#love is such a powerful force i am inconsolable

[vaguely-concerned]

I’m on a Star Wars books roll so here we go with my — unhinged thanks for asking! — thoughts on Dooku: Jedi Lost, specifically the audio play. Short version: I fucking loved this one! For maximum emotional devastation, pair with Master and Apprentice and Padawan the way my stupid ass did and then be sad about it forever I guess that's what I’m going to have to do.

 Long (LONG oopsie) version:

- So. First of all, let’s get the most important thing out of the way on this here old man yaoi website. We all agree dooku and sifo dyas explored each other’s bodies right. Or at least definitely would have if not for the laws of this order etc., potentially. That’s not just me. Good. Thank you. We can now move on 

- Secondly. Well. Guess I’m just going to be inconsolable about Sifo-Dyas forever now. I miss the days in which he was just a throwaway line in AotC spawned by a random misspelling to me, rather than an eternal raw aching wound in my heart

- poor poor ventress just reading through all the proof that dooku absolutely does have it in him to be a good dad I mean master and just — idk got tired of that and went the force lightning route with her. I love the move of having her dead master hang out with her all that time as well (having her slip up and refer to ‘us’ did something to me, god this is so sad. Is he actually there in spirit or is it just her grief dreaming him up because dooku is awful and cold as a cliff  wall and she needs some kind of attachment figure even if she’ll have to reinvent him herself, rebuild him word for word, gesture by gesture. Pain. sorry about your terrible track record with father figures asajj) 

- Lene: (About Averross): He hasn’t changed. 

Dooku: (In the warmest fondest voice you ever heard) And I hope he never does

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MYSELF? MUST I SET MYSELF ON FIRE TO ESCAPE THE PAIN???

Another strong showing for Rael in general, btw. He’s so warm and charming as a presence even though he’s also a little chaos gremlin. (He’s quite similar to how Sifo-Dyas was when he was young in some ways, I can definitely start to see what Dooku responds warmly to in terms of character traits.) 

- the fact that good ol’ sheev showed an interest in rael, dooku and anakin… interesting huh! He’s just got a soft spot for the disaster lineage I suppose, maybe there’s an element there of luring yoda’s most direct lineage into the dirt with him without yoda even noticing for the longest time. Also cackling at the idea that he looked at qui-gon ‘too fucking stubborn and insufferable to fall to the dark side out of sheer spite’ jinn and went ‘...not that one tho’ fhdskjfa. And obi-wan is more like ‘that one blorbo all my little guys seem wild about but I just don’t get it guys’ 

IF rael’s refusal to join dooku at the end of ‘master and apprentice’ is the last word (which I am not convinced of ;___; be safe cowboy jedi we never see in mainline canon so far), then he’s the only one who has dodged palpatine’s attentions. Wonderful if true love that for him

ALSO rael is one of the few people we know to be on (or at least to consider himself on despite what palps might think lol) first name basis with palpatine. Hilarious. I concur with dooku never change rael 

- Sifo-Dyas: That’s insane. 

Dooku, deadpan: Yes.

Sifo-Dyas: The worst plan I’ve ever heard.

Dooku, somehow even more deadpan: Most probably. 

Sifo-Dyas: I’m in. 

Crying… weeping and dying………… what if someone could have helped sifo with his unfortunate prophecy propensity and they hadn’t drifted apart. Clone Wars averted methinks if dooku still ended up leaving the order he would have been too busy having tender gay sex with the love of his life (and only person who can call him out on his shit and have him actually listen) to be a war criminal (I am being extremely facetious of course this is very much a ‘time traveler killing baby hitler’ situation where the underlying forces causing this point in history are way too powerful to avert the catastrophe in one move. but at least palps would probably have had to pick someone else to wreck the galaxy through and sifo-dyas would be kissed & held instead of going slowly mad. A net plus some (I, me) would say) 

- I just wanted to applaud both the writing and the voice acting for the characterization of Dooku in this, from his young self trying so hard to be haughty and self-possessed but also being like, y’know, twelve and a dweeb and easy for Sifo-Dyas to pull into trouble, to the dry wit and warmth he shows with Rael and Qui-Gon or his sister later. It took me a little while to get into the voice acting specifically (the actor makes no attempt at going the full Christopher Lee, which in hindsight was probably wise), but now I love it. It gets a bit goofy in places but you know what, I am a long time lover of audio plays, that’s part of the charm 

- “Master, have I done something wrong?”

My heart is clenching… do you think… that master yoda’s deal with leaving his student to try fucking everything to have some kind of relationship with him until he just breaks down in tears of despair… is the kind of thing that maybe started a little bit of a generational trauma cartwheel through the ages. The point that bb!dooku is arrogant isn’t without merit and he strikes out incredibly ungracefully about it (in fact I would be a lot more worried than yoda seems to be that he decides to try to kill a tree about it, ‘I felt like destroying something beautiful’-style)  but I just don’t think a… fourteen year old? A teen anyway, Is going to learn what you think he learns from this. I simply don’t believe that silent treatmenting kids will teach them emotional intelligence I guess especially if they already struggle with that naturally lol 

(It is exactly the same mistake (in my opinion) that Qui-Gon makes with Obi-Wan, too, just leaving the kid completely alone and forcing them to come to you every which way for comfort or guidance instead of meeting them or reaching out to them. Especially once you see that really Dooku’s prime emotion/big core wound right from the beginning is loneliness. And that doesn’t only come from a feeling of superiority (which to be sure is also a big factor), because he has no idea where he comes from until he meets his sister. I don’t think the jedi as a whole were unsalvageable by any stretch of the imagination, but Yoda specifically… you are on such very thin ice with me at this point you little green fuck. You’re very funny and moving in yoda dark rendezvous and that’s all that’s keeping you in my somewhat good graces.)

- Okay, coming back a bit later I think I’ve found the right words to say this. more precisely dooku has two big issues which you can later see haunting all the way down his lineage — loneliness and control. (and not incidentally the intersecting elements of the two haha.) We see from his relationship to sifo-dyas that he’s not incapable of having close mutual relationships with an equal, but that kind of crashed and burned for reasons neither of them could really help and after that it seems quite telling that he has the easiest time with deeper connection in a teacher-student sort of form. I think his affection is unconditional and real, but you can’t get away from the fact that he also has the most control in that relationship structure by default, he gets to dictate what form it takes to a big extent. He doesn’t trust other people — the underlying idea ‘Only I can do this’ that eventually leads him down the Separatist path is there the whole way. It speaks both to a sense of superiority and an utter lack of faith that other people can or will help him. And then that echoes down through the master-padawan line: 

Qui-Gon with his self-righteousness and utter refusal to compromise leaving him isolated among the jedi (only he is right. Yeah the Force told him so. Don’t worry I’ve got a permit *insert parks and rec I can do whatever I want meme here*), Obi-Wan with his anxiety and perfectionism and incredible sense of shame and responsibility that he should be able to carry the whole world on his shoulders alone and beating himself up for failing, all feeding into not knowing what to do with Anakin and his complete lack of control of himself and his desperation to gain and maintain connection and love (which earns him the title of ‘Dooku’s least favorite family member’ fhdsa his immediate disdain for him is so funny and so in character. Repress and go slowly mad like a normal person anakin the way you’re carrying on is just undignified and that is much worse than being evil)… 

- Rael gently telling Dooku to take on another padawan soon… so sweet, so sad, local cowboy jedi looking out for his dad. Also highlights something about Dooku I think is true: that he does much better and seems to have an easier time holding to the light when he’s responsible for someone else. Again, I do feel like Dooku’s core problem is loneliness, but it seems like raising kids is the one point where that relaxes somewhat. Maybe if Sifo-Dyas had stayed in a better mental place and they kept in touch it could have been different.

- Lene Kostana is SUCH a character! Charismatic and deeply fucked up, when it’s revealed how her and Sifo-Dyas’ relationship remains long after his padawan stage is done I felt a little bit sick, to my surprise. Because that could just be kindness on her part, of course, it’s good that he has someone he trusts to look after him when he can’t himself, but also there’s something… queasy about the way it keeps him continually young, in a way. (Notably he still calls her ‘master’ even as an adult, when they’re working together. Not uncommon in Star Wars, of course, but together with everything else going on vibes-wise… hm.) The inherent unreliable narration of this story really worked for me in this regard especially — do we know that young Dooku was entirely wrong when he sensed the dark side in her? She certainly is willing to go to lengths that are… worrying! in her fascination with sith shit, she tempted children into a dangerous place they didn’t understand and couldn’t know the consequences of and she continually puts sifo-dyas in situations that are implied to be a risk to worsening his condition. Run of the mill incredibly irresponsible at best, sincerely sinister at worst. Did she choose Sifo over Dooku because he’s more vulnerable and shapeable? There is an undercurrent of something icky and emotionally incest-y going on with how she relates to Dooku and Sifo-Dyas in general (right down to the ‘NO, no one can know about this’ intensity after the… evil moss cave. I can’t believe I’m this emotional about a book with an evil moss cave). I don’t think she’s a proper sith in any way and I also believe there is real affection there on all sides, but idk something about the whole thing makes me deeply uneasy. Yoda where the fuck are you your son is out there with his irresponsible mom again they’re looking for dirty needles in haystacks and they’re not even wearing any gloves

- dooku telling sifo-dyas he can come back to haunt him if he likes as a joke… well well well I’m sure that doesn’t ring with some dramatic irony at some point down the line lmao

- honestly looking back at master and apprentice after reading jedi lost makes qui-gon's apparent lack of reaction to dooku leaving seem — let's call it highly suspect haha. rael asks him if he's spoken to dooku after and qui-gon is like 'no. why would I. it's literally fine. anyway this topic is done now'. (and rael seems to just go ‘*older brotherly knowing* uh-huh’) meanwhile he's thinking about dooku *all the time* trying to figure out his role as master to obi-wan, thinking about being a padawan himself, the parts of his life he shared with both dooku and rael. The jedi doth protest too much methinks  

ALSO how much of qui-gon thinking the council was too lenient with rael after he had to kill his padawan is about that actual situation, and how much is a ‘our family still likes my older brother more than me even though he Fucked Up so bad and breaks just as many rules as I do’ sort of deal mixed with his own neuroses about how he’s failing obi-wan (to which rael’s situation symbolizes the worst possible outcome, i.e. the kid dies and it’s basically your fault). Many thoughts. 

- moment of silence for jenza of house serenno. Girl your only sin was being surrounded by asshole male family members and I’m so sorry I think you did all you could with what you had to work with here.

