#i would like to incorporate that into my own essence that makes sense? he's that charismatic

[ithacanradio]

i was tormented by thoughts of david tennant's characters at 15 and the same thing is still happening now at 25 he can't keep getting away with it

#going to study closing my app rn i just wanted to say #how fucking good is he??? #ive been thinking about crowley's swagger walk for the past ten minutes and before that it was the delivey of the confession!! #good lord not one tear spilled and still with just the tightness of the throat and the pauses he conveys it all!! #the tired 'don't bother' the lil dances he does in every character #i would like to incorporate that into my own essence that makes sense? he's that charismatic

[faresong]

figuring out my gijinka designs ^_^

Hallownest draws from Japanese inspiration in my headcanons. With this in mind as applied to this AU, I believe (as a general rule) higher-class folks would end up with detailed, painted masks & additional accessories surrounding it (as seen with Lurien's butler contrasted against Quirrel's). Lower-class will still paint theirs, but cannot afford to buy new masks very often; this makes their mask feel much more permanent and personal—thus, most will engrave their masks instead.

Lurien's mask is an odd case in it being rather blank. While crafted specifically by the King's hand to fit him, it lacks any visible design—that is, until one attempts to use magic against him. Only then do the seals of protection glow and reveal the true pattern the King granted his dutiful Watcher, though the assailant likely won't live to share that fact. In another sense, however, Lurien's seemingly blank mask only further emphasizes his use as the King's right-hand. Only ever an extension of him, where only his king knows his true use. He is as Hallownest must see him, and nothing more.

...There are very few who know what lay beneath.

In any case, it is mentioned on the first sheet, but I will delve into more detail on masks' significance in others' cultures as well:

Deepnest occasionally uses masks, or their charms, to acknowledge the community which raised them with pride; as it contains a multitude of rich cultures within it (particularly drawn from East Asian inspiration, here) who are generally (presently) amicable with one another. It is easier to mark trade, as well as shift to other languages as a show of hospitality. Due to its winding passages, children will often get lost in exploration (an encouraged pastime), and are then escorted back to their people if need be. These charms are typically placed in their family's shrine once they've passed; carrying a charm that is not your own is seen as grave disrespect, even if the person in question is not dead. Each person is brought to the one we know as Mask Maker for their charm, drawn from their essence, and to take the charm is to act as if one claims agency over another person. Even parents rarely hold their child's charm.

As for the Uomas, granted a part of Unn's land, Monomon is the one who oversees these creatures. Recognizing the responsibility she is capable of handling, as well as her evident intelligence in her work with the Mosskin, Hallownest approached her as equals with intention to work a beneficial truce. Hesitantly, Monomon accepted their terms with the promise they would not further impose on Unn's land—still, the canyon would be safe travel for all persons, as a neutral ground. Hallownest gave her resources, and the King made her mask to show this allegiance. Though she rarely (properly) wears it, she will have it on her when working with Hallownest's scholars to show respect for them & expect respect in turn. Monomon is at peace co-existing with all surrounding areas; the only one she is wary of is Hallownest... it poses great threat, but she finds solace in knowing she has made herself a necessary pillar in the kingdom's technological development despite being a foreigner. She may use her position to open the minds of those who choose to study or collaborate with her—to see the people who surround them as societies in their own right, worth learning about despite Hallownest's imperialistic views. It is significantly easier to get through to scholars that have come from poorer backgrounds, but the environment she's cultivated does manage to steadily wear down the harsher beliefs ingrained in them.

After a few years spent with Quirrel, Monomon began incorporating some of his traditional dress for herself and encouraged him to do the same when he was to visit her (and, inevitably, when he lived in the Archive). She quite enjoys studying culture & its history, and would often ask Quirrel to indulge her questioning considering he was a first-generation immigrant to Hallownest. Once she manages to meet Herrah in-person, she does the same—with their meeting coinciding with the King's requests to pursue the Dreamer Project, she wanted to help preserve what she could of Deepnest should the plan fail. Kept not in Hallownest's texts, but her own... there was still much that Herrah preferred to keep to oral stories, but she did eventually learn to trust Monomon in this (despite her alliance with Hallownest).

The masks that are gifted by the King often have a slowing effect on the aging of their chosen person. Monomon was already given Unn's blessing (aging & enhancing magic) to help protect what remains in Her stead, but the mask still applies its effect to Quirrel once he'd 'stolen' it (and with it, a part of Monomon's own soul that'd been fused with it). The same applies with Lurien & each of the Five Knights, though no one else is really given the luxury... not even those of the Pale Court, except for one. Even she would come to see it as a curse, however, despite the cheer she presently puts forth.

A lot of poor communities in Hallownest tend to wear more earthly colors, whereas the nobles are given more variety in color/cloth. Many of them consider the land they inhabit carelessly, an idea which doesn't carry over to any other community that has existed much longer than Hallownest; most prefer warm, natural colors by contrast. Monomon specifically puts a spin on Hallownest's noble clothing in mixing it with the Mosskin's cloth (in this particular outfit, it is her skirt).

& As for the particulars of this 'human AU' (of sorts), here's a general listing: Herrah as mixed Syrian-Filipino; Monomon as Jamaican; Quirrel as Vietnamese; Lurien & his butler as Japanese; Hegemol as Korean.

Hm-hm... other than that, I don't think I have much else to talk about that is specific to this AU. It's mostly my excuse to draw the cast as humans (which is easier for me, haha). I'm open to questions, of course, but as this stands... I think I've said all I meant to say/clarify. Thank you for reading :D

#more details under the cut...! :] #// #hollow knight #monomon the teacher #herrah the beast #lurien the watcher #lurien's butler #hegemol #quirrel #my art #folder #headcanons #aus #hk gijinka #;; #lurien x butler

[lesbiansforboromir]

Sorry I just saw you call Faramir one of Boromir’s greatest critics / rivals and was really surprised by that phrasing. Would you mind explaining more? I never got the impression Faramir was especially critical of Boromir at all and I’m curious.

This is such an amusing ask because it's a very common thing to believe but just- it's very blatant in the books! Faramir, in essence, cannot say a single uncomplicatedly positive thing about his brother, inspite of the fact that #1 Boromir is dead and #2 Faramir is speaking to an absolute stranger and his captive at that. He is patronising, in the main, both grieving his death but also believing it inevitable due to all Boromir's many flaws, and ALSO claiming that he was 'more beautiful in death than ever in life' which is pretty offputting. Here;

"I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it. Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should have been chosen by my father and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed."

This quote of Faramir about Boromir effectively sums up his attitude towards him. Each praise couched with condemnation, proud and fearless (rash) anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein) he was the hardier (but I should have been chosen). Well I can imagine Boromir might desire the ring, says Faramir, and then continues to tell Frodo that he would never desire such a thing though, he would never wish for 'such triumphs' as to use the weapon of the enemy to win the war.

And then you have what I was talking about with the big post, Faramir associates Gondor's 'decline' with Boromir's 'elevation';

‘For so we reckon Men in our lore, calling them the High, or Men of the West, which were Numenoreans; and the Middle Peoples, Men of the Twilight, such as are the Rohirrim and their kin that dwell still far in the North; and the Wild, the Men of Darkness. ‘Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim any longer the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts. Such is the need of our days. So even was my brother, Boromir: a man of prowess, and for that he was accounted the best man in Gondor. And very valiant indeed he was: no heir of Minas Tirith has for long years been so hardy in toil, so onward into battle, or blown a mightier note on the Great Horn.’ Faramir sighed and fell silent for a while.

So again, Boromir was physically impressive, a man of prowess, accounted the best man in Gondor, which would be a compliment if Faramir hadn't just got done telling us that 'men who are warriors and are esteemed for such are a sign of our collective social, spiritual and ethnic decline into 'men of the twilight' so even was my brother'. They weren't even talking about Boromir here, Faramir was eulogising to Frodo upon Gondorian theories of racial hierarchy and history (badly mind you, a great deal of what Faramir says does not actually make historical sense when cross referenced with the appendices and unfinished tales) and he just decided to throw in this snide dig at his dead brother for the sake of it.

So yes! Incorporated the last big post about Boromir as an advocate for Middle Men equality with Faramir's declared desire to see Gondor return to it's 'high beauty' etc etc, they are political rivals and Faramir is Boromir's greatest critic. Not even Gandalf is so wordy in his criticisms of Boromir.

#chats #Anonymous

[heddagab]

A much needed (for me) little rant

I hype up Regina's bad side not only because it is more compelling (and the writing of hers as a hero was choppy) but also because the whole fandom is so ready to jump on her defense and babygirl her no matter what, to a stupid degree

I hype up Rumple's good side not only because it got twisted and shunned by canon itself but also because the fandom is ready to blame him for everything 24/7 no matter what corner of it they come from, unless they are Rumbellers so they ultra woobify him solely because of that relationship, so they get no points on my book either. Rumple was a whole character of his own, he's not relevant because of that shitty ship, please and thank you

I probably can't talk with anyone unless they are a GQer not only because I saw that relationship from day one, from the moment they popped up on screen, but also because I recognize that almost every storyline they incorporated for Rumple and Regina, the themes, work so much better for Golden Queen or if they are related to Golden Queen. Everything makes more sense and has more depth. OQs storyline (pretty sure it was an original idea for GQ because the whole soulmate situation simply does not make sense for Robin, Regina would never even spit on him let alone having him as her soulmate while she and Rumple had parallel themes to their life and similar disposition) and the subsequent Zelena baby situation makes sense if it's about them. Rumple being forced to deal with his good side makes sense if he thinks he's losing Regina to the light and he can't follow. Regina being mad at him because he endangered Henry in some way makes sense. Belle going on and on about him hurting Gideon when in fact he didn't, does not.

I have so much more to say about them and it's just a pity that both the Ouat canon and the Ouat fandom diverged so much from what I appreciated in that show from the beginning of it. I still talk about them like a broken record because it's unfair and unlike anything I've come across in my life. The essence of Ouat I have in me was always equivalent to Golden Queen being an integral part of it from the very beginning so whatever Ouat ended up being and the fandom along with it seems to me like a monstrosity made by different part of stories that seem like they belonged somewhere else but they got bleached, painted over, scratched and cut to look like something new. And everyone's taking the final product at face value while I'm seeing a sacrilege.

#gq text #ouat text

[aellathedreamer]

in a world of boys, he’s a gentlemen “Got lovestruck, went straight to my head. Got lovesick, all over my bed”

A look through of Stacy and Edward’s relationship right after he proposed. The royal life, a whirlwind of emotions.

Chapter 20/40

Pairing: Stacy x Edward

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51843736/chapters/131078110

"No, there's too much going on at the bodice. It looks too delicate, a bit old fashioned." Amelie's voice drowned out Stacy's flurry of thoughts. The wedding dress, a vision of regal splendor, awaited its turn under the hands of skilled designers and seamstresses.

The designer, eyes gleaming with passion, began detailing the intricacies of the gown, describing the delicate lace, the cascading veil, and the timeless elegance woven into every stitch. Amelie, equally engrossed, discussed the finer points, ensuring the dress would be a perfect reflection of Belgravia's rich tradition but reflects modern elements.

As Stacy stood amidst the whirlwind of creativity, her thoughts took a detour into the depths of contemplation. The dress, a symbol of her imminent royal union, cast a looming shadow over her emotions. The weight of expectations, the complexities in her relationship with Edward, and the looming responsibilities merged into a poignant melody that resonated in her heart.

Amelie, attuned to Stacy's occasional lapses into silence, cast a concerned yet comforting glance. The designer, still entranced by the dress's beauty, couldn't help but express the joy of creating such a masterpiece. "Bellisima, you look enchanting, Your Ladyship." 

Stacy, caught between the threads of history and the uncertainties of her own destiny, replied with a soft smile, "Thank you. It truly is a work of art."

Amelie, sensing the weight of Stacy's emotions, gently inquired, "How are you feeling, Stacy? Is there anything specific you'd like to incorporate into the design? Or is the fit too tight? Do you feel comfortable in it?"

Stacy hesitated for a moment before expressing her thoughts. "I want it to be more than just tradition. I want it to reflect the essence of who I am and who we are as a couple."

The designer nodded in understanding, "Of course, Miss De Novo. Your vision will be woven into every detail, making this gown uniquely yours."

After the session, Amelie was well aware that Stacy's mood was not the best. She could not blame her at all, as the girl experienced a turbulent week of the tabloids, a strained relationship with Edward, and all the added pressures of being a member of the royal family. Amelie, perceptive to Stacy's emotional state, suggested with a warm smile, "Stacy, let's take a break from the whirlwind. How about a little baking session? It might be a delightful way to lift your spirits and create a moment of joy."

Stacy, appreciative of Amelie's thoughtfulness, nodded. "Baking sounds like a wonderful escape right now. Let's do it."

As they retreated to the palace kitchen, the aroma of ingredients and the act of measuring, mixing, and creating together worked like a comforting balm for Stacy's soul. The simple joy of baking became a shared refuge, allowing Stacy to temporarily set aside the pressures that surrounded her.

As the aroma of sweet delights enveloped the royal kitchen, Amelie and Stacy engaged in the art of baking, seeking a momentary escape from the grandeur of their impending responsibilities. Amelie suggested whipping up simple red velvet cupcakes, a delightful choice for a casual moment of baking.

While Amelie skillfully measured ingredients and shared anecdotes of past kitchen escapades, Stacy's mind lingered in the corridors of her thoughts. Lost in the labyrinth of her emotions, the joy of baking became a temporary sanctuary, a soothing rhythm against the backdrop of her complex reality.

Amidst the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils, Stacy's wandering mind met an unexpected challenge. In an absentminded moment, she inadvertently touched the hot baking tray with her bare hands, a sudden jolt of pain breaking the spell of contemplation. "Shit!" she grumbled under her breath.

"Stacy! Are you alright?" Amelie's concern resonated as she rushed to Stacy's side.

Stacy winced, shaking off the heat from her hands. "I'm fine, just got a bit distracted. Maybe I needed a wake-up call from the cupcakes themselves."

As Amelie tended to Stacy's hands with gentle care, the unspoken understanding between them hung in the air. The kitchen, usually filled with the harmonious symphony of baking, became a haven for vulnerability. Softly, Amelie spoke, her words a subtle acknowledgment of the turmoil beneath the surface. "Stacy, you never burn anything when you bake. I know something's not okay. You can talk to me."

Stacy, her guard momentarily lowered by the intimate setting of the kitchen, sighed. "It's just... everything, Amelie. The expectations, the conflicts. I feel like I'm losing myself in this role. Sometimes, my mind wanders if I should just hop a plane back to Chicago."

"Stacy, it's natural to have doubts, especially in the face of such monumental decisions. Your feelings are valid," Amelie reassured, her gaze soft yet steady. "But before you board that plane, consider the love you and Edward share. It's a rare and precious thing. Its the most genuine form of love I've ever seen in my service here in the palace."

Stacy, torn between the familiarity of her past life and the uncertainty of the royal future, sighed. "Amelie, I never imagined it would be this complicated. I love Edward, but I can't help but wonder if love is enough to navigate the intricacies of this life."

Amelie, offering a cup of tea to soothe both body and soul, spoke with a wisdom honed by years of royal service. "Love is a powerful force, Stacy, but it's not the only ingredient in this intricate recipe. Communication, compromise, and understanding play their roles as well. You and Edward have a connection that could weather these challenges, but it requires both of you to be open and honest."

Stacy, cradling the warm cup in her hands, contemplated the crossroads she found herself facing. The royal kitchen, once a haven for shared moments, now held the weight of decisions that could reshape destinies. As the fragrance of tea and unresolved dilemmas lingered, Stacy knew that the choice she made would echo beyond the confines of the palace walls.

—

With the grace only found in innocence, the young prince stumbled, his tiny hands reaching out for the support and reassurance a parent typically provides. King George, however, met this vulnerability with a cold detachment that belied the warmth inherent in familial bonds.

The young prince, on the verge of tears, held out a hand towards his father. King George, unyielding in his approach to royal discipline, uttered words that resonated with a harsh reality.

"Stand yourself up, Edward," the king declared, his gaze unwavering. "A future king doesn't dilly-dally on the floor."

