny stepping into the role vacated by sirius beginneth.

so much of who ginny is in HBP is reminiscent of sirius. she frequently leaps into battle as harry’s protector (‘You’re taking orders from something someone wrote in a book?’, ‘Give it a rest, Hermione’), she’s scrappy (RIP zacharias smith), she’s funny and laughs easily in a way that less recalls sirius in the time harry knew him than sirius as harry sees him as a young man, in photographs or memories. she's the one who commits to the insane christmas decorations, determined to cheer everyone up over the festive period as sirius did the year before. she even enjoys the widespread admiration and lust of her peers, a trait that directly recalls sirius being eyed up by his peers in snape's memory. by the novel’s end, after dumbledore’s death, it will be ginny who goes to harry’s side after the climax of the plot and catch him in his grief just as sirius did in GoF, this time over dumbledore’s death:

‘He did not want to leave Dumbledore’s side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid’s hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.’ A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it.’

their breakup has sirius all over it. taking place at the lakeshore, the place where harry wept alone over sirius a year prior, harry draws on the circumstances of sirius’ demise as a reason he must break up with ginny (‘Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to.’) the breakup does little to shift what ginny has become in harry’s mind, though, and he spends all of DH thinking of her as he once thought of sirius: the person whose safety he most craves, the person he misses, someone he claims as his, and whom he associates with (now banished) hopes of a home and a family:

“It’s not a problem,” said Harry, sickened by the pain in his head. “It’s your family, ’course you’re worried. I’d feel the same way.” He thought of Ginny. “I do feel the same way.”

of course, echoes of sirius will also come into play during open war. it’s now ginny, not sirius, who is the one left behind for her own protection: in the run-up to the battle, harry finds himself once again faced with the prospect of confining his loved one for their safety, despite their desperation to fight and do the right thing. but these are thoughts for part 2…….

#meta #sirius black #ginny weasley #it's not NOT an aged up sinevra ship agenda #hp meta #hp analysis #hinny #marauders #black family #beasts

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osiris-iii-bc · 6 days

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Secondo Emeritus - Naples

Primo | Secondo

Naples. My beautiful Naples. My beloved, adored Naples. It is the city where I studied and grew up in and it is also literally filled with mysteries and legends. I thought Naples would have been the perfect formation place for a young Secondo Emeritus. Let’s see what may have influenced and inspired him in his religious journey.

1 - The musical church.

Ghost’s music has always been heavily loaded with the Devil’s Tritone: also called Diabulus in Musica or Devil’s Interval, it is an unsettling dissonance produced by an unusual arrangement of notes that gives that spooky, devilish tone to music. In Infestissumam, it was featured on 9 out of 10 songs. The use of the Tritone was banned in Medieval times (In Ghost, its use dramatically dropped with Prequelle, with only 2 out of 10 songs featuring it). So what if I tell you that, in contrast, in Naples there is a church that functions as a musical score, whose music protects it from evil?

Basically, there is a church in Piazza del Gesù that has a particular pointy ashlar on the external facade. Under the side (the one facing the ground, so if you look up from the street you can see them) of each of these little pyramids are carved symbols, which turned out to be Aramaic letters that were later translated into musical notes. So, it turned out that the whole church is a big score, and it’s playable. The whole melody, called Enigma, was played for the first time inside the church to celebrate the discovery. You can hear the music here (sound quality is not the best).

Will it protect the church from Ghost’s music?

2 - The skull cult.

Naples has very intricate underground galleries, almost all visitable. One of these is Cimitero delle Fontanelle, a famous catacomb where the remains of about 40.000 people who died from plagues are stored. It is said the “anime pezzentelle” cult was born here: it is a particular relationship each Neapolitan establishes with a chosen skull. You literally adopt an abandoned skull, which according to our tradition is the seat of the soul, and your duty is to care for it, protect it and also create a special niche for it. In exchange, the soul of that skull will protect you.

A nice place for a Bone Daddy.

3 - Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil.

Knowing the passion our Secondo has for women, here is a story about a very devilish one.

In Santa Maria del Prato church, in the Mergellina area, there is the only representation of the devil as a woman in a painting.

The legend has it that said woman was the beautiful Vittoria D’Avalos, who seduced the Bishop Diomede Carafa, who commissioned the painting in 1542 to represent his victory against the woman’s lust (we're all believing him, right? 🙄).

Now that story has a way of saying that refers to femmes fatales as “Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil”.

I’d say she may be considered among the first-ever Sisters of Sin.

4 - Who gives life can also take it.

Infestissumam is filled with references to birth and Jesus, turning it into the birth of the antichrist and creating a narrative that is completely opposite to the birth of the Son of Man. Now, in Naples, there is a statue that embodies both concepts.

Back to Piazza del Gesù: On a very high pedestal in the center of the square stands a statue of the Virgin Mary, the Mother. That's all... until you position yourself at a specific point in the square and look up to see the statue transformed into the Reaper. His face is hidden by the cowl, staring straight at you, with a sickle at its feet and a snake crawling on it.

Depending on your point of view, the giver of life becomes the taker of it.

5 - Body and Blood… but especially blood.

What never stops to fascinate me about the relationship of Neapolitans with religion is the very thin line between devotion and pure blasphemy. It is the case of the “miracle” of San Gennaro’s blood. It happens twice a year and it consists in bringing the Saint’s blood in a liquid state again (after centuries it is obviously solidified). The particular thing is that during this ritual, the worshippers (and the priests too) literally insult the saint to convince him to make the miracle happen, because if it doesn’t work, it means that something terrible is about to happen.

(Last time it didn’t work was right before the Covid pandemic 🙂)

I’d say this could have been a great inspiration for Body and Blood and Idolatrine.

Honorable mention to the fact that I have lived 32 years now on this Earth and I never attended this event even though I would like to.

Bonus: Now, I said that Dante would come back in the chapters, and he is. In fact, not only Virgilio died in Naples (and he is the protector of the city) but, apparently, the gates of Hell Dante mentioned in his comedy were located on the Averno lake, near Pozzuoli, not far from Naples.

#the band ghost #ghost theory #papa emeritus ii #secondo emeritus #secondo #papa secondo #ghost fandom #Italian cities #ghost band theories

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useless-bulgariafacts · 2 years

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October 26th is Dimìtrovden/Mitrovden (Димитровден), or the Orthodox feast day of St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki. (Bulgarian: Свети Димитър Солунски) He is a 3rd-4th century Christian saint and great martyr (великомъченик) from the city of Thessaloniki in Greece, of which he is the patron saint.

Hagiographies refer to St. Demetrius as a young man of a senatorial family, who became proconsul and was tasked with persecuting Christians in the at the time still pagan Roman Empire. However, being himself Christian, he instead protected them, for which the emperor had him jailed. He was later speared to death as punishment for the defeat of the gladiator Lyaeus at the hands of Demetrius' disciple, Nestor. This marked the beginning of his veneration by Christians in the area, which grew in the following centuries, as he was said to guard the city against raiders.

Albeit not one originally, during the Middle Ages St. Demetrius came to be revered as a warrior saint, and iconography portrays him riding on a red horse, running a spear through various enemies — often Lyaeus, but also whoever was locally perceived as an enemy. In Greek icons, this is sometimes the Bulgarian tsar Kaloyan, while in Bulgarian ones — the Byzantine emperor Basil II The Bulgarslayer, or later on, a Turk. St. Demetrius is also associated with the founding of the Second Bulgarian Tsardom, specifically the uprising of the brothers Petăr and Asen, which broke out on Oct. 26th, 1185. The St. Demetrius church in Veliko Tărnovo (pictured above) was built in commemoration the event, and served as a coronation site of Asen dynasty tsars, who claimed him as their patron.

Traditionally, Dimitrovden marks the end of the seasonal transition from fall to winter, a period which begins on Oct. 14th with Petkovden. Bulgarian folk mythology casts the saints George and Demetrius in the role of twin brothers, whose respective holidays split the year into its warm and cold halves. The latter, elder of the two, ushers in the cold and darkness, as he rides in on his red horse and the winter's first snowflakes sprinkle down onto the earth from his beard. As St. George's opposite and counterpart, he takes on the qualities of a chthonic deity, and thus has connotations to death and the Beyond — under his patronage the so-called Dimitrovska Zadushnica takes place on the Saturday prior to Dimitrovden, one of several such holidays where food is given out in honor of deceased ancestors. Perhaps this is also why, in addition to St. George, folk imagination places him as a brother to Archangel Michael and nephew to St. Paraskeva/Petka.

Dimitrovden is the true end to the year's agrarian cycle — the harvest now over, it's time to put the farm tools away, make sure the animals have shelter and firewood is stocked up. It's also when farmhands and other labourers' contracts expire and they get rehired for the year ahead, which is why the day is also known as Razpust (Разпуст). As with other big holidays, a community-wide celebratory feast is held, and the customary ritual meal (or kurban) is mutton. The biggest ram is chosen, a pair of gold-painted apples are placed onto its horns and those present bow before it, after which it's slaughtered and cooked, and receives a priest's blessing before being served. Festivities are accompanied by music and horo (group dancing), which again has an intended matchmaking function. Namesakes of the saint celebrate the occasion, too — but they're traditionally served a chicken or rooster dish, according to gender. Other foods for Dimitrovden include corn, seasonal fruit and derived dishes, such as apple pita, pestil (a type of plum dessert), rachel (pumpkin syrup), etc.

Another activity which traditionally ends on Dimitrovden is construction work — a new house is supposed to have been completed by then, and the homeowners celebrate by throwing their own feast with a kurban, and inviting friends and relatives to witness the house being blessed by the master mason and the priest. The feast day has therefore been adopted as a career holiday of builders and masons.

The day's connection to the mysterious and otherworldly has inspired various beliefs and rituals of prognostic or divinatory nature, and anything from the weather and moon phases, to the behaviour of farm animals is observed carefully and used to make future predictions. Characteristic is the custom, known as polazvane (полазване), wherein members of the household make note of the first person to visit them, to physically cross the threshold into their home, and interpret them as a portent of things to come. Also, according to old treasure hunting legends, Dimitrovden is when "the sky opens" and buried gold emits a blue-ish flame just above ground.

Dimitrovden is part of the group of holidays, based around the idea of transition and liminality; between fall and winter, between the world of the living and of the dead. The Christian and pre-Christian symbolism intertwine, the martyr death of the saint mirrors the "death" of nature as the earth is covered in snow and daytime engulfed by darkness. And crucially — for a people whose perception of time follows nature's cycles — the coming of winter brings not only a period of calm and rest, but the promise of spring and renewal.

#Bulgaria #Slavic #Balkan #Eastern Europe #Orthodox #folklore #mythology #customs #Dimitrovden #here you go bulgarian halloween pt.2 #I am again sorry it's several days later but it took a while to write ok

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kasagia · 6 months

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Innocent

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're not like the other Grishas. It took you some time to master your power, but you're still unsure of your control over it. That's why it scares you when you're chosen for a special mission in Fjerda. Luckily your general cares about all his people... or at least about you... actually way too much, but you're not going to complain at all. Requested by: @dreampissybaby I hope you like it! 😊💙🖤 Warning(s): the reader is unsure of herself; the reader does not want to kill (but is ultimately forced to for Aleks); blood; mentions of murder; sharing body heat, Aleks comforts the reader; Words count: 5,7 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

The time has come. Your first mission.

You spent years in the Little Palace training, going to classes with other heartrenders, practicing under the supervision of Baghra and Botkin. And you had potential. You were the most powerful of all the heartrenders in the Little Palace...

There was only one 'problem' with you.

You didn't kill. Nor control your powers as you should.

You were supposed to be a healer. This is what you always wanted as soon as your Grishas powers as Corporalki manifested. But due to fate and the fact that there was a greater demand for heartenders in the Second Army than for healers, you became someone you did not want to be. You were supposed to take lives, not heal or save them, and you never really came to terms with that.

Not that anyone asked for your opinion. Certainly not Baghra, although she was one of the few who noticed that the problem with mastering your powers was in your head and not due to lack of control or powerlessness. Which didn't mean she didn't give you a hard time at every training session you had. You would rather have Botkin's training than spend your time in that's hag's hut.

That's why you laughed at Fedyor when he told you that he chose you as a replacement for Ivan (who was unexpectedly sent on another mission) as an additional heartrender for their secret mission in Fjerda.

"Very funny. Be careful, you start to adopt Ivan's sense of humor." you say, walking with him towards your rooms after sparring together. However, you start to get a little worried when he doesn't respond to your taunt. "Saints, Fedyor, it was a joke, right?"

"You have to go on your first mission someday. Besides, it will be an easy and simple task. We'll do some spying and go home. A few weeks and you'll be back in the Little Palace, and I promise I'll watch over you."

"Have you lost your mind?! I will get stressed, reveal my powers, and the Fjerdans will skin us faster than you can eat sweets from the palace kitchen." you lament, imagining all the worst-case scenarios.

"Nothing will happen. Besides, general is coming too. With him, no Fjerdans or Drüskells will attack us." you freeze at his words, realising how much worse your situation suddenly is with this one statement.

"What?!" you ask, but Fedyor has already disappeared into his and Ivan's room.

You start to get even more nervous. Since you had relatively completed the most important parts of your training, you were often at either Fedyor's or Ivan's side, 'improving' your skills and getting used to your new role in Little Palace.

This also meant often being near General Kirigan's side. Who was dangerously becoming more and more curious about you (at least that was what Fedyor was telling you in great secrecy.)