Not… entirely sure how dooku’s claim to the title supersedes hers — is he a year older than her? (she’s eleven when they first meet, he might be twelve or older at that point I don’t remember haha) Does she just give up her place in the inheritance order? Are primogeniture and male heir preference factors in Serenno inheritance law? Not the most important thing honestly it works anyway thematically but could have been clarified quickly!

- interesting to see that the council’s restrictive policy against engaging with prophecies had a surprisingly big impact on how things went down. Kostana has a lot of responsibility in Sifo’s fate for insisting he keep it secret, but there is genuine fear for what might become of him if the rest of the order finds out he’s got 24/7 futurevision hovering over him threateningly… listen it’s not like the poor guy can help getting the future constantly pumped into his brain at nightmare resolutions, I think maybe if there had been more willingness to at least engage curiously with the concept of prophecy and how it works, even if you don’t put your faith in the particulars of what the prophecies say, this wouldn’t have had to be such a shitty isolated secretive life for him. hearing him slowly fall apart over the years considering how bright and lovely he started out... oof is all I can say 

- when dooku was a good jedi he was such a good jedi!!! The scene where they’re saving the kids from the collapsing hospital, every time he teaches his students anything…the impulse of someone has to do something about this! that made him so good at saving lives turning dark with the tarnish of frustration and rage over the years… nooooooooo problematic grandpa why did it have to be like this :(

- …do you think infant jedi can sense what’s going on around them in the Force. Because it makes a very sad kind of sense if dooku on some level remembers bodily or in the Force that he was not only abandoned but rejected in disgust as one of the first things he discovered in the world. Oh boy. With all the ways attachment relationships can go wonky in the first few years in real life I don’t even want to consider how much more wrong it can go when the baby is fucking psychic lol

- vaguely related: the way dooku seems to find the very idea of being truly reliant on anyone, emotionally or otherwise, personally offensive, terrifying and humiliating lol. Yoda saves him from being crushed by rubble and he is outraged because that means he can’t save himself (and his newfound sister) without anyone’s help like he thought for one glorious moment he could. The fantasy of perfect emotional self-sufficiency, doing away with all the messiness and risk of interpersonal relationships and cutting off the possibility of really being abandoned again. It’ll get ya every time. This is also a thing you see reflected in his lineage — they’re all quite inward-turning that way until you get to anakin, to different extents and with varying presentations but it is there I think. Qui-Gon turns to the Force, Obi-Wan to perfectionism and shame and rumination, Rael to the bottle and depression and hedonistic apathy, but they all struggle hugely with letting anyone in to help them. Dooku’s line are all much more comfortable being the helpers rather than the helpees, as it were.  

- “Thank you for everything, Lene. Tell Rael and Qui-Gon — tell them… tell them the Force will be with them, always”

Emotional terrorism against me specifically and personally. You asshole you just excused yourself from the non-attachment rules there’s literally nothing in the world except you to stop you from reaching out and telling your children you love them yOURSELF why are you like this

- the recurring theme of dooku seeing something beautiful (the tree in the temple, the tirra’taka as a child and an adult) and ending up lashing out to destroy it… but the tree was old and mighty and he was young and new and couldn’t truly harm it, so he was saved from his own impulsivity. And then when he sees the tirra’taka as an adult he loves it immediately. And in the end he still mangles and destroys it. He didn’t mean to, but he did. He woke it up and hurt it just by existing as a child and then he had to kill it as a mercy because he was too powerful at that point for anything to buffer his mistakes. The parallel with the bird he loved that he also couldn’t protect. He starts out with an aching loneliness somewhere at the core of him through no real fault of his own but by the end it is entirely his own fault that it’s worse, because he starts wrecking everything he loves in an almost absent-minded but definitely intentional way, like it’s a nightmare he’s listening to through the door as it happens in the next room over. He really IS the ‘I just felt like destroying something beautiful’ central of the jedi.

at the end qui-gon is dead and through dooku’s own influence, however indirectly. Rael has had to turn away from him. Sifo-Dyas is dead on Dooku’s own orders and so is his sister, he might as well have done it with his own hands. (though I think it’s very interesting that in each case he didn’t do it with his own hands, he consistently uses a middleman.) He lives within the coldness of his sterile empty castle and horrifically mistreats the one person he might have found something like connection with the way he did with his students before (Ventress), deliberately trapping her in a similar state of utter desolate isolation and telling her, essentially, ‘We’re like this as people and nothing can be done to change it. We can’t escape, we’re already doomed, stop trying, it’s too late. You are just like me (and if you aren't already I'll make you like me)’. And that’s the closest thing he gets to love anymore. When he accused Ky of using her ‘as a salve for his own loneliness’ and you’re like well well well mr projection man how’s that working out for you. He is completely, shatteringly alone and he is so entirely as a consequence of his own actions and he's too far gone to understand or care. I’m howling you useless fucking FOOL dooku  

- dooku 🤝 john gaius

“Hm. I have observed that there are in fact many flaws in our society and the government is deeply corrupt. So if I kill a few billion people here and there in order to fix it, is that not basically okay when you really think about it” 

Dooku making salient points about the political and ethical failures of the Republic and then, just when you think he’s onto something, he goes and makes The wildest fucking decisions about what to do about it. Sure. dark magic and genocide are probably the only ways out of this you’re so right bro. If we make enough minuses to add together surely we’ll end up in plus sooner or later

- *head in my hands once more* I can’t believe I am genuinely emotionally invested in someone called Count Dooku with the looks of a knockoff dracula and ultimate moral character to match right now this is terrible. hey. hey dooks. what you have to go and fuck everything up so bad for huh I’m so incredibly sad now

there is something to be said about how getting to see glimpses of what dooku looked like in the light makes it so much more heartwrenching that he never came back. he could have, a thousand times. and every time he chose not to.

#star wars #dooku jedi lost #count dooku #sifo dyas #dooku x sifo dyas #disaster lineage #lene kostana #star wars meta #rael averross #qui gon jinn #I'm being peak on my bullshit in this one. you're welcome and/or I'm sorry as appropriate

[shiyorin]

This is a special request from my friend, the greatest heretic I have ever known ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). And yes, I know this is heresy but I am heretic too ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Yandere Alphabet Sanguinius

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He'd be so gentle and so soft with how he shows love and affection. He would go out of his way for you, and would do everything in his power to keep you safe and happy. But he also craves touch with you. He constantly is hovering around you, just a bit too close. He always wants to be touching you, whether it be just having his hand in your, or wrapping his wings around you from behind. He constantly offers to help you, to the point of being overbearing. He would constantly be watching you, always trying to be as close to you as he can. But when he finds out someone else has caught your attention... well, just won't do.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Sanguinius isn't messy.... At least on the surface. He'd try to seem well-mannered and decent. He goes to such extreme lengths to keep them to himself that he'd be absolutely messy on the inside. His mind would be so wrapped up in whatever obsessive fantasy of you he'd come up with that he'd be completely unstable.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He'd be very, very gentle to you and would never intentionally hurt you. He would be completely, almost overly affectionate with you, constantly trying to shower you with attention and affection. He definitely wouldn't mock you at all; he's not the type. He wants to treat you as carefully as possible.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

The only thing Sanguinius would do against your will would be holding you captive in the first place. He would be terrified of you leaving him, so he resorts to kidnapping you to keep you. Other than that, though? Sanguinius would be perfectly fine with letting you do whatever you wanted. As long as everything you do is in his sight.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Sanguinius would lay out his heart to you completely. He'd reveal himself to you, but only the good parts. Not the things that he feels make him disgusting. Maybe over time he will show you his dark secrets. He'd be extremely hesitant to do so, but he'd do it on an as needed basis. So, he would only reveal these dark secrets if he absolutely felt like he had to do so to keep you from leaving. Otherwise, he'd keep them to himself. Sanguinius would never allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable, at least not to anybody other than you (but that will be a very long time). He'd want you to always perceive him as strong and as somebody who could keep you safe (and his alone)

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would be sad and angry, but his anger would primarily be directed against himself. He'd be so hard on himself, blaming himself for putting his lover in a position where you would need to fight back against him. It's extremely hypocritical, and he's well-aware of it. But it's the kind of hypocrisy that is forced by his obsession with his love, it's a sort of hypocrisy that he feels he can't escape from. He's not happy to be a victim of his own hypocrisy; he's simply too far in at this point for him to pull back.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He's completely serious about keeping his love. It is most certainly not a game to him. It's something that's been eating him at his soul, honestly. It would break him completely to see you trying to escape. He would be devastated and inconsolable, especially since it would confirm his insecurities that you want out of him. He would be heartbroken, but he would do everything he could to bring you back into his fold.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably the worst experience would be when Sanguinius inevitably falls under the red thirst. At that point, you would probably be in genuine danger. He wouldn't want to hurt you, but the red thirst would drive him to regardless. It's probably the most upsetting experience for the two of you, something that you and him are both extremely scared of.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Sanguinius definitely envisions a peaceful future for himself and his love, an optimistic fantasy that the Imperium of Man is prosperous and the universe safe. He thinks about how they could live in peace and love together forever, with none of the fear from before. He and you would live a peaceful, quiet life on one of his planets. He would try to show his love around as much as possible, and try to show you just how good both of you could have it. Sanguinius would also want you to meet his sons, as they would be a big part of his life. He would want to share that with his love. It's a very impossible picture he's imagining, honestly, but it's something he desperately wants.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He is extremely jealous. It's a very common thing for him to go into a jealous fit every once in a while, and he becomes much more possessive as well. He absolutely lash out, but not that much, he would do so very subtly. He would still remain a gentle, caring person towards you, but you'd feel something is wrong.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He would be gentle, kind, caring, and almost obsessively affectionate with you. He would constantly be reminding you that he'd always be there for you. He'd constantly be watching you, always be staring at you, but he'd also be very gentle with this. He would never hurt you on purpose, and he'd try to hide his possessive and jealous behaviors as much as he can.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He'd probably spend a lot of time watching you from afar for a while, before he eventually approached you with his entire being. He'd be as charismatic as he is possessive, using charisma and charm to bring you closer to himself. He would want to be friendly at first, but also very persistent and almost obsessive in his approaches.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Of course, Sanguinius is an angel, a perfect man with a perfect face and a perfect personality. Even behind closed doors, he'd still be kind and gentle, but his possessive side would absolutely be on full display around the one he's obsessed with.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He's too gentle to punish you, honestly. I think, at most, he'd give some verbal gentle scolding, but he'd never go down the path of physical punishment. In fact, I think if he discovered you were even slightly hurt by anything his obsession had done to you, he'd immediately be completely remorseful and upset.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many would be taken, honestly. Sanguinius would constantly be trying to smother your sense of individuality into submission, but he'd never do anything too extreme. I think that, at most, he'd constantly take your personal space away. He'd be constantly in your space, stay in extremely close proximity, but he'd never try to completely take away your individual freedom. Not yet.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He's extremely patient. He's aware that he's a bit much, and that his overwhelming displays of affection are a lot to take in at once. He knows this, and is perfectly happy to wait as needed for you to warm up to him. He's okay with the idea of waiting for the person he's obsessed with to come around and love him back. But until then, you won't go anywhere.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If his lover died, I don't think Sanguinius would ever be the same, it could easily tear Sanguinius apart completely. He couldn't move on. And he will even expect his inevitable death to come sooner; If his lover escaped, he would be determined to get you back. He would never abandon his pursuit for you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He would feel extreme guilt about abducting you. This isn't a decision that he would relish making, but he would absolutely do it. He would want to let you go, but his obsessive tendencies would keep him from doing so. He'd hate himself but not enough to let you leave.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He is someone who already had a lot of issues, and the extra baggage from his duties as a Primarch would most certainly have pushed him over the edge. The horrors he saw in his visions, having to constantly watch his brothers betray, his sons die, the Imperium they built from so much blood and tears fell,.... He desires for something constant in his life. With everything so unstable around him, you would become his purpose, his constant comfort, no matter how many times the world around him crumbled to pieces.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He 'd feel very guilty and awful about it. He'd want to comfort you, he'd try to help you recover from whatever he did. But he wouldn't want to admit that he was the cause, it wouldn't make him any less guilty, honestly. He want you to see it as an unfortunate circumstance, rather than him being a monster who had put you in that state.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