In the courtly dance of royalty, the young prince was left to fend for himself, a poignant tableau of a childhood marked by the absence of paternal warmth. The attendants, ever dutiful to the king's commands, hurried to the young prince's aid, their hands reaching out where a father's touch was absent.

Edward closes his eyes again, the scene then changes.

In the vast halls of the palace, a young Edward often found himself standing alone, gazing at the ornate decorations that adorned the regal walls. The distant echoes of royal court discussions reached his ears, but the figure of King George remained elusive, a shadow casting a long and cold absence.*

Queen Caroline, his mother, would delicately explain, "Edward, your father is burdened with the weight of the kingdom. His duties demand much of his time."

Amelie, the loyal confidante, would offer comfort, "You have the love of your mother, and I'll be here for you as well."

As Edward grew, the void left by his father's absence became a defining aspect of his life. He sought solace in the company of those who stayed by his side, creating a haven within the palace's walls where love and understanding served as the pillars of his existence.

In the hallowed halls where the memories of a distant father lingered, Edward grappled with the complex dance between duty and familial connection. The paternal void that shaped his early years left its mark, shaping his approach to love, relationships, and the delicate balance of royal responsibilities.

As Edward navigated the intricate threads of his present, the echoes of an absent father whispered, influencing his choices and interactions. The tension with King George, his distant and disapproving father, reverberated through the palace, casting a shadow on the path to love and acceptance.

The grand council chamber was adorned with tapestries depicting the storied history of Belgravia. Edward, a younger prince then, stood in stark contrast to the imposing figure of King George. The atmosphere crackled with tension.

"Edward, you must understand the legacy you're set to inherit. Our kingdom thrives on the foundation of tradition." His father, the King tells him.

"But Father, the world is changing. We must adapt, embrace new perspectives." Edward implores.

King George sighs deeply. "Tradition is the bedrock of our stability, to deviate from it risks the very essence of Belgravia."

As Edward approached marriage with Stacy, the memories of those clashes lingered. The council meetings, where differing visions clashed like swords, haunted him. The desire for his father's acceptance and the acknowledgment of his chosen path weighed heavily on his heart. Edward navigated the delicate intricacies of impending marriage, the specter of his father's disapproval cast a long shadow. The weight of the crown was not just a symbol of authority; it carried the burdens of an unresolved father-son dynamic.

Being a ruler meant the king were to spend less time with his son.

Amidst the opulence of the palace, where every corridor whispered secrets of royal lineage, Edward grappled with his desire for a harmonious familial connection. The ghosts of the past lingered, shaping the contours of his leadership, love, and the quest to bridge the gap between tradition and progress. The weight of his father's expectations, the echoes of countless disagreements, and the yearning for approval became threads entwined in the fabric of his soul.

Amidst the splendor of the royal gardens, where blooming roses mirrored the fragility of familial bonds, a poignant conversation unfolded. The king had summoned his son after the fiasco at Wembley Studio. He was livid over his son proposing over a live and televised event. "Edward, you are the heir to the throne. Your actions reflect not just on you, but on the entire kingdom. Proposing in front of the camera, that was uncalled for."

King George's voice, a haunting refrain in his mind, urged him to ponder the very foundations of his choices. The disapproval etched in his father's gaze during heated discussions resurfaced, and Edward faced an internal struggle—how to reconcile duty with personal convictions.

"Father, love knows no boundaries. Stacy makes me happy, and together, we can forge a future that harmonizes tradition and modernity. I simply do not want her to leave my side, and I proposed because I was already sure of her." He counters, defending his actions.

"Edward, happiness is a fleeting emotion. The stability of the kingdom rests on foundations that cannot be compromised. You are a prince, not a lovesick puppy!"

—

It was a bright sunny afternoon when Stacy held the phone to her ear, the subtle hum of a transatlantic connection carrying Margaret's voice. The unexpected call piqued her interest, and she listened attentively as Margaret's words filled the air. It was quite unusual of Margaret to call as the duchess was usually preoccupied with her own responsibilities.

"Stacy, darling, surprise!" Margaret's voice, laced with excitement, greeted her.

"Margaret? What's going on?" Stacy asked, a hint of confusion coloring her tone.

Just then, another voice chimed in, and Stacy's eyes widened in recognition. "Is that... Kevin?"

"Guilty as charged!" Kevin's cheerful response echoed through the phone.

Stacy's shock turned into a mixture of surprise and joy. "What are you doing in Chicago, Margaret?"

Margaret's laughter bubbled through the phone. "Well, I thought I'd make a little detour before heading to Belgravia. Kevin and I are here, and we wanted to spend some quality time before we fly there for the wedding."

Stacy, caught off guard but genuinely touched, couldn't help but smile. "You both flew are flying early here for me?"

"Absolutely! It's not every day your best friend becomes a princess. We couldn't miss the chance to share in the joy. Is Edward treating you well?," Kevin asks, his enthusiasm palpable even through the phone.

Margaret added, "And it's been ages since I've been to Chicago. Thought it would be the perfect opportunity for a little adventure."

"Hey, let her answer my question, Mugs." Kevin complains, and Stacy could hear shuffling as Kevin took over the phone. She chuckled at her friend's choice of nickname for his beloved. "Is Edward treating you well, Stace?" He asks.

Stacy, appreciating the sincerity of the gesture, felt warmth spreading within her. "Yeah... Hmm he does. Edward is currently in parliament. I can’t wait to see you.�� She lies smoothly.

"Well, get ready for a fabulous time, my dear. Can't wait to see you!" Margaret exclaimed, the excitement in her voice mirroring the anticipation building in Stacy's heart.

As the conversation unfolded, Margaret, perceptive as ever, picked up on nuances in Stacy's voice. "Stacy, darling, you can't fool me. How are you really doing?"

Stacy hesitated for a moment, realizing her attempt to mask her emotions had been transparent to her discerning friend. "I'm... I'm doing great, Margaret. Just caught up in the whirlwind of wedding preparations, you know."

Margaret's response was a knowing chuckle and she lowered her voice a bit so Kevin would not hear their conversation. "Nice try, but I know you too well. We'll talk more about it once I'm there in Belgravia. No secrets between us, okay?"

Stacy, grateful for Margaret's understanding, nodded even though the distance couldn't be seen through the phone. "Deal. Can't wait to see you and catch up properly."

The assurance of Margaret's imminent arrival brought a sense of comfort to Stacy, a reminder that amidst the grandeur and formality of royal life, there were friendships that transcended the barriers of titles and obligations. Two more weeks felt like an eternity.

—

Queen Caroline, concerned about the well-being of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law, summoned Amelie for an update. As Amelie entered the queen's presence, she could feel the weight of responsibility and scrutiny.

"Amelie, please have a seat," Queen Caroline gestured gracefully, her eyes revealing a mix of concern and expectation.

Amelie took a seat, her posture poised but with a hint of weariness. "Your Majesty," she greeted respectfully.

"Tell me, Amelie, how is Stacy holding up? I've heard whispers of rumors, and I worry about her," Queen Caroline inquired, her maternal instincts taking precedence.

Amelie chose her words carefully, aware of the delicate nature of the situation. "Your Majesty, Stacy has been going through a challenging time. The rumors in the press have taken a toll on her emotionally. We're working on a plan to address the situation and provide a more accurate narrative, but Stacy needs some time to navigate through her feelings."

Queen Caroline nodded thoughtfully. "It's crucial that Stacy feels supported and understood. I trust you to guide her with compassion, Amelie. Remember, the strength of our monarchy lies not just in tradition but in the well-being of our family members."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Amelie replied with a determined expression. "I will do my utmost to support Stacy and ensure that the image portrayed in the media aligns with the truth."

Queen Caroline offered a reassuring smile. "Very well, Amelie. Keep me informed, and don't hesitate to seek counsel if needed. We're a family, and we face these challenges together."

Amelie, standing before Queen Caroline, felt compelled to convey the delicate truth about Stacy's emotional state. With measured words, she spoke, "Your Majesty, Stacy's emotional well-being is intricately tied to her support system, particularly her connection with Prince Edward. In recent times, as they face challenges and rumors, Stacy has found solace and strength in their bond."

She continued, choosing her words carefully, "The strain on their relationship, and the rumors circulating in the press, have shaken Stacy. It's evident that her sense of security relies heavily on the support and understanding she receives from Prince Edward. Without that anchor, she seems to falter, and navigating the complexities of her new role becomes even more challenging."

Amelie's gaze remained steady, respectful yet sincere, as she awaited Queen Caroline's response. The queen absorbed the information, recognizing the fragility of the situation and the importance of preserving the foundation upon which Stacy's resilience rested.

Amelie took a breath before continuing, her commitment to transparency evident in her words. "Your Majesty, the strain in Stacy's relationship with Prince Edward is compounded by his absence during these challenging times. While I understand the demands of his duties, Stacy's emotional well-being is delicate, and the support she needs from him is crucial."

Queen Caroline's brow furrowed in concern. "Why isn't Edward by Stacy's side? In times of hardship, they should face these challenges together."

Amelie explained, "Your Majesty, Prince Edward has been occupied with parliamentary responsibilities and official matters. It appears that the demands on his time have left Stacy feeling isolated. I believe their connection is vital, and if not nurtured in these trying times, there's a risk that the strain might lead to more severe consequences, possibly even reconsidering the engagement."

Queen Caroline's expression shifted, a mix of worry and determination. "We cannot allow this situation to escalate further. Edward needs to prioritize his responsibilities, but he must also prioritize his relationship with Stacy. We must find a way to ensure that they face these challenges as a united front. I'll see what i can do, George is keeping Edward on his toes in parliament. That boy never seemed to catch a break."

#the princess switch #prince edward of belgravia #stacy de novo #your honor they are in love #this is canon in my head #margaret delacourt #king george #queen caroline #kevin richards

[venusguks]

— saccharine boy

pairing : reader x jeon jungkook

summary : the new transfer student is a bit strange…

genre : yandere jk, future smut, angst, dark, obsessive/possessive jk

warnings : this includes DARK themes with heavy topics. i dont support this unhealthy relationship dynamic irl. a huge TW for suicide, suicidal thoughts, tendencies, coaxing, themes. this is pure fiction so please know that if you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts, this may be really really horrible to read :(( yn and jk both say shitty things

part 1 of ??

☽

i loved you before i even knew you

in days fleeting moments, the sun dipped into the ocean, casting a surge of honey waves to engulf the city whole.

it’s vast, golden essence poured through the mid-open windows and into the empty school hallways.

moments before, the laughter of the baseball team dissipated, and those who confessed to the whim of spring filtered emotions had left with tear stained cheeks.

it's empty enough that you can hear your own slip ons click against the floor.

click, click, click.

you walk up the stairs, stopping right in front of the rooftop door.

the rusted knob is cool under your skin, and bracing yourself for the wind, you twist it open.

the wind whisks past you ferociously, as if urging you to turn back. you should've heeded the warning then (how foolish of you not to), but instead, you open your eyes to the tangerine streaks of the sky.

that’s when you see him.

— ❝ hey, do you regret it? ❞

his silhouette wavered beyond the metal railings of the rooftop.

you don’t know why—what had possibly gone through your mind when you spoke. it wasn't your business—you could honestly care less for people like him,

because people like him were the same as you.

despite that, you couldn't stop yourself from screaming, "you're such an attention freak, you know that?! do you really want to be seen that much?"

his head slightly lifted.

would he listen to you? would he care?

because if it were you past that railing right now, you wouldn't stop for anyone.

but doesn’t he see?

if he jumps, right now, right in front of you,

doesn’t he know how much that would break you?

please, the wind swallows your desperation. i’m already broken enough, so please don't make it any worse.

when i muster up the courage like you someday, i need to die without the thought of you jumping in my head.

— ❝ oh, i see… you're scared of me.❞

"there are so many other ways to kill yourself. drowning, the rope—you can jump off literally any other god damned building for all i care—but don't you dare make it this building! don't you dare jump off in front of me."

you saw it, as the wind danced past him, just how lifeless his eyes were

it was as if the sun himself feared him—preferring to quickly drown into the blue abyss rather than be in his mere presence.

"i know this place is terrible—but the janitor is so kind. he's a single father of three children and if you jump, he'd have to break his back scrubbing your blood for hours. he'd come home and put on a happy face despite worrying if his children will turn out like you. so please, for the janitor's sake, deal with haunting this school a different way. your death would affect more people than you’d know, so please.”

he doesn’t move, so hesitantly, as if it would change anything, you quietly add, "ah, he gave me food one time too.”

the boy’s back quivered, and your own trembling heart ached for him—but what you thought was sniffing turned into a loud, hearty laugh

you stood there, dumbfounded as you watched him.

"you're..." he tries to say through his giggles. when he catches his breath, he finally turns to you with the biggest smile.

"you're really stupid."

— ❝ but would it help if i said i've always loved you? ❞

frozen, you can only stand there gaping at him.

"i was just watching the sunset, but your reaction was so funny. you don't know how hard it was not to laugh."

what…?

you blink once, twice—then turning your heel, you begin to walk away.

"h-hey! wait!" he called from beyond the railings. "i'm sorry, okay? i was having too much fun—i didn't mean to scare you. please forgive me."

"scare me?" you scoffed. "kill yourself for all i care. it doesn't have anything to do with me."

— ❝ since that day... ❞

you just blurted it out of spite. you knew it was cruel, you didn’t mean it. you were just so angry. how dare he make a fool out of you? make a joke out of this? in your eyes, he was far more cruel.

“fine then.”

you turn back with a vile glare, but your heart stops as he takes a step back.

the boy hums in viscous amusement when he sees the horror in your eyes. in front of the blazing red of the sun, wearing his wide smile, he resembled a demon.

"forgive me, or i'll let go."

"d-don’t be stupid," you scowl, but you could barely feel yourself breathe.

then, just like that, one of his finger tips leave the metal bar—then another, and another.

you don’t know when you started running or how you even got there, but as soon as you hooked your fingers around his collar, you gave everything to pull him back.

"are you crazy?!" you scream, hot tears trickling down your eyes.

his annoying fit of laughter only angered you more.

— ❝ i loved you before i even knew you. ❞

"like i said, forgive me—and i won't try it again," he chimed in a playful tone.

you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

it scared you, his carelessness.

he scared you.

“okay, okay! i forgive you!” you yell exasperatedly. “god, you—you think this is funny? what the fuck is wrong with you?! you could’ve—just because i—y-you could’ve…r-right in front of me…and i-i…”

"hey, hey..." he chuckles softly, interlocking his fingers with yours through the metal fence.

you refused to look at him, but you could still feel the tingling warmth of his skin. you were close, the bars only stopping at your torso. when you look back at it, you remembered the seeping reality of his beauty.

his voice, his touch, him...

everything he did made you feel so out of control, so vulnerable.

who was he? why did you have to meet him?

"i knew you'd catch me, its fine."

"that's not the point here you suicidal bitch! i mean—what were you thinking? are you out of your mind? i swear to god—if you jumped and i became a suspect of murder, i'd dig up your own grave and kill you again!”

the boy’s eyes widened, shock dancing with his own bemusement. they were the same lifeless brown, but golden specks glimmered in where he looked at you.

finally, he smiles, “you’re horrible.”

you give a viscious glare, but before you can retort something, he continues, his hand trailing up your arm.

"but at the same time, horrible people don’t try to save a horrible person from dying. no, you can’t be horrible,” a cold shiver runs through your body when his fingers brush against your collarbone. “you’re just a sweet girl, aren’t you? an angel who saved me…”

he pulls you closer by your neck, his lips barely touching the shell of your ears. your breath hitches, and your knees suddenly feel weak.

“i’d love to ruin you.”

nothing comes out of your mouth.

all you can hear is your heart thumping against your chest. all you can feel is the unbearable heat blooming on your cheeks, and all you can see is him.

finally, his words settle in.

“get the fuck off me you creep!”