And his unexpected interest in your abilities only grew when Ivan blurted out to him that Baghra was also training you to be a healer, not only a heartrender. You don't know if this little act of mercy by the old witch was to help you overcome the internal conflict inside you since you put on the red-black kefta of a heartrender or if it was another one of the woman's ways of ruining others' lives.

Anyway, one day you walked into Kirigan's war room behind Ivan and the Black General's dark eyes, and instead of being glued to the maps and reports in front of him as usual, they were focused only on you. A shiver ran through you as you felt his piercing gaze on you. He seemed to be assessing your capabilities based on the rumours that Ivan and his men had been feeding him. You knew that he was judging how useful you could be to him. You held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the maps on the table, hiding slightly behind Ivan as he began to give him the most important information from the camp closest to the fold.

Since then, you've been seeing him more and more. Be it on your way back from Baghra's hut to the palace, in the library, or even late at night in the gardens or other parts of the Little Palace when you never expect him to appear.

He was always polite and nice. He spoke to you in such a gentle and calm tone, so different from the way he spoke to other Grishas, that it took you a moment to adjust to the soft side he was giving you. You didn't expect that the Darkling would ever be understanding of your insecure, shy nature or try to help you control your powers and come to terms with them by giving you small advice and even giving you accessories from Materialki, which allowed you to feel more confident while using your little science and controlling others hearts, bodies, and minds.

But that didn't matter anymore. Any sympathy or hope he had for you and your powers would end in the coming days when he saw that you were actually a nobody and were only wasting your power, which someone else could better use than you.

You might as well start preparing to be sent across the fold to Western Ravka and certain death at the hands of the volcras.

With trembling hands, you tied your small bag to the saddle of your horse. Fedyor, Zoya, Inferni, and Tidemaker, whose names you didn't know, were also preparing their horses to leave.

You were about to leave the Little Palace in a few minutes. The only person missing was General Kirigan.

Which made you very happy. You had trouble tying that damned bundle so it wouldn't fly off your horse's back. You weren't going to ask anyone for help and show how weak and hopeless you were in the group from the very beginning. You won't be defeated by something like this. If you were going to embarrass yourself, at least in a fight… or at least not before you set out.

But as always, you must have been unlucky.

"What are you doing here?" the general's question didn't make you the only one to freeze. The rest of your companions also stopped what they were doing and now looked at you with interest while you were trying to calm down your beating heart and respond to the Darkling. You turn to him and hold your little bundle of belongings that you failed to tie to your horse behind your back, so he can't see it.

"Fedyor thought I would be suitable for this task and appointed me as a second heartrender, sir." you reply without looking him in the eyes.

"He did?" he asks unemotionally, turning his gaze to your friend. You swallow nervously, waiting for his next words.

"Yes, General. Y/N is doing better and better. It's time to test her beyond the walls of the Little Palace, so she can use her power in a more beneficial way." Fedyor responds as your main "mentor". If you were brave enough to raise your head, you would surely give him a grateful look for the confidence with which he assured the general of your readiness.

"Well then." The general nods. You see him send a stern look at the rest of the Grishas, who are still staring. They immediately go back to their preparations.

You mentally curse as the horseboy leaves the general's horse next to yours. You try your best to ignore him as you continue to tie the damned bundle with trembling hands to your horse. And at the same time, you try to reject the uncertainty and doubts that began to grow even more intensely in you after the general's question.

"I don't see you being particularly excited about your first mission." the general's remark made you turn your head towards him. You shivered as soon as you realised his piercing gaze was directed straight at you. "Nervous?"

"A little." you admit, glad he's not a heartrender and can't hear your heart beating madly. You're about to have a heart attack here... if you don't first make a fool of yourself and cry from helplessness in front of the general. You were so pathetic...

You are brought out of your dark thoughts by the sudden presence of someone behind you. The general's warm, large hands gently take your bundle with your things from your hands and tie it to the horse's side. And if you didn't know better, you'd think he was extending the moment on purpose, just to keep you pressed against his chest, embraced by his arms, a little longer.

"You don't have to." he whispers, responding to your earlier words, and pulls away from you as if nothing had happened. He went to finish his preparations for the road himself, leaving you with the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck.

You get goosebumps and feel your cheeks heat up. Your hands tingle in the place where the general's hands were on them a moment ago. And your traitorous mind imagines what it would be like to feel his touch entirely somewhere else.

You shake your head and get on your horse, praying to the saints to help you survive this journey with dignity. Or at least that you'll come back alive. After all, you should keep your expectations low.

Surprisingly, you managed to survive the first week without any relative disasters. It was more than you could expect from yourself. Things may not have gone as you expected, but at least you all managed to ride safely through Ravka to the border with Fjerdans.

But every day you got closer to the border, your fear grew more and more.

You set up camp in the forest, each following your established routine. The General and Fedyor went out scouting, exploring the surrounding areas, when the rest of you were setting up a small camp and trying to hide it from human eyes as much as you could.

You were feeding and watering the horses when you suddenly heard a heartbeat next to you. You didn't even try to explain to yourself how you knew or when exactly you started to recognise General Kirigan's heartbeat. It just happened over time. And you didn't have the courage to admit to yourself that it meant something more.

The general took one apple and gave it to his black stallion, tenderly stroking its muzzle. You couldn't hide your small smile at how gentle he was with his horse (whose name was, ironically, Nightfall).

The black bastard even had his mane braided by him. Not that you watched closely as his hands braided it for the whole 6 minutes before Fedyor noticed and started teasing you about how your heart would go into failure from pumping blood so fast. You had never considered being a horse, but in that moment...

"Anything funny, Captain?" he asks, and if you hadn't learned over the course of this week the difference in the tone of his voice when he was teasing, you would probably have died of fear there.

"Nothing, General." you reply with a smirk, laughing in your head at your own ridiculousness and the stupid attraction you had for him. "How long do we have to be in Fjerda?"

"Until we get what we came here for. But I think it will take us two weeks at most. The Little Palace can't stay unattended for long."

You nod, partially satisfied with his answer. But you can't shake that unsettling feeling that something bad will definitely happen by then. Either you ruin the entire mission or you die miserably at Fjerdans' hands, revealing your powers in enemy territory.

"What's wrong?" His voice breaks you out of your thoughts better than the hand he suddenly wraps around yours. After thinking about it for a while, his touch shouldn't be that familiar to you.

"Nothing, General. I was lost in thought." you lie, trying to hide your insecurities and fear by looking down at your hands because you know he can read people like an open book.

"Don't insult my intelligence. I won't be convinced by such a flimsy excuse, and you definitely have better, more persuading answers." he takes a step towards you and gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his piercing, dark brown eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I..." you stutter as you get lost in his eyes, which are studying you so intently, as if the answer to his questions were written in your eyes.

And for a moment, you want to tell him.

You want to say that you are afraid of your powers and that you don't know if you will be able to control them when you are in a critical situation and help others. That you don't know if you'll ever get used to the role you've been thrust into. That you don't belong, and even his soothing presence isn't worth the stress, anxiety, and uncertainty you're going through every day. That you want to be someone completely different, but you know that you can't be a brat and throw away an opportunity that thousands of Grishas in your place would gratefully accept.

But you can't show him that you're broken...

"Y/N. Talk to me." he says firmly.Worry and concern are obviously written on his face, and it irritates you that you are unaware of what's causing it. That you don't know why he even cares to notice, let alone ask you what's bothering you.

"It's nothing serious. You shouldn't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine, sir." you say it emotionlessly and move away from him. You turn your back at him and start to comb your horse's mane.

But he doesn't give up. He places a hand on your shoulder and holds it in a tight grip, turning you back to face him.

"Something's clearly bothering you. You're going to tell me this now and here. This is no longer a question, Captain." if possible, his eyes will become even darker. But he's not the only one who's starting to get mad. Unlike him, you can't keep your emotions bottled up inside you so well.

"Why do you even care?! I'm just a captain, another one of your heartrenders; you shouldn't care about me at all!" you shout at him, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. Ivan would have a heart attack if he saw you talk with the general.

But Kirigan also seems to forget that you should be more respectful towards him... or maybe he's relieved that you're not as afraid of him as everyone else, and this new revelation is refreshing for him.

"It's not up to you to judge what I should care about. Even a blind person could see that you've been behaving strangely for a week and that something is tormenting you. Your hands tremble more often, you are more silent and paler, you eat less, your eyes no longer shine like they used to when Fedyor teases you, dark circles start to appear under your eyes, and every night I hear you rolling over next to me on your sleeping place. So you are going to tell me now what's wrong, so I can fix it."

His long speech leaves you stunned. You didn't realise that he noticed things like that or that he watched you closely enough to find a difference in your behavior. And what bothered you most was the reason why the Black General knew you so well.

And you probably would have crumbled in pieces there in front of him and poured out all your insecurities and fears on him if the sudden crunch of branches hadn't caught your attention.

You didn't even have time to blink before you were behind the general. He holds your arm with one hand, making sure you stay behind him so he can shield you from any danger. And in the back of your mind, despite how enchanted you were by his closeness, the thought occurs that you should be the one protecting him...

Then he threw his dagger in the direction the sound came from. After a while, a painful groan echoed through the clearing.

"Fedyor?!" you ask and run out from behind the general when you recognise your friend's voice. You disappear behind the trees, finding the heartrender, who was wearing a regular cloak (you had to drop your keftas since you were getting closer to Fjerdans), leaning against a tree and holding his arm where the dagger was embedded. "What the hell?! You scared us!"

"Well, you're not the one with the dagger stuck in you. It was starting to get dark; the others sent me to get you, since we are practically on Fjerdans' territory."

You nod and help him sit on the ground. After a while, the general appears behind you. You see him blush awkwardly, realising who his dagger hit.

"My apologies, Fedyor. You shouldn't have sneaked up on us like that, though."

You take the opportunity to have your back turned to him and roll your eyes at him. While Fedyor is busy answering him, you quickly take the dagger out of him. He hisses in pain and gives you an offended look.

"What? Would you rather I count to three?" you ask sarcastically, pulling back his coat and lifting up his shirt to place your hands on his wound. Blood sticks to your fingers, staining the sleeves of your shirt.

"The last time you did that, you took the arrow out of me before you could count to two." he grumbles as you begin to heal him, the wound tingling unpleasantly as it closes up.

"I don't remember you complaining when I let you eat my chocolate cookies later. At least I wasn't the first to get hurt; you should be proud of me as my mentor." you don't miss the general's quiet chuckle behind you as you taunt with your friend.

"Come on, veteran." he pats Fedyor on his health shoulder. "Let's get back to camp before they send a whole search party after us, shall we?" he asks, his dark irises trained on you, watching as you let go of Fedyor's arm, which is fully healed now.

The general extends his hand towards you and helps you up. He doesn't shy away from grabbing your bloody hand; he holds it even tighter, making sure it doesn't slip away from his grip. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fedyor give you a significant look. You roll your eyes at him.

"Here." the general says, and he hands you his black handkerchief to wipe the blood from you. But before you can take it from him, he catches your hands in his and wipes the red liquid from your hands himself. "Allow me." he whispers, looking into your eyes. Blushing, you realise that Fedyor is long gone from sight, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"Thank you." you clear your throat, feeling his fingers gently wipe the blood from your hands. And you feel ashamed, admitting to yourself that this simple touch makes you shiver.

"You should change that shirt when we come back."

You look at your shirt and see that it's stained with Fedyor's blood. You wrinkled your nose, knowing this was your last shirt. You will have to stay in it until you reach a village where you can buy a new one.

"I'll be fine," you say, trying to change the subject. You don't want to seem even weaker than you already are in his eyes.

The general frowns but says nothing more as you return to camp. And if he thought you didn't notice that he was still holding your hand and keeping you close to him as he walked lightly in front of you, he was sorely mistaken. You were glad that no one was around to hear your heartbeat and that his fingers avoided the place on your wrist where he could feel your racing pulse.

If anyone else notices that there is blood on your shirt, they don't comment on it. You go through your evening chores, and finally, after hours of driving and being on your feet, you lie down.

You put your small travel bag under your head and are about to go to sleep when suddenly you hear the rustle of fabric falling next to you.

You open your eyes and stare in surprise at the black shirt that is clearly an intruder. A shiver runs through you as you feel someone's burning gaze on you. You look up and see the general sitting a few steps away from you, watching you carefully.

If the delicate, skin-friendly material or colour of the clothes didn't give you a clue as to who they might belong to, then the look in those hypnotising dark eyes that didn't leave you until you took the clothes in your hands was an eloquent suggestion of the shirt's owner.

And after the intoxicating smell that engulfed you as you changed in a secluded place, you were even more overwhelmed by this unexpected gesture, knowing full well that you shouldn't recognise his scent that easily. Or wanting it to stay with you for a long time.

You walk back to camp and ignore the smirk Fedyor gives you as he stands guard by the fire. You lie down in your place and pull the blanket tighter over you, wrapped in a cocoon, with the general's scent wafting around you.

You shiver, feeling the chill of the night despite it. You roll the oversized sleeves of the Kirigan's shirt around your hands, limiting the air from reaching your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the others move closer to each other, taking advantage of the warmth of each other's bodies.

You sigh, realising that it will be a few hours before you can do the same to Fedyor once he stands off his watch. Now you had to endure the cold that was starting to sting your cheeks and slowly seep into your uncovered skin.