I think he'd be exceptionally gentle compared to the typical yandere, he'd try to be as non-threatening as he could, in order to keep you from becoming too paranoid of his obsessive tendencies. He'd be willing to take things slow. And deep down, he'd probably be extremely remorseful for his actions.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His guilt. I think that, rather than trying to fight against his possession, you'd be able to get him to loosen his grip on you by taking advantage of his guilt. It'd take a lot to get him to deeply regret his possession. It would take a large amount of guilt for him to come to the realization that he'd done a lot of horribly wrong. And then maybe… Maybe he will deeply regret it and will let you go. But it won't be for long. He would snap and realize he'd just lost something really precious to him. It'd be a horrible feeling, and he'd inevitably come after you and not let you go again.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely no. He'd never intentionally hurt you. But he'd probably end up hurting your emotions deeply and unintentionally. And he'd never realize just how he'd wounded you this way.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He'd revere and worship you exceptionally. He'd go to any and all lengths to sway you over to him, no matter how extreme those lengths happen to be. He'd go through an excruciating amount of pain if that's what it took to win your love.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He'd pine for you for as long as it took. No matter how long it took, he'd wait, and he'd pine. The longer you took to love him back, the more obsessed he'd become. But he'd always be willing to wait for you to return to him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Absolutely. He would absolutely break you, but he'd do things gradually and gently. He would never do anything suddenly or with sudden violence. He would always take his time to break you, so that it's like being put into a pot of water that's being slowly brought to a boil.

#warhammer 40k #wh40crack. #tw: yandere #cw: yandere #sanguinius #primarch x reader #reader insert #yandere au #shiyorin's writer #romantic stuff in 40k #actually i don't think it's romantic

[southfarthing]

sHUt UP not aegnor and andreth eoduhvoaivhnaqpnqa ive been waiting for you to read athrabeth for ages. I know this is controversial but theyre my favorite couple and finrod and andreth is my favorite platonic ship it kills me I cant think, finrod was so devoted to her and they were intellectual soulmates even if on the opposite side and aegnor DIED before her, and she thought she would trouble him rips hair out and eats it

and the nature ajkfnof elves and how they differ from men and how they think and how deeply Morgoth has corrupted the land that they believe they are cursed but andreth will be free one day and aegnor will be trapped in mandos alone till the second song comes and I my head hurts

it was SOOOOOOOOO literally I was sat reading in the park with my brain rising from my body like

it was SUCH an interesting discussion??? I definitely need to read it again because there was so much going on but yes the way elves know their past while men seem to have come out of such darkness that they see morgoth as the most powerful force???? and always that sense of loss and bitterness 😩😩😩 and all the discussion of hopelessness and hope and pity and healing and 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

and then the breaks every once in a while where you see how close finrod and andreth are 😩🥺🥺 when he says in Arda remade the elves would sing to the men and andreth is like 'what would you say once you've done singing' and Finrod laughs 😩🥹😩🥹

AND THEN. GOD.

DO CANDLES PITY MOTHS.... OR MOTHS CANDLES WHEN THE WIND BLOWS THEM OUT?...... I TELL THEE AIKANAR LOVED THEE........... THEN WHY DID HE TURN AWAY WHILE I HAD A GOOD FEW YEARS TO SPEND........FOR ONE YEAR, ONE DAY, OF THE FLAME I WOULD HAVE GIVEN ALL....... THAT HE KNEW ........

she doesn't want to be a burden but she never would have been because he never would have run on before her he would have waited but he didn't want her to feel ashamed . but none of that matters because he's going to die first anyway. im literally abt to start chomping on my mattress. the memory of her he will take with him but what will she take wherever it is that she goes ....... 😩🔫

why are elves abd men made different......so we can touch hands in the darkness ... ..

and at the end... "But you are not for Arda. Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother – and me." HEEEEEEEEE Finrod has SO much love and respect for her i want to scream i am inconsolable I will never recover from this i cant believe you recommended this to me my brain chemistry has been changed forever

#inconsolable!!!!!!!!! i will never be normal about this #athrabeth #finrod #andreth #aegnor #😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 #anonymous #replies #tolkien #god this is barely comprehensible im sorry but. i think i can be excused

[gorgaks]

the way wuvvy’s love cuts her so deeply, the way her love is a force of its own, the simultaneous power and vulnerability in her voice as she says, “let me make one thing incredibly clear: I was never bound to you. I made a choice, and I would make it again.” her use of the past tense “was never bound to you” bc she knows it’s over, but also her use of a much less certain future tense “would make it again” bc in this moment, in this heartbreak, how can some deep part of her not be begging to continue on as usual? how can she not have hope of returning to the love she sacrificed everything for? I am inconsolable I am a puddle on the floor

#insert that video that’s like ‘bro it hurts REALLY BAD’ #lines that make you make a playlist #d20 acofaf #acofaf spoilers #acofaf #dimension 20 spoilers #a court of fey and flowers spoilers #a court of fey and flowers #wuvvy

[godtiertalk]

Remember at midnight when I was like "Mmmhmm yes magical girls very good then"?

Well, strap in we're doing more of that shit.

I apologize to anyone who has a massive fight or flight reaction to the Fate franchise, but they have a magical girl spinoff and I am in love with it SO!!!!

Illya von Einzbern (Child): Page of Blood

You know, it occurs to me that Homestuck is a creation myth about gods who give birth to themselves, and Illya is the ONLY one of there grail children that can't be said to have done so. Amazing. What a terrible little creature she is. I adore her endlessly.

Anyway, Illya has many charming character traits, but her absolute adoration for her friends and family are top of the list, right next to her immense cowardice. The self-conflicted Page of Blood title is a natural fit not only for her immense, world shaking love of Miyu, Chloe and Shiro, nor her literally being a source of life fuel for Chloe, both of which are very Blood behaviours.

She's also just pitiful, absolutely the saddest baby, until she busts out these insane growth curves. Classic pagery.

Chloe von Einzbern: Prince of Rage

Speaking of Gods Who Give Birth To Themselves...

This is a really basic read that I don't think needs much justifications. Chloe appears during impossible situations to break barriers and let Illya achieve her goals.

Mostly by way of overwhelming destructive force.

Miyu Edelfelt: Bard of Light.

Miyu is also a self manifested god, amazing, what is even happening with these magic cups?? Why do they want so badly to be Real Girls??

Anyway, Miyu is a Bard of Light because she is a channel for ultimate destruction forced into an inconsolately passive role, and worst of all the force is literally just "other people getting constantly really lucky." I mean, damn, girl lost the lottery at birth. Oof.

Bonus the main timeline: adult!Illya is a Bard of Light too; I think being a grail kinda does that to you. Shiro is the Heir of Space because literally there were 3 anime about him inheriting othes people's space powers come on. Rin is a Thief of Heart and a damned good one at that. Sakura simply deserves not to have to play SGAME let the poor child have a break mein Gott (Witch of Void). Saber is a fucking sprite obviously.

These are my opinions not statements of fact. I am always interested in hearing your opinions too.

#Page of Blood #Page Class #Blood Aspect #Prince of Rage #Prince class #Rage aspect #Bard of Light #Bard Class #Light Aspect #Miyu Edelfelt #Chloe von Einzbern #Illya von Einzbern #Lol I am queuing this for 5 minutes past midnight but it was written MONTHS after the symphogear post so...

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Nights at the Circus: Part XXXI

Loki is arrested for stopping Hydra and saving your life with his seidr. With their hands tied by the deal set between the UN and Asgard's Ambassadors, S.H.I.E.L.D. turns him over, and you may never see the god you love again, at least until the most unlikely of allies decides to give you a gift.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Content Warning: n/a Word Count: 3k

You had to be on constant surveillance for the next few hours by different members of the team as you consistently flailed, argued, screamed, and lost your mind over the news about Loki’s arrest. You were absolutely rabid, relentless, and inconsolable. The blanket that had been laying over you was nothing but a pile of ash on your lap.

“GIVE ME FURY, GODDAMNIT!!! RIGHT NOW!!!” you repeated over and over as Steve and Tony tried to hold you down. “WHERE’S THOR???”

“He’s already trying!!” Stark assured you. “He’s talking to--Jesus, release this woman before she sets fire to all the expensive stuff in here!” 

“I HOPE I DO!” you shouted with immaturity, sending blue sparks across the room. 

Stark and Steve arranged for your release on the condition that, instead of busting into Fury’s office, flames a-blazing, you’d agree to meet him (CALMLY) in the conference room the following morning, after being assured that Loki’s hearing wouldn’t be until the next day.

At 8am sharp, you were already there and looking out the window, a fury of your own surging through your core as fifty different things blew through your head in the span of a blink. There was no hope for him on Asgard, so you had to pull out every stop to keep him from the Rainbow Bridge. 

That means basically convincing the entire planet that Loki is a good guy now. Yeah, should be easy. 

You fiddled with the engagement band on your finger, your thoughts temporarily retreating back to twelve hours prior, where you’d just made the stand of your life against the only ‘family’ you’d ever known, and Loki had rewarded you with a proposal to start anew with him. He’d given you the only heart stone he’d ever be able to conjure, he was so certain that he wanted his ever after to be with you.