— ❝ you're never leaving me, my love. i won't let you. ❞

ː

a/n : i’m so so so sorry if this triggered some people. this may be poorly written as well as i’ve written this YEARS ago. as you might tell, i was suicidal then and i often incorporated that in writing—its a way to get it off my chest sort of. to have relatable characters is something thats always made me comfortable. honestly rereading it again nothing makes sense LOL but i thought i’d continue it just for fun. i hope whoever has come across this is having a lovely and healing day, stay safe starlights <3

#bangtan sonyeondan #jeon jungkook #bangtan boys #bts fanfic #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bangtan #jungkook smut #bts jk #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #bts yandere

[plush-rabbit]

Sour and Sweet

Word Count: 3.2K A/N: I’ve always simped for Diavolo because tiddies, so the new update is like !!! So i incorporated jealousy because I want that demon side to come out (also I hc that none of them have human dicks so vasu from bad dragon is my hc for him) (also afab reader)

You enter his room, a gift bag in hand filled with sweets from the human realm. You don’t knock- there’s no real need to since he enters your room without asking frequently and at this point it’s a norm for you to do the same. You peek your head through the door and quietly go down the stairs, holding onto the ledge.

“Mammon,” you call in a sing-song voice, holding the bag tighter in your hands as you reach the final step. You turn towards the couch and find it empty and once you turn, you’re greeted with the sight of Mammon on the bed with his head in hands. Your smile fades and your eyes soften. “Oh Mammon, what happened?” You walk towards him, bag still in hand. When he doesn’t answer, you let your shoulders fall and sit beside on the bed, placing the bag on the floor and one hand comes to rub at his back while the other rubs at his chest. “Mammon,” you say softly, “are you okay?”

He sighs and rolls his neck, turning his head to look at you. His eyes are soft as they search your face, scanning over you and darting to your neck, and lowering until they reach the floor and rest on the bag. “What’s that?” He jerks his head to the bag and reaches for it before you have the chance to answer. “What are Sour Patch Kids?”

You brighten up and clasp your hands over his where they hold the snack. “Oh! They’re candy from the Human Realm. I got like a bunch more,” you say with a smile, nudging his knee with yours. “I was thinking we could share before Beel smells ‘em.”

“Where’d you get them?” He asks, turning the bag over, crinkling it in his hands.

“Dia gave them to me,” you chirp, grabbing the candy from his hands and placing it back into the bag, searching around for one that he would like.

“Dia?” He asks,mouth pulling into a sneer, looking at the bag with contempt.

“Diavolo,” you answer, handing him a chocolate wrapped in gold-colored foil. “Here-” you hand him the sweet and when he doesn’t take it you place it in his palm. “He wanted a nickname after hearing yours and the rest.”

“And you gave it to him?” He asks incredulously. You shrug in answer and pop a mint into your mouth, playing with plastic wrapping in your hand. “Lucifer’s gonna blow a fuse when he hears that, ya know?”

You flash him a wide grin and press a kiss against the corner of his lips. “He can’t hurt me anyways,” you shrug with a roll of your eyes. “The most I’ll get is a scolding,” you rationalize. “Now come on-” you grab his hand and curl his fingers over the chocolate- “eat up.”

The chocolate melts in his mouth, sweet and creamy and he hums at the taste, crunching the wrapper in his hand and letting it fall to the floor. “I don’t like the nickname,” he says, running his tongue over his teeth to get rid of any lingering chocolate. He avoids your questioning look. “He’s the Lord and all-” he casts you a side glance, removing his glasses and tucking them onto the collar of his shirt- “shouldn’t you be a bit more respectful?” He runs his tongue under a canine, eyes narrowing as he gives you his full attention.

You stare at him and let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Mammon, baby, he’s a friend and he asked for a nickname and I gave him one. I think it would’ve been disrespectful to deny him one.” Your grin falls and you bite your bottom lip, letting it roll between your teeth, watching as his eyes are directed to your lips. “What’s up?” He gives you a hum, eyes darkening as they look up at you. “You’re acting-” your lips thin as you try to find the proper word- “odd?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with him-”

“Exchange student and a friend,” you answer with a roll of your eyes.

“I don’t like it,” he states, his lower jaw gives a subtle twitch. “Shouldn’t you be around me more often? I can accompany you to the meeting- fuck, you can write down what you want to say and I’ll send it over.”

“Isn’t envy more of Levi’s thing?” You joke, only to clear your throat and look apologetic when he casts you a pointed look. You sigh and place your legs above his, grabbing his hands in yours. “Mon, I understand that you’re feeling er- jealous, but I’m choosing to spend my free time here with you and sharing my snacks with you.” Your hands leave his and go to cusp his face, thumbs moving in soft lines over his cheekbones. “I’m choosing you.”

His eyes soften at your words and with the reaffirmation, he nods, eyes shining and he leans towards you, burying his face in your neck, hands coming to clutch at your shirt. He nuzzles deep into you, inhaling your scent, only to stop, his hands spreading wide and slowly curving his fingers, nails that turn into talons as they claw at your shirt, ripping the fabric in his hands and you gasp, shrugging your shoulder in obvious displeasure. He pulls away, and you blink at his sudden change, dark, inky blank horn that coil out of the top of his head, his chest bare and decorated with white tattoos that move into a ‘V’ shape down his abdomen, leather-like bat wings that protrude from his back and twitch in annoyance.

There’s a dark look on his face, his upper lip curling, revealing sharp teeth that shine under the lights. “I can smell him on you,” he says in a low whisper, his wings twitching at the words.

A chill courses through your body. You know he would never hurt you, that he would never dare raise his voice onto you or make you feel unsafe, but his alternate form is one that you hardly have the pleasure to witness, the dark, sultry voice that rings out makes you chill in excitement and it leaves you breathless.

“He- We hugged,” you whisper, eyes darting to his chest, following the white lines that form below his clavicle. You’re left breathless, pupils dilated as he pushes you down onto his bed, claws tearing at your clothes, the scent of his cologne- light, enough to make your head and mind spin with thoughts and mouth salivate- invade your senses, and you’re holding onto him, whimpering at the heat that expels through his body and warms yours.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh?” He rasps, breath hot as it fans against your collarbone. “He fucking left his scent all over you” He nips at the slender skin, teeth marking onto you, drops of scarlet that bead almost immediately but are erased by a lap of his tongue. “Can hardly smell mine.” His teeth graze at your delicate skin, pointed and sharp as they drag down, his horns shining under the light, raising towards you. “And you let him,” he whispers hotly, hands curling over your sides, teeth dragging against your skin, warmth spreading against your chest and spreading upwards. “Fuckin’ slut,” he mutters, kisses at your skin.

Your mind grows foggy with him above you, his hands tracing over your body, leaving warmth in their  wake, tracing over and around, hands that lose form and become intangible, the burning warmth the only thing that’s left as a strict feeling. His lips ghost above your torso, pressing feverish kisses onto your chest, wrapping and suckling on nipples that are left gleaming with spit, kisses that trail down your tummy, breath that fans onto your pubic bone. Your hands claw at the sheets in weak tugging motions, ragged breathing as you can feel him trail above your slit.

“Mammon,” you whimper, eyes fluttering close, “I didn’t- ‘M sorry,” you mumble, trying to force salivation as your mouth grows dry, filled with cotton balls and heavy with want.

“Already needy, eh?” He presses his nose against your slit, your legs twitching at the action. “”S cute, I guess.”

“Mon-” you kick out your legs- “it’s not fair.” Your eyes water, and you try to grab hold of his snowy hair, your hands falling to your lower belly when you miss him.

“I’m not an aphrodisiac like Asmo, but my scent’s enough to make people want-” he licks his lips, his muscle teasingly swiping at your vulva- “to desire-” he blows warm air onto your entrance, pulling away to watch the muscles clench and leak around nothing- “all that good stuff.” His voice is heavy, laced with covet and his words swirl in your head. “Shouldn’t be as heavy with ya now, since we spend so much time together-” his voice holds slight humor and you can feel his grin on you- “but I guess you want this as much as I do.” His tongue rims around your entrance and a heavy hand stills your bucking hips, slender fingers giving you a gentle pat when you whine. “I want you to beg for my tongue. If you’re good, I might even fuck that needy hole of yours.”

You take a deep breath, licking at your lips and trying to regain a focused thought. “Mammon,” you mewl, eyes watering when his nose swipes against your aroused clit. “Please to- tongue fuck me. Please, use my cunt.” You swallow tightly and let out a long breath. “Make me say your name, Mammon. Remind me who owns my cunt.” Your hands thread through his soft hair, raising your hips as his tongue peeks through his lips and slips past your entrance.

His tongue circles inside of you, massaging at your soft walls, feeling them pulsate and contract around him. Heat immediately pools to your lower belly, your mouth parting open and hands tightening their grip on him. Your thighs raise and pinch around the side of his head effectively trapping him onto your sex, his mouth moving in quick, greddy motion. The pink muscle darts in and out, flickering against the rim in quick motions, slowing into a soft circle, tongue up to encase your clit around his lips, suckling on it, pulling it into his mouth and running his tongue over it. His breathing is ragged,harsh and desperate as he lowers his mouth, scoping his tongue inside of you and tasting your essence, humming at the taste and pushing his head deeper into you.

His hands hook under your bum, sliding onto your thighs and pressing his fingers into your soft skin, sucking with the cravings of a greedy man, one who purses their lips over yours and bares his teeth, warm and solid against your soft opening.

The warmth in your belly grows hot, searing white as you jerk your hips against his face. “Mammon,” you moan, a shiver running through your body, “oh fuck, I’m close. Please,” you cry, “I’m so close.”

“More,” he murmurs against your heat. “Tell me more,” he groans. “I want to hear my human cry.” He gives a soft nibble against your inner thigh, swiping her tongue over when you whine.

You take raspy breaths, thighs clenching and whining over him. “Mammon,” you whine, bucking your hips. “Please. Let me cum,” you wail, twitching against him. “Let me be your little human. Cover me in your scent- Just, please- I’m begging you.” You thrust your hips rapidly, pulsing against him, slapping a hand over your mouth, goosebumps riding over your skin as you release against his mouth, his name muffled against your palm.

Your orgasm washes over his mouth as sporadic waves, sweet and heavy as they spill past his lips, and fill his tummy that grows with heat. His name on your lips makes his cock twitch, leaking and staining his briefs, while he suckles on your arousal. He continues his feasting, ignoring your whimpered cries as you loosen your thighs and dig your heels onto the bed sheets, hands that grip onto your hips with a pink muscle that pushes against your tight, pulsing walls.

He pulls away with a gasp, lower face glistening with your arousal, his eyes drinking in your form as you lay on the bed, chest heaving with deep breaths, your hands slipping to cover you breasts, nipple peeking between the gaps in your fingers. You call his name, face flushed and with hands held high, reaching towards him. He leans down and kisses you softly, your essence slipping into your mouth, his tongue giving a kitten lick against you and he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours and with soft hands that leave phantom touches as they flutter down your sides and with a sharp grin, you’re flipped onto your stomach.

You gasp, the muscles in your legs tense for a brief second, muscles and tendons pulled tight in anxiousness, loosening when his hands rubs down your thigh and onto the back of your knee. He hands trace around your body and you call for his name only to be responded to in silence, his hands wrapping around your wrists and bringing them to your back, holding them together, only to falter and let them go, watching with heavenly eyes as they fall limp to your side and in an agonizingly slow motion, your head is pinned to the bed and your lower half is raised up, legs partly spread, your glistening, twitching cunt that flutters against nothing is exposed to his greedy eyes.

“You fucking whore,” he snarls out, nails digging into your hips, his hands slowly closing causing deep, red lines to blossom. “Been neglectin’ me and shit- you’re-” he grunts as he pushes himself past your leaking hole- “first-” he pants as he pushes himself further, your walls expanding to mold around his shape- “fuckin’ man.” He fills you out, stretching your walls once he’s fully inside, the base of his cock spreading you wide. He hears you whine- low and melodic- watching with hazy eyes as you struggle to rise on your hands.

He stills above you, panting against the back of your neck, a hand loosening around your hip, leaving crescent imprints that threaten to bead with scarlet, and slipping under your chest, grabbing at the breast, white painted nails pinch at a pert bud and he rolls it between two fingers. He waits for you to accommodate around him, your harsh breathing, raspy with high pitched whines, lower into whimpers, your breathing heavy as your hands claw on the thick duvet, scrunching the expensive fabric in your hands and digging your nails into it.

“Ma- Mammon,” you whisper, licking at your lips, “‘s too much-” you wiggle at your hips and flinch at the sensitivity that still courses through you, your heat clenching around him causing him to let out a strangled moan.

“No it’s not.” He pulls out of you, and slides back in watching as you take him in. “Not for you,” he coos, a hand running down the length of your spine. “My human can take me so well,” he mutters under his breath, nuzzling into the back of your neck. “I gotta put my scent on ya anyways.” His nose brushes along your hair. “Mark ya up and fill ya with my seed.”

You only have time to sigh, your head lolling forward, eyes pinched, until he starts to thrust, his cock already leaking, making you slicker and the wet sounds of clicks fill the room, mixed and softened under his cries, his hands moving to cup at your swinging breasts, head dipped with a parted mouth. He whines and a thin, heavy strand of dribble spills from his mouth and lands on your back, sliding down the side with the continuous motion.  He breathes harshly above you, sighing and pushing his cock deeper into your squishy folds, feeling the way they wrap and stretch around him, lubricating him with your slick and suckling him in further until he’s pushing against your cervix, seed spilling with a heavy, creamy flow down the inside of your thighs and his movements do not slow, they remains steady, pushing deeper against you and filling what he can inside of you.

“Mammon, ‘s too much,” you slur, eyes rolling to the back of your head, a heavy flush darkening your skin. “Please, slow-” Your words are cut off when he slams into your, raising your body up with the palms of his hands pressed against your chest and tummy, his head immediately latching onto your neck, leaving marks in his wake, nails scratching against your skin and he bucks himself deeper against you, harsh sighs that turn into growls when you continue to call his name in a whiny tone, your hands shaky as they rise to cup his hands over your breasts, palms pressing deeper into your pebbled nipples.

“I’m gonna fill that sweet belly up with my seed,” he moans, breathing harsh against your skin. “Let everyone know who you fucking belong to.” His thrusts become more erratic, slamming into you and leaving you with a soft stinging pain that intensifies with every movement. “That fucking prince is gonna smell me all over you cunt and body the next time he sees you,” he bemoans, licking at your neck, wings fluttering in agitation. “You’re gonna reek of me and your-” he curses under his breath, stilling his hips for a second- “gonna be-” he sighs and lowers a hand until it rests against your belly- “full of my fuckin’ seed- belly nice and full with a demon’s cum.” He twitches inside of you, thickness burning with indescribable warmth that floods through your cunt and into your belly, your name a strangled cry on his tongue, hand pressing down as your pouch swells with his seed, his cock pressed until it’s base against you, effectively trapping his sperm inside of your spongy sex, bat-like wings that stretch wide and tense.

“I’m yours Mammon,” you murmur, eyes heavy as your vision begins to blur. “All yours,” you repeat, leaning back into his chest, hands falling and going to cup his that rests on your lower tummy, watching with burning eyes as it swells and fills with his seed.

“All mine,” he says in a low tone, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Carefully, he pulls himself out of you, his hand swiping under sex, rolling his eyes when he feels his seed pool over the curve of his palm. He sighs, lowering you onto your back, grabbing at a radom torn up piece of cotton and wiping his palm over it, and he turns to wear you watch him with half lidded eyes, your tongue peeking out between his lips and with a blink, his horns and wings are gone, replaced by nothing, his snowy hair ruffled slightly and a soft crick of his back, they only things giving away that he had recently transformed. He smiles softly at you and lowers until his lips rests against yours in a soft kiss that leaves him warm in the face.

#om mammon x reader #obey me mammon #om mammon #mammon x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon x reader #mammon avatar of greed #mammon headcanon #mammon imagines #i hope you like it #i had fun with th #i miss my greedy boi #ahh #getting cards suck #bleh #wheres my demon lover #or gamer bf who murders #legit getting sad that they wont ever be real

[rsmrymnt-tea]

So the magic system in om is very soft, but it's kinda interesting that with certain spells you call upon spirits (I.E spirit of water) and with summoning you call upon the 'denizens of darkness'. They give big Not Meant To Think Too Deep On It vibes buuuuuuuut I can't help myself.

Can you interact with the element spirits besides calling for their element? Can you make them like you???? Does Solomon have to sit his apprentice down by a body of water and go Talk To This Lake and then leave them there like ?Is he serious? Can you learn to communicate with them, will the spirit of air give me gossip?