You roll from side to side a few times, trying to find the best position to limit your heat loss, until you are stopped by strong arms that suddenly wrap around your stomach and press you against the hard and warm wall. You blush as you realise from the pounding heartbeat behind you that you're pressing against SOMEONE'S chest.

"It's a cold night." he whispers, his warm breath on the back of your neck making you shiver. "Do you mind, milaya?"

You shake your head slowly. You knew that right now you would do anything what he would ask of you. And you were both terrified and excited about that damn exhilarating closeness with him as he was sharing his warmth with you.

"Thank you, general." you whisper into the night, afraid to turn and look at his face lit only by the flames of the fire and the light of the stars, because you know that if you did, you would be lost for good.

You close your eyes, trying to protect yourself a little from your obvious feelings for him—the man you will never truly have.

"Call me Aleksander." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He takes this as a sign that you're cold and ends up pressing you closer to him, so that you feel every inch of his body touching you.

He could have anyone. And you knew both yourself and his habits too well to pull the wool over your eyes that you could ever be someone more to him... but that didn't mean you didn't enjoy this momentary attention he was giving you.

You relax and lean into him more as he buries his nose in your hair and falls asleep. His rhythmic heartbeat and breathing, his scent that immediately makes you feel safe and protected, and the warmth that floats around the two of you curled up against each other, lull you to sleep.

After all, it was a cold night. And General, contrary to all the rumours you've heard, turned out to be very warm... at least when he held you protectively close to his chest.

Fedyor watches the two of you with a mischievous smirk, knowing full well that he'll be teasing you with this the next day. He already knew what he would write to Genya and Ivan in his next letters.

Your informant did a good job. He perfectly determined the location of the hidden cellar in the Fjerdans' forest, where their soldiers' base was.

It took you several days to prepare. You were supposed to break in, steal the necessary plans and reports, and get out of there before anyone noticed you. Of course, everything went to hell as fast as it was possible.

At one point, you scattered, each trying to find a way out on your own, when one of the soldiers detected Inferni, who was with you and was using his powers to warm himself up.

You didn't know what happened to him in the end. Or with Aleksander, the rest of the group.

You ran forward, towards the exit you remembered, avoiding all heartbeats along the way.

You're walking down corridor after corridor, corner after corner, when suddenly someone grabs your elbow and pulls you towards him, keeping a hand over your mouth to block out any sound from you. You struggle for a moment until you hear a quiet whisper that haunts you both at night and in your dreams:

"It's me, milaya." you freeze in place at the sound of his soothing whisper in your ear. You turn around, wanting to make sure your mind isn't playing any tricks on you, and sigh in relief when you see Aleksander's concerned face in front of you.

"Where's the rest?" you ask, swallowing, trying to calm yourself down and maintain an appearance of composure in front of him. Even though your heart was now beating like crazy with fear.

"Fedyor and Zoya are outside. I'm not sure about the others." he says, taking your elbow and pushing you to the side of the hall so that you're more shielded from anyone's view. You frown, processing his words while he looks around to see if you can leave your hiding place and continue on your way to the exit.

"You came back for me?" you ask, trying to catch his gaze to read something in his impenetrable eyes.

You see the gears stop in his head, all thoughts of your escape and safety being forgotten as he stares at you, speechless.

You've never seen him like this. No words, no wise comment or answer. He just stood there and stared at you. A blush slowly took over his cheeks, and after hearing his heartbeat quicken, you had never been happier that he had technically forced you to qualify as a heartrender.

"Aleksander?" you whisper questioningly, waiting for any word from him that will either confirm your suspicions and make your wildest dreams come true or make him break your heart more than the most powerful heartrender could ever do.

You hold your breath when, after a moment of internal struggle that is going on inside him for some reason, he takes a step towards you and confidently cups your cheek with his hand.

"Y/N... I... For a very long time... I haven't met someone like you. I've never wanted to meet again. I've lost so many... But you... you make me question everything I promised myself a long time ago."

You see pain and longing in his eyes. You have no idea what he's been through or why he feels the way he does now, but you are sure of one thing. And you are ready to promise him this one thing, regardless of any consequences.

"You won't lose me." you whisper, looking into his teary eyes. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent. You shiver as your noses touch, brushing gently.

You open your eyes only to see Fjerdan behind him, pointing a gun at you two. You are both without your keftas, but you know that the Fjerdans know how the Darkling looks like and can recognise him.

You act automatically. You push Aleksander away and link your arms, stopping the man's heart in front of you before he can even put his finger on the trigger of his gun. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and a deafening, terrifying silence reigns in the corridor. The smell of blood irritates your nostrils.

You lower your hands shakily, only to realise that you've done more than stop his heart. The weight of the organ that ripped from Fjerdan's chest and flew straight into your hand weighs on you more than your growing guilt. Your heart falls out of your hands and onto the floor, and you still feel the blood staining your fingers.

You killed someone. You actually killed someone...

The cold permeates your body. You shiver uncontrollably as tears fill your eyes, and you stare at the dead body in shock until Aleksander stands in front of you. He cups your cheeks and pulls you closer to him, making you rest your head on his chest.

"Shhh... It's fine, milaya. We are safe, you saved us both." he whispers into your ear, hugging you even tighter as he presses you against his chest with one arm, and his other hand strokes your hair to calm you down.

"I… killed… I…" you can't stand it. You fall apart completely in his warm embrace, his coat perfectly soaking up both the blood you shed for him and the tears flowing from your eyes that you simply can't stop anymore.

The realisation comes to him with a delay, and you feel him freeze when he hears your words. He is wise. You know that he realises that this was your first... and that you never wanted to do this, and that this was what you feared most when going on this mission with them.

If possible, you sob and tremble even more, aware that soon his soothing embrace will disappear, that he will throw you out of his inner circle, and that you can start preparing to be sent out across the fold and to West Ravka since you have proven to be so useless to him.

But, much to your surprise, he didn't pull away. He didn't make any malicious remarks, and he didn't threaten to throw you out of the Second Army, as he often did in the worst-case scenarios your head could imagine.

Instead, he pulls you as close to him as possible and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You tremble as his hands cup your cheeks and gently brush away your tears before he presses his soft lips there.

"Shhh… I have you, lapushka." he whispers while kissing off your tears. "You did a good thing. He didn't deserve to live, moya milaya. He would have hurt us if you hadn't reacted first. And I gave you my word; this is the last time you have to do something like this." he says, pressing his lips to your tample in a promise.

He tangles his hand in your hair and presses your head against his shoulder. You bury your head between his neck and shoulder as he holds you tightly against him and strokes your back while cradling you.

You cry into him until you run out of tears. He is with you until the very end, silently comforting you with a warm hug and a gentle touch of his lips on various parts of your face.

He places one last kiss on your forehead and cups your cheek in his hand, lovingly wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. You instinctively lean into his touch and stand as if hypnotised, staring into his dark irises that look at you with so much affection and care like no one has ever done before.

You don't know who leans in first, you or him, or who is the one who kissed the other first. All you can feel, all you can think about, and all your world is limited to now is him and his soft lips caressing yours as gently as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if he was afraid that in any moment you would disappear.

At some point, his kisses became more intense. He tangles his hand in your hair and pins you to the wall, his hand making sure you don't hit your head against the stone wall as he doesn't let your lips leave his for the slightest moment.

He breaks the kiss and pulls away to look at you. You feel your cheeks turn bright red and your lips swollen from his kiss. You clear your throat and shyly look away from him as he watches you intensively.

"We… we should go… the rest are probably waiting for us…" you stutter. He lets out a soft laugh and leans in to steal another quick kiss from you.

"As you wish, milaya. This way." he says, and he grabs your hand, pulling you close to him. His shadows surround the two of you as he wraps his arm protectively around your waist and leads you outside.

When you walk with him with your hands together, you feel complete. Calm. And glancing at your general as he removes any Fjerdans from your path and surrounds the two of you in a protective shield of his shadows, you know that if you went back in time, you would do everything exactly the same.

You wouldn't change anything if it meant you would ultimately end up in the arms of the Dark General. He was worth evereything... maybe even losing your innocence too. Though something told you that he liked taking care of his little corporalki.

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mask131 · 6 months

Text

I wanted to make this post last year but I got caught up in events (plus I couldn't find back my sources). But given the recent international events have completely turned away most media's attention from the Russian war on Ukraine, I thought it was finally time to make this post.

Because I want to talk about something truly crazy. Something that shows how deep Russia's distortion, warping and twisting of the Christian religion went - and how back there, we're back to the times of holy inquisitions.

Many people have covered the fact that the propaganda of Putin over Russia isn't just mediatic and politic but also religious. There were many viral reports and TV reports and investigations about how the higher-ups of the Russian Orthodox Church were in Putin's pocket, openly shared Putinist propaganda during their religious offices, declared that the war against Ukraine was a "holy war" that God wanted, that Putin was merely the agent and arm of God - there was this whole thing about the Patriarch blessing the weapons of the Russian soldiers sent to the front, and about him explicitely saying that the Devil and/or the Antichrist was in Ukraine.

But there is something that is even bigger and more shocking than that, and that shows how in Russia war = religion. It is a building: the Cathedral of the Russian Armed Forces.

The building of this cathedral started in 2018, but it was only completed in 2020. The cathedral is technically a religious building, but the main reason of its existence is to celebrated the "various military feats of Russia", chief among which - the Russian victory over the Nazis during World War II. The completion of the cathedral was done on the Victory Day celebrating the Soviet Union crushing the Nazis ; and it was opened on the "Day of Remembrance and Sorrow" (a commemoration of when the Nazis turned against the Soviet Union and tried to march over it). There's something about "the resurrection of Christ" in there, but let's be honest, this was built exclusively for and around war.

This building is absolutely grandiose, without a doubt - and its beauty and enormity is a proof of Russia's dedication to its unique mix of religion and military matters. In fact it was considered one of the great monuments of Russia... until the Ukrainian attacks made people reconsider what this symbol ACTUALLY meant.

And the thing with this building is that it was FILLED with carefully-thought war symbolism. For example, take the main dome's diameter: 19,45 meters... To symbolize the year when World War II stopped (1945). [Another source rather claims that the dome's diameter is 22,43 meters but it doesn't change the symbol: the Nazi capitulation was signed at 22h43]. There is a small dome that is 14,18 meters in height - because the conflict between the Nazis and the Soviet Union lasted 1 418 days and nights. And the belfry is 75 meters tall... because 75 years had passed between 2020 and the end of World War II. By the way, did you know that when Russians talk of the end of World War II and how they helped defeat the Nazis, they do not speak of the "World War"? No, they rather speak of "the end of the Great Patriotic War". Because the conflict between the USSR and the Nazis wasn't part of any world conflict, oh no! It was just one specific war against the patry - aka Russia. The total height of the Church is a reference to Saint Vladimir's (the one who Christianized the Rus lands) birth date, etc etc...

Things get better - the steps and floors of the cathedral are made of metal. Metal made from the melted war trophies taken from the Nazis - their weapons an their tanks for example. As such, the Russians will forever walk on the remains of their old ennemies. The church's saints are carefully chosen as the patron-saints of the Russian military: saint Elijah the Prophet, saint Barbara, saint Fyodor Ushakov... All organized in the four sections of the church, each dedicated to a different branch of the army; ground forces, navy, aerospace military and strategic missile forces. There's a lot of depictions of Jesus wielding a sword too.

And then we go to the mosaics... Ah, the mosaics! These mosaics are not about the history of Christianity, but about the military history of Russia, each one depicting a great battle or a great Russian victory. You have several depictions of the orders of the Red Army overthrowing the Imperial forces in Russia, you also have depictions of the Soviet (or Communist) successes during World War II of course - there's the Battle of Stalingrad, there's the Reichstag fire... You also have more recent depictions of soldiers, with a kalashnikov in their hands... And of course, the latest mosaic depicting the latest "Russian military success" at the date of the Cathedral's fundation: the annexation of Crimea.

This mosaic was in fact part of a dual scandal, before while the Cathedral was built, two images were leaked of two intended mosaics - one for the Crimea annexation and one for the (exclusively Soviet of course) victory over the Nazis in World War II (sorry, "The Great Patriotic War"). And the scandal was because on the latter Stalin was depicted, and on the former it was Putin who was on the mosaic. There was a big outcry, and ultimately the artists of the cathedral decided to remove the faces of Putin and Stalin... But not before asking for Putin's opinion first, and then - this is very symbolic - their faces were replaced by icons.

Yeah all of this is kind of overwhelming - but one has to remember that in Russia, the Orthodox Church is on the same level as the various ministeries of Putin. The Patriarch Kirill, who consecrated the cathedral, has as such openly supported Putin's war and politics - invited and present at all of Putin's government meetings alongside his various ministers, the Patiarch has also placed in his sermons the exact same slogans and words used by the televisual Russian propaganda. In spring 2022, he held a whole sermon about how the Russian people had to stand together as brothers again the treacherous and wicked West - and added that the reason the Donbas distrusted the Russian Orthodox Church was because of the "vile phenomenon" of the Gay Pride - and added that it was against the corruption of the West, and the anti-religious "gay propaganda", that Russia was fighting - that it was to eliminate THIS that they threw bombs over Ukraine.

Speaking of that I almost forgot! Very recently the cathedral added a new stained glass to its windows... One made with broken glass shards from Mariupol, collected during the Russian attack.