And you technically hadn’t even answered him. In fact, you arguably rejected him, just before he turned around and saved your ass, getting taken away (possibly forever) for it. 

In that moment, you realized that you hated yourself, and that this was all your fault. 

Calm yourself, you tried to encourage your skin to temper, your goosebumps to go away. You have time. You will stop at nothing, just like he would, but it might be a rational head that works…

That was when Nick entered the room, and you decided that decorum be fucked the minute you saw his face. 

“What the hell is this place, Fury? What kind of Stanford Prison Experiment is S.H.I.E.L.D.? What is the POINT of saving people if we aren’t even allowed to save ourselves?” you growled dominantly. “All of this horseshit from you that I’ve seen here…”

“...excuse me, but what horse shit are you referring to?”

“You just handed over the man who saved our asses to certain death, for starters. Oh yeah, and Wanda’s ankle monitor that keeps her shackled here like a prisoner, and how about those pills that make Pietro puke more than a pregnant woman at a Black Sabbath concert? Oh yeah, and don't think I forgot that, on a technicality, YOU KIDNAPPED ME and FORCED me into service as an Avenger! There’s more if you want it!” 

You had to stop to catch your breath, then you braced yourself for the inevitable pushback from Fury. It never came. He looked at you with a glare that wasn’t entirely unsympathetic (though it still leaned to the side of stoic). 

“I really am sorry, I don't blame you for this,” Fury said, his voice low and steady. “Our hands were tied.”

“Yeah, everyone keeps saying that,” you replied, “But last time I checked, we had the super powers, not them.”

“Y/N, if we didn’t abide by the council’s terms, it could bring chaos to the world. We would be on the hook for all of the possible upheaval,” he reasoned. “It’s not in our control anymore.”

You brushed a bead of sweat from your eyebrow, the frustration making your heart race. “Do you think they’ll hear testimony from me?”

Nick Fury shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. I could look into it.”

“Perhaps we can get them to agree to keep him here and away from his father’s harsher punishment?” you asked. 

He looked at the floor for a moment in consideration. “I won’t lie, Bird, it’s the only card in your hand, and it’s not very likely to work.”

“But I can try,” you mumbled. 

Fury sighed and looked down again. “Yes.”

“And anyone else who wants to?” you pried, encouraged. 

“I guess. But stop sounding like it’ll do much. The UN doesn’t trust any of us.”

“That’s a start,” you said quietly. “I’ll go see who else might want to join me, but I;d like to see Loki first, of course.”

Fury shook his head. “UN’s orders. No one is to visit.”

You felt the piping hot steam surge through you again, feeling bits of your skin flake off ito smoke as you did everything you could to suppress your rage. 

“Well you said, swallowing down your emotions. “It’s a damn good thing I don't give a fuck about the UN.”

-------------

Apparently, nearly everyone else did give a fuck about the UN. 

“I cannot,” said an apologetic Natasha. “It’s hard enough keeping the rest of us on good terms with the UN. This is not my fight.”

When you approached Tony, he shrugged. “I can’t compromise the rest of my organizations over international brouhaha.”

Clint cited his family and distaste for politics. The Maximoffs’ testimony would have been pointless, being newer to the team, so you didn’t even bother to ask. Bruce only shook his head sadly and started walking away until you threw a firm palm against his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. 

“You can’t be serious,” you pleaded. “You’re the most reasonable person on the team!” 

He shook his head. “Only some of the time.”

You looked into his eyes, making him clearly feel uncomfortable. “Then what’s your excuse?” you barked. “The UN big guys scare you too?” 

Bruce didn’t respond. 

Growling, feral with frustration, you shoved him back. “Pathetic. PATHETIC! All of you!” 

“No, Y/N--”

“--Loki saved all of us, and he’s going to die for it!” you continued, your mouth scrambling ahead of your brain. “And all of you sit back and cower in your castle! What, are you only ever good for anything if you’re snitching a staff or shooting at some space invaders? When it comes to real justice, and real avenging, you all SUCK!”

You spun on your heels and knocked into Steve’s shoulder as you went through the door, leaving him confused and speechless. 

“Where’s Thor?” you hissed at him, stopping but refusing to turn around. 

“Kitchen,” Steve whispered. It sounded like he was beginning to say something else, but you didn’t bother to wait for it. 

You found Thor staring at a full mug of beer, making no move to consume it, instead looking expectantly at it like it held the answers to life itself. Alas, he must not have found any, for he looked as forlorn as you felt in the moment. 

“Thor, I think it really will just be you and me testifying,” you said, pulling up a stool beside him. He nodded. 

“Not sure what good I can do here,” he mumbled, not moving physically to acknowledge you. “I’m not of this realm. My word stops meaning anything after I put my hammer down.”

You wanted to cry at Thor’s sad words. “But he’s your brother.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if reflecting on something. “Yes,” he finally agreed. “I am planning on following him home to Asgard when--if!--he’s sent there. My testimony would serve our cause better against my father than against this world’s council.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not let it get that far,” you replied.

“Indeed, Firebird. I believe if there was any possibility of convincing the council to offer a reprieve, it would have to come from someone they trust and adore…and I cannot think of anyone who would fulfill that need.”

You felt the first tear run down your face. “They won’t even let me see him,” you said hopelessly. “Why would that be such a difficult thing to do?” 

“It’s because they fear all of us,” said Thor. “Can’t say I blame them. I have all of the powers of thunder at my fingertips.” 

“I want to go with you when--if!--you return to Asgard,” you insisted.

Thor shook his head. “That would be impossible. Heimdall only lets through those he is permitted to. It is how he keeps attackers out of our lands.”

“He wouldn’t open that Rainbow Road for me?”

“Rainbow bridge,” Thor corrected you. “And no, he would not. He’s refused me in the past. His orders come from my father, Odin.”

“Then we’re all screwed,” you grunted. 

Your companion looked at you oddly. “How do you mean?”

You looked at Thor and raised an eyebrow. “Your father, the man who tormented Loki so much and kept so much from him?”

“My father is a great man, if misguided by stubbornness in his old age.”

“From what I hear, that’s a trait he passed on to you,” you snapped. 

“Loki will have his biases against Odin,” Thor admitted. “And for my part, I don't believe Odin thinks of Loki as anything less than his son, even now.”

“He seems to think otherwise,” you said. 

“Odin is the Allfather. He is the singular king of one of the Nine Realms. His role in the Universe is magnanimous. As such, he prefers ruling with strict fairness and promise”

You indicated that you wanted Thor to continue to explain. He finally sat back in his chair with the mug of beer and took a long drink. “But Odin gave his intentions to the council when everything was decided on,” Thor continued. “He won’t go back on them, even now, for the sake of sentiment.”

“He sees his relationships with his family as sentiment? That’s frigid,” you remarked. 

“Needless to say, he is not a warm man. Loki may not be the son of his body, but there is no denying that ice still runs through the Allfather’s veins.”

You gritted your teeth so hard you nearly cracked one. “So, he’ll kill his son to keep up appearances, basically. And if we came forth and begged for him to be spared, he wouldn’t budge?”

Thor shrugged, looking down into his mug again. “Even our mother likely couldn’t sway him. Not that it matters, I assume no one from Midgard will be permitted back to Asgard for the execu--sentencing.”

Suddenly, an idea came to you as you began to smell smoke coming from your hand.  “What if…” you mused. “What if I was a stowaway?”

Thor shook his head. “Heimdall sees more than what eyes ever could.”

“But if I were to find a way to sneak back alongside you, and if I, perhaps, made it a last-minute decision…”

Thor shrugged. “It would be one Hel of a mind trick, and I’m not sure you could even fool Heimdall then.” But he smiled and winked at you. 

“Then it’s settled, I won’t find a way to follow you to Asgard.”

You looked down as your smoke reassembled on your hand. “There is surely no way I could do such a trick…”

----------------------

Your conversation with Thor didn’t do much in the end to quell your desperation, and you were running out of Avengers to persuade. You even kneeled before Maria Hill as if proposing to her, until she sighed and looked at you with pity. 

“Nick already told me you would do this, and he told me that I can’t,” she replied. “But, if it’s any help, I know at least two of the council members read romance novels, if you wanted to bring up the relationship and try to--”

“--thank you, Maria, that helps.”

What was more, it was nearing midnight, and you still couldn’t convince anyone (including Maria) to let you see Loki. At 11:45pm, you were trying one last time to get Fury to give you clearance, talking to him on a telescreen in the conference room this time. 

“Firebird, I’m tired and I’ve tried!”

“Well, try harder, or this whole damn place is going to be ashes by dawn!” you threatened. 

Nick Fury rolled his eyes. “Okay, you do that, kid, but it’s not gonna do your loverboy much good if you’re serving a life sentence in San Quentin, will it?”

Tears were streaming down your face. “Why won’t you even let me see him?”

“Because they don’t want anyone with magic powers and a vested interest in his freedom going down there and breaking him out. You…don’t understand that?”

“This is cruel. I hope you all fucking burn,” you cursed. “Avengers? More like Selfish Self-Preservationists.”

“I’ll be by for you tomorrow morning, Y/N,” he ignored you. “Dress like a politician.”

The screen went to black as Fury signed off. You finally let out the shriek of desolation you’d been hiding in for the past eighteen hours, sinking to the floor and letting your grief drown you. 

“Y/N?” came a soft, deep voice from the doorway. 

You looked up from your weeping to see Steve standing there in an undershirt and jeans. 

“What is it?” you asked, trying to calm down for his sake. 

“I heard,” he said, walking over and sitting on the ground next to you. “And I’m here for you.”

You groaned. “Not that I don't appreciate the vote of confidence, but sympathy isn’t going to get me into Loki’s cell, or get the UN to listen to one person speak on his behalf!”

Steve smiled tenderly at you. “That’s not what I was saying.”

“I’m all alone in this, Steve! What am I going to do?”

“You won’t be alone in this,” he assured you. “I’ll testify with you tomorrow. I figure I owe it to you both after how I acted around you. And if any one of us has a good reputation with the UN, it’s Captain America.” 

You smirked. “And you’re sure you aren’t doing this to impress me?”

Steve took your hand in his and squeezed it gently. “No, I’m not. I’m doing this because it’s right. I know you don’t believe me, but I do know how it feels when you love someone…and they love you back.”

“Agent Carter,” you answered. Steve nodded solemnly. 

“I don’t know if I could ever be close friends with the guy,” Steve admitted, “But Loki did break his parole in order to save our lives. And he’s got your heart, so, count me in.”

You looked at him for a moment, and suddenly you saw a real brother sitting in front of you. You felt warm inside, but for once, it wasn’t coming from your fire. 

“Steve, do you think you could get me in to see him now?” you asked. 