Are the denizens of darkness different from demons? Can I talk to them? What can they do other then 'send forth the nth of their number' (are all demons numbered? Just the bros? Do you call to someone else for lesser demon summonings?

Obviously they're just for the aesthetic of the spells and not Actual Things but idk I want some creatures and ghosts and spirits or whatever to be friends with.

Anyway if you want to maybe talk about what appeals to you for a magic system in your version of om then you can take this as an excuse to talk about it, doesn't have to be related to any of that ^^

- 🐝

HONESTLY like I also know it’s probably just for flavor but I also can’t help but wonder who and what the hell they mean by denizens of the dark/darkness? Who are we talking to? What do they do? Are they higher powers than God and the Devil? Or are they lower powers that you just need to ask nicely in the right way to get to work with you?

Part of me is like… Isn’t it easier to just pull magic from yourself and use the raw power of your own magical essence to manipulate another? But also… genuinely, the idea of Solomon taking his apprentice to a remote lake in the dead of night to bring offerings of peace and acquaintanceship to an actual spirit of the water is so so so appealing to me, but it’s an idea that appeals to me only with Solomon and his apprentice >.>

(I think it’s because I LOVE the idea of the human world/the earth just having a ton of magic hidden both in remote corners of the globe and in plain sight—you just need a special something to be able to see and feel it so precisely that you know it’s there. With the Devildom/Celestial Realm, the place reeks of magic and everyone is a magical creature so I think being able to use magic should just be inherent and natural to everyone? And it would just be a matter of polishing their skills in their own way that would enhance what they can do.

Which… would making having humans and angels there be really interesting because they’d have to figure out how demons bring out their power and then how apply it to themselves… And that would be so interesting for the angels since it would be either completely opposite to how they do it or eerily the same. It would also give me a convincing reason for Solomon to be so willing to be there all the time because it’s a chance to get some formal instruction to how demons use their magic and I think that would be so enriching for him both for how he deals with demons and how he could incorporate that into himself/his apprentice’s magical skillset.)

I haven’t actually thought too much about what I’d prefer my version of OM to have as a magic system, but I feel like I’d have it be like… Hybrid? But more on soft. I just want there to be a sense of limit for what everyone can do so that the super out-there shit that Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Solomon can do actually feel like things that only they can do.

Like, for example, how come Lucifer didn’t notice the curse that came with the masks in the 2021 Halloween event but Solomon could? In Barbatos’s birthday UR, Diavolo and Solomon are apparently able to replicate Barbatos’s ability to create portals to anywhere in space with a door and a complicated magic circle that Sol can draw from reference. Is Barbatos more powerful than Diavolo because he can create portals through time? Or does it even out because Diavolo can create artificial suns with his own magic (and it’s plural because I’m not entirely sure if a tropical beach and a mountain ski resort can exist side by side)?

Other things Lucifer can do is see people’s memories, alter/erase them, break truth bangles that Mammon can’t break, undo almost any curse, resist even crazy powerful curses (which also brings into question just who was able to create and cast a curse that Lucifer couldn’t counter), and idk probably a lot more.

But there are times when, probably for sake of plot, he just can’t do anything. What constitutes that? What makes something so powerful that the former favorite of God’s angels can’t do anything to break it?

I wanna know those limits. And I wanna know why the gap between Lucifer and Mammon is so huge, and how big the differences in power between each brother is. Like is it exponential, the way it seems to be between Mammon and Lucifer? Or is Lucifer the exception like he always is?

I feel like if I made a magic system for OM I’d try to make the reasons for all that clearer, and maybe set what makes humans so special as magic users. Maybe explain the differences between witches and sorcerers more? What else comes with a pact aside from the master being able to control the demon and the demon being able to get jacked up by magical human aid?

Tbh the more I type the more I feel like I’d rather flesh out whatever OM currently has than make my own magic system for it… though I do think that angels and demons should be pulling from their own magic instead of using the incantations that we see in game. I’m of the mind that they’re also like… made of concentrated magic so they can just wave their hand and create a plague if they wanted to or something.

(I realize I didn’t really say anything about what I want humans to be able to do and I like to think that between the three, they‘re the most malleable and flexible when it comes to magic and are limitless in potential; they’re not set like the holy magic v dark magic thing that angels and demons seem to have [like we know that angels can’t have pacts with demons and iirc demons can’t have covenants with angels but humans can have both; which I think is the case with Solomon] and can do anything they set their minds on. Sure they have to work extra hard to get anywhere near where Lucifer is in terms of power [again, see: Solomon which is canonically on par with Lucifer, at least when Lucifer isn’t going all out in his demon form], but in terms of variety and adaptability they can do the absolute most. That’s my idea anyway and yeah I feel like magic should be like… inherently in humans and they just need to like, awaken that ability/skill in some way, but since they’re more limited in power that’s why they have those incantations that seek aid from the denizens of darkness and spirits of nature. And well… since they can ask for their aid, it makes sense that they can find them and thank them right?)

#obey me #chat & colloquy #🐝 nonnie!! #my god does this make sense?? HAHAHA #anyway i did end up using this ask as a sounding board hjkdfd i just dunno if anything’s actually a Good Idea #just a bunch of headcanons I guess……. if you squint?

[everlarkficexchange]

The Hope that gave me hope

Written by: @ameliaodair​

Prompt 156 - Toastbaby’s perspective from the womb throughout pregnancy. Bonus points from post-birth moments. [submitted by @lovely-to the-bone/ @peetamewllark​ ]

Thank you @lovely-tothe-bone for this amazing prompt!

Word Count: 5137

Rated: K-T

Unbeta’d, edited by me

SPOILER ALERT: Anyone reading my stories, “Changing the Game” or “Another Way Out” this story DOES contain spoilers for events yet to come.

Okay, so I tweaked this prompt just a little… Instead of post MJ, this story will coincide with my Hunger Games rewrite (Changing the Game, Another Way Out, and TBA) Toastbaby’s perspective from inside the womb as Katniss goes through the arena and her time in 13.  I hope you guys like it and if you are interested in some of the things “Little One” hears/experiences, then you should check out my stories.  You can find them on A03 and FFN.

***I tried to stay true to the facts of a fetus growing (what they are doing and when) in utero, but some things may have been adjusted***

Also, as I was writing this story, a memory resurfaced from when my kids were little, and I would take them to Temple on Friday nights for Tot Shabbat.  Before I give you my story, here is a little background on Leilah, the Angel of Conception.

You know that little indentation above your lips, and (under your nose? Okay, well, keep that in mind) So, the story goes that the Angel Leilah chooses which souls inhabit which seeds and accompanies them in the womb, teaching them all the knowledge of the Torah (Hebrew Bible, ((I think)).  So, while the “baby” is in the womb, it has all the knowledge and answers in the world and when you are born, your lungs fill with air, which results in crying and Leilah tells the baby to “Ssshhh” and presses her finger to their lips, which is what causes that little indentation and thus, wiping their memory…and they have to learn everything all over again.  (At least that’s how I think it goes) Anyway, I really wanted to incorporate that story into this one, so here goes.

The Hope that gave me hope

“Listen closely child, your next journey will not be an easy one.  The world has taken a turn for the worst; war and famine has devastated much of what remains, ruled by a callous tyrant.  However, you will be conceived to a pair of great importance.  Together, they will change the world for the better, but not before enduring many hardships.  There will be pain, heartache, and deep suffering, but the end result will be well worth the struggle.”

Little One, squirmed in place as the Creator described her next assignment.

“A-are you certain they are the right ones for me?” Little One asked the Creator uncertainly, although she knew the answer.

“I am certain, Child,” his voice boomed, “Do you doubt me?  Have I ever led you astray?”

“No Sir,” Little One faltered.

“Have faith, Child,” the Creator continued, his voice much softer.  “Now go on.  Off you go.”

“But … I am frightened Sir,” Little One stumbled, shrinking back with her fear.

“What is there to be frightened of, my Child?”

“I do not enjoy the solitude, perhaps you could accompany me on my journey?”

The Creator laughed at Little One, his voice rattling the ground, “You will not be alone Child, Leilah will be with you the entire way.  She will not leave your side in the womb, not for a single moment.  She will spend her time teaching you all the knowledge of the world—”

“So that I may share it with my … what are they called again— parents?”

The Creator shook the earth again with his laughter, “Yes, they are called parents.  And no, you may not share it with them.  Leilah will be waiting for you on the outside just before your entrance into the world and the moment your lungs fill with air, your consciousness of her given knowledge will be erased.  You must rely on your parents for wisdom and guidance.”

“But Sir— what is the point?” Little One asked, her face contorting into a confused expression.

“No more questions, Little One, it is time for you to descend.  Time is of the essence; Leilah has chosen the perfect … ah … specimen for you to inhabit, but like I said, time is of the essence.”

“I have one more question Sir, if I may.”

“Yes Child?”

“What will be the names of my … parents?” Little One asked.

The Creator chuckled at her question, “Katniss and Peeta,” he said, patting her on the head just before he sent her on her way.

Gestation Period: Weeks 1-4

‘It’s dark.  But I’m warm.  I’m comfortable.  I think I like it in here.’  Little One thought to herself as she burrowed herself deep inside her mother’s womb, her cells multiplying at the perfect rate.

Gestation Period: Week 6-8

Although her ears are not developed just yet and she cannot hear a thing, Little One can sense that her mother is distraught and plagued with sadness.  ‘Why are you sad, Mother?’  Little One pondered.

“It is okay Little One, your mother is just frightened.  She and your father just became aware of your existence and face many challenges ahead,” Leilah’s voice bounced against the walls of Little One’s new home.

‘Oh,’ Little One thought to herself. ‘Do … do they not want me; will I make it to my day of birth?’ Little One communicated, fearful of Leilah’s answer.  Little One knew that sometimes certain essences were not compatible with certain pairings and their journeys came to an end before it even had the chance to begin. Little One hoped this was not the case for herself.

“No dear, it is not that.  They are frightened because the world they live in is a harsh and cruel world.  They never desired to have children of their own— they did not wish their circumstances onto another.  But Little One, they already love you dearly, so do not fret.  Everything will work out as it was meant to.”  Leilah soothed Little One and began her teachings of the world.

Gestation Period: Week 12-16

‘What was that?’ Little One interrupted Leilah during a particularly boring story.

“Do not be frightened Little One, you are just sensing the vibration of excitement surrounding your mother.“

‘What are they excited about— is their excitement geared toward me?  And … and why do I sense discomfort in Mother?’ Little One was enigmatically in tune with her mother’s feelings and emotions, even from this early in her life.

“That is not for you to worry yourself over.  Soon, within the next few weeks your ears will become more developed, and you will be able to hear so much more.”

‘But … how do I hear you if I cannot hear?’ Little One asked, plagued with confusion.

Little One continued to ask question after question, so curious she was.  And the kind, patient Angel that Leilah was did her best to answer them all— to the best of her ability.

‘Why do I bounce up and down?’ Little One asked several days later.

“Those are called hiccups,” Leilah informed her.

‘Well, I do not like them,’ Little One retorted with a scowl.  Though she did not know it, it very much resembled her mother’s signature expression.

Leilah chuckled, “No, not many people do.”  Leilah smirked and continued her teachings of the world with Little One as she tried to mask her concern over the voices she heard.

“Oh, Katniss darling; we have missed you so much!” Someone on the outside crooned.  Leilah feared the worst from the shrill voices shrieking on the outside.  Those voices only meant one thing; Katniss, and most likely Peeta had returned to the Capitol, which meant they were headed back into the Games.  It was just as the Creator predicted and she worried for Little One’s life.

“Oh Katniss, Peeta, we’re so-so, sorry!” The voices on the outside hiccupped as they sobbed.

“It’s a … you’re a … a bird, it’s a—” a loud voice boomed, which caused Little One to bounce from side to side.

“A mockingjay,” Leilah heard Katniss confirm to the loud voice.

‘What is a mockingjay?’ Little one piped up from her slumber.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks

“Hey there little nut—”

‘EEK!’ Little One internally gasped.  ‘What was that, OH! I am frightened!’ Little One called out in fear.

“Do not be alarmed Little One, it’s just your ears that are working.  It is your father’s voice that you hear.  Listen … he is speaking to you.” Leilah spoke softly, encouraging Little One to listen.

Little One sat as still as she could and listened intently as the deep melodic voice of her father reverberated off the walls of her perfect home.

“I’m going to call you Little Nut since we don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl, I hope that’s okay.  This is your father; my name is Peeta.”

‘Peeta,’ Little One tried the name in her head and smiled, deciding that she liked the way it sounded. ‘Yes, it is okay for you to call me “Little Nut”,’ Little One longed to tell her father.  She extended her arm up and waved her hand, wishing her father could see her new trick.

“Listen Nut, I’m not sure how we’re going to make it out of the arena, but I am going to do everything in my power to get you and your mom out of there.  I … I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet you, but I just want you to know that … somehow, I WILL keep the two of you safe.  And … I just want you to know how much I love you and that you are so loved.  But don’t you worry, you will have so many people to love you and take care of you and … I just don’t want you to ever doubt my love for you.  You will have your mommy, and yes, she is scared right now, but she will be the best mommy you could ever ask for; ever hope for.  She is the strongest, bravest person I know, and she will teach you so much.  When you get bigger, she’ll teach you how to use a bow and arrow, and … and if you ever do something that upsets her, just bring her some cheese buns.  Your Grandpa Bing can teach you how to make them, or your Uncle Rye.  Cheese buns are her favorite; she won’t be able to stay mad at you for long if you bring her cheese buns.  Oh!  In case you were wondering, Bing is my dad, and Rye is my brother.”

‘Cheese buns, gee, I hope I will remember that.’ Little One knew she wouldn’t, but she continued to sit in silence, soaking up her father’s every word and finding solace in his soothing voice.

“Then there is your Aunt Prim.  That’s your mom’s sister.  Oh, she’s going to fall in love with you the moment she sees you.  Well, actually, she is probably already in love with you.  She is probably really mad at me though.  Well, me and your mom.  You see, I did something.  When we went on stage for our interviews with Caesar, I um … I told the world about you.  I hadn’t planned on doing it; it kind of just … came out.  So, everyone back at home is probably a little shocked right now, and they probably aren’t sure if I was telling the truth.  But your Aunt Prim, and your Grandma Lilly, they are healers, and I am almost certain that after my shocking announcement they’re putting the pieces together and they know you’re real.”

‘What is Father talking about?  I am so confused.  What is ‘interview’ and ‘Caesar’ and ‘arena’?  I just like the sound of Father’s voice, so I don’t really care right now. Please Father, please talk some more,’ Little One wanted to tell him.

“Oh, Little Nut, I don’t want to leave you, I really don’t.  I want to watch you grow, I want to meet you and know you.  It hurts so much thinking I will never get the chance to be your dad.  I want nothing more in this screwed up world than to hold you, hug you and kiss you— to rock you.  And … and when you get older, I would teach you how to paint—”

‘Yes, I think I would like that, too.’ Little One agreed with Peeta.

“But … things aren’t looking so good for me, so … I don’t even know if you can hear me, but, oh, I … I just love you so much, okay?”

Little One heard sniffles and she recalled her lesson with Leilah on emotions and crying.

‘Please Father, do not be sad.  We will see each other soon, I promise,’ Little One so badly wanted to comfort her father.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks and 4 Days

‘Why do I find comfort in this?’ Little One asked Leilah as she placed her thumb into her mouth and began sucking.

“It has to do—” Leilah was interrupted by Peeta’s voice once again as he spoke to his daughter.

“Hello again Little Nut, it’s me, your dad.”

‘T-that’s my father!’ Little One began bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I just … I just wanted to tell you I love you just in case this is the end.  You stay in there and you stay strong for your mama.  I hope … I hope I will get the chance to meet you, but if not, just know how much I love you Little Nut, okay?”

Little One felt something pressing against her, causing her to shift to the other side of the cozy womb.  Then, she heard her father’s voice once more, but this time it was further away, “I’ll see you at midnight.  Everything will go as planned, just like we talked about, okay?”