And let's not forget how the Patriarch promised to absolve all the Russians sent to the front who would die on the battlefield against the Ukrainians (the SAME kind of words that were used in the Middle-Ages for the crusades!) - because, and I quote, "such a sacrifice will cleanse you of all human sin". And at the beginning of 2023 (if I recall well), the Patriarch went as far as to say that if Russia didn't win this war, "someone" (he didn't specify who) but SOMEONE would appear "with the intentions of dominating, and then destroying the world" (aka, the Antichrist). This was later backed up by Dmitry Medvedev, who added that the real goal of the war against Ukrainian was to "stop the supreme leader of Hell" (and this time he dropped names, but several at once - Satan, Lucifer, Iblis).

We are literaly back to medieval crusades and to the crazy witch-hunts. Russian propagandists will stop at nothing to convince people that everything is evil outside of Russia.

"But..." you're going to say, "Not all Orthodox Russian priests can be falling for this crap!". And indeed you are right, there are priests in the Russian Orthodox Church that called out the fact Christianity was about peace, not war. The problem is that the higher-ups of the Church have started a hunt for all priests that advocate for peace rather than war - and they simply kick them out of the Church and revoke their status as priests. The Orthodox priests who refuse to see their faith turned into political propaganda are forced to flee into other Orthodox countries to maintain their status as priests.

#russia #putin's russia #ukraine #war on ukraine #russian propaganda #russian orthodox church #cathedral of russian armed forces #war horrors #religious horror #patriarch kirill #ukrainian war #the dark side of christianity #religious propaganda #i don't even know how to tag this

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justpoliteconversations · 3 months

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Graveyard Waltz [Deity!Reader + Fallen!Time]

One deity's failure is another's champion, or something like that.

Reveling in the new smell of uncommon trash.

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.

---

Hylia's destined hero was small, even by the standards of his species. His hands were smooth with youth and a life of peace among the Kokiri, face still plush with baby fat, shoulders thin below a delicate neck.

Red. All the softness of childhood was bathed in the red of his lifeblood, still warm against his pale skin. His eyes open wide and frozen in childish horror, the realization of death's inevitability settled upon his features like the masks he so loves.

Hylia has always been cold to her champions, but never had she been so callous. To send a child so young is not new to her, but to cast him aside so readily. Your own divine sensibilities bristled, displeased at the thought.

It was your nature. To love and cherish that which has been discarded. You are the Deity of Passing after all, the one to comfort those who have been torn from the world of the living. Be them saint, child or sinner, you accept them all.

The power of Hylia's favor has long gone stale on this one's young body, her grace long left him even before Death had laid its hands upon him.

In the distance, 6 sages cast their power over the entity known as Ganon (an unnatural creature, far removed from the cycle of death and passing), sealing him away in the Sacred Realm. It is sacrilegious, to cast such a creature into the Goddess' cradle. But what else can they do.

A dead hero, an unawoken princess, an abandoned world. What else can mortals do against the might of a being whom even the Goddess herself had failed to strike down.

You pay the happenings of the living world no mind, for that is not your duty. It lies instead in this fallen hero, this child of the forest, still clinging to his mortal body with childish determination. Still so desperate to live, despite the fear festering within his heart.

The strength of mortal spirits. How you adore the bright spark of firelight in the vast stretch of eternity, fluttering like ambers in the night.

"Little one." You call to him, sweetly, as you have always called to the ones taken too young. "You need not fear, for pain will not find you here. You are safe."

"No!" A young voice raises in defiance, a single blue eye peeking out from within the still body bathed in the cooling red of blood. It is a small spirit, barely big enough to fill the body it once resided in. Nothing like his predecessors, who possessed souls so strong and unyielding you'd had to call upon your divine might to take them across the dead realms.

The sight of him, so small but possessing a spirit so potent, was enough to pull at the reigns of your instincts. The will to take this young soul as your own, to call upon your right to choose a champion.

"Link, child of the forest. It is your time to pass on from this plain of existence. I will guide you, and across the realms of the dead, you will find peace." You coaxed, maintaining careful distance from the young, belligerent soul.

The small soul glares at you, still hiding from your gentle, patient gaze. You are tempted to step closer, to take the lost being in your arms and comfort him, but you hold back. Faded though it may be, the remnants of Hylia's power still lingers on the boy, ready to lash out at the insult.

She has ever been a jealous goddess. That she would withdraw her favor from her own chosen, before even the inevitability of death, is incomprehensible to you.

She had clung to the Hero of Skies for years after he'd passed, until Death itself had come to reap him from her arms. She'd latched with divine fiery to the Hero of Man and Minish with steadfast defiance, until the influence of Death's touch had severed the bond between them.

Yet she would leave this one to perish, deprived of her favor and the Sword of Legend that was her gift to those who possessed it. To not even fight for his life as she had for those before, leaving him to face the burdens of passing alone.

Abandoned. Forgotten. Even by the sages who spared not a glance for the broken body laying at thier feet. Still clinging futilely to life, staring down a messenger of death with the will to live pulsing through his diminutive spiritual form.

It was too pathetic. Not even the weeping hearts of poets could capture the pain that seared through you at this tragety.

You kneeled down beside the frightened soul, quietly waiting.

Your decision was made. Hylia be damned for her callousness, but you were willing to fight for this one's soul if she chose to return to this place.

Hours passed, days. The sages had long left, taking the young body with them. The soul it once housed had been left behind, bound to the place in which he'd died.

He'd cried and raged as they'd taken his body, small hands grasping at the limp flesh with desperate strength. Though it had meant nothing against the influence of the living. The dead were not meant to transverse the realms of flesh and blood, after all.

He'd stared to you with fear then, a bone deep grief at the inevitability of death. Not much different to his final expression, faced against forces he did not understand nor could he defeat. Helplessness brought to his feet by a destiny that'd long abandoned him.

You'd waited. Until his fear turned to confusion. Till confusion turned to apprehension. Until apprehension turned to boredom. And in that boredom, the child came forth.

"I'm not going to die yet!" He proclaimed quite suddenly many weeks later, standing before you with feet apart and hands on his hips. You merely nodded at that, and he faulted, not expecting such easy acceptance.

"Good!" He pushed on regardless, though his voice was shaken. "So you should return me to my body!"

You shook your head, and for the first time in weeks, spoke. "It is not within my power to return souls to departed flesh."

His lips pulled downwards, looking annoyed. You knew though, by the wavering of his soul, that he was scared of what that meant. That he understood to some extent, even if he did not.

"Then, what do we do?" He asked, and you ached at the unsaid admission. A lost child, torn from everything he'd ever known and seeking guidance in a world that was suddenly so big and so unknown.

Guidance he'd been denied once before. The absence of which had brought him here, at your side, seeking that guidance from a messenger of the dead.

You gave it to him, because you had already decided.

"I will bestow upon you my favor. Should you accept, you will become my champion and I will grant you a body of my own divine essence."

He blinked, unnecessarily, then frowned. "But I'm Hylia's champion." He said simply, not quite denying, but bordering on incredulous.

You stared at him, taking the measure of his soul. He knew, but he needed it said. Even if he'd known for some time, the mortal heart is stubborn and defiant.

Sometimes you have to break it honestly for it to heal.

"She abandoned you. Long before you passed from the living world." You didn't bother to soften your words, wouldn't give him the chance to hide from the truth any longer. No now. Not ever again.

Lies are for the living. Neither of you have that luxury anymore. Not you, and now, not him either.

Your champion.

He didn't fight as you moved closer, he didn't fight as you reached down to cup his small face in your hands. He didn't shed a single tear, just met your gaze with steely determination. That fighter's spirit shining though, hardened by the harshness of a spoken truth.

"Okay." He said, and it echoed within the furthest reaches of his heart, like fire burning away the stagnant rot. "I will be your hero."

You smiled. The fires of divinity burst forth from your hands and cast him aflame, burning away the golden light of Hylia and pouring forth the somber gray of your essence. Like the dim light of an overcast day, like fog rolling over the land.

He didn't shy away, didn't avert his eyes. Just stared up at you with acceptance. Then the flames reached his eyes, cast away the veil of mortality upon them, and the light of divine clarity entered them. He beheld you for the first time as you were, and his spirit burned too with understanding.

'Do you see me, my Champion.' You spoke, not with your lips, but with the pulsing of your essence running through his veins.

He nodded, entranced by your soft, divine light. So different from Hylia's wrathful gold, gentle like shade upon the eyes. Sweet and cool. Accepting of all. Rejecting none.

'Then go forth, my Champion.' You whispered into his heart, your hands upon his narrow shoulders. 'Carry my will with you, always. Bring back the lost souls tainted by Ganon's wrathful malice. Slay them with righteous fiery.'

You placed you forehead to his, and he reached out, grabbed your face with devoted care.

'Bring them home to me.'

"I will not fail you." He vowed, never breaking your gaze as he gave his first solemn promise. "I will liberate my brothers and sisters from the bondage of hatred. I will bring them back to your grace."

'Then go. Fear not the inevitability of Death's touch. For I shall be there beside it, to guide you across the realms one final time.'

He nodded, and you kissed his forehead. Sealing the promise between you, the black symbol of deliverance blooming upon his brow.

'Now live free of divine burden. For you are not alone.'

He closed his eyes. The world disappears around him. Your touch turning inward, settling like warm coals into his heart.

You were gone, but you were not. You'd spoken truth. He would never be alone again.

Suddenly, the warmth of sun is upon his face, the soft give of grass and wet soil beneath his feet the sweetest of homecomings. Fresh, cool air enters his lungs, heavy with the promise of early spring.

He opens his eyes, and below him lies a grassland as far as the eye can see. And within it, trailing great lines within the tall grass, 9 men.

'Your brothers.' He felt your whisper, pushing him forward. 'Go to them. For they are yours still, even if they are not yet mine.'

And he did. Walking into an uncertain future, with you in his heart and his brothers by his side.

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

#linked universe x reader #fallen!time #linked universe #no baby left behind

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senqv · 2 months

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HOUSE OF KINGS.

blue lock ! royal / fantasy au series featuring : michael kaiser x fem! reader

warning(s): 1.1k , asshole ism , more traditional feminine roles , arranged marriage , lmk if there are more !!

a/n: how r we feeling

ONE. CHILD OF PROPHECY

in the reign of the first emperors, or so said the tales, the child of god is born — in silver moonlight and touched with the whisper of divinity.

they said that in his birth, the muses came and told it to his half-nymph mother, a beloved daughter of the water gods. they landed kisses on her sweat-sheened temple and sang each unravelling prophecy with the golden strings of their lyres; chosen by god, they purred, the emperor of kings.

they did not stay for long, but they had no need to. word travels swiftly in the whirling halls of the palace.

michael, gift of god, whom the divine had gingerly formed in their image, golden and jewel-eyed. the one who will fell men like wheat beneath a scythe and have them all crouching at his heel.

a godly son means haste to find a wife to carry on the bloodline, hungry in hopes that the gods will shine their divine light again with each beautiful son to come. and thus, the one they chose is you, daughter of house adalheidis, rumoured to have had divine blood from a sea nymph mixed in aeons ago. a nymph is the least of the lesser gods, but still a god, nonetheless, and divine blood purified the muddy dust of the human race to mould saints and heroes.

the divine blood of your house has long been watered down, with no traces of any deific features that might make an appearance in fables or folklore. but still, it is enough.

nymph, in the olden languages, is the same word for bride.

so perhaps your fate had been preordained long ago.

and so, when you first meet god, you are just short of thirteen years old.

they twine your hair with ribbons and strings of pearls, silent tittering as they dusted a pearly powder over your cheeks, an incandescent glow illuminating against the bronze mirror. your head lolls to the rhythm of their chatter, following the direction your hair was gently tugged at, eyes slow and blinking, not quite shed of the silvery sleep.

when you arrive, the sun shines brightly in the transparent sky, casting a golden glow over the white plaster of the palace architecture. banners hang from the ceiling, a royal blue, fluttering in the wind; your gaze climbs upwards, following the inscriptions of ancient fables, the effigies of the gods carved into the ceiling. the sunlight dancing in the curve of their marble eyes was so fervid you tore your gaze away in fear they might come alive.

a servant you had not caught the name of led you through the halls. he looked your age, maybe slightly older; not quite grown out into his lanky frame, eyes downcast and shy.

the emperor was not present, he had told you with nervous hands, and so you were being brought directly to the son of god himself.

your steps halt at a side door in the northernmost part of the palace. from what you could see, it was not as grand as the throne room you had passed by earlier, but it was obvious how pampered this boy prince was; before you, arched pillars loomed over the doors of imported oakwood, engraved with gentle carvings of even more obscure fables of prophetical sons and warrior kings.

he is lying on his side on a wide, pillowed bench, thick furs strewn all over the velvety couch. his eyes were half closed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks each time he blinked.

at the purposeful scuffing of your sandals against the floor, he glanced up briefly, lolling his head to the side to look at you.

lazily, his hands stroked the majestic forest cat on his lap, golden fur streaked like a lion, mirroring its owner. but no — it would be wrong to compare it as such. his hair was entirely different, lit by the sun with a spring honey lustre, spun from threads of gold. if you looked closer, within it glints the golden circlet of a prince, nearly black against the brightness of his hair.

you felt your breaths slow, gaping at the cold shock of his beauty. he was not much older than you, but incomparable with the boys your age; of jewel blue eyes sharp as a beast, cheeks and mouth tinted a cherubic rose, painted by the careful muses themselves.

if you were not a child of noble birth, you're quite sure your jaw would have been hanging slack by now. instead, you pressed your lips together and tore your gaze to the floor.

you can feel his eyes on you, and hear a slight shuffle of him leaning more forward to regard you. "what is your name?" his voice is silken, tinged with the slight crackle of sleep and boredom. you keep your gaze screwed to the ground out of spite, a muscle in your jaw ticking. your family was one of the great pillars of the empire, flourishing in trade and commerce. you were his arranged bride, to be the empress of his nation. and yet he still did not know you.

now, he sits up completely, cat yowling faintly in his lap. he speaks again, louder, clear as the glacial waters of the north. "what is your name?" the first lapse of silence was excusable, perhaps you had not heard. now, the boy prince demands an answer.

and so, you level your gaze with his, staring with all the conviction and animosity of a noble girl who had never experienced such blatant disregard. you speak your name as if casting a spell, each syllable strong and resonant, muttered with intention — to engrave your name in his mind, to make sure he could not forget it even if he wanted.