He thought, then shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe if I promised to stand guard, they’d relent.”

You perked up almost immediately. “I have to see him!” 

He nodded. “I thought so.”

He got to his feet and offered a hand to you, which you took. “I don’t think I can get you more than maybe ten minutes, so be quick,” he advised. He went to let go of your hand before noticing Loki’s stone on your finger. 

“Y/N, if you don’t mind me being curious, is this a--?”

“--I don’t know,” you said awkwardly. “He said he could only ever make one, and that he wanted me to have it. Then he did…he did propose.”

Steve shook his head. “If memory serves me, we met you ten weeks ago.”

“I know,” you muttered. “But, I wanted to say yes.”

“And once he’s free, will you?” Steve pried. 

You looked off to the side, imagining the possibility that tomorrow could go your way, and if it did, you could marry him at any time. You could live in the same apartment. Maybe you could convince the UN to lift his parole and let you leave the city one day. Then, you could get started on that large family Loki was talking about…

 “Yeah, I think I will.” 

Steve looked down at the floor a moment, then back up at you again with the same mild comforting smile. “Then, we need to hurry if we want time to plan out what we need to say.” 

As you got into the elevator to go down to the sub-basement, Steve waited until the doors closed before bringing up something else that was on his mind. 

“Um, Y/N?”

“Yes, Steve?”

Steve awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with you. “I suppose it goes without saying that one thing we won’t mention tomorrow is the, err, when the three of us, well--”

“--the time Loki and I blew your mind, among other things? Yes, don’t worry about that. I thought it was implied.”

------------------

@el-zef @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @fictive-sl0th @toozmanykids @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @goblingirlsarah @moonlightreader649 @huntress-artemis

#loki #mcu #mcu loki #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #mcu fanfiction #loki x reader #loki/reader #avengers #loki laufesyon x reader #reader insert #reader has powers

[becauseanders]

WIP Wednesday…two weeks late!

thank you to @transprincecaspian for tagging me, yes, literally two weeks ago, my brain is a dumpster fire but i do love doing/being tagged in these things!

(it is actually monday night right now but i am just gonna schedule this for wednesday because i am going to be in a car all day going to maryland to see the motherfucking sisters of mercy! but yeah, here is A Thing!)

this is from the f!handers post-arishok duel recovery/chronic pain development fic i swear i’m going to update again someday, but as it’s named for the song “marian” by the sisters of mercy, it felt appropriate to use today!

She catches the light blue light from the corner of her eye, and she can’t help but turn towards it when she does.

“Anders? Justice?”

Her voice is wet and unsteady, and she decides there is no longer any point in continuing to actively avoid eye contact. The glow recedes.

She turns carefully onto her side, and Anders moves to lie on his side facing her.

“I’m here, love,” he says, cautiously grazing his hand across her cheek. “We’re here.”

“Justice, if you’re listening, you need to get Anders away from me. I can’t promise his safety or yours any longer. I’ve put us all in danger by exposing my magic to Meredith, and if either of you get hurt because of me…”

“No.” And that is distinctly Justice’s voice.

“Don’t you understand, I—”

“No.” More forceful, and this time it’s from Anders and Justice speaking as one.

“Love, I can’t keep you safe. I have a target on my head now, far larger than yours. If Meredith decides to investigate my friends, at least Merrill doesn’t fucking live with me. But if she decides my being Champion doesn’t extend protection to the people I love, not even to mention if she decides she can’t have an apostate in the city with power—for fuck’s sake, she probably only did that because apparently everyone thought I was going to die…”

“I’m not leaving you, Marian,” Anders alone says sternly. “I was so bloody terrified I was about to lose you, and now that I have you I’m supposed to walk away from that? You refused to heed my warnings, so you have to understand that I’m refusing yours.”

She is seething. Anders nearly flinches at the extreme change in her expression, and he thinks it’s Justice trying to reassure him that it’s not him she’s upset with.

“Anders. I would kill every single fucking person in this entire Maker-forsaken shithole city if I thought it would keep you and everyone I care for out of Meredith’s hands. But I can only do so much, and if they get to you before I can stop it—”

“Marian—”

“Anders. Stop and fucking think about this for one bloody second! I love you more than anything in the world and I never want to be without you, you have to know I don’t say this lightly. But I… Fuck, Anders, I…”

Anders knows she’s just afraid, he knows that feeling well, but he snaps despite himself. “Marian, I love you but if you want me to leave because you’ve finally come to your senses about me, tell me that and I’ll go. But if you think for a moment that Meredith of all fucking people, if anyone fucking else is going to keep me from you—”

And that’s when she starts sobbing. Her previously steady soft crying transforms into weeping bordering on wailing, shaking and inconsolable.

“If anything happens to you because of me… I can’t ruin someone I love’s life again, I can’t…I can’t go through this again…”

Her words are barely intelligible through the howling she is desperately trying to suppress but can’t, every emotion she’s carrying coming out in full blast at full volume.

She carries so much on her shoulders, shoulders that now ache and twitch when she moves them.

“I can’t let you get hurt,” she says, whimpering. “I destroy everyone I love, and now you could be next. Anders, please…”

And Anders doubts it would help to remind her how the templars have been after him since long before he knew her and will be with or without her, he imagines that she’ll still insist it’s her responsibility somehow to ensure his safety. So he shows rather than continuing to tell, hoping he doesn’t hurt her in pulling her flush against him and gripping her shirt tight, concentrating on the fabric in his fists in an effort not to squeeze her.

He kisses her head, applying as little pressure as possible, over and over.

“It’s alright, love,” he mumbles to her, repeating what he knows are empty platitudes, but it feels better than silence.

tagging @sillyliterature, @dismalzelenka, @little--abyss, @khashanakalashtar, @that-was-anticlimactic, @zukkaoru and anyone else who wants to do it (with no pressure, of course!—and for anyone who also enjoys being tagged in such things, feel free to let me know!)

#<3 #tag game #writing things #my writing

[ablackwomansurvivingrape]

Juries were blocked from hearing the other women's stories in court.

Shatia Lansdowne-Ware Mar. 8, 2017

On November 10, 2011, the sick acts of a violent repeat sexual offender named Nelson Bernard Clifford changed my life forever. He broke into my home as I lay asleep. He tied me up. And he raped me without a condom as my two daughters slept in their bedroom, separated by one thin plastered wall.

I remember offering him money and valuables, only for him to tell me he only wanted sex. I falsely told him that my daughter needed medication every two hours to get him to leave.

When he finally left, I immediately dressed my two daughters — one in the pants he used to tie me — and covered my three-year-old daughter’s mouth, not knowing whether he was waiting in the hallway. We crawled up the stairs to a neighbor’s apartment, and called the police.

On that tragic morning, my entire family began our unimaginable six-year fight for justice.

I can recall the trial as if it were yesterday. I fought back tears as I took the stand to testify against this monster, detailing every aspect of my brutal attack — things I am ashamed to repeat to this very day. Yet it soon felt as if I was the one on trial. Under oath, I was forced to recount every detail of that horrific night in front of my four brothers, my father, and my husband.

Prosecutors played my 911 tape at trial. The sight of my brothers’ inconsolable cries after hearing their nieces scream hysterically in the background was gut-wrenching.

Then, as I thought this nightmare couldn’t get any worse, and despite DNA evidence, Clifford took the stand and falsely testified that my vicious attack was a consensual sexual encounter. He had the audacity to tell the jury that I was a prostitute who didn’t want my husband to find out. He was acquitted.

I thought, “How could this happen?” I knew for sure it was an open and shut case.

Still without justice, my emotions were a whirlwind of rage, confusion, violation; and yes, grave disappointment in our justice system. Honestly, had I known the outcome, I would never have taken my family through that emotional roller coaster.

However, I managed to find the strength to continue my pursuit of justice. As I agonized over the night of my attack and recalled the threats of my attacker — he said he would kill my children if I screamed or called the police — I thought about each of my loved ones who had also become victims of my rape: my husband, my children, my parents, and my siblings. And I vowed to do anything within my power to stop Nelson Clifford from terrorizing other women.

I attended every single one of Clifford’s subsequent rape trials. As I listened to each woman, I became each one of them. I was disgusted to hear how similar their attacks were to mine. And, just as in my trial, all of their vulnerabilities were put on display in open court, as our attacker falsely testified that it was consensual sex.

While observing each of these trials, I realized that regardless of how many times this same man was put on trial for these shockingly similar attacks, the juries were completely unaware that he was in fact a serial rapist. The 12 men and women of each jury were not informed of his prior allegations, charges, trials, or that Clifford was a registered sex offender who had already served nearly 10 years in prison for a 1997 conviction after admitting to sexually assaulting a woman.

“Every time I heard “not guilty” I felt as if I was being raped again.”

Clifford was tried and acquitted for four separate rape cases involving four different women over the course of four years.

Every time I heard “not guilty” I felt as if I was being raped again. Four more blows to each part of my body Clifford ravished for his sexual exploits. Each acquittal made it more of a reality that this monster could someday return to the streets of Baltimore City and continue to terrorize women.

I couldn’t understand how a system designed to deliver justice could be so unjust. But, I finally understood why so many rapes go unreported. Here you have a serial rapist getting off scot-free, while those he terrorized are put on trial, receive no justice and are labeled “tramps.”

Around 2013, as political campaigns were in full swing, I noticed a woman by the name of Marilyn Mosby, who was bringing attention to the then-State’s Attorney’s inability to convict Clifford based on a loophole in Maryland legislation.

I learned that in Maryland, serial rapists know that often their prior sexual predatory behavior and status as a sex offender cannot be introduced as evidence during trial. So, even with DNA evidence and the survivor’s testimony, sexual offenders know they can falsely testify that they engaged in consensual sex, raising doubt in the minds of the jury.

In 2015, justice prevailed and my attacker was finally convicted and sentenced to 31 and a half years in prison. He had allegedly attacked nine women. Although I was relieved that this sick individual was off the streets, drug dealers receive harsher sentences. Why do I have to ever worry about someday running into a man who climbed into my window, viciously attacked me, threatened me and my children’s lives, and left me to live with this harsh reality for the rest of my life?

I knew I had to get involved in an effort to put an end to the loophole that had allowed for the inequitable outcomes in my attacker’s cases.

Alongside other survivors, advocates and State’s Attorney Marilyn Mosby, I lobbied for legislation that would allow for evidence of prior sexual predatory behavior to be introduced during the prosecution of serial rapists and child molesters when a defendant uses consent as a defense to rape, or accuses a minor of lying about allegations of sexual molestation.

Last year, I gained the courage to testify before the House of Delegates and Senate committees in support of the Serial Predator Prevention Act. The bill passed unanimously in the Senate, but died in the House.