“Okay,” although her mother’s firm voice resonated strength, from deep inside her body, Little One could feel the trembling in her voice, which was undoubtedly filled with fear.  ‘Mother does not believe his words?’ Little One intuited.

‘Father’s voice is gone, and I so want him to speak to me again; I really like his voice.’ Little One whined.

Leilah knew what was happening on the outside and she didn’t want Little One to worry.

“Pay attention to me, Little One, do not concern yourself with the outside noises.  It is time for our next lesson.” Leilah said, hoping to distract Little One from the fight going on outside.

Outside, Katniss and Johanna were running, stringing Beetee’s wire from the lightning tree to the beach, and then Johanna blindsided Katniss, knocking her out with a giant log— all to cut her tracker out.

‘I do not feel so good, I wish to take a nap,’ Little One said as a result of Katniss losing so much blood.  Leilah sang Little One a song that offered comfort and nestled the growing baby in her heart while she pleaded with the Creator to watch over them all.

For a long time, there was silence and Little One wondered what was happening.  Sometimes she could hear voices from far away and she longed to know who they were.  Who they were to her, to her mother— her father?  Are they the family her father spoke so fondly of?

And then finally, one day out of the blue she finally heard her mother’s croaky voice echo off the walls of her warm home as Little One waved a hand in front of her face.  Though she could not see it anymore because her eyelids had become fused shut, she still knew that she was doing it.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks

“Peeta!  Where’s Peeta?  And … what about the baby?” Little One startled from a deep slumber to hear her mother shrieking, her voice tremulous with panic.

“My apologies Miss Everdeen, the fetus was unable to withstand the blast when the arena exploded.  You had a miscarriage,” an icy voice commanded the room, which resulted in Little One bobbing up and down as her mother started shaking.  Little One could hear her mother’s heart accelerating and her breathing quickening.

‘Wait, what?  No, no … do not believe them, Mother, I am still here!’ Little One tried to reach her mother— to no avail, who was crying so hard.

“No, no, no.  No, you’re wrong.  I— I would feel it if she— if the baby were gone.  Just like with Peeta, I would feel it, and I still feel her—” her mother tried to reason with the people surrounding her.

“I’m sorry Miss Everdeen—” The icy voice said, though she did not sound apologetic at all.

There was a loud bang, and then stillness.

‘I do not understand, why are they denying my existence?  I am still here, right?’ Little One reached out to Leilah for confirmation.  She was not ready for her journey to be at its end.

“Yes darling, you are still very much alive.  They are confused, that’s all.” Leilah assured Little One, though, she knew the truth.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks and 2 Days

“Katniss, if you have any intentions on keeping your baby alive, you need to stay calm and do exactly as I say,” a soft voice, not the icy one spoke to Little One’s mother.

“W-what?”

“If you can keep a secret, so can I, but I need you to stay calm,” and then Little One heard the nice voice saying words like pressure and elevation, but all she cared about was that her mother knew she was still alive and safely inside her.  Little One was counting on her to keep them okay.

‘I do not understand, why would that voice lie to my mother?  Why would she tell her I am no longer, when I AM?’ Little One pleaded to Leilah, overcome with confusion.

“People lie my dear.  Sometimes it is to shield others from pain, but oftentimes it is for vindictive reasons— for their own selfish gain.  But do not worry yourself over this matter, we have much to cover before our time is up.”

Gestation Period: 23-26 Weeks

The next few weeks, or perhaps it’s months, it’s difficult for Little One to tell time from inside her mother, but somehow— she can feel her father’s presence, yet she does not hear his voice.

‘Where did Father go?’

“He is away for now, but do not fret Little One, he will return very soon.” Leilah assured her and began to distract her with more of life’s lessons.  For days and days, weeks even, Leilah filled their time with the teachings of the world.  Leilah knew what was going on in the ‘outside’ and she did her best to keep Little One’s mind occupied.

“That THING isn’t Peeta,” Little One heard her mother shout over and over.  And then she heard many words she did not recognize, words Leilah had never explained to her.  Hijacking, enemy, snow, weapon.

“Don’t you worry Little Nut; we’ll bring Daddy home soon.  He’s finally awake, and him and your Grandma Effie are coming home soon; well, if you can actually call this place home,” Little One was reassured by her mother’s promise— her heart accelerated at the mention of her father’s return and she stretched her leg out in excitement.

“Unh!” Katniss exclaimed, “was that you, Little Nut?” Katniss asked Little One when she felt the fluttering in her abdomen.

Little One repeated this action in response to her mother’s racing heart.

“That’s right, baby.  We’ll get daddy back really soon, I promise.  That- that thing they brought back from the Capitol is NOT daddy— I don’t care what they say.  Peeta— your dad would never hurt me, no matter what.  We’re going to rescue him— him and Effie, and they’re going to do it soon, or … or I won’t be their stupid mockingjay.”

After that conversation, Katniss spoke to Little One often, filling her in and sharing many details about the world outside.  Little One would always try to stretch an arm or a leg to tell her mother she was listening.  That she believed in her.  That she trusted her.

Gestation Period: 26 Weeks and 5 Days

“K-Katniss?” Little One’s head twitched to the side when she heard the familiar voice.

‘Is … is that—’ Little One stuttered in excitement, yet she didn’t want to get her hopes up.  It had been SO long since she last heard her father’s voice.  Granted, this voice was croaky and sounded almost nothing like him, but something deep inside her knew it was him.

“Yes, Little One, it is your father.  He has finally returned.” Leilah answered her.

Little One thought that having her father back within arm’s reach would have given her mother some relief from all the tears she succumbed to each night, but instead, she cried even more.

‘Why is Mother still so sad?’ Little One asked Leilah during another particularly boring lesson.

Leilah didn’t want to burden the child with all the pain going on outside, so she just said, “Your father is just going through some adjustments.  Do not worry, they will find their way back to each other, it will just take some time.”

Gestation Period: 27 Weeks

‘W-what was that?’ Little One asked when she heard a new sound echoing off the walls of her perfect home.

“That is your mother.  She is singing to you.” Leilah informed Little One.

‘I … I like it … it’s beautiful,’ Little One crooned, swaying to the sound of her mother’s voice.

Little One tried to stretch her leg out to reassure her mother she was here for her, but it seemed her perfect home had shrunk.  Anxiety consumed her as she wondered what would happen when she no longer fit.

“Do you remember our discussion entailing your day of birth?” Leilah hummed to Little One.  “When this home no longer suits your needs, you will be welcomed into the world.  That is when your true life shall begin.  It will be cold, bright and scary, but your parents will love, nurture, and soothe you.  They will be your new home— they will provide you with all that you need to sustain your life.  Though, it is not safe for you to enter that world until you have used up every single big of space in this home.  Do you understand?”

‘Y-yes,’ Little One apprehensively answered Leilah, recalling a lesson from some time before.  She wasn’t sure if she was going to like this ‘New Home.’  The one that she was currently in was perfect and she loved it in here.  Why did that have to change?  Why did she have to keep growing?  What if she just … stopped.  Could she choose to stay in this perfect, warm, and cozy home forever?

“Stop thinking so hard, and you know the answer to that.” Leilah interrupted Little One’s thoughts.  “Everything grows, just as everything dies.  It is the circle of life.  One day, it will be you who grows a person inside of your body and then you will understand.”

Little One giggled and thought, ‘That’s so silly!’

Gestation Period: 29 Weeks

‘Leilah,’ Little One began; it was the first time she had ever addressed Angel Leilah by her name, and it made her squirm uncomfortably.

“Yes, dear?”

‘What is the point?  Why do you teach me all the knowledge of the world before I am born, only to distinguish it from my mind at birth?  It just … it seems … pointless.’

“Yes, I can see how you would see it that way, but I promise you, my child, there is a reason.  There is a reason for everything.  Do you remember our lesson about the tangible things in the world, like ‘paper’ and ‘pencils’, and things like ‘writing’?”

‘Yes, I think so.’

“If you write your feelings down on a piece of paper and then erase it, so that it is no longer visible to the naked eye, does that mean it is gone forever?  My child, the knowledge will always be within you, and as certain things in your life come to pass, you will get a glimmer of a feeling … as if a moment is familiar.  That is how you will know the path you are on is the right path for you at that time.  Just because I erase the memories of all your knowledge, that does not mean it is gone forever.”

‘Okay,’ Little One listened intently and agreed.

Gestation Period: 32 Weeks

As her time in the womb was growing shorter and shorter, Little One grew more nervous and anxious with each day that passed.  She could still hear voices on the outside, but the rumbling and gurgling coming from inside her mother drowned most everything out.  The space in her home was getting tighter and tighter— she could barely move at this point.  The walls around her home kept squeezing her for a moment, but they would relax almost immediately.

‘I’m not sure that I like that,’ Little One frowned.

“It is just your mother’s body practicing for your birth.  It is natural.  Now, we must focus, it is almost time.”

The squeezing got worse.  Instead of squeezing her for a few seconds here and there, it lasted for minutes and minutes.  Not only did the squeezing last longer, but it became harder and tighter.

Gestation Period: 35 Weeks and 6 days

“My dear child, it is time.” Leilah announced one night.

‘But … NO!’ Little One cried.  ‘I … I still have room, it- it can’t be time yet, I’m not ready!’

“No one is ever ready for change, but I fear our time is up.  It is indeed early, quite early actually, but it will all work out as it was meant to, just as I told you many months ago.”

Little One was frightened, because her entry into the world was not happening in the exact way Leilah had described.  Instead of being squeezed down by the walls of her home, where she would be pushed down, down, and eventually squeeze through a narrow canal to enter the world, a slit of light was breaking through the walls of her home.

‘What is happening, I am scared!’

“I will meet you on the other side, sweet girl, and all will be well.” Leilah assured Little One.

The slit grew bigger and bigger and creatures that looked too foreign to be human— they had bland, grey suits on, and masks over their faces, pulled Little One out.  They stuck something up each of her nostrils and then inside of her mouth, which made Little One gasp for air.

Little One opened her eyes and for the first time, she saw Leilah.  She was beautiful and glowing— radiating a brilliant light.

“Shhh,” Leilah comforted her, pressing her finger to Little One’s lips to calm her— and then she was gone.

Little One’s lungs filled with air and she cried.  She cried and she wailed.  She shrieked and she shrilled.  She wanted to tell these strange creatures, ‘Put me back!’

She was so scared, there were so many people, none that she recognized … until him.  She didn’t recognize him, but his voice; it was her father.  Peeta.  He walked over to where she was lying and looked down at her.  The moment she met his sparkling blue eyes— she knew she was home.

Little One gasped and paused her shrill crying to stare at the  man looking down at her.

“Hello Hope, I’m your daddy,” the beautiful, familiar-feeling, blue-eyed man spoke to Little One with tears in his eyes.  “Dylan Hope Mellark— that’s your name, beautiful girl.  Dylan was your grandpa’s name— your mommy’s daddy, but we both agreed it could work whether you were a boy or a girl.  But I think we’re just going to call you Hope.  Because that’s what you are to all of us.  Welcome to the world, Hope.”

Everything was scary for Hope.  Everything was bright, cold, and unfamiliar.  There were giant creatures poking, prodding, and tossing her around.  She was afraid they would drop her.

’Where did the man go?  The “Daddy,” I want to see him again.' Hope thought to herself as she cried and cried.  Nothing was familiar and she didn’t like it.  She wanted to go back inside her perfect home where it was dark and warm— and snug.  And … and there was someone in there with her, but who was it?  She couldn’t remember.  But she did know that she didn’t like all the lights, the giant creatures and all the strange noises.

“Katniss, Katniss sweetie, wake up.  They’re bringing her back.” Hope was feeling a little better now, someone had swaddled her in warm blankets, and she almost felt like she was back inside her perfect home.  She wiggled, turning her head in the direction of the familiar voice— the one she recognized from earlier.  It was the man.  The daddy.  Someone picked her up and she felt as if she was flying in the air.  She was frightened for a moment until she realized they were giving her to the daddy.

When the daddy held her in his arms, Hope did not question if he would drop her— unlike the others, he held her gently and she felt safe.  When she opened her eyes, everything was fuzzy.  Even still, she could make out the blue of his eyes and wondered if her eyes looked like his.  She hoped so.

“Do you want to hold her?” The daddy asked.

“I-is she okay?” A softer— timid voice asked and Hope immediately recognized it as the voice— although clearer, without the whooshing and gurgling sounds from her previous home— but it was, without a doubt, the same voice she heard from deep inside her perfect home.

“She’s perfect,” the daddy beamed, his eyes sparkling with tears.  The daddy gently passed Hope to the woman, and Hope prepared herself to feel that feeling again— that flying-in-the air— afraid-to-fall, feeling, but it did not happen.  The daddy slowly and gently placed Hope in the woman’s arms and scooted into the bed next to her.  Hope squirmed and gasped, filling her lungs with air as she prepared to cry— not wanting the daddy to let her go, but then she froze when a familiar scent wafted up her nostrils.

‘Hey, I know that smell!’ Hope thought, excited from the familiarity and opened her eyes again to meet the blurry face of the owner of her perfect home.  But— like with the daddy— the moment the mommy cradled her in her arms, Hope knew she was safe in her new home.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I’m your mama.  It’s nice to finally meet you,” the woman— “Mama” said to Hope, her chin quivering and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” the mama turned her head to the daddy.  The daddy leaned over and stroked Hope’s cheek with his finger.  Hope liked the way his finger felt, and she relaxed a little more.

“Yes she is— just like her mother,” the daddy gleamed with pride, staring in awe at Hope.

“I can’t believe we made this beautiful girl,” the mommy said to the daddy with more tears in her eyes.

The daddy snuggled closer to the mommy, wrapping his arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, but not before kissing the mommy’s cheek.  “I love you Katniss.”

Hope let out a little wail and squirmed from side to side.

“Hey, hey,” the daddy said in a soft voice, “Of course, I love you too, my sweet girl.  The Hope that gave me hope.”

The mommy lifted Hope up, so that her head rested against the mommy’s chest.  Hope could feel a soft pounding against her cheek— and it was familiar.  So familiar.

Swaddled in her warm blankets, nestled safely in her mother’s arms and her father just inches away, Hope got a glimmer of a feeling— that she was exactly where she was meant to be.  In that instant she knew, that burrowed cozily between the mama and the daddy— she was home.

#ameliaodair #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 156 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

[scarletarosa]

The War in Heaven and the False God

Most people have heard the legend of the Biblical War in Heaven of Lucifer and his angels against God. Though when young, I had always felt that the story was kept suspiciously short and lacked much sense. We are told of the angels not possessing much free-will, but also how could these divine beings suddenly just turn evil, as we are told? Due to these suspicions that there was more to the story than was told (as it is often said “the victors get to write history”), I decided to connect with Lucifer and other demons in order to learn from their perspective. This gradually led me to become a Luciferian and be told the full story of the War in Heaven.

The supreme deity is not Jehovah; he is neither all-powerful, all-wise, or benevolent. The supreme deity is the Source, the formless consciousness that has existed before all things and created the first gods of this Universe (the first among them being Lucifer). Though in order to create, the Source had to create from themself their female counterpart, the Queen of Heaven (who is formless as well). These two energies together create harmony and allow creation to come into being. The Source and Queen of Heaven have both been known throughout many different cultures under different names. For instance, the Source has been known as Atum in Egypt, Brahman in India, Olodumare in Yoruba, etc. The Queen of Heaven has been known as Adi Parashakti in India.

At the beginning, the Cosmic Egg was formed in the Void with the assistance of elder deities. When the egg broke open, the gods Eros and Lucifer emerged from it- Eros being love and Lucifer being light. Though they were meant to exist separately; Eros remained within the Void and Lucifer dwelled alone within the Universe for many ages until the other gods were created by the Source. Among these first gods were the Angels Mikael, Raphael, Uriel, and others. Lilith was created last among them as the embodiment of the Queen of Heaven (a smaller and less-powerful copy of Herself in order to act within the Universe and marry Lucifer). With these first deities, Lucifer the First-Born became their leader and assisted in the creation of other spiritual races. Overtime, more gods were created by both the Source and through sexual union between the elder deities.