"of house adalheidis," you added in finality.

he's focused on you now, silvery blue gaze as cutting as a knife. he tips his chin up, staring downwards. "my name is michael," he purrs, "kaiser." the side of his mouth quirked slightly at the intensity of your stare. from the corner of your eyes, you faintly notice the dimples appearing at the sides of his face.

you both held the other's gaze in silence. the amusement on his face was obvious, and your brows melded together in confusion for a split second.

then he blinked, mouth cracked open like a yawning cat, mirroring the feline on his lap.

kaiser's interest came as quickly as it left, as if everything was a divine comedy preened before him to garner his delight. he no longer was looking at you.

"welcome to the palace."

you were raised in court, and you knew dismissal when you heard it. you lowered your head with clenched fingers, bruising the crushed silk of your dress.

#— HOUSE OF KINGS.#slayed #bllk #bllk royal au #blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader

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hardly-an-escape · 1 year

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Bleach | Dream/Hob | 1067 words | rated G for @domaystic day 07: stained clothes

tags: retired Dream, laundry mishaps, tooth rotting fluff, religious Hob Gadling (but only incidentally), Dream is learning how to human, Hob Gadling is a good boyfriend

Hob looks mournfully at the sweater in his hands and gives the spot another little scrub. It’s futile. He knows it’s futile. He’s been doing his own laundry for about a hundred years by now, after all. Still, he rubs halfheartedly at the spot, just one more time. Just in case.

You never know, do you. Miracles still happen. Some of them could be laundry-related miracles, possibly. There’s probably a patron saint of doing the wash. Hob casts his mind wildly back to catechism classes of centuries past. Veronica, maybe? The story with the veil? Or Clare of Assisi – had the Poor Clares been laundresses or is he thinking of a different order? He sighs and offers a quick prayer to both of them. Just in case.

He may not have been to church in a month and a half, and he hasn’t been Catholic since the 16th century, but every little bit helps. He sighs again and scrubs at the bleach stain, which doesn’t look back at him accusingly so much as it simply exists, accusingly, on the sleeve of Dream’s softest, most favorite black cardigan.

The front door of their flat bangs open and he hears the jingle of keys and the thump of Dream’s shoes being deposited on the boot tray.

“I’m back! They didn’t have the tea we usually buy,” Dream’s voice calls down the hall. “So I got Barry’s instead. Is that alright? I couldn’t remember if you like that brand or not. Why are there so many kinds of tea, Hob? I stood there looking at the shelf for ten minutes. You’d think at some point humanity would have said, oh, I think we have enough kinds of tea now, but –” he trails off as he begins to put the shopping away, his dear, deep voice disappearing in the rustle of shopping bags and the rattle of cabinet doors.

Hob walks slowly down the hallway from the airing cupboard to the kitchen, sweater held in both hands before him, feeling like nothing so much as a man carrying the body of a beloved pet cat to its owner.

It isn’t that Dream will be angry – far from it, in fact. Dream will be, as he always is, endearingly grateful for the fact that Hob does his laundry, as he is for all the little caretaking tasks that Hob has taken on as Dream learns to be human. It’s just that now, as he learns to be human, Dream’s emotions lie so close to the surface. He feels everything with the depth and intensity of a child: pride when he successfully does the shopping, pain when he stubs a toe or burns a finger on the kettle.

Disappointment, when something goes wrong. Sadness, at a loss or a failure.

Hob has watched him weep over a broken teacup and crow with utter joy after winning a game of cards. And this was his best sweater, his softest, most favorite cardigan, one of the first pieces of clothing that had truly been his. A cardigan Dream had chosen, thoughtfully, in the department store; not just stolen or adopted by osmosis from Hob’s wardrobe. Which now sports an accusing, unmissable bleach stain right on the upper side of the left sleeve.

Dream pauses in his activity when Hob appears in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, seeing the look on Hob’s face. “What happened? Are you hurt? I can’t take you to A&E, I’m not allowed to drive the car yet. Hob? What’s wrong?”

“It’s your sweater,” Hob says dismally, holding it up for inspection. “It’s got bleach on it.”

Dream makes an adorable, sad little noise and gathers up the cardigan, cradling it like a wounded animal.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Hob says, not meeting his gaze. “I did that load of towels and socks yesterday, I must’ve spilled some bleach on the edge of the washer when I added it, and I guess the sleeve got dragged through it somehow when I put the colds in this morning, and I am so sorry, love, I know it’s your favorite and I will buy you a new one,” he rushes on, “I will buy you six identical sweaters so this never happens again, I –”

“Hob.”

Dream’s voice can still, at times, attain a certain measure of its former power and gravitas, through mere timbre alone. Hob’s eyes immediately snap up to meet his gaze. Dream’s eyes are huge and blue and watery and human and still the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen in his long life.

“Hob.” More gently now. “It is just a sweater. Why are you so worried, my love?”

“Well, I mean. It’s not just a sweater. It’s your favorite,” says Hob. “And I want you to, to have nice things. Your favorite things. I know it’s hard, to be human. It’s hard for us normal humans, and I can’t imagine how much harder it is for you sometimes, and I just… I want nice things for you. Because, because I love you,” he says lamely.

Dream looks at him for a long moment, those blue eyes glistening, and then very deliberately casts the cardigan aside onto the pile of shopping bags and steps into the open circle of Hob’s arms.

“My love,” he says tenderly into Hob’s neck. Hob sniffles a little and indulges in the softness of Dream’s hair and the smell of his shampoo. “It is just a sweater. And you may buy me another, even six, if you so wish. And you may stain every single one with bleach, many times over. It will be, as you like to say when I make mistakes, very human of you.”

He pulls back just enough to rub their noses together and murmur his next words into the warm curve of Hob’s mouth.

“I find I like being human, because I am being human with you,” he says. “And you take the best care of me that anyone ever has. And no number of stained sweaters could possibly change that, I am sure.”

“Well then. If you’re sure,” says Hob, and kisses him. “I will get you a new one if you want, though.”

“Or perhaps I will add more bleach stains. And embroidery. And sequins. I have been looking for a new art project.”

“Or that,” says Hob, and kisses him again.

#the sandman #dreamling #domaystic2023 #my writing #banged this out tonight in a fit of inspiration #wish that would happen with one of the WIPs I already have on the go

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mikuni14 · 3 months

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Why I think the way the final episode of The Sign was distributed is wrong, offensive and unfair to fans. And how disappointing I am with this approach, because I sincerely supported Idol Factory and Saint.

Personally, I pay for Gaga, Viki and IQIYI, plus a VPN to watch shows that are not available in my country (like Pit Babe), which, you know, I already paid for 🙄 Additionally, I pay for Netflix, I have combined subscriptions with other people for Disney, HBO, Skyshowtime, Prime, last year we paid for Apple to watch Silo and Severance (I recommend both series btw 👌). I also don't mind paying one-time for a film on the platform, which is how I recently watched Oppenheimer.

Money is not an issue (<- lol), apart from the fact that I support myself and I have to work, and I have to carefully manage my budget in order to feed myself and my cat, clothe myself, pay my bills, and my loss of job will mean obviously giving up access to all these media. I say that money is not a problem in the sense that I WILL SPEND MONEY on something I like. I will save, I will give up something else, but I will spend this money on stuff I love.

The Sign has chosen a certain distribution method for international fans. They chose YouTube and chose a set airing hour. They could have chosen to distribute only in Thailand like Cherry Magic, or they could have chosen any other platform with paid subscriptions. But they chose YouTube. And they released 11 episodes for free and at a set time. And now they CHOSE to make the last ep paid and to create a complete chaos related to the distribution of the finale, because I honestly don't know at this point whether it is paid or not, what is paid and what is not, whether it is on Saturday or Sunday or it's for a ticket or for free on channel3 and apparently they have two endings????, which is always an alarming sign for me, because it's very Game of Thrones/Marvel style shit.

Besides, people have their own lives, their obligations, their schedules. Sometimes you just can't get around certain things and you can't watch a series in the available time, no matter how much you want. Secondly, releasing a product for free in order to limit access to it in the final phase is the worst manifestation of toxic capitalism. This is preying on the desperation and devotion of fans. The third thing is the selection of viewers into those who can afford it, have the time, have the resources and those who do not. And yes, sometimes even just $15 of an unexpected expense makes a huge difference in a person's budget. It's telling some of the fans that you are VIP and can sit in the front row, and the rest of the peasants should wait outside for two weeks 😄

tl;dr personally I want and can pay for: 1) the entire series on a legal platform 2) ADDITIONAL things, like specials, fan stuff, etc. I consider paying for access to the series finale, which until now was free, immoral.

But tbh I really have no idea what's going on, I go with the flow 🤡Whenever I check The Sign tag, I read more and more new information related to the possibility of watching the finale, and it's different every day. And if it turns out that the cut version of the series will be available for free on Channel 3, and the uncut version with subs will be available tomorrow with a ticket, it will be the funniest thing ever. Because that would mean that people paid $15 to watch, I don't know what, a sex scene? 😄

Idk, guys, instead of enjoying the finale, people are wondering how to watch it at all. And if IF starts doing this, won't others follow suit? 11 episodes for free, oh you want to watch the finale, well you have to pay or wait and dodge the spoilers 😈

And one last thing for potential defenders of this system, like "what's your problem, it will be available in 2 weeks, just wait": so you accept that not ALL fans will have a chance to experience the final ep together, which is the basis of the fan community? That some fans will experience and analyze the episodes this weekend, and the rest will wait?

#the sign the series #bl drama #thai bl

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theetherealbloom · 1 year

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UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 8

Chapter Eight: Darkness Exists To Make Light Truly Count

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, LOTS OF ANGST IM SORRY AGAIN, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: Did I drag myself through hell and back writing this last chapter? YEP. Was I anxious writing this meaning that this would be the end of this series? YEAH. Did life get in the way and forcibly had to make me catch up with my schoolwork? UNFORTUNATELY YEP PLS–

Song: Someone To Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Previous Chapter -> Epilogue | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – ONE WEEK LATER…

The bitterness of winter as time month moves on, you are greeted with the sweetness of spring. When did your life become a series of countdowns? Was it all just a grain of sand in an hourglass? One moment you were stumbling through the snow, away from Silver Lake. Next, you’re on the outskirts of Salt Lake City, Utah. Roughly 3,534 miles and you’re counting down the hours of today, vaguely knowing about what happens in Saint Mary's Hospital, the operation on Ellie, and the death of a surgeon triggering a chain reaction to stir violence with the former fireflies to kill Joel.

Each step into the city meant the possibility of losing them both to the future you seem to believe is set in stone, their stories already written and their fates chosen long before you had even stepped foot in the reality you couldn’t have possibly imagined existing. So you are standing and listening to him in that glistening emptiness, scavenging the remaining vehicles that contained any items to use. You hear your childhood sympathies banging against each other in a giant communal eardrum circle, trying to drown out melodies you can’t help but hum to. It feels like a part of your past follows you everywhere you go, a ghost you can’t shake, someone familiar but every time it places its hand in your hand, neither one of you could feel it.

Your weight is resting on the counter of the dilapidated kitchenette in an old RV, Joel tries to call your name, but you are now too deep into the thought that you don’t hear his rich and rough voice telling you about the broken guitar he found. Every part of you is somewhere else, a distant and dazed look in your eyes as you feel your vision blur. Joel approaches you cautiously, not wanting to startle you as he gently places his large palm on the side of your arm, rubbing it gently as he spoke softly, “Birdie… what’s wrong?” You blink up at him, your expression weepy and choked up, “Joel… there’s something you need to know.” He’s quick to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong, Darlin’?”

You feel your body melt at the nickname, but you gently place your hand on his, squeezing it as you said, “Joel… I know how all of this ends. I know how you die.” You watch as his shoulders rise, his breathing becomes still, and his expression was mixed with realization, curiosity, and despair. He swallows as he asks, “How… I thought you didn’t know everythin’?” You nodded, “Yes, I swear to you, there were parts I didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Everything except how all of this ends.” He frowns and grimaces, but never lets go of your hand, gruffly he says, “Tell me.” You move a little closer to his warmth, wanting to be close to him as you spoke, “Everything that will happen at Saint Mary's… the decisions and choices you make in the next few hours will be the cause of your death in the next few years or so. The Doctor you kill and um… You and Ellie… I don’t know if there’s a chance of a happy ending in this world or any way out of this besides going back to Jackson and convincing Ellie that she doesn’t have to go through with this or… fighting our way through the upcoming obstacles in our way.”