It’s hard enough to cope with the fact of being raped, but it’s even harder to step up and ask for help; yet, not receive it. How many times must I put a Band-Aid on this horrific incident, then have to rip it off? I am trying to heal from my vicious attack, but each time this bill doesn’t pass, just like each acquittal, I have to go back and rip it off again. Yet here I am for another year, ready to share my story and put my family on the front line once again in hopes that it will motivate some of our legislators to do the right thing.

This year, Maryland House Bill 369 and Senate Bill 316 must pass.

Even after its passage, I will still have to deal with the mental anguish of my tragic attack. I will continue to live in fear, wonder if my attacker touched my children that night, wonder if I was infected with HIV despite being tested regularly, struggle with intimacy in my marriage, and shelter my children.

After six years, he still controls my life. This man has literally attached himself to my life forever — when you google my name, his name pops up. Each day, I ask, “Why me?”

This is why I feel compelled to fight for this law because if I do not I am contributing to the brutal attack of another woman or child. I am certain that this legislation will prevent another family from having to endure this turmoil, as it will help secure convictions and lengthy sentences for serial rapists.

I encourage you all to join me in the fight to stop serial predators.

Shatia Lansdowne-Ware, Survivor and Fighter

#Shatia Lansdowne-Ware #Serial Predator Prevention Act #rape #rape charges #Nelson Bernard Clifford #registered sex offender

[blackwaxidol]

Despite being reborn as a figuratively orphaned and precocious thing, Valin has always pined for some kind of parental figure to feel beheld and seen by.

It is why he latched onto Calus so much and subsequently became so utterly, inconsolably heartbroken at the Emperor's sudden vanishing. He felt abandoned and worthless in a way he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. What had happened? What had he done wrong? Where is Calus, his conduit for reifying approval? Everything he'd ever been given felt hollow, derisive. He had done something terrible, he was certain of it. How could he apologise? How could he beg for forgiveness? He felt lost, reduced to hysterical bedlam with his face in his hands and the jewels from his treasured weaponry torn away and scattered at his feet. He didn't deserve them.

Maybe it is strange to say that he loved Calus, but he is so desperate for some kind of validation and love from a grander, wiser, older thing than him. He wants to be acknowledged and appreciated and held dearly and warmly for a very long time by something that might see him as a sort of soft little progeny that can be kept close as a nestling to be loved for an eternity.

The need to curl up and feel protected and safe in a childish way unbecoming of his grand self... he feels silly for it. Here he is, Valin of Sao, a beautiful, ancient cosmic force of power... shaking and crying and hunched over, grasping at his own arms in an attempt to soothe himself as if he is 6 months old again and trying to find comfort in the torn, frostbitten linings of his Techeun regalia.

Suicide wasn't enough, he wanted to give his Ghost to Calus on a platter just for the thought of making him happy. He knew what delighted him, what amused him to his very core.

"The distant ancestors of your tribe gorged themselves on great feasts, yet expelled them so that they may dine further in abundance.

"I see these marks of worship upon your own hands. Your kind are a gracious people, do not feel shame in your scars.

"Come, I shall give you any feast you desire. Indulge to excess, for I am a generous God."

And he would, for Valin was glad to do this for him. The scars on his knuckles grew worse, but they made the Emperor happy, so he was happy.

Valin of Sao is a creature of habitual self-destruction, he is the zenith of learned helplessness. Everything he is, every turbulent part of his soul, he is willing to subdue or cast away entirely so that he might be palatable or desirable. He will destroy himself psychologically if he thinks it may be appealing to do so, it is his oldest of rituals, a habit formed so early on in his life that he knows no other way to live.

Valin is a hopeless romantic, in a sense. Every man he has ever been at the mercy of he'd quickly grown to vie for their affection, no matter how ruinous. Perhaps it was delusional attachment. He does not hate his former patrons, in a desolate world they gave him everything he could ever want. He was a nymphomaniac, he still is, and he might always be. He hated it, no matter how natural it made his actions feel, he still wanted to die.

His mantle as Warlord was spurred by rage. Nothing was given to him but the opportunity to plunge a blade into the back of an Iron Lord who'd called upon him. There was nothing that made Valin pick him as a sacrificial lamb, truly. It felt right, and when a Ghost appeared over the crumpled form of their charge, Valin killed it too.

It isn't a story he has ever told anyone, but it was pried out of him nonetheless. He is unsure of how much of it was of his own volition, nor why he felt so compelled to tell it, but he remembers how much it made the Emperor smile.

"Ah! Risen from ashes! Scorned by everyone, plotted against, the world unsated by your boundless generosity...

"You were brought to ruin, and vowed to take it all from them. You sheltered the great people who loved you like a God, who did not turn against you even when you were branded as evil...

"We are not so different, you and I."

#oc: valin #viktor.txt #found this one in my notes app... i added quite a lot to it. #ask to tag. #<- no truly. some parts of this are deranged.

[johnjankovic]

SHEPHERDS AND WOLVES

I am here. Anonymous

Christianity as the progenitor of Western society has been the proverbial mortar of a great many institutions shaping man’s upward march. Between constitutional governance inspired by St. Thomas Aquinas, the Renaissance’s gallery of art the Church commissioned or capitalism’s Protestant seedbed this influence remains ecumenical. Across a spectrum from politics to science our ethics moulded civilization despite how modern philistines erase them. Reforms allowing criminals to rape and beat innocents with impunity inveigh against the moral compass of Christian jurisprudence upon which English Common Law was founded. Wild hoaxes of Catholic places of instruction murdering aboriginal children saw arsonists set a firestorm upon churches. The Marxist usurpation of government whose policies denounce Christianity impoverish people both materially and spiritually. A long decline over the preceding thirty-five years now crescendoes into a chessboard eerily set in the final few seconds before a great war between Manichean forces. The very strangeness of these times marks the hour. The medical profession gaslights how men purportedly menstruate and breastfeed. Toddlers elect their genders. Pedophilia is mainstreamed. Beliefs once held inviolable are violently twisted under the thrall of Babylon.

A nefarious funhouse exploits man to precipitate the perversion of a world on the eve of its damnation. Yet akin to the Third Law of Motion that for every action there prevails an opposite reaction if Lucifer is an interloper here anew then so too is something far more purposed. That something issues from an anomaly that ripped the fabric of space and time two thousand years ago. It is something condemned to wander the cosmos for eternity for it can neither forgive nor forget. The paroxysm of chaos afoot telegraphs the imminent conflict as the tit-for-tat grows tiresome in the search for a conclusion. The reason for this crossroad hails from a galactic stride humanity is about to embark upon into the final frontier. What ideas man exports to Mars and beyond will determine the fate of his species for millennia and it is incumbent that he be reminded of the catechism that led him here. Much like how Christopher Columbus discovered the New World upon his flagship christened Santa Maria this next expedition will be of a missionary sort. What appears lost on laypeople is how Columbus fancied himself a crusader to reclaim Jerusalem from the Muslims through precious metals sourced in newfound lands. The voyage did not manifest orthogonally to Christianity but quite the opposite. Faith was the cynosure.

Neither vainglory nor hubris coloured Columbus’ feats but rather it was the Catholic convictions he harboured that did. This self-effacement for the sake of a greater cause can be extrapolated onto the entire history of Western civilization. Sacrifice is the marrow and sinews of modernity’s sustained growth. Of course society belies this claim by infantilizing adults into a perpetual state of denial. You see these very people everyday clutching to their mortality through their promiscuous habits or ‘reliving their youth’ in debauchery. These degenerates are wayward children in a sandbox who stink of milk. Pay little heed to them as no more than a cautionary tale. The sons and daughters of our creed do not cower at hardships when their contemplation of the Crucifixion stoutens their resolve to glorify Jesus in their proper comportment. Flesh and bones decay but Christianity’s love suffers no such affliction. Perhaps you have been privy to this phenomenon yourself in the midst of a Sunday Service when a worshipper sobs inconsolably whilst the Holy Spirit imbues them with peace likened to an exorcism. There is power in the blood precisely how the eponymous hymn incants. Indeed the Gospels have been a source of beauty that has incubated a kaleidoscope of wonders from the corpus of Shakespeare to Copernicus’ heliocentric model.

To say things men dare not say or to do things men dare not do describes the invincibility boasted by a believer. Republican President Lincoln bellowed in Congress about the scourge of slavery by citing the Gospel of Matthew that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Such moral turpitude was further upbraided by Frederick Douglass who aroused the conscience of a nation in defence of a Christianity not perverted by predilection towards race. Clara Barton clad in the armour of her faith tended to the injured upon the bedlam of battlefields in the Civil War before founding the American Red Cross. Baptist Minister Martin Luther King purged prejudice in agitating against the tyranny of segregation. Britain’s William Wilberforce in his fervency for Christ became the fountainhead for the Slave Trade Act of 1807 that brought an end to institutionalized slavery. The young maiden Joan of Arc in a parable of David and Goliath was guided by providence to be a lodestar when bloodshed engulfed French sovereignty. Florence Nightingale in her Christian altruism saved scores of soldiers by her sanitary reforms gleaned from statistics. The Augustinian friar Gregor Mendel hailed as the patriarch of modern genetics authored scientific canons he observed in his monastery’s garden. Salvation and discovery are fruits of Christendom.

This pantheon of virtue in its rising watermark for humanity’s lot to forge an ideal society continues with George Washington Carver who reconciled his faith with science. The fruits of this labour with a reverence for Creation heralded a revolution in sustainable agriculture based upon the scientist’s tenets on crop rotation. Then there sits Harriet Tubman identified alongside Moses as birds of a feather in her emancipation of slaves via the Underground Railroad. For this firebrand her physical missions were pilgrimages she attributed to supernatural visions that guided her deep into the bowels of the antebellum South. Tubman fought the good fight for our family. This same gauntlet Archbishop Desmond Tutu confronted through his activism against the inequities within the dark recesses of South Africa’s apartheid. Another vignette would be the philanthropy towards social welfare by the Methodist William Booth who masterminded the Salvation Army. Soap and soup saved many souls in keeping vigil over the marginalized. Far from performative the organization abided by a strict military ethos for its war against sin whose legacy continues to this day. In the firmament of literature Christian allegories between such themes as sacrifice and redemption pervade J.R.R. Tolkien’s anthology of repute.