It was during the early stages of the Earth when the aeonic god Jehovah came. The aeonic gods are extremely powerful deities who are tasked with co-creating the material and metaphysical Universe; they are normally peaceful, but for some reason, Jehovah came seeking even more power. His goal was to usurp the Throne of the Universe and take command of an entire planet, which ended up being Earth due to a specific species that was being created here: humans. The humans were a younger race and felt insecure about their lack of magickal prowess compared to the other species on Earth like the elves; this caused them to become deeply envious and greedy as a race. Jehovah had destroyed the ecosystem of several different planets on his way to Earth, causing life to be destroyed on them. As he arrived to Earth to claim it, Lucifer led a revolt against him and was followed by millions of deities and other entities. This battle was terrible for everyone since Jehovah’s great powers allowed him to be able to drain energy from spirits or even kill them at will. Countless entities lost their lives trying to destroy Jehovah, but to no avail. The arch-dragoness goddess, Tiamat, who had created Earth’s lifeforms in the sea, even gave her life to help empower Gaia against the tyrant god.  

When many spirits were destroyed and the survivors were crippled, Jehovah took them and threw them into the nightmarish land of torment called Hell. This is the realm that is far away from the Source’s divine light. Due to this, the deities and other beings who were sent here had their essence transformed by this horrible realm; causing them to become dark and more intense in appearance and presence. Their wings became black and they grew horns; some developed red eyes, spikes, claws, or other monstrous features. Though overall, they remained beautiful, only in a darker way. They became known as “demons”, now restricted from the heavens by Jehovah, who had now claimed the Throne. The demons were in great pain and suffering, as they had all lost family and friends in the battle, as well as their divine homeland. However, they had not lost their drive to destroy the tyrant who had taken everything from them. The three most powerful demons became High Kings of Hell and created their kingdoms where their people could live and train to continue the great War. These High Kings of Hell are Lucifer (the most powerful and wise), Satan, and Leviathan. Though these mighty rebels were soon falsely accused of being evil and representing things that were actually opposite of them (Lucifer being lies when he is truth, Lilith being infertility when she is life/motherhood, Beelzebub being gluttony when he is health, Mammon being greed when he is generosity, etc).  

Overtime, Jehovah was able to win humans over to his side by pretending to be the Source and manipulating them to believe that they were special if they followed him. Little did the humans know that their sins in life would never be forgiven, as Jehovah did not care for what they would end up facing in the Underworld or in Hell. It is also no surprise that the main people who forwarded monotheism were war-lords; all seeking power and dominion over others (see Emperor Constantine, Mohammad, and the ancient Jews who dismantled Canaan and killed the pagans there). With these new religions that inspired hate and fear towards other religions, blind faith towards scripture, and hatred towards any spirits that aren’t “holy”, the world gradually became swallowed by the tyrant’s influence. Pagans were massacred en-masse and their temples, holy sites, stories, statues, cultures, and more were all destroyed. Churches and mosques were built on top of sacred temple sites of polytheists and they were faced with the choice of either dying or converting. And with that, the entire world changed and became a shadow of its former glory.  

Yet all of this was allowed to occur by the Source since existence has always revolved around evolution, and no evolution can exist within perfection. In order to allow wisdom and other attributes to develop, as well as to teach important lessons, all beings are allowed to endure suffering. This suffering, if overcome, holds the key to rising to greater potentials. And so Jehovah was not immediately struck down, but was constantly faced with other forms of justice from not only the gods of vengeance, but also from receiving loads of karmic debt.

Back in the ancient times when other races still roamed this planet, such as the elves, giants, scorpion-men, nagas, and dragons, we had magick here in the physical. When magick was performed, it was actually able to be seen and even deities were able to manifest in the physical with ease. Though in order to keep humans blind, Jehovah destroyed the magickal nodes that surrounded the Earth and ordered his humans to destroy the sacred sites that helped channel magick. Then the other targets were the races of Earth that were not human, since they were less malleable to his will due to their advanced wisdom. The humans were already greedy and envious, so they were easily encouraged to wage war against any race that was different from them. The elves were brutally slaughtered, raped, and enslaved until they all died out; the same happened to many other species. When the humans began killing the dragons and sphinxes, who acted as wise mentors and guardians of the Earth, these mighty beings decided to leave the humans behind to fend for themselves for the rest of their existence. And still in hatred, the humans decided to record the dragons as if they were greedy and savage.  

Overtime, everything was set in place for Jehovah, but the demons and other entities continued to fiercely fight against him over the ages, and they still do. The tyrant god has never cared for any human who has followed him, as he seeks only power and destruction of other deities. He takes the credit for the miracles other deities perform for worthy humans, allowing such people to assume what they want about him. The gods who he killed do not die forever though, as spiritual death is different. But it often takes decades, hundreds of years, or in some cases, a million years, in order for them to reform. Yet, to most humans, the other gods are nothing more than legend now. They watch over the Earth still, helping anyone who seeks them and fighting to make the world how it was back during the Golden Age. Though it will never be the same after all the ages of terrible destruction and death. Even the soul of our planet, Gaia, has been asleep for many years due to the trauma of losing so many of her children.

For those who would argue that the demons could simply just be lying to me about these events, it does not explain why they have helped me to better myself or how they have protected my loved ones in times of need. They ask nothing of me but to evolve as a person and to show open-mindedness towards their harsh history. I do not hold hatred or bias towards those involved in monotheistic religions (unless they act oppressive), I only have hatred towards the religions themselves and their toxic teachings. As well as the hypocrisy of how they destroyed so many cultures and people, all while incorporating their mythology into their own scriptures.  

If we want to learn the truth, we first must question everything we already believe in and then speak to the spirits, as they know far more than we ever will. You can ask any deity you like and they will all say that they hate Jehovah, for he has pulled the veil of ignorance over this world in order to consume it. For anyone who truly seeks answers, keep this account by the demons in mind and ask any gods you want about the truth. Each deity and demon I spoke to said the same, and all had lost family due to this traumatic War against the tyrant god. These religions save no-one, we must take accountability and strive to become better without begging for forgiveness all the time and expecting mercy to be handed out just for bowing down to a god who kills those who defy him. All scriptures of monotheism are nothing but books of manipulation and holier-than-thou mentality; this creates corruption and false spirituality in the end.

The Angels

#the false god #jehovah #the usurper #war in heaven #lucifer #demons #the source #queen of heaven #the spirit realm #luciferianism

[jonsa101]

Helen Sharpe: A Deep Dive Into Her Wants and Needs What it Means For Sharpwin in Season 3

I feel like in more ways than one this week’s episode revealed so much about where Helen is at mentally after the worse of the pandemic but also solidifies where Sharpwin is heading this season. We finally got a first look at Helen and Cassian’s relationship and also learned a little bit more about her family. I’m so glad they incorporated Freema’s Iranian heritage in the show and I can’t wait until we get an introduction to her Ghanian side as well. Helen having a Ghanian mom is literally chef’s kiss and as a fellow Nigerian, I know west african mama’s don’t play so I hope we get to see her on screen. As for Cassian and Helen I loved the fact that he was able to truly support her in her time of need but the chemistry is severely lacking for me. I usually don’t mind seeing HeIen with someone else because it’s usually fun and entertaining and I obviously know who her endgame is. Panthaki and Helen where hot and fun to watch. I just feel like the showrunners hyped Cassian up to be this edgy, “bad boy,” arrogant type who’s supposed to give Max a run for his money but I’m not seeing that at all! The chemistry is just flat y’all. It’s just not giving what they said it was supposed to give... 

Anyway, despite the lack of chemistry, Cassian is playing a role that we honestly haven’t seen from Max yet. He’s truly being there for her and doing his part to support her in her time of need. In Max and Helen’s relationship it has always been the other way around with Helen supporting him. He has never truly stepped up to meet or even think about her needs. Not really anyway. Furthermore, in the midst of her vulnerability, Helen revealed that she feels like “she keeps running out of time.” These two aspects of this episode are so important because it tells me two things.

1. Helen is clearly at a breaking point and desperately wants to make her relationship work with Cassian because she feels like she’s “running out of time” in every area of her life.

2. Max has too and unequivocally will meet Helen’s needs in more ways than one this season.

From everything we know so far about Helen this is how I would summarize her. Helen is a beautiful and incredibly talented doctor who cares deeply about her patients and wants to be respected for more than just being a “celebrity doctor.” She was previously engaged and lost her finance suddenly to a brain aneurysm. She desperately wants a child and is considered “geriatric” because she’s over the age of 35 and in the midst of her fertility journey she realizes that she doesn’t want to raise a child on her own. Ultimately she actually wants love and a family. Being vulnerable has never come easy to her in any of her relationships, romantic or otherwise and there are so many things about her life that we still don’t know yet. 

So based off what we know, when Helen says she feels like “she keeps running out of time” there’s depth to that statement and we have to assume that when she said that she was referring to EVERY aspect of her life. In a sense she ran out of time with her fiancé Mohammad when he passed unexpectedly and though she isn’t “old” Helen no doubt also feels like she’s running out of time to have a baby and a family of her own. These are two things that Helen wants more than anything else in the world and the fact that it hasn’t happened yet is clearly getting to her. Professionally, I feel like Helen is at a place in her life where she’s content and is learning how to balance putting her patients first while also upholding her press commitments. In her personal life it’s a whole different story and I definitely think Helen is spiraling. The ripple of effects of the pandemic are definitely still affecting her and in a sense Cassian is more like a means to an end to help her feel like her personal life is “on track.” Even Helen herself said that “I don’t want to make excuses anymore about you” to Cassian which clearly indicates that she has her doubts about him and the relationship  but she’s going to jump in anyway because she doesn’t want to waste/run out of time!

I know a lot of people think that Sharpwin probably won’t come into fruition until season 4 or season 5 but I could not disagree more. To me, Helen’s fear of things running out of time in her life and or feeling like she’s had missed windows of opportunities is the BIGGEST INDICATOR that Sharpwin is about to come to fruition RAPIDLY! The writing is on the wall! She is not trying to wait for anything or anybody. She’s seen the worst of the pandemic, she knows first hand how life is so fleeting and how quickly things can change and she’s had ample amount of time to reflect on what she wants and needs in her life. She hasn’t truly dealt with her trauma but she is jumping all in for her sanity. 

For Max and Helen, this is a make it or break it season for them where they decide if they want to be together or not. The will they won’t they stage has long passed because it no longer make sense in the storyline for either of them to still be confused about what they want especially after the worst of the pandemic. They clearly have feelings for each other and are in love. It was indicated in season 1 and damn near established in season 2. After a year in a pandemic where they saw thousands of people die a day and so many people have had time to reflect on their lives, for them to come out of that still dragging their feet and being indecisive about who they love and what they want is not a realistic storyline. It could have worked if the pandemic never happened but it did and the pandemic changed everything for everyone. 

So with that said this brings me to Max. Cassian is here for one purpose and that is to ignite Max into action. Helen last season has practically already put her feelings on the line with her declaration of “Everything I’ve done I’ve done for you” and a year later Max hasn’t done shit about it. For the past two seasons she has been his support system and this season he needs to step up and be hers. This is the season where Max needs to go above and beyond for her like she has done for him countless times in the past. Time is clearly of the essence, especially for Helen and he needs to get his shit together quickly. I personally feel like he’s going to supersede her expectations and then some and his actions to me just scream that he’s preparing for a new chapter. He’s already told her he’s trying to build something better for her and Luna, he’s moved out Georgia’s things and at Helen’s encouragement, brought Luna home. The only thing left that he needs is a partner and clearly Helen is his partner!

Also there’s a level of emotional support that we haven’t seen Max give to Helen and I think we saw this play out as well with Georgia. Max has a tendency to be caught up in his own world a lot of the time and sometimes he’s not really present with the people he cares about. I think this season Max is going to become more self aware of that and actually be there for Helen when she needs him the most.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts what I see for Sharpwin this season! Here’s to hoping these things actually come to past. Let me know what you think is in store for Sharpwin in season 3!

#new amsterdam #helen sharpe #sharpwin #max goodwin #max x helen

[seasonofthewicth]

Proposal prompt (quarantine questions au maybe?): “oh my god I’m marrying an idiot” with “...we’re getting married?” or someone accidentally telling the other about their plans to propose Hope it makes sense what I’m saying sorry clarity is not my friend. Btw you’re awesome!

AN: Hi thank you so much for this prompt! I hope this is sort of what you were imagining and that you enjoy it.

This is a sequel to quarantine questions - part 1 - part 3

word count: ~1.5k

------

Aelin knew she wanted to marry Rowan, had known it for a while. After four years together it was something they had discussed a number of times, but it had never been in a concrete sense, and Rowan was yet to propose.

The first time it had come up had been when Lorcan had proposed to Elide. Aelin had been thrilled for their friends, as had Rowan, and the night of their engagement party she had drank one too many and slid one of the inflatable ring decorations onto Rowan’s finger, slurring that one day she’d make an honest woman out of him.

The rest of their discussions had been slightly more serious; they had discussed how one day in the future they would like to get married in Aelin’s home country of Terrasen but incorporate the culture and traditions of Wendlyn. They would make sure that the essence of each of them was joined in the ceremony that would celebrate their love.

They had discussed how Aelin was looking forward to one day becoming Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, but how she would continue teaching as Miss Galathynius. She had felt an element of surprise when Rowan had told her he would like to become Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius.

She knew both of their families would be thrilled with the idea, Rowan’s mother especially loved Aelin and Aelin knew she bugged Rowan occasionally about when he would propose.

Rowan hadn’t proposed yet, and she wasn’t expecting him to do so any time soon; she knew that with the events of the global pandemic many people were having weddings cancelled and postponed, so it was something that hadn’t been brought up for a while.

But; she could be patient. She loved Rowan and knew that she wanted to marry him and that he wanted to marry her, the timing was unimportant. She had other things to concentrate on anyway.

Her students in her classes had grown accustomed to their online learning, now many weeks into the school closures, and she had become more accustomed to teaching online. She had found ways of incorporating props to make her teaching more of a historical story telling session to keep her students engaged, rather than trying to talk them through a dull powerpoint presentation.

She wanted to make sure that her students were still learning, not just being tested.

She had lamented how she felt her students’ education was lacking to Rowan many evenings over a glass of wine, but he always reassured her that she was doing her best, and that engaged students were better than nothing. She knew he shared her concerns of his own classes, and she did her best to return his reassurance.

She was currently rifling through one of the storage cupboards in their house, in one of their spare bedrooms, looking for a hat that she knew could be useful in her retelling of one of the wars of Adarlan’s past when she found it.

The cupboard was filled with a random assortment of junk, things that they had both brought with them when they moved in together just over a year ago and had been to reluctant to donate but didn’t often use. She was tearing through old bags and clothes, old accessories and trinkets when she found the small, velvet box.

Her breath caught in her throat.

No. She was surely getting ahead of herself. Rowan wouldn’t hide an engagement ring in a cupboard full of random junk.

She sat back on her heels, turning the box over between her fingers. She didn’t dare look inside.

Did she put it back and pretend it never happened? Pretend she had never found the ring and act surprised when he proposed.

She was definitely getting ahead of herself; she hadn’t even looked inside the box yet and it might not even hold a ring.

She sighed and plopped her hands into her lap, the box nestled between her palms.

She closed her eyes and pulled the lid of the box open.

She slowly peeled back her eyelids and let out a sharp gasp.

It was beautiful.

Standing bright against the black velvet inside of the box was a ring. A shining golden band held a glistening, oval emerald. The gem was surrounded by smaller diamonds, laid in a loop, framing the stone like a halo. Each of the diamonds pointed outwards giving the ring a unique silhouette.

Her hand flew to her cheek as tears brimmed in her eyes, but she was interrupted by the sound of their front door.

Rowan was back from his trip to the supermarket.

“Hey gorgeous, I’m back.” She heard him call, the rustle of his shopping bags muffled by the distance. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs,” Her voice was weak, and she cleared her throat and tried again.

She rose to her feet at she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs.

He appeared in the doorway; his lips spread in a wide smile. His silver hair was un-styled and flopping across his forehead, strands of it brushing his eyelids where it had grown long since her failed attempt at cutting it herself once the barbers had closed.

“What is this?” She held the box up to him, the emerald catching the light and glowing.