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, bringing his eyes to yours, and at that moment you knew, the heat that radiates in his stare as he looks at you, every inch of skin comes alive as he drags his hand along your arm to your waist, sliding it and carefully securing you closer to him. Now, you are inches away from your lips to his, his nose touching the tip of your own with your foreheads pressed together, you breathe him in, close your eyes, and sigh in comfort. He cradles the side of your face and you lean into him, he gently asks, “What would you like me to do, Sweetheart?” You place your hand on top of his, leaving a soft kiss on his wrist and then replying, “I need you to stay alive. Ellie needs you… I need you to be here with us. Next, when the opportunity presents itself, please, I beg you, spare the surgeon.” He whispers his inquiry, “Why?” You sniff and feel your eyes well up, “Because his daughter will be the reason for your death. Look, I don’t care who else you decide to kill, just if you can… leave him alive.”

He holds you closer as he shakily asks, “Why are you tellin’ me this now, Hon’?” You lick your lips nervously, placing your head on his shoulder as he fully embraces your figure, slowly speaking, “I… I’m scared, Joel. I’m honestly terrified of what’s going to happen next. I don’t want to lose you… I can’t lose you.” You shudder at the thought, the mere idea of it brings you to clutch him tighter, and he cradles your figure closer as he soothes you, “You won’t lose me. I’m persistent, remember?” You weakly laugh at that, and he wipes away the tears from your cheeks while saying, “Let’s go show Ellie what we found.” You open your mouth to speak but he has already read your mind, “We’ll figure it out and cross that bridge when we get there. Okay, Birdie?” He has changed all of your circuitry, the red and gold, writing all over your being. How he looks at you, his eyes say everything without a single word. You nod and whisper, “Okay.” He presses his lips to yours with passion and promises, “I’ll keep us safe, I swear.”

You step out and leave the abandoned RV, grabbing an old board game, and canned food. Joel yells out, “Ellie! Ellie.” Still, no response from the teenager sitting at the back of an old blue truck, and her mind seems to be somewhere else. “Ellie!” Joel yells a bit louder, which causes her to turn around to look at him, preoccupied, remote, distracted perhaps by the magnitude of what their arrival in Salt Lake City could mean.

“D’ya hear me?”Joel asks through the loud wind blowing through everyone’s hair, Ellie shakes her head, “No. What?” Ellie asks, and Joel excitedly shows Ellie that he found a can, “Well, we found this in there. Beefaroni. Chef Boyardee.” Calling back to their campfire meal, to which Ellie tries to sound enthusiastic, but ending up sounding flat, “Oh, cool.” Joel approaches Ellie, shaking the old cardboard box game, “And have you ever played this? Boggle? It’s a word game.” She politely and quietly shakes her head, seemingly uninterested but still trying to please Joel, she hands him back the box and he says, “Well if you wanna beat me at somethin’, it would be this.”

Ellie manages to nod her head, and you frown at her lackadaisical nature, noting that this isn’t like her at all. You walk to Joel’s side as he calmly spoke again, “Well, all right then. We’re gettin’ close. Hospital that way. May be the one we’re lookin’ for.” Ellie pushes herself off the back of the truck, the sound of dirt crunching beneath her boots as she replied, “Got it.” She grabs her pack while Joel shoves the canned food and board game into his backpack. Ellie approaches you both and Joel rolls his shoulder, showing her the rifle, “Take this for me?” Ellie grabs so he can throw the strap of the backpack across his shoulder, “Thanks.” He grabs the rifle once more, carrying it while Ellie nods in acknowledgment.

As the three of you walked along the ruined highway, Joel begins to talk, “They had a guitar in that RV. It was all smashed up but got me thinkin’ maybe I should find one. I haven’t played in forever. In fact, I was thinkin’ maybe I could teach you. I bet you’d be great at it.” Ellie merely hums and Joel asks her with a sort of hopeful tone, “Do you wanna learn how to play guitar?” There is no response from Ellie, your eyes shift from her to Joel, and you see him frown in concern, “Ellie?” She looks up, blinking at him as she hums in response, “Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”

Surprisingly, the entire walk into the city was quiet, there was no chatter from Ellie or Joel, no melody leaving your lips as you pass by abandoned cars. After what seemed like thirty minutes, Joel finally broke the silence once more, “Okay, so this is what I’m thinkin’...” Ellie already knew what he was talking about, “Cut through that building to get around that stuff, find the skyscraper, go up and look around.” You look at her impressed, while Joel says, “Actually, this time I was thinkin’ we blast our way through that rubble. I found some dynamite in that RV back there.” This catches Ellie off guard, “Really?” While you give him a suspicious look, “The fuck has gotten into you?”

Joel confirms he was joking around as he replied to you both, “No, so we’re gonna cut through that building, find a skyscraper, go up, and look around. But I had you both goin’, didn’t I?” You playfully rolled your eyes while Ellie nods once more. The group decides to cut through the building on the way to the hospital, and decide to climb an abandoned skyscraper to get a better vantage point and lay off the land. The red tarpaulins hanging over the scaffolding, “Look at this place,” Joel says as you all take a good look around your environment, “Talk about bad luck. Military drops bombs, not one of them hits the building you’re trying to demolish.” You peek through the rubble to see the sunlight streaming through, Joel cranes his neck to look up, “No way up.”

He approaches the fence gate inside the construction, the steel rattling loudly as he does, and walks through with you and Ellie trailing behind him. Joel spots a ladder peaking from above as you stand next to him, “I get Ellie up there, you can drop down that ladder down, maybe we go through that way. Come one I’ll give you a boost.” You both turn to look for her to find her looking through abandoned blueprints, you watch as Joel is more attentive to her as he asks, “You okay?” Ellie brings her head up to look at him, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Joel doesn’t buy it, “It’s just you seem extra quiet today, so.” Ellie feels the guilt bubble in her, “Oh… I’m sorry.” While you and Joel shake your heads, “No, it’s fine. Did you hear what I…” Ellie is quick to nod, “Yeah, boost. Got it.”

Joel steps on top of the wooden scaffolding, and Ellie grabs his outstretched hand, readying his stance while saying, “One, two, up.” You watch as Ellie pushes her body weight up while Joel asks, “Ya got it?” Ellie responds, “Yeah. Okay.” She’s just about to put down the ladder, however, the usually attentive Ellie is caught off guard by something and instead ends up just dropping the ladder and running off to look at something. Joel barked out, “God dammit, Ellie! Shit.” You also call for her, but there is no indication she hears you. You and Joel lift the ladder while he yells out to the teen, “You stay there!” To which Ellie yells back, “You gotta see this!” You climb the ladder first while Joel follows behind you, your voice echoes as you spoke, “Ellie? Where are you?”

“Up here!” Ellie says while you and Joel pursue her, perhaps worried at first that she’s in danger. Grumbling, Joel says her name but Ellie is quick to run, “Come on!” You and Joel wonder what the fuss is about, he calls her again, trying to get her to stop running so damn fast, “Ellie.” Again, she doesn’t relent, pushing faster to chase whatever caught her attention. Joel is breathing heavily as he mumbles, “Just wait. God damn it.”

After another flight of stairs, you pass by a ruined wall, as you sidestepped it, what you both find is Ellie, standing awestruck by the sight of a giraffe, peacefully munching on some leaves growing on the building. The feeling of enchantment rushes through your body, the familiarity of the scene that you had a glimpse of during your time back in your other universe. How important this meant to both of them.

Joel quietly approaches and stands next to Ellie, while you are to the left of her. Though time is ruthless, it showed you kindness despite the effects the Infected have wrought on the hope and innocence of the world in the end. But showing and by slowing down enough, a second chance to make amends. Ellie pointedly looks at Joel, “Don’t scare it.” To he replies, “I won’t.” He sets down his rifle, draws his weapons, and gives himself and Ellie a welcome reprieve from the darkness so that the balance may be restored. When the world welcomes you in, you’re closer to Heaven than you’ll ever know. They say this place has changed, but strip away all of the technology and you will see that you all are hunters, hunting for something that will make us okay.

Joel grabs a couple of leaves from the side of the tree and Ellie’s voice is in alarm as she asks, “What are you doing?” He reassures her, “It’s all right. Come here, hurry up. Come on.” Ellie walks towards him, a little closer to the giraffe, while you stand there nervously rubbing your arm. Joel spots your discomfort but quickly reassures you, “You too Hummin’ bird.” You exhaled deeply, trusting Joel and walking closer to the giraffe.

He passes leaves to you both, and there is a form of uncertainty between you and the giraffe, but eventually, you stretch out your hand and the giraffe approaches you, grazing on the leaves you have presented to the creature. When you were out of leaves, it then went to Ellie, happily munching on the leaves she had with her. There is something so precious about Ellie’s laugh. The whole is so much greater than the sum of these parts. You've heard the truth before, for in beauty there echoes a speck of our source. There's a voice inside your soul, that resonates through your skin and bone. Crooked mouth, quiet down, you let your fists come undone. The understanding that miscarried love will be reborn. There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other.

Joel smiles lovingly at her joy, the honoring of every shadow, and gratitude for all that follows. Overwhelmed, wave after wave, you are more afraid to lose what you have found, even after all this evolving, it still feels unnatural, still pulls tight the muscles, and strains the arms and spine. Ellie’s laughs are melodious as she states, “So fucking cool.” There are no more leaves left for the giraffe to munch on, seemingly done, she begins to trot away. Ellie whines, “Aw, where is she going?” She begins to race after her, yelling out to her two guardians, “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

As Joel was about to turn and call after her, you grab his wrist, causing him to look at you with concern, “What is it, Hon’?” Your heart melts at the nickname, you give him a soft smile as you took in a breath before speaking your heart out, “I have to tell you something.” He frowns in concern, “Now? Ellie might–” You cut him off while nodding, “Yes, now.” Joel leans a little closer, “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.” You weakly laugh at his statement, knowing him too well to know that whatever is wrong he’d immediately want to fix it for you because that’s how he cares.

A beat passes between you two, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, the huffs of the giraffes from outside, and even a few birds chirping, seemed like everything was right where it should be. Joel opens his mouth, and at first, no sound comes out, but he gathers his courage and says, “Not that I wouldn’t say it first, ‘cause I would.” You smile at him knowing what he was implying, and you shake your head, “It’s no big deal,” You try to finish your statement but he cuts you off, his southern accent is more prominent as his voice goes lower, “I’ll tell you soon.” You hold the side of his face, as he looks at you while holding his breath ‘cause you both could, in a voice so soft and sweet, you say, “Until then, I love you.”

The darkness that hangs over him at first tries to reject it as his lips parts in astonishment and bewilderment. He would drag you through the muck while telling you that you belonged to a cleaner lifestyle. He thinks you'd be crushed underfoot by him, that you'd be able to see right through him, that he's just spewing hot air, that you'd be always racing after him as he chases after more svelte models, and that it would be a never-ending cycle. His mouth quivers and his beautiful southern accent is accentuated as he asks, “Are you sure? After everything I’ve done? After all the people I’ve killed?”

You held your breath while you thought about it for a long, quiet moment. “I am willing to fit into any spaces you give me since I am aware of your sharp edges and have seen your beautiful curves. Bring on the muck if loving you takes becoming filthy,” you said. “And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He leans it to place his lips to yours, kissing you with such fiery passion you had only ever dreamed or seen in moves and read about in romance novels. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Your bodies pressed together heatedly, breathing heavily as our lips pressed together. You could taste your shared breath, and feel the thud of your combined heartbeats. And just like that, he did not crave the language he always thought he needed. The warmth and softness of his lips, the taste and scent of his breath, and the subtle movements of both of your tongues. But even though he couldn't say it out loud, it was undeniable that both of their love for each other was palpable. It was in the way you laughed together, the way you touched each other's hands, and the way you looked at each other. Pulling away, to cup your face, and just like that a hand reached backward into a faraway dream and said, “Come on then, we better catch up to Ellie.”

Moving to the rooftop of the building, Joel pulls the door open and you see Ellie happily observing the herd of giraffes. The rusty door squeaks as it shuts behind you, looking over the towers of giraffes walking around the greenery that has taken over the ruined city. You walk over to Ellie’s side, making her the center between you and Joel. The weight of family and the pull of gravity. It seems like growing up didn't take long, you were a family pulled from the flood, you tore the floorboards up and let the river rush in, not wash away.

You recognize the parallel to the first time you stood on a rooftop with Ellie and Joel, looking over the view of a ruined city to find some absolute answer to a world that seemed so hopeless. Joel places his hands on the ledge of the rooftop, and he gruffly asks, “Is it everything ya hope for?” You look at Ellie, her lips forming a little smile, “It’s got its ups and downs, but you can’t deny that view.” It set your hearts ablaze, and every city was a gift, every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips. Joel looks at Ellie concerned mixed with uncertainty, “Look, I don’t know exactly where this hospital is…” The teen’s determination is unwavering as she swiftly said, “Yeah, we’ll find it.”

He releases a shaky breath, he feels his parental nature returning, “Sure. It’s just… Maybe there’s nothin’ bad out there, but so far there’s always been somethin’ bad out there.” Ellie shrugs, “We’re still here, though.” Joel nods, “I know. I’m only saying there’s risk.” Ellie looks away but Joel shifts his weight to lean closer, insisting, feeling a presentiment of losing her, “We don’t have to do this. I want you to know that.” Ellie turns to look at him with furrowed brows and a frown, “What do you mean? What else are we supposed to do?” To which Joel responds, “Nothin’. We just go back to Tommy’s. We forget the whole damn thing.”