Brick by brick has the modern world been architected upon ecclesiastical works of Christian men and women. Yet Marxists who are pigmies amongst creatures deride this fact by revising history with their nihilism. These craven sociopaths are quite clever in their biddings for the devil by browbeating dissidents into conformity analogous to how Joseph Stalin secularized Russia. Perhaps the most apposite parallelism harkens back to the Spanish Civil War when a cohort of leftists alienated Catholics by raping their nuns and turning their churches to ash. Again Isaac Newton’s Third Law of Motion echoes in the comeuppance from General Franco who brutalized these godless zealots. History now repeats itself as the sheepish masses are led astray anew. The machinations remain conspicuously the same. Marxists inundate Christendom with military-aged men not persecuted refugees to rouse chaos by exploiting our goodwill and bastardizing the written word. Sin is proselytized to children as captains of the LGBTQ+ cartel groom them. A whole canyon of disparity exists between silently partaking in vice and its celebration. But sheeple kowtow to these orthodoxies by parading their pronouns despite how they enable the mammaries of minors being lopped off or the erosion of women’s autonomy under the jackboot of this social contagion.

A third cause célèbre is the climate change alarmism which is a pretext for humanity’s genocide. You are the carbon the champagne Marxists wish to expunge by doing away with staples like meat for synthetic alternatives laced in chemicals or shuttering farms wholesale. The mendacity reveals itself in how goalposts are so protean as they are moved further afield. The falsehoods of pseudo-scientists continue to be debunked as polar bear populations flourish, Earth’s verdant canopy expands, or corral reefs are rehabilitated. Vandals need to start forest fires just to shore up the narrative although the many fissures betray the ruse. Data is doctored by neglecting to edify the public on how surface temperatures are sampled close to urban heat islands like cities or airports in biasing anthropogenic causes. These same charlatans fail to adjust their models for the Minoan, Roman or Medieval warming periods whose thermal variations conduced to prolific yields from farmlands and vineyards. In fact the sole reason for the diaspora of Vikings inhabiting Greenland and Newfoundland adverts to these kinder climes. Be weary of such frauds indentured to another master. Jesus said, ‘Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be wise as snakes and innocent as doves (Matthew 10:16)’. Do not be stupid.

#Father #Son #Christianity

[spiderversegf]

just rmred ppl love me on purpose . i have to go lay down

#🍜 #love is such a powerful force i am inconsolable #like even ppl who are not with me anymore!! i carry them with me!! #they chose to love me of their own volition #i did not make them do it. no one made them do it #im so emotional lately and grief really just wrings everything out of u like a shirt in the wash #im exhausted and i cant sleep #and for some reason all i can think about is my dad telling me ‘you could never disappoint us’ #it isn’t true. at least not for my mama. but i know he meant it anyway #i should try to go back to sleep #oh btw this is #ok to rb #if u want

[dp-marvel94]

Asking for Death

Note: So forever ago, @ectoblood and I had a conversation about a clone asking Danny to kill him and discussed, if a Danny clone would feel imperfect because he doesn’t share the same interests and dreams as his original? I actually expanded a little on those ideas from these two posts so have a ficlet.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Daniel knows he was imperfect. It’s obvious; Father made that abundantly clear. The boy knows he was cloned from someone named Danny. And the older half ghost made it clear; he looked just like Danny and had all his powers. But that wasn’t enough. Father wants a better version of this Danny, someone who is a loving and obedient son but also with the personality and interests of the original. Perfect son, Father says, holding up this idealized version of the clone. He is to be the perfect son. 

Father notices the difference and the man does not like it. He’s deeply dissatisfied because how dare his ‘perfect son’ not meet all of his expectations. His ideals t hat no one, not a clone or even the original Danny, could ever meet. 

Father tries to force him in that direction. Daniel is a clone so of course, he likes space and video games and horror movies like his original. Daniel wants to be a good son, a perfect son. He really does. And he tries. He tries everything that Father offers him. And Daniel finds he likes some things that Danny does and doesn’t like other things. The clone also finds he has some of his own interests and dreams. He would rather watch birds in the garden than the stars. He’s rather draw than play video games. And horror movies...they scar him. He’d rather watch musicals.

Soon he’s always yelling at Daniel for some reason. 

“Say yes sir, when you address me!”

“I… yes, Father. Sir.”

“I told you to clean the kitchen an hour ago. Why is it not done?!”

“I...I apologize, sir. I’ll...I’ll do that right now.”

“You call that an ecto energy attack? Pathetic!”

“Allow...allow me to try again. I will do better, please.”

He’s not obedient enough or powerful enough. He’s ungrateful, too quiet, too timid.

“Why do you never use the telescope I bought you?!”

“I...I have been busy with my studies. But...Tonight. Father, sir.”

Daniel never geeks out about space. The clone actually likes reading and birdwatching and hiking. He’s quieter and more thoughtful than his original.

All this burns in Vlad’s mind, his anger rising. How dare his perfect son behave like this? He was to be a perfect copy, in body and mind, yet perfectly loyal to his maker.

And for Daniel, all he wants is to make his Father happy. Maybe Father will be happy with him if he acts more like the person that Father wants him to be. So he tries to make himself like the things that Danny does and pretends to enjoy Danny’s interests. But he’s miserable, because space and horror movies don’t make him happy like reading in the garden and watching the birds does. He tries to be more outgoing and outspoken but that’s just not him. And Vlad can see that the clone is just putting on an act, trying to be more like Danny but failing (because he’s not Danny!).

So Vlad gets increasingly angry and dissatisfied because his ‘perfect’ son isn’t perfect. Vlad yells at him because he’s wrong, broken, a mistake, imperfect. 

“Why should I even bother to keep a mistake like you around?”

“I… Father. Please. I’ll do better.”

“Be silent.”

“Father?”

“Never call me that again! Nothing as broken and imperfect as you deserves the privilege of calling me that. I am your Master, boy.”

“But-”

“I AM YOUR MASTER.”

“Yes… yes sir, Master.”

And Daniel believes him because Vlad is his Father, no, his Master and his Master has to be correct. If he was just more like Danny, then the man would love him. But he can’t be more like Danny. He’s not Danny and he’ll never be, no matter how hard he tries. 

Vlad gave up on him, in his insanity thinking he just needs to try again. But he keeps the clone because he could be useful. Daniel isn’t Vlad’s son. He is tool. The man stops even trying to show him affection, increasingly having him run dangerous errands and be a lab rat for the older halfa. Vlad throws himself into making the next clone 

“This one will work. It has too.”

“F- Master. Please, I’m hungry. Maybe I have some...some food.”

And the clone increasingly spirals into hopelessness and depression. 

“Stop crying. You’re negatively affecting the data.”

“F...father. Please. St...stop.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

A cry of pain as Vlad digs the knife in deeper.

“Oh please. It barely even hurts.”

Weakened from hunger, thirst, and injury, Daniel escapes one day when Master is away. He...he is a failure. He...he is weak, he is horrid for begging Master to stop, for leaving now. But...he can’t...he can’t do this anymore. There is...there is only one way for the pain to end. 

He arrives at a familiar building, one he’s seen through Master’s cameras. He rings the door bell and the front door opens to a familiar boy.

“Please. Please kill me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny refuses, of course. So Daniel tries to force his hand, attacking him. But Danny still refuses to hurt him, only defending himself so he can capture the other boy. Danny manages to get him in a thermos and soon after releases him in the ghost containment unit in the basement. He hates doing it but needs to talk to the other boy where the clone can’t hurt himself or anyone else. Danny manages to get some information from the near inconsolable boy. 

“He keeps… he keeps hurting me.”

‘Who?”

“M...master.”

Eyes wide. “Vlad! Of course. Of course he cloned me again.”

Despite being stable and trying to be a good son, the clone’s still not what Vlad wants. He’s tried so hard to be what the older half-ghost wants but the man is still obsessed with having the ‘perfect’ son. And feeling like a failure and that his life is worthless, the clone wants to die and hopes that his original would have mercy enough to take him out of his misery.

After the speech, Danny is heartbroken watching the other boy weep. He feels helpless, not knowing what to do. He joins the other boy inside the unit, trying to comfort him. The clone still begs Danny to end him but the other halfa refuses.

“Why won’t you just do it?!”

“I will not hurt you. I don’t care how much you beg me or if you attack me again, I. will. not. hurt. you.”

“Please. I’m no one. I’m worthless. I can’t do this.”

“You’re not worthless. I promise. You’re not.”

“But I am. I AM.”

Danny grabs the other boy’s face. “Look at me. You are not worthless. You aren’t no one.”

“But-”

Danny cuts him off. “You’re family.” The clone’s mouth snaps. “I don’t care that we just met, or that you tried to hurt me. I made up my mind. You’re my family, no matter what. And I am going to find a way to help you. Vlad will never hurt you again.”

The other boy looks dumbstruck but Danny can tell he was listening. Just after Danny let go of his face, the clone fell forward, collapsing in Danny’s arms. He still wept but Danny thinks this clone did hear him. And he meant what he said. The boy he was hugging was family and Danny would always do everything in his power to help his family. Even if he wasn’t sure how to right now.

#Danny Phantom #my fic #Danny Clone #Danny Clones

[hottpinkpenguin]

Born Asleep - Chapter I

Part of the Druig x Elena AU (see full AU list here) Joint project with @bellejeanx

Characters: Druig x Fem!OC (Elena)

Summary: Druig and the other Eternals are forced to put aside their fears about Elena's unexplainable condition to fight Tiamut and stop the Emergence.

Warnings: MAJOR!!!! Eternals spoilers; mature themes; canon character death; existential dread

Word Count: 2,289 (part 1 of multiple - others COMING SOON)

A/N: after almost two months of working on this AU (of which I am so proud<3), WE HAVE COME TO THE FINALE!!! buckle up is all i can say

Read Chapter II here Read Chapter III here Read Chapter IV here

June 2024 Somewhere in the Indian Ocean

Druig watched Elena’s chest rise and fall rhythmically with her labored breathing. He could see the outline of her ribs through her t-shirt. He tried to avoid looking at her too closely, otherwise his stomach would turn and he’d become near inconsolable with grief. He hadn’t been able to look her square in the face for a full week now.

It had been almost three weeks to the day since she’d attacked Makkari and fallen into a stupor. Phastos hadn’t been able to revive her, although he had managed to slow the merciless degradation of whatever affliction plagued her. She looked almost mechanical with how many wires, tubes, and IVs were protruding from her frail form. Druig was grateful for Phastos’ tireless efforts on his wife’s behalf, but as appreciative as he was, he hated Phastos for not being able to do more. It didn’t matter that there was no identifiable cause to Elena’s symptoms, and therefore no opportunity to hypothesize a cure or course of treatment. All that mattered was that she was dying.

Druig had first met Elena almost nine years ago, and although nine years had been an imperceptibly small span of time prior to her, Druig could hardly fathom the changes he’d undergone since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d felt himself wake up fully for the first time in his existence when he’d seen her smile. He’d laid his soul bare to her, and found the bottomless devotion he felt for her returned in kind. He’d become a husband to Elena, a father to Lyla, and with each passing day Druig felt himself flooded with the redemption only afforded to someone who’s been deeply and wholly loved.