A guilty look flashed across his face, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

“I think you know what that is,” He let out a soft laugh, coming into the room further. The blush spreading across his cheeks answered her question enough.

“Why would you hide this in a cupboard of junk?” She asked incredulously.

He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“I thought it would be a safe hiding place, I didn’t know you would go snooping.”

She scoffed, but he grabbed her hand and gave it a playful squeeze.

“I’m not a snoop,” She pouted at him but let out a gust of a laugh.

“Gods, I’m marrying an idiot.” She shook her head, but her cheeks strained where she smiled.

“We’re getting married?” He asked, teasing her. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”

He held his hand out in the small space between them, palm upturned in an unspoken request for the ring.

“This wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” He murmured as she slipped the box into his waiting hand.

He took a step back from her and knelt down on one knee in front of her.

Her heart took off, pounding a relentless rhythm as he positioned himself. Holding the ring up to her in one hand, the other cradling one of hers.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” He started, and a gentle sob escaped from her throat. She sniffled as he paused to smile reassuringly up at her.

“I love you. So, so much and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you, share all of my best days with you and make you smile every day. I want to have children with you and grow old with you and be with you forever, to whatever end.

“I would be honoured to call you my wife and you would make me the happiest man alive if you agreed to marry me.”

He paused, swallowing as he looked up at her, his gaze so full of love and his voice thick with emotion.

“Aelin, my love, will you marry me?”

She nodded, a few tears breaking free and slipping down onto her cheeks.

“Yes,” She whispered. “Yes, I will.”

He rose, sweeping her up into his arms, as he pressed his cheek to the crown of her head. He leaned down to press his lips to her own, only leaning back to whisper his adoration onto her lips.

“I love you,” She whispered back, her palms cradling each of his cheeks and she pressed her lips firmly to his own.

He pulled back even further and grabbed her left hand. He slotted the ring onto her fourth finger, providing a reassuring weight she hadn’t known she missed.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the ring.

“Future Mrs Whitethorn.” He grinned and she let out a squeal as he hoisted her up by the thighs and turned to carry her to their bedroom.

------

The following week, she was in the middle of another of her dramatic historical retellings of a lesson when Evangeline interrupted with a question.

“That’s a really beautiful ring, Miss G.” She smirked. “Did Mr Whitethorn buy it for you?”

Aelin couldn’t fight the blush that flooded her cheeks.

“Thanks Evangeline, that’s very kind. And yes, it was a gift from Mr Whitethorn.”

Her heart warmed as her students rushed to congratulate her, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to the photograph of herself and Rowan sitting on her desk, next to her computer.

In the photo he was stood behind her, his arms encasing her waist, both of them smiling brightly at the camera. She sighed, imagining that day when their wedding photos would fill the space next to it.

 tags:

@perseusannabeth

@superspiritfestival

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt

@sleeping-and-books

@jlinez

As always I hope I haven’t missed anyone and please let me know if I have!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fic #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowan x aelin #my fics #my writing #rowaelin au

[nanso]

what did you think of the music in season two? did you like it?

Sorry anon, this is a bit of a delayed reply. So there's two parts of Bridgerton music, right? There's the string quartet covers (that are not exclusively VSQ now, ps - also I personally don't believe we should refer to these as classical covers but anyways) and then there's the original compositions.  I'll put the rest under the cut cause it got long:

String arrangements: I think I've always had a question about their approach with these. Are they choosing songs with recognizability/popularity in mind? Or solely how the essence of the string-rendition will resonate on its own? I actually didn't know all of the pop covers in S1 and my absolute favorite one was 'In My Blood.' I had never listened to the original Shawn Mendes song and once I did, I was like 'nah.' But the VSQ cover? EXQUISITE. As for this season, I think 'What About Us' was...so good. It helps that the original is also just a very melancholically beautifully song by nature of the key and chord progression. I also liked the K3G cover more than I thought! I tried to push out my association with it and I quite liked how they interpreted it and I thought it really fit the scene, both in pace and tone. And, of course, if you know K3G, angsty family issues hit even deeper. But 'Dancing on My own' was pretty great - but I think a lot of that has to do with what I associate that song with and how culturally relevant it is, which I think may answer my original question (I think that scene lands better if you know that song's lyrics - I question if it lands quite enough if you don't). MC's 'Wrecking Ball' is not a song I listened to much (don't @ me) so I would never have known what it was when I heard the string arrangement. But it was SO. GOOD. Sweet lord. And I think that's the hallmark of a good arrangement - you shouldn't need to know the original if the arrangement is powerful enough.

Original compositions: I'm not gonna lie....I was WHELMED by the original music after experiencing what Kris Bowers did in S1. I was really surprised that they reused so many cues/themes from S1 actually (like Daphne's sexual awakening cue, for instance). Like a theme from S1 that I had associated with Anthony and Sienna exclusively was super prominent this season, so maybe it was always supposed to be Anthony's cue?? Dunno. And there was NOTHING on the level of 'We Could Form an Attachment' (which I'm PRETTY sure they reused this season, btw). Like that composition is soooooooooo good, I could weep. And I was really hoping for something new on that level. It was sweeping yet intimate and tender. Sigh. The Kate/Anthony theme was...okay? I liked it for its angsty/melancholy tone but it was just...fine in my eyes. The first time I really noticed it was episode 2 when Kate tells Anthony he can't see Edwina at Lady's - and it stuck out to me because it didn't fit the mood of the scene at first, but as soon as Anthony laughed - I was like "oooooh, interesting" which might have been the point. It's used in major keys (read: positive/happy tones) in different places, like their first meeting and Ascot, but I didn't fall in love with it like I had hoped to.

Overall, I wonder if KB was busy with a lot of other projects last year honestly and maybe original compositions for Bridgerton weren't the priority (which - props to him! He did a lot of important work last year so it makes sense)

I LOVED the original cue that was used in season 2's teaser and was really sad it didn't appear in the actual season (unless I missed it??) Like - it was the perfect tone, perfect key, perfect progression. Baffled why they didn't incorporate it into the show itself.

The third piece:

I was surprised they didn't use any existing classical music like they did in season 1 (unless I'm mistaken?? Maybe they did and I didn't recognize or register it...). But in S1, they used Offenbach and Vivaldi (as well as a remixed/rearranged version of Vivaldi) as well as Shostakovich. They may have used some this season though, and I missed it.  So I'd say my overall response was 🤷🏾‍♀️. S1's music hit harder for me overall, if I'm honest - and I liked the way they used Vivaldi, in particular, and Shostakovich, even if his music obviously did not exist in 1813 lol.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 2 #music #quartet

[hologramcowboy]

I apologize to you first in case it looks like I am judging you or questioning your choices, because really I am not. I appreciate your capability of criticism and the effort you put to dig out the truth rather than falling for a fantasy created by PR which is much more easier. It's just I came across one of your post and it started bugging me since... Are we fans really entitled to see the glimpse of our favorite actor's personal life? Do we know him enough to judge what type of man he is in real life based on some old life choices he made which might not be good ones? If he is not very vocal with his personal life or got a messed up pr team, why that would mean he is a bad boy under a gentleman personality? He might be a real great man just the way he portrays himself to be, or he might be just a bad person acting to be a good one. Or he is something in middle. Everyone in that industry is trying to create an image of their own and sell it. Its your choice to believe it or not, but to try to find out the real person under that image based on some loopholes is hardly possible. It is great till you enjoy finding cracks in those images and make fun of their lies, but that should not be the reason of liking or disliking him. He is an actor; his fans are supposed to love him for his acting or his looks, not for how good he is as a human being...they can feel disappointed about his works, his lack of branding etc; not for whom he married or his other life-choices. That's just my viewpoint.

Thank you for sharing that. I don't think fans are entitled to seeing into their private life. I thinks actors have a responsibility to brand themselves in an authentic way and steer clear of practices that are less than stellar precisely because they are an example that is often blindly followed. I disagree with you on people not having a right to be disappointed because it's a preference thing. If some people view him as a role model but then he disproves that then they will feel disappointment or at least wonder and that's natural. It's human and it damages the actor/fan connection because it's not a connection based on humanity but on lies. But everyone is free to choose, like you wrote, of course. I think your spouse argument would be valid if Danneel was out of the spotlight, she is not, she is a part of Jensen's image that he sells to the buyers (which matter most) and ultimately to fans or tries to sell it at least. So think of an Actor as a Product which is a horrible way to put it but it IS how the industry views them, they are the "product" which has a defined brand. So if I want a Coke but it's really fake cola....let's just say that actor is shooting himself in the foot. If I want to book a pure hearted, down to earth texan type I'm gonna go for Jared not Jensen because Jensen is more appropriate to play the guy who seems perfect but really isn't (his Smallville and Dawson's creek roles are a perfect examples of this) and this is in part due to his whole Danneel ordeal and her lack of sense when it comes to anything PR or industry related. This is why he needs a rebrand, either by acknowledging and incorporating his authentic self whatever it may be or by choosing a path and sticking to it faithfully. By the way, not everyone is going to really look into his essence but most industry experts do. By the way, you are questioning my choices and judging them and that's okay, it's called reasoning and it helps you find what's right for you. I think you gave people a lot of food for thought with this post so I am going to go ahead and post it.

#hologramcowboy

[dannyphantomisameme]

Happy New Year!

I’m your secret Santa @faebiie! I decided to write a fic that incorporated both themes you requested: angst and Danny and Clockwork bonding. I hope you like it!

Danny’s fingers fidgeted nervously as he stared blankly at the floor. He sat at the edge of his bed, having woke up from his blaring alarm thirty minutes ago. His hair was a knotted mess from all his anxious tugging, tufts of hair twisting and turning in awkward directions. Dark bags encircled his eyes, hinting that he hadn’t slept in the past week or so.

Today marked the fourth anniversary of Danny’s accident, but also the day he swore to tell his parents his secret. He’d been dreading this moment for so long. Danny knew his parents wouldn’t mind the fact that their child was half ghost, as they hadn’t in alternate timelines where he accidentally revealed himself, but he was still terrified at the mere notion of them knowing. There always existed that slight possibility that they might reject him. He hoped the chance was slim.

Jazz was fine with his secret. Within a few months after the accident, she stumbled upon Danny transforming and secretly aided him until it became imperative to tell him that she knew. Yet throughout, Jazz had always been supportive of him, so there was no reason for his parents not to, right? Wrong.

The Fentons parents were notorious for being the ultimate ghost hunting duo. Maddie, of course, was the brains of the operation, however, Jack did not fall short behind. Together, they made several breakthroughs in the realm of paranormal science, a field that had been regarded as pseudoscience till the Fentons came along. The duo firmly believed that ghosts were inherently sinful formations of post human consciousness. In essence, to Jack and Maddie, ghosts were abominations; objects that needed to be eradicated. Moreover, there was one ghost in particular that they absolutely despised, and that, by pure coincidence, had to be Danny.

Over the past four years, Phantom, Danny’s ghost persona, had become quite famous in the quaint town of Amity Park. By now, the majority of the town viewed Phantom as a hero since he stopped ghosts from attacking harmless humans on a daily basis. The Fenton’s, on the other hand, had convinced themselves that Phantom’s true intentions were to destroy the town once he’d gained their trust. And while initially, the Fenton’s had been working towards  terminating all ghosts, over time the duo has gradually lessened their hatred and become more open to the notion of ghosts as they now constitute daily life.

It might seem like inappropriate timing for Danny to tell his parents, but he knew he’d feel guilty if he didn’t sooner or later. He spent his entire high school shielding his true self from his parents and now that he would be off to college soon, he felt it fitting for them to know the real him. Plus, he’d definitely get made fun off by Sam and Tucker if he didn’t go through with his plan. For the past week, his friends had been hyping him up, ensuring him that his parents would be supportive and that he needn’t worry. Tucker even calculated that the likelihood of his parent’s supporting him was 90%. All Danny could do was worry about that 10%.

Letting out a groan, he swiftly laid back into his bed, closing his eyes. He tried to steady his breathing. In two, three, four. Out, two three four. He might’ve sat there for eternity, hoping to be engulfed by his bed and taken anywhere but here, but he was so rudely interrupted by Jazz’s knocking.

“Good morning Danny!” she said from behind the door to his room. “Come downstairs for some breakfast. Mom made your favorite!”

Bacon and eggs sounds so good right now. The thought of a nice breakfast pulled him into a sitting position, yet he was still hesitant to walk. Getting breakfast meant seeing his parents. Seeing his parent’s meant talking. Was he ready to talk? Absolutely not, but he needed to for his own sake.

Finally mustering up a bit of courage, Danny stood up, and headed towards the bathroom. He began brushing his teeth and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. To put it briefly, he looked like shit. All this worrying had put him in a terrible physical state. He needed to get this done with and finally feel free.

As he finished up, Danny went back to his room, put on a shirt, and headed for the stairs. He reached the end of the hall and paused before going down, feeling a tight ball of anxiety forming in his chest. He stared at the carpet as if it were the source of all his worries. There was so much doubt in his decision, but he could also smell the sizzly aroma of bacon. And god, was he hungry.

He grabbed the railing beside him and slowly made his way down the stairs, one step at a time.

“Hey Danny!” called his mom’s voice from the kitchen after hearing his soft steps. “Come sit down, I’ve got your plate waiting for you.”

“Danno!” a bellowing voice belonging to his dad interrupted Maddie. “I knew you wouldn’t resist!”

Hesitantly, Danny walked towards the kitchen, not making eye contact with anyone. He sat in his usual seat at the dinner table, a plate stacked with his favorite food. He so badly wanted to snatch the plate and run to the safety of his room before anyone could speak. Around him, Maddie was in the kitchen making another batch of scrambled eggs. Jack and Jazz were seated at the table with Danny, eating away at their food. Although, Jack was simultaneously building some sort of ghost contraption.

“How’d you sleep sweetie?” Maddie asked.

Danny, having begun eating with a spoonful of eggs in his mouth, choked with wide eyes at the sudden question. He wasn’t ready to speak yet. Let me eat first!

“Good” he muffled in reply.

“Looks like you haven’t slept in days,” Jack remarked as he glanced away from his machine towards his son.

Jazz gave him a playful slap. “Dad, manners!”

“Whaaat? I’m just tellin’ the truth.” Jack gleefully smiled and returned to his food.

Danny brushed off the comment and continued to eat his food. Dad isn’t wrong, Danny thought. His heart was racing in his chest, anticipating an unfavorable conversation. He might’ve been eating too quickly as it garnered attention from his family.

“Woah slow down there Danny.” Maddie said as she brought the latest pan of cooked eggs from the kitchen to the dining table. Jack eagerly took a plateful. “You don’t want to choke.”

“‘’m good,” he repeated with food stuffed in his mouth.

“Anyway your dad and I are planning on spending the day in the lab if it’s alright with you kids. We’re so close to perfecting the Fenton Bazooka.” Maddie began washing the dishes.

Jazz stood up and left her finished plate next to the sink. “Sure mom. Danny and I will be fine.” Maddie smiled in reply as Jazz left for her room upstairs.

Once Jazz was gone, silence ensued as everyone carried on with their own tasks. Maddie washing the dishes, Jack tinkering and eating, and Danny finishing his breakfast. The mood was peaceful for everyone except Danny. His heart was pounding in his chest because sooner or later he had to say something. Shoving in the last bits of egg in his mouth, he could feel his heart quicken. It’s pace grew faster and faster, to a point where he felt his heart may as well explode out of his chest.

You have to do it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Just... SAY IT!

“Mom! Dad!” Danny said a bit too loudly, causing his parents to turn to his voice with odd looks “...I have something to tell you.” He kept his gaze focused on the empty plate before him. Was this really happening?

Maddie then suddenly lit up. “Oh Danny, I totally forgot! Would you like some more breakfast? We’ve still got some left.”

Danny shifted in his seat, not expecting that answer. He gripped the edge of his chair, feeling like he might fall over. Why are my palms so sweaty? “N-no it’s not that. It’s-”

“You sure? You never pass down your favorite breakfast!” Jack said with a side glance.

“Yea I’m s-sure.” Danny was tripping over his words. It was as if time was passing far quicker than how long it took him to formulate his thoughts. What was he supposed to say again?