“After all we’ve been through? Everything I’ve done? It can’t be for nothing,” Ellie replies evenly. “I know you mean well. I know you want to protect me. You have. And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want. Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon. I’ll follow you anywhere you go. But there’s no halfway with this. We finish what we started.” She finishes giving her a touching speech with clear-eyed dignity. After a beat passes, Joel reluctantly nods in agreement. It becomes clearer now, if you listen just right, you can almost hear it. The symphony of secrecy, life, the search for love, but finding fear. We could hold our breath forever, or maybe for a while. The best will surely come, until then you’ll feel nothing at all.

You three proceed to cut through an abandoned emergency medical center left over from the outbreak. You see the ruins of triage tents outside, and a brief moment of déjà vu creeps over you, remembering the makeshift facilities and tents from your universe during the outbreak. Some vines overgrow the poles of the tents, there are rotting medical supplies and vehicles. Taking it all in, Ellie wonders, “Was it a FEDRA thing?” Joel shakes his head, “No. Army. They put these places up all around, the first few days after the outbreak. Emergency medical camps. Obviously didn’t last. They had me in one just like this.” Ellie quickly assumes he had his daughter with him, “With Sarah?”

You look at him concerned and afraid that he would begin to lash out in anger as a defense, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head in disagreement, “No, she was gone already. So what was wrong with you?” Joel points to his scar, “It was for this.” Ellie nods in realization, “The guy who shot and missed. I figured that would’ve happened later.” There’s a shift in his voice that you catch, “No.” He slows his pace to a stop, “Second day.” You stop to look at him but Ellie continues to talk, “I’ve gotta hand it to the Army people and Birdie. They are way better at stitchin’ you up than I was.”

“It was me.” This causes Ellie to freeze and turn around to see the rise and fall of her chest falter. Your eyes begin to gloss over and sting and the thoughts seep into her head with a terrifying blankness. It was nauseating. Joel baldly confesses, “It was me,” he says. “I was the guy who shot and missed.” He then moves to sit atop a concrete barrier, while you and Ellie also move to sit beside him, “There’s no story. Sarah died. And I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scared, either. I was ready. I couldn’t have been more ready. When I… When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched. Still don’t know why.” The raw admission, of him opening up himself to you and Ellie shows how far you three have come. A great tremor took over your body, a tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath, you try and will yourself to not cry. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is…” Ellie cuts him off, “I know why you’re telling the both of us this.”

He nods, “Yeah, I reckon you do.” And you hold his hand to stop his thumb from fidgeting with his pointer finger, unsure if you were comforting him or yourself. To remind yourself he’s still here. After a moment of silence and uncomfortable realization, Ellie says, “So time heals all wounds, I guess.” Joel ponders for a moment, before deciding to openly admit how much he truly cares for Ellie and you, “It wasn’t time that did it.” He unwaveringly, and lovingly looks at Ellie and you, squeezing your hand as he does. For Joel, everything you’ve been through, all the pain and death, it’s worth it because he has a daughter again and now you. It brings everything together for Joel. He’s succeeded here. He cares less about Ellie’s potential for a cure and more about not losing a person he loves again. He, is once again, whole.

Ellie quietly lets go of the breath she was holding, “Well, I’m glad that… that didn’t work out.” Joel nods in agreement, “Me, too.” He wipes away the tears with his other hand and then moves to wipe away the tears that you didn’t even realize had streamed down your face. The teen awkwardly shifts to move off the concrete barrier you three were sitting on, “We should probably get going.” Joel automatically agrees, “Yeah.”

There's something about sadness that leaves you wanting more. A sickness that breathes… from holding on to letting go, like the feeling of change is almost like dying. You know from time to time that hope seems but a foreign land. A distance that you cannot reach and a language you cannot speak. In his words, the movement of his eyes, the expressions on his face, the rush of your walking. And through all the things you'll find out and will hold on tighter to the surface of life. Like a moth to the flame, we become helpless to the beautiful ghost that true love sheds.

You continue your journey to the hospital, Joel hasn’t let go of your hand as you walk side by side with Ellie, he then asks aloud, “You know what I’m in the mood for?” Ellie quizically wonders, “What?” Joel smiles as he responds, “Shitty puns.” She laughs and you smile at her delight, rummaging her pack to find her pun book, flipping through the pages she finds one and says, “‘People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.’” Joel clicks his tongue, making a face in mock offense, Ellie smiles, “Too soon?” Joel shakes his head and smiles, “No, it’s topical.” Ellie lets out a giggle, “Oh, I love this one! ‘Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” The man next to you scratches his forehead before shrugging, then Ellie answer, “‘Cause they’re meteor.’” You smile in amusement while Joel shakes his head, “Oh, that’s terrible.” Ellie throws back, “Fuck you. That was actually good.” He disagrees entirely, “That’s a zero out of ten.” You laugh, “Oh, we’re giving grades now?” His southern accent is prominent as he replied, “Damn right darlin’.” Ellie laughs, “All right, all right. ‘What did the green grape say to the purple grape? Breathe, you idiot.’” Joel rates, “That’s a three outta ten.” But Ellie tries to bargain, “Seven, minimum.” He shakes his head but tries to meet her in the middle, “I’ll give it a five. Five outta ten.”

In the moments that you feel that you three are closer than ever before, the world drops out from under your feet. The sharp sound of metal from something behind you causes you three to turn your heads in alarm, spotting the stun grenade, Joel moves to shield you and Ellie, bringing you three crashing to the ground. There is smoke that hazes your vision, and the ringing in your ears is sharp and painful, the world around you is a blur. You make the muffled sounds of Ellie yelling for you and Joel, tall figures with firearms taking her and you away from him. There is always something there, to take your hearts like thieves, there is always something there. A painful strike to the head and it all goes white, to close your eyes, to end this chase while unraveling the most essential thread.

ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL, SALT LAKE CITY — DAY

You slowly blink your eyes open, you hear the steady beat of your own heart with the help of the monitor near the side of your bed, and you feel the plush pillow beneath your head, you feel the cotton of a hospital sticking onto your skin while you are trying to get an understanding of where you are. Next, the smell of familiar antiseptic and bleach fills your nostrils, you first spot that you’re hooked into an IV drip, moving your head to the door frame, you feel your eyes widen and they dart across the room to see Marlene.

You can’t bring yourself to move, as you observe Marlene studying you, finally she says, “You’re finally awake.” You blink once, then again, before swallowing your fears, “Where’s Joel?” Marlene pushes herself off of the wall and uncrosses her arms, “He’s in another room, unconscious but fine. Patrol didn’t know who you were.” Your breathing hitches, “Okay, where’s Ellie?” Marlene replies steadily, as if practiced, “She’s fine. She’s not hurt, mostly worried about you two though.” You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “You’re going to operate on her.” Marlene sighs, defeatedly she nods, “Yes.” You lick your lips as a nervous tick, “You also know that I’m also immune.” The leader of the rebellion nods again, and you close your eyes to shake your head, “She’s just a kid. She’s everything to Joel… to me. Don’t do the operation on her, take me instead.” Marlene shakes her head in disagreement, “I can’t do that.” You tilt your head to the side, “Why not?”

She heavily sighs, “Your immunity is different from hers.” You scoff, “The cordyceps that she had since birth, grow in her brain, sending a chemical messenger to tell other cordyceps that she is cordyceps. You’re going to have to kill her just to get that damn vaccine. So, just take the plasma from me, it might contain the antibodies that you need to fight the virus.” Marlene places both of her hands on her waist “I can’t let you do that.” Exhausted you frustratingly growl, “Why? This has been the center of debate for years. The fuckin’ goddamn Trolley Problem! Plow into a group of people or turn and hit one person. Forcing you to choose to let other people die, but the solution was so simple.” Marlene takes the bait and asks, “And what is the answer?”

“Sacrificing yourself. And right now, Marlene, I have that choice. Either to let you kill an innocent girl, someone who didn’t ask to be brought into this fractured world to save what little we have left, or save her and all of humanity… with me, someone who never should have been here in the first place.” Marlene hums, “Well, you’re right about one thing… you aren’t from here.” You look at her confused and someone familiar steps into your room, the dark hair, black eyes, his stature lanky and tall, you shakingly exhale, “Adam. How are you even… What?” Another Firefly soldier comes in to retrieve Marlene, whispering that Joel is waking up. She walks away with the Firefly soldier and leaves you and Adam to talk.

He clears his throat, “I’ve been looking for you, and it's been weeks since your apartment burned down with you going missing. Do you remember anything that happened before the fire?” You shake your head, “I remember going to sleep after watching… yeah.” He nods, “You had brought home your research without any of the lab researchers or staff knowing. Your apartment burned down along with the research. I thought it was a little weird since… they didn’t find your body or any indication of you being abducted so I did a little bit of snooping around your desk, found the flash drive of your existing equations and theories before they took it away for evidence, had a hunch you were successful with your research and that you were out there somewhere.”

You manage to let out a chuckle, “Thanks for looking for me… I thought no one would notice if I was gone. It’s nice to have a friend.” He gives an awkward smile, “Did you have to bring yourself into this specific universe?” You rolled your eyes with humor, “It wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He gives you a knowing look but doesn’t tease you any further. Your mind begins to linger on the question you had since you woke up, “Why won’t Marlene just operate on me? It would be the best solution to avoid the upcoming massacre.”

Adam frowns and sighs, “When I first came here to look for you, Marlene had found me and then recruited me to join the Fireflies, but I had told her I wasn’t fit to fight and that I’m a scientist looking for a lost friend in their universe. You could imagine her skepticism but she eventually believed me,” You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as he continued, “After we made it to Salt Lake City, I had said that if things were to change, if you were to sacrifice yourself, to take Ellie’s place, it would completely cause the boundary between two universes to erode, and collide, destroying one or both entirely.” You look up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights hanging from above, “Let me guess, our universe is next to this one.” Adam nods, “I’m sorry. I tested the simulation before I got here… There are certain points that you can change but most of it stays the same.”

“Do you know how this ends?” You asked, he raises his eyebrows, “Which part?” You think to yourself before speaking again, “All of it.” He nods then loudly exhales, “Yes. It ends… in a selfish choice. A lie. But you already knew that why do you need to ask?” Unwaveringly, you stare him down, your voice stern and steady as you say, “Because I’m going to make my selfish choice too.”

It was quiet for a moment, the epiphany kicking in and settling between you and your friend. Adam shifts his weight on the other leg before reaching into his pocket, showing you a small rectangular device, “I managed to figure out the wiring and transmission issue, as well as the power issue with crystalized radium, and stabilized it with other elements. So, I managed to create a portable version of the machine you had. We can go home.”

That is what you were looking for all this time, right? A way back home. Now it’s right here in your grasp, just in reach but you feel no joy. No overwhelming sense of comfort or excitement. Nothing. You swallowed and shake your head, “No.” Adam is taken aback by your answer, “What? But you… your life back home.” You shake your head disagreeing, “That was never my home. You and I both know that. I was already researching a way out of that place, somewhere far away, and now… I’m here, free, and loved.” He shakes his head, “You can’t change what was already written.” You give him a sad smile, “The future is always changing. And I’ll make sure of it.” Adam insists, “And if you can’t?”

You leave all logic aside as you breathlessly say, “Then… At least they don’t have to go through any of the next steps alone.” Adam sighs and waves the device, “What do you want me to do with this.” You raise your eyebrows, “Go home, Adam. Ali needs you there, and as for my research… burn it. All of it, destroy everything.” He disagrees with you, “What?! That’s your life’s work?” You blankly stare into his eyes, “We aren’t ready for this kind of this discovery just yet. The world is moving so fast over there, if we don’t slow down, we’ll crash and burn.” He tries again to convince you to come home, to go back to the simple life you had before, “But…” You cut him off, “Remember what you told me? All disasters start with a scientist being ignored.” Defeatedly he tilts his head down, then nods agreeing, “Okay.”

You glance out the glass window of your room, there are Fireflies running down the hall, and from a distance the sound of loud pops and gunshots can be heard echoing, followed by yelling and thumping footsteps of Firefly soldiers. You turn back to look at Adam, “Listen to me, you need to leave right now. Burn all of my research. I want everything wiped out from the Cloud and every hard drive to be destroyed, all of it. But seriously, you need to go. Joel figured out what the hell was going on and will kill anyone who gets in his way. I don’t think he’s himself right now… so please just go… and take care of yourself and Ali for me?” Adam achingly smiles with tears in his eyes, “Goodbye and good luck.” With a push of a couple of buttons, followed by a flash of bright light, your only chance, a way back to your original universe was gone.

The sound of people screaming and dying was getting closer, the unmistakable sound of gunshots fill your ears and you feel a sense of dread creep through your bones. It is never safe enough to fall in love in this world. How easy it is to give the thing you want the most and punish you for it. But you’re smart enough to know, you can’t escape the truth of what you want. Every move we make will trigger another, and every small mistake will be a messenger. Your lives are weaving like a thread within each other, faithfully sharing in our joys and miseries and all that the world can give.