“What I wanted to say was-” he paused. Danny felt weaker than ever. His grip on his chair tightened as he shut his eyes and attempted to center himself. He couldn’t. He did but didn’t want them to know. What if- what if-

JUST SAY IT ALREADY.

“I’m Danny Phantom.” the phrase came out like an exhale. Danny didn’t want to open his eyes.

No, that was a lie. He did want to open his eyes and see their reaction. He just wished he hadn’t.

Looking up from his plate, he first locked eyes with his dad. Jack’s face was as if he’d been hit with a blow. The normally boisterous man had been reduced to a mere shell of shock. Danny couldn’t discern what his dad was thinking.

Danny next glanced at Maddie. Whose brows were furrowed and eyes glued to the plate in her hand. The sink was still running. After a moment, she resumed her cleaning and turned to Danny with a smile.

“Heh, funny joke. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that you share first names with a scum like him, Danny.”

Jack quickly looked at Maddie, confusion etched into his features. “Mads…”

Danny, at the same time, also confused, looked at his mom. “I- I’m not-”

“Mads think about it.” Jack interrupted in an unusually soft voice. His unfocused gaze hadn’t moved from Danny. He stopped tinkering and slowly sank back in his seat. “It… it would make perfect sense.” Maddie now turned off the sink and turned towards her husband, crossing her arms.

“Jack, there is no way in hell our son is also a ghost. It is scientifically impossible.”

“...mom.” Danny shrank in his seat when his mom looked at him. He couldn’t tell her now. There’s no way she’d react the way he hoped. But… he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell them. It took every fiber in his being to not turn invisible and flee. His heart picked up pace again as he averted his gaze to his hands which were now fidgeting in his lap. “I’m not lying. Please don’t get mad but b-back when u guys were building the portal, I was snooping around the lab like an idiot and I-I accidentally turned it on while I was inside.” Danny explained with a barely audible voice.  

“It would make so much sense.” Jack mumbled. “The portal activation… why our gadgets go off around Danny… why Phantom’s always got Fenton tech.” Danny hadn’t expected his dad to accept it so readily.

“Jack, you can’t be serious…” Maddie’s voice trailed off as if lost in deep thought.

“I- I can show you. I’m half ghost...” Danny couldn’t believe what was happening. This wasn’t what he expected. They were supposed to accept it and move on. No questions, no jokes. Then why were they so confused? There was no way this would end nicely. Danny could feel his anxiety crawling back and settling at the pit of his stomach. He wanted to curl up into a ball so badly.

It seemed Danny had been lost in thought for too long. He missed the moment his parents both locked eyes and came to an understanding.

In one swift move, Maddie pulled two ecto blasters from her jumpsuit while Jack followed suit. In a single second, the both were standing side by side with their weapons aimed at their only son.

Danny jumped back in his chair at the sudden change of attitude. It caused him to tip over and fall to the ground with his back now against the floor. His eyes were wider than ever shifting between his parents and their guns.

“I can’t believe you’ve tricked us thus far, spook.” Maddie spoke as if her words were laced with venom. “Where’s Danny?!” Maddie nudged her head to Jack who took off running down to the basement.

His heart raced even faster. Hands shaking. “M-mom. What do you mean? I’m Danny!”

Maddie spoke in an unnaturally calm tone. “As if we’d fall for that. How long have you been hiding our son?!”

“N-no no. Please. I’m telling the truth. I AM DANNY!” he shouted from the floor. “S-see look!” he gestured his hand along his frame. “It’s Danny! Please, I can show you Phantom.” He pulled his feet towards him, ready to stand up, but rather got interrupted.

Maddie took a step forward, cocking the guns in her hand. “NO! Stay where you are and don’t come any closer. Don’t you DARE claim you’re my son. You’re nothing but a bunch of of...  ectoplasm!”  Her emotions began to show through her calm facade.

At that moment, Jack came rushing up the stairs, large weapon in hand. “That’s right, spook. The bazooka may not be finished but that doesn’t mean it's not gonna hurt.” He aimed the gadget at Danny.

“Answer me. H-how long?!” Maddie’s voice quivered slightly.

Danny was horrified to speak. They really wouldn’t shoot him, would they? “I-I’ve been half ghost for four y-years now…” he barely managed to say. “I’ll show you…”

He found that cold feeling deep within his chest and let it surround him. Two blue rings encircled his waist and one traveled to his head while the other to his toes. As the ring passed, his raven locks were replaced with a silvery white sheen. His pajamas became the iconic black and white jumpsuit. His eyes, when opened, went from their baby blue to electrifying neon green. He’d become Phantom.

Maddie and Jack hadn’t said a word. Their goggles, which were now over their eyes, masked what they were truly thinking. Their weapons were still trained on their son, but their posture seemed to stiffen as if they were in shock. All this time, Phantom had hidden among them.

Danny dared to look up at his parents who still stood silent. He couldn’t take the silence.  “S-see?... say something...”’

Instead of words, Jack chose to reply with the whine of an ectoblast.

Jazz chose the moment to make her appearance as she walked down the stairs. “Why are you guys so loud…” Her eyes swept the room and landed on her little brother's ghost form. He turned to look at her voice, raw fear seeping through every inch of his features and eyes brimming with tears. It took Jazz a moment to understand the situation, but she was too late.

“Danny!” Jazz sped towards her brother as a crackling green ray fired from Jack’s weapon, making its way towards Danny and hitting him squarely on the chest. Danny flung back into the wall, clutching his chest with one arm which burned so very badly. He could feel every nerve in his chest searing with pain. It was worse than any blast he’d received before.

His breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t fight back. They were… they were his parents! Why would they hurt him? Why… why couldn’t they understand?

Jazz was now sitting next to her brother, shocked at the sight of the nasty, bubbling burn. “What did you do?!” she shrieked at her parents.

“Jazz get away from that- that thing! He’s brainwashed you!” Maddie cried as she rounded the table and grabbed Jazz by the arm.

“N-no STOP IT! You’re hurting Danny!” Jazz wrenched her arm under her mom's grip, but her attempt was poorly made as she was pulled towards Maddie right as Jack fired a second blast from the gun. Tears freely flowed from Jazz’s turquoise eyes. Danny had zero time to react before-

Before the blast had frozen in thin air a foot before him. No, that wasn’t true, everything froze. His parents and Jazz. They were all still. What?

Danny felt the coolness of a time medallion on his neck. Suddenly, a swirl of blue appeared before Danny and out came a familiar specter.

“I normally don’t interfere with the events of time, but you seemed like you needed it.”

Danny’s breath came out raspy “...Clockwork?”

The master of time nodded with a smile and outstretched his hand. “Come my boy. Before the Observants find out.”

With one hand still clutching his chest, Danny took Clockwork's hand and stood up shakily. The blue swirls encompassed the two as they were transported to the ghost zone. Specifically, to the living room within Clockwork’s lair.

Danny took a deep breath as he gradually took a seat on the couch behind him. His head was pulsing and the pain from the ecto ray hadn’t subsided. Around him, several clocks and gears lined the wall, all ticking or moving synchronously. Before him sat numerous screens displaying several different events surrounding him.  What he was witnessing went beyond any imagination.

“I had to interfere for your own good.” the master of time said as he floated into the room with a first aid kit in hand. He pulled out a burn ointment and began catering to Danny’s wounds. Danny hadn’t noticed, but at some point, he had transformed back to his human self. Danny hissed at the feeling of the cream on his wound.

Clockwork looked up and followed the halfa’s gaze to the screens. “What you’re seeing is the various alternate timelines in which you reveal your secret to your parents at this point in time. In all scenarios, they don’t take it, uh, lightly.”

Danny couldn’t believe it. On one screen, his parents were chasing after him around the city. In another, they had him strapped to a table. Before he could watch some more, Clockwork shut them off.

“I’m going to be blunt, but unfortunately, no matter the circumstance, your parents never accepted you in this moment of time.”

Danny hadn’t averted his gaze from the screens yet. He was still in awe of it all. The alternate timelines, his parents, the blast. He managed to squeak out one word. “Why?”

“Their puny human minds can’t comprehend the duality of your being.” Clockwork said as he now took out a set of bandages from the kit and began wrapping it along the boy’s torso. “Thus they reject you.”

“Y-you can’t be serious.” My parents? Hating me? “...impossible.”

“You witnessed it for yourself. They hurt you. Was that not enough?”

“N-no. They're my parents! They’re supposed to love me no matter what!”

Clockwork got up, slightly angered, unlike his collected self. “You call that love?!”

“I-” Danny was at a loss of words. No matter what Clockwork told him, he couldn’t wrap his head around his parents not believing him. It all felt like one sick joke. He wanted to throw up. Despite the horror of the situation, there was still one question gnawing at him. “W-why are you helping me?”

Clockwork turned so his back was facing Danny and paused. “I cannot let you suffer. Especially after everything you’ve done for our realm... You didn’t deserve the destiny given to you. After all, you were only fourteen when you received your powers. My interference was merely nothing compared to what you’ve dealt with. Your kind is so rare as well. I cannot let you perish.”

It was odd of clockwork to act so carelessly. Risking his position as the master of time just to save a teenage boy with paranormal powers was, well, weird. But from what Danny had heard just now, it seemed that Clockwork was firm in his decision.

At this point, Danny didn’t want to think anymore. His brain felt like mush from all the events that had transpired. Mom. Dad. Jazz… what were they doing right now? What were they thinking of him? Did they really believe he was-

“Get some rest. I’ll bring you some food when you awaken.” Clockwork said.

Danny decided it was best to follow Clockwork's orders so he managed a mumble as he lowered himself into a sleeping position on the couch. “Mmm?”

Clockwork floated next to the boy and patted his raven matted hair. “Sleep well Daniel.”

Danny quickly dozed off on the blue sofa, unaware he had found his new family. <3

#Danny phantom #secret santa #my fic

[leonardovaldezz]

What would u do if u could change anything about anything in the series?

I’m gonna assume you’re talking about Hero’s Of Olympus, since I want to talk about it. Let’s start with the relationship each of the 7 had with one another/character dynamics.

Percy. We know who he is, we’ve met him before, we’ve lived through his adventure with him. He’s a shithead, we love this about him, but he’s also kind and loving. Percy would’ve made an effort to get along with everyone, to be friends and goof off to help everyone feel better. Which is why all of this shit Rick created with Jason being his Roman counter part and them being rivals, the two “macho men fighting for power to lead the pack” makes NO goddamn sense. And quite frankly smells HEAVY of toxic masculinity the entire series could’ve gone without. They would’ve been friends. Maybe not the best of friends because Jason has Leo but they would’ve been those two dumb jock friends and that narrative bettween them would’ve made the story so much more fun and interesting than pitting them against eachother.

Annabeth. The trope Rick created with Annabeth being a know it all, smartest person in the group is a disservice to her character and makes her shallow. She’s the daughter of a goddess of wisdom, wisdom recognizes intelligence when it sees it, and the fact that all Annabeth thought about Leo during the entire book was that he was annoying is VERY dumb. They could’ve had a really good friendship, two nerds playing off of one another’s intellect to create things that could benefit everyone on their journey. Or even Leo just convincing her to help him make stupid shit like a toaster that can toast eight pieces of bread at once. I would change how rigid Annabeth is, loosen her up just a little bit and make her friendship with Leo the type of thing where they constantly feed off of one another.

Piper. Her entire character arc revolved around being beautiful, being Native American, and Jason. Firstly, we’d have to throw away all the stereotypes and general horrible things that Mr. Rick Ross (read: Rick) did to her character. Like the whole feathers in her hair thing. There are better way to incorporate Piper being Native American, there were so many missed opportunities to intertwine Greek mythology and Native American beliefs. Secondly, in order to get rid of the. Frankly, shit, way Piper dealt with beauty is to first address the way the Aphrodite cabin as been treated through the entirety of the PJO universe. Instead of writing Aphrodite children like frilly little things that can’t stand to get their hands dirty and Piper being “not like other girls uwu”, I would’ve written them as deceptivly beautiful. Deceptive in the fact that no one expects them to be strong, cruel, to be able to hold their own. Knights you mistake for damsels in distress, and before you realize you’re wrong they’ve already defeated you. You can be strong and feminine, and femininity isn’t the only way to be beautiful, so I would’ve explored that too. And Pipers arc on beauty would’ve been different in the sense that she realizes she doesn’t have to like pink and glitter in order to be beautiful, and that even if she did like those things, that’s okay. Let girls be feminine without demonizing them for it.

Hazel. God Hazel was done so dirty. First, she’s thirteen, so no Frazle shit, jot that one down. Her and Frank being really good friends would’ve been so much better and allowed her to grow as a person without throwing her into some serious romantic relationship so young with someone so much older. I would’ve written Hazel as very cautious, specifically around her white friends. She comes from the 40’s of course she wouldn’t be buddy buddy with them immediately, and I think that would be a valid concept for the books to explore. And besides, her realizing later on that things really are different and times really have changed would be such a heartwarming thing to experience. Her breaking out of her shell and leaving that shit behind her to be unapologetically her. Actually exploring the racism and prejudice in the world instead of ignoring it and erasing the experiences of black people and black youth in this world is problematic and we won’t be doing that here smh. I wouldn’t make it the core of her character because that’s wack but it also wouldn’t be something that’s just never talked about. That being said, I would’ve made her relationship with Leo SO GREAT. They could’ve been dumbasses together running around the ship playing stupid games like hide and seek. Once again, instead of that romance shit, I would’ve built their friendship. Let the girl have fun, she’s 13 for gods sake.

Jason. The essence of his character was to be Percy Jackson’s Roman counterpart, which IS WACK. It made him VERY boring and one sided, so away with that! The Jason I had hopes for and wanted to see was, in simple words, a blond Himbo Jock!!! He loves his found family (Piper, Leo, and later the rest of the seven) and he PROTECT!! He and Percy would get in mock fights and wrestle sometimes because Percy says something very stupid and Jason simultaneously wants to laugh and shake him and he and Leo have the type of friendship where even the last few barriers come down and they are unapologetically themselves with one another. Jason learning that he doesn’t have to be a grown up and that he doesn’t have to have such a rigid sense of responsibility and that it’s okay to have fun sometimes, things Leo and Percy teach him. He grows into himself and realizes that he’s not JUST a son of Jupiter, and he doesn’t have to be a leader all the time. It’s okay to let go of the reins, and be stupid.

Frank. Rick made him... so forgettable. Firstly, the fatphobic blessing of Mars shit. We can hit next on that shit: the blessing of Mars but Frank goes from chubby to chubby with muscle because believe it or not a lot of fat people have muscles!! The arch with him wanting to be a child of Apollo is VERY interesting and something that should’ve been played up more within his arc until he realized he didn’t have to prove to anyone how manly he is, that you don’t HAVE to be aggressive and manly to be a child of Mars. Once again: Rick was on some toxic masculinity shit. Frank being okay with being a big teddy bear is enough for me. Also fuck the burning stick of life things stop putting a time limit on teenagers lives that’s bullshit. His relationship his Hazel was rushed and shallow, and quite frankly (ha) they should’ve just been friends.

Last but not least: Leo. Leo’s relationships with EVERYONE could’ve been better. He was treated as the comic relief, an annoyance, someone everyone could barely stand to be around, and instead of bettering his relationships with everyone Rick thought killing him off and then bringing him back with a love interest was the best thing to do. He was the treated as an emotional whipping board and then gave his life to save everyone on some sacrificial lamb shit which is a fucking cop out. In my head, Leo would’ve remained single, he would’ve felt like an outcast in the beginning, yes, but his friends would have actually noticed and reminded him that they value him as a person. I would’ve also built Leo’s arc so that he realizes the only validation he needs from anyone is himself, and that he wasn’t responsible for his mother’s death. I would’ve also written him realizing he has a support system amongst his friends, and he doesn’t need to overexert himself trying to fit because he’s already one of them. Leo has an inferiority complex and that was the core of him sacrificing himself, he felt like, if anyone, it would be him. He felt that he wasn’t as important as any of the other 7. He wouldn’t have died so other people could live, his life would’ve mattered to everyone including himself.

#wow this was long sorry #lmao Iiiii think i forgot to answer your question oops #i shouldve just answered simply: i would change the dynamics the characters have together #heros of olympus #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #jason grace #frank zhang #hazel levesque #leo valdez #long post