A firefly soldier tries to take cover in your room, essentially holding you hostage. You stay frozen in your bed as you observe Joel as he stalks over with an eerie calm expression, easily aiming at him, spraying him with bullets to take him down, and you don’t move as you watch him flick the switchblade open, the silver glimmering in his hand, brutally stabbing the soldier, he screams in agony before his eyes roll back, dead. He picks up the assault rifle from the corpse before standing and making his way to your bedside, a sharp contrast to what you had just seen, he leans in to kiss your forehead, “Hey, Sweetheart. They were tryin’ to take you away from me. Sorry I didn’t come sooner.” You take in the grime on his face, blood, and dust, lovingly gaze into his eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, “It’s okay. I knew you’d come lookin’ for me.” He breathes you in, and for a moment, he can ground himself with you hugging him tightly, close to him, but a dose of reality kicks in when he hears footsteps of oncoming Fireflies, he says to you, “Can you walk?” You nod, “The drugs that they gave me might kick in soon, but for now, yes.” He nods and helps you up while saying, “Let’s go get our baby girl.”

You feel the cold tiles of the hospital floor, wincing now and then over the debris and rocks, you accidentally step on. Joel shoots his way through, cold-heartedly executing anyone who dares and tries and gets in the way of Ellie. You know deep down he’s disassociated, disconnected from himself and the world around him. There is no sign of remorse in his eyes, only clear-cut focus and calmness you can’t quite place.

Eventually, you make it to pediatrics with Joel holding a handgun instead of the assault rifle. A sign points to where the surgery room is, as you walk through the hallway, you notice the different cartoon jungle animals painted on the walls, spotting another giraffe, the gentle giant that represented a holy moment of peace with Ellie. You press forward, slightly limping with the wounds on your feet as you two make it to the end of the hallway and into the operating room.

Joel quietly pushes the door open, spotting Ellie on the table, ready to be cut open and dissected. He then pushes the second door open to stand by the door, and calmly he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses gasp and the lead surgeon steps forward, “How did you get in here?” Joel doesn’t care to reply to his question, pointing his gun at him, “I said unhook her.” Before you knew what you were doing you loudly spoke, “Dr. Anderson. Listen to me, I know what you’re about to do next, the moment you fuckin’ pick up that scalpel blade, he will shoot you with no hesitation. He’s not himself right now. So, for your own daughter’s sake… don’t fucking move and let the nurses unhook Ellie.” He freezes, not expecting what you had just said, he looks between you two and Ellie, “We need to do this. It could work, we could have a vaccine. A chance to win.”

You shake your head, “Vaccines only work if there’s the proper distribution. A collective effort to try and solve this problem together. You have no resources to distribute it, even if you did it would take years to form collective immunity and then we’d have to figure out how to get rid of the infected. We have to share each other's work openly and efficiently. So that together we might achieve what we cannot achieve alone, collective immunity.”

Dr. Anderson takes in the information, the true meaning of your words but eventually settles on a decision, one that would have major implications in the future. He grabs the scalpel from the tray, and points it at you both, “I won’t let you take her.” There is no hesitation as Joel puts a bullet through his head, the loud gunshot causes both of the nurses to flinch and scream in horror. There is a flat tone in Joel’s voice as he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses have their arms up, shakingly cowering as his voice booms, “Move!” They do as they’re told, unhooking Ellie from the IV, blood drips down her arm, “Cover her arm.” Joel said and one of the nurses places a cotton patch on top of it. He then tells them to turn around, which all of them do with no question. As Joel carries Ellie out of the operating room, you quietly say, “I’m sorry. Tell Abby that I tried. But the moment she comes after him, I won’t hesitate to kill her.”

You leave and catch up with Joel who is carrying Ellie’s limp body in his arms, the elevator doors open, and you both step inside. You made mistakes and did a few things right. It will take what it will take, baby that's life, you cannot change what you do not own, everybody knows. But if you live deep and love strong you get pretty damn close. The elevator doors open to the basement of the hospital, and you both quickly spot a car ready to climb into to leave. As you quickly walk towards it, you begin to fade in and out, your energy spent and feeling the effects of the drugs they had given you prior.

“You can’t keep them safe forever.” Marlene walks out of the shadows with a gun pointed at you both, and you feel yourself slip further into darkness, you hazily hear the words from Marlene, “No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s gonna grow up, Joel. And then you’ll die. She’ll leave. Then what? How long till she’s torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved.” Joel nods, “Maybe. But it isn’t for you to decide.” Marlene throws back at him, “Or you. So what would she decide? ‘Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right because your girl over there was about to sacrifice herself to spare you both and save the world. And you know it. It’s not too late. Even now,” She tucks the gun away back into her holster, “Even after what you’ve done. We can still find a way.”

That’s when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your eyes roll back to your head, you feel your knees give out and your body comes crashing down to the floor. In this sea of change, understanding is our shore, you disappear with no control. The current is strong, your arms are weak. But you are the branch within his reach, though you cannot catch your breath. Joel isn’t able to catch you in time, and it’s as if the world had slowed down to watch your lifeless body crumple and shut down right in front of him and he’s never felt so powerless. He gazes down at you and then at Ellie, considering the rebel leader’s points, then he brings his eyes to Marlene.

ON THE ROAD, TO JACKSON — DAY

With his closed fists, he will feel like he’s succeeded. Outside of the walls of Jackson is an awful place as far as he can tell. You were victims of a constant loss, you three were not the enemy. He is afraid that his plans will lose their place. Maybe you all could hold your breath forever, or maybe for a while, knowing that the best will surely come like sunshine streaming down or the falling of rain.

Through your sleepy eyes, contagiously bright, as you stir awake, you are now in the front passenger seat of a truck you do not recognize, stretches of tall trees whiz past your periphery as you slowly crane your neck to look at Joel, who is gazing at you with relief and a little bit of remorse. Slowly, you see it in his eyes. The landscape of being are endlessly competing, back and forth for an answer to existence that you can understand. Perhaps you’re looking far too closely, you can't see all the evidence in its entirety. The air in your lungs and the complexity of both of your love for each other and Ellie. But love travels like a rumor here, losing form with every ear, just a skeleton of something more.

Ellie stirs and starts to wake up confused in the back seat, “What?” Joel is quick to reassure her and says, “It’s all right. You’re with us. Take it slow. The drugs are still wearin’ off.” Ellie mumbles, “I was with the Fireflies, and then… what drugs?” Joel swallows down his guilt before steadily saying, “They were runnin’ some test on you and some others. Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you. People that are immune. Dozens of ‘em. And the doctors, they couldn’t make any of it work. They’ve actually…” There’s a small pause, a wavier in his voice as the flashbacks come back to him in a blur, “They’ve stopped looking for a cure,” he lies, and Ellie then asks him suspiciously, “Where are my clothes?” He fabricates another lie, “Raiders attacked the hospital. Barely got ya both outta there. We’ll find you two some new clothes on the way.” Ellie senses the bullshit, “Were people hurt?” Joel clenches his jaw before deciding, “Yes.” To which she asks, “Is Marlene okay?” His eyes get misty again as he drives, he can’t bring himself to admit the truth to her or spew out more lies, so he settles on something true, “I’m takin’ us home.” She turns over so he can’t see her face in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You sit there stunned at Joel’s lies and see the strength of his resolve. You turn your head to look at him to find him gazing at you as if asking, begging through his whiskey-doe eyes, imploring you to not tell her the truth right now. You have to trust him, he knows where he’s going. The unbearable weight of a hidden question between exchanging looks, “Will you follow me, still?” You close your eyes for a moment, and Joel nearly falters, readying himself for the fallout, but instead, you take his right hand, with your own, squeezing it with reassurance. Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice and some truths are sharper than knives. No matter what category you fit into, truth's got its sight set on you. The light that we hold must be buried to bloom. And in spite of the uneven odds, beauty lifts from the earth. You’re the deal that everyone breaks when you’re without him. Only love proves to be the truth.

3 DAYS LATER…

THE OUTSKIRTS OF JACKSON — DAY

After a couple of stops, grabbing clothes and shoes from abandoned houses and stores. The car that he stole from the Fireflies had broken down, Ellie sat in the driver's seat as she traced her arms of the bitemark of the first Infected she ever faced. You were leaning on the other car door, right beside her, before quietly showing your arm the bite mark of the Infected a few weeks prior. She looks up at you in surprise, “You’re also… Immune?” You nod, explaining to her the possibility of now having the antibodies to fight the cordyceps infection along with the speculation of the radiation you had. She dwells on that information for a moment before asking, “Did the Fireflies try and test you too?” You look directly at her, “Yes. I’m not sure it worked though.” The lie that falls off your tongue tastes sour, but she doesn’t pick up on it, sensing that there was enough truth in what you said. Joel loudly shuts the hood of the car, “Well, she got us close enough.” He looks behind him before walking towards you and Ellie, “We gotta walk the rest of the way. Probably a five-hour hike but we can manage that. Remember?” Ellie smiles at the memory of the good times of the journey, “Yeah.”

You hike through the woods, taking in the earthly smell of pine trees and dirt. The forest resets in hope, with every crunch beneath your feet, and the two people you hold most dear to your heart. Joel brings himself to talk about Sarah, “You know, Sarah and I used to hike like this all the time. I wouldn’t say it was her favorite thing. She wasn’t a fan of the mosquitos and such. But she was a big climber, or scampering. That’s probably the right word. That girl, she’d see a big rock, and just…” He makes a noise with his mouth indicating that she would bolt right through the trees to climb it, “She woulda liked you and Birdie. Not to say you and Sarah are the same. Definitely different kids.”

Ellie asks, “How so?” Joel glances at her and says, “Well, she was a lot more, I wanna say girly. And I’m not sayin’ you’re not girly.” She shakes her head, “I’m not.” Joel agrees, “Yeah, you’re not. So that. She was taller. She had a killer smile. Again, not sayin’ that you don’t. But you know why I’d think she’d like you?” Ellie indulges him, “Why?” The answer was so simple, quick, and witty, Joel says, “‘Cause you’re funny. I think you would’ve made her laugh. Anyway, I bet you would’ve liked her back.” The teen next to you agrees, “Yeah, bet I would’ve.”

Eventually, you make it to the edge of the mountain top, looking over the view of the community of Jackson, and it is absolutely breathtaking. The breeze causes your skin to form goosebumps, and feel the tickle of the wind behind your neck. Joel takes a breath and says, “There ya go. Not much further now.” He continues walking and you start to follow but notice Ellie standing back, she calls out to him, “Hey, wait.” He stops and turns to face her, she curses, “Fuck.” Then takes a few steps closer to him, “Back in Kansas City, you asked me about the first time I killed someone. When I got bit in the mall, I wasn’t on my own. My best friend was there and she got bit, too.” Her admission causes her to falter a little bit before she says, “We don’t know what to do, and she says, ‘We can just wait it out, be all poetic and just lose our mind together. And then she did. And I had to… Her name was Riley and she was the first to die. And then it was Tess. And then Sam.”

You and Joel shook your heads, “That’s not on you,” he said and she tries to argue, “I know…” He cuts her off, “Look, sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope. You can feel like you’ve come to an end and you don’t know what to do next. But if you just keep goin’ you find somethin’ new to fight for. And maybe that’s not what…” Abruptly, Ellie speaks up, “Swear to me. Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.” Joel doesn’t hesitate as he lies, unblinking as he replies, “I swear.” She doesn’t believe him. She knows he’s not telling the truth. But she nods, and says “Okay.”

You hold his hand in support, and then it's just too much, to know that the streets still run with blood. So he tries to push it down, but it comes back faster and harder, tides are changing on a dime. And he’s just trying to keep his head above the water. Surrender's just a word, till you try it out and see how hard it is to hurt with someone else around, you. He’s the worst he’s ever been afraid of almost everything. The skies are clear but storms are always coming. Your gift to him is just to be bracing for the winds he always summons. His home, his heart, thank God you are someone who loves him.

End Notes:

Holy shit this took WAY LONGER THAN EXPECTED THATS ON MEEEE IM SO SORRYYYYY!

ARE YOU OKAY?? GIRLIE YOU GOOD? THIS NEEDS EDITING LATER BUT I HOPE YOU ARE ALL WELL AND YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER! DRINK WATER! BREATHE!

Its was an ACCIDENT! I established in Chapter 1 that it was all vague and a mystery woOOoo bcs uhhh I don’t think I was supposed to already give that question an answer in the beginning of the series cuz why the heck would u still read this T^T Alsoooo cause you did trYYYyyy to but couldn’t (I.e Tess, Sam and Henry, you voicing out your protests to Kathleen, etc.) And as if you had any other option but to go with Joel, Ellie, and Tess to survive yk the Infected :,))

CONGRATS U MADE IT AND OMG YOU LITERALLY HAD THE CHOICE TO GO BACK TO YOUR OLD UNIVERSE BUT YOU STAYEDDD FOR LOVEEEEE HEHEHEHEH

The Birdie had bits and pieces of what happens in the game, and sHE TRIED TO SAVE THE DAMN SURGEON, but obviously, homie got shot in the head :)) So now she has to figure out a way to stop Abby without having the whole story OR INFOOOOO YAYYYYY

Even though you tried to tell him not to kill Marlene or the Doctor, that it would be the cause of his death. But he still did anyway, a choice that was already made the moment you both were ripped away from him. He was disassociating :,) which I relate to Joel bb

OKAY I MIGHT WRITE AN EPILOGUE BUT LOWKEY LET ME TAKE A NAP CUZ I’VE BEEN WRITING FOR ALMOST TWO DAYS STRAIGHT WITH NO COFFEE O_O

Anyways… AHEM… I LOVE ALL OF YOU SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH! LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I give you hugs and kisses, and cookies for being so incredibly patient and sticking with me for my first-ever multi-chapter fic. CRAZYYYY.

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