It was a dream. Better than anything Druig could have conjured up in his mind. Sweeter than his heart could have anticipated. He’d never known anything so exquisite. The five years he’d spent without Elena and Lyla - the span of time between which Thanos had eliminated half of the universe’s life and the Avengers had managed to undo that act of annihilation - had plunged him into a bottomless darkness.

But this was something worse. It was crueler than those five years. Duirg hadn’t accepted the diagnosis at first. He’d raged against Phastos’ pronouncement, almost killing his fellow Eternal in the process, that Elena was dying. But now, with Elena lying comatose and sickly thin, her chest heaving with exertion and jaundiced in the harsh lighting of Phastos’ lab on the Domo, Druig knew there was no other ending but her death. And he knew he couldn’t look away.

He and Phastos, along with Sersi, Makkari, Gilgamesh, and Thena, had set out from Ajack’s home in South Dakota (which had become Elena, Druig, and Lyla’s home after Ajack’s passing) some four days ago. Makkari and Sersi had identified the site of the Emergence almost a month ago, thanks to Phastos’ ingenuity. According to Phastos’ calculations, which so far had all proven trustworthy, the Emergence was due to happen in a matter of hours. Thankfully, the Unimind technology was ready for deployment. Phastos had misgivings about being able to harvest enough power from just six Eternals instead of their full complement of ten; but with Ikaris, Sprite, and Kingo absent and Ajack dead, they had to take their chances.

Druig knew he should be doing almost anything but torturing himself by Elena’s side. He should be resting, or spending time with Lyla, or reviewing the plan with Phastos. He had only hours before he would be asked to harness the power of the Unimind and seize control of a Celestial in order to halt the Emergence. It was an impossible task, and the chances for success were discouragingly meager. Druig knew he needed strength and optimism to have even a prayer of a chance. But he couldn’t find the strength to tear himself away from Elena. Each time her chest fell with an exhale, Druig felt his heart seize with terror that she may not take another inhale. And he refused to be anywhere but by her side when she met her inevitable fate.

He wasn’t sure how long he was by her side, watching and waiting, before there was a soft knock at the door. Druig didn’t turn to see who it was, nor did he ask what they wanted. He already knew.

It was time.

*****

Elena wasn’t sure where she was, or who she was. In a frightening sense, she wasn’t even sure if she was anything at all anymore. She felt submerged under a suffocating pressure. She’d lost touch with the senses that grounded her to reality a long time ago. Her memories were fractured and jumbled, like a disassembled jigsaw puzzle scattered across the expanse of her mind. There was only one thing - one person - that kept her from slipping into the waiting blackness.

Galen.

He anchored her solidly to the shaky ground of her mind. He was the only thing she recognized anymore.

Elena, stay with me. Fight this.

She felt his presence, like the warmth of a fire, from somewhere close by. Without sight or sound, Elena truthfully had no comprehension of how she knew who he was, or where he was, or what he said to her. His words simply appeared in the shrinking space of her consciousness, as if his thoughts had become hers.

Galen, what’s happening to me? Where am I?

She barely recognized herself.

You’re dying, Elena.

Elena recognized another presence prickling at that word - death - in her mind. It pressed with a deafening pressure on the walls of her mind. Unsure of how to respond, Elena shrank from it, curling in on the warmth of Galen.

Dying? What do you mean?

She was disoriented and having difficulty understanding.

You feel that pressure? That dark force squeezing in on you from all sides? Cutting you off from your body, from your memories, from yourself? That’s death.

From some distant part of her thoughts, Elena realized she likely should feel panicked at those words. Somehow, she couldn’t.

I don’t understand.

Galen’s words swirled around her but seemed to flutter away when she tried to grasp at them.

You’ve been carrying death around with you for a long time now, Elena.

*****

Druig leaned against the wall of the Domo’s central chamber. His armor materialized over his body in a sensation he hadn’t known in centuries. Memories of past battles - all with Deviants - flickered across his mind’s eye. As he looked around the chamber, he saw the other Eternals mimicking his movements, their own armor appearing over their bodies. They each wore somber expressions, alone with their thoughts as they sought whatever fortitude they could summon against the impending doom. Only Makkari returned his gaze. She shot him the faintest of smiles - no doubt meant to be reassuring - but somehow it only dunked Druig further under the surface of his own grief and doubt.

“Daddy!”

Lyla’s panicked cry interrupted his reverie. She rushed into the chamber towards him. Phastos’ mortal husband Ben, who’d been tasked with occupying Lyla and his own son Jack during the battle, shot Druig an apologetic shrug from the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Dru, but she wouldn’t stop crying for you,” he explained, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Druig caught his daughter as she leapt into his arms. He saw in her hazel eyes - an exact replica of her mother’s eyes, Druig noted with a pang - the same fear and unquenchable sorrow he felt in himself. But having her close was reassuring, and he buried his face in her hair as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

After being rendered a single parent by Elena’s unexplainable condition weeks ago, Druig had been left to figure out the delicate task of what to tell Lyla on his own. He’d opted for a policy of transparency. Of course, some details had been left out, but by and large Druig had been able to explain the entirety of the upcoming confrontation with Tiamut to Lyla. He’d explained that Tiamut was a very powerful being, that he’d been asleep inside Earth’s core for eons, and that once he woke up and broke through the crust, that most people on Earth would die. Druig had also broken the news to Lyla that he, unlike her mother, had been created specifically to stop this event from happening. Although that was of course entirely antithetical to the Eternals’ true original purpose: to kill Deviants and ensure that enough intelligent life populated Earth to make the Emergence happen in the first place. However, Druig had become so compelled to avoid that fate since learning of Arishem’s deception that it didn’t feel deceitful to tell Lyla that his true purpose was to stop the Emergence.

Lyla had maintained her composure remarkably in the face of this news. But as the days until the Emergence had dwindled, her anxiety had ramped up. Druig knew that, like him, Lyla missed her mother’s soothing presence and steadfast affection. Druig had tried mightily to be there for Lyla in the weeks prior, but he also knew that he’d fallen short of what he’d hoped. Coping with his own grief and the pressure of being almost single handedly tasked with stopping Tiamut, Druig had been absent for Lyla. Somehow, with the grace of someone decades her senior, Lyla had seen fit to forgive him for those transgressions. At times, Druig had felt himself going to her for comfort, which was undeniably inverted from how a parent should treat their child. Phastos hypothesized that Lyla’s healing powers extended beyond healing physical ailments and included hurts of the heart. Druig had at first scoffed at the notion, but over the past few weeks, he’d found himself begrudgingly agreeing with Phastos. He hated to think of his daughter being given such a hefty burden. But in the selfish corners of his heart, he was also glad.

Druig felt the effects of Lyla’s powers as he inhaled the scent of her bubble bath. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his hug with an equally forceful pressure. Druig fought back tears as the knowledge that this could very well be his last opportunity to comfort Lyla. He wasn’t sure what fate awaited him down on that beach, but he felt the very real possibility that he, like Lyla’s mother, was inches away from oblivion.

“You’re going to fight the monster?” Lyla asked, looking up at Druig’s eyes. The uncanny similarity between the effervescent shade of hazel in her eyes and in Elena’s was breathtaking, and Druig found himself struggling to breath between his fear and his grief. He managed to nod as he composed himself.

“Yes, petal,” he replied quietly. Lyla nodded knowingly and somberly. She reached up and planted a kiss on Druig’s cheek. He forced himself to breath as she hugged him tightly.

“Good luck, Daddy,” she whispered. “Don’t let the monster win.”

Druig smiled, unable to hold back a sense of delight at her innocence. She may have been burdened with a gift of healing - something Druig worried would age her and expose her to the hurts of life far before she was ready for them - but she was still a child, his child. The moments when that innocence shone through were precious. He returned her kiss with one of his own on her forehead.

“You got it, petal,” he replied. He was pleasantly surprised by how light his voice sounded, and indeed how much less the burden of doubt weighed on his shoulders. Lyla’s powers at work, he thought gratefully and appreciatively as he set her down.

“You need to stay with Ben,” he told her, crouching down in front of her. She bit on her lower lip, which was trembling slightly. Gently, Druig pressed his thumb up underneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Be brave for me, petal,” he encouraged. She nodded earnestly. “I need you to look after Mum,” he continued, trying not to let his thoughts dig too deep into the pang of grief that shot through his body at the memory of Elena, lying on death’s door in the next room.

Lyla nodded, returning Druig’s gaze. Druig knew that, like him, Lyla wasn’t entirely sure what it meant to look after Elena, given that Elena felt a million miles away from both of them. Nevertheless, Druig realized he meant what he said. If he wasn’t going to return, he needed to know that someone - even his own daughter - knew how imperative it was to him that Elena have someone to look after her, to care for her. He knew he didn’t need to ask Lyla to care for her own mother, but it felt important that he give voice to that urge nonetheless. Maybe when Lyla was older, she would understand.

He pressed one final kiss into her soft honey curls and gently pushed her towards Ben, who was waiting in the hallway outside the chamber. Obediently but not without hesitation, Lyla let Ben gently grab her hand and pull her out of the chamber. Druig felt bolstered by his daughter’s affection, and as he stood up and straightened his armor, he looked around the room at the others. He realized all eyes were trained on him. There was something different behind the gaze of his companions: Makkari’s eyes shone with worry, Phastos’ with a desperate hope. In Sersi’s eyes, Druig saw sympathy; in Thena’s, encouragement; and in Gilgamesh’s, confidence.

He took strength from his friends - his family, Druig realized with a fierce spark of protectiveness. He inhaled, bolstered by this strength, as he led the others towards the ramp of the Domo, where fate waited for them outside...

read chapter II here

#druig #druig x oc #druig x elena au #druig x elena oc #druig fanfic #druig angst #druig imagine #druig au #druig eternals #eternals au #eternals fanfiction #mcu au #mcu #mcu fanfiction

[vagrantblvrd]

Luke “I’m here to rescue you!” :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD Skywalker rescuing Din and others with rad Jedi powers and Din “I’m so tired, please let me rest” Djarin and his “Are you a Jedi” is like. The best.

Luke used to being recognized pretty much everywhere he goes and this Mandalorian who has no clue is so great, he loves it?

And then the however long after taking Grogu as his student Luke ends up chasing Din. At some point there’s another rescue that’s marginally less dramatic than the one on Gideon’s cruiser.

Din just stares at Luke before he offers a quiet thanks and trudges off because ow and tired and so, so tired and his job’s not finished yet, and did he mention the tired part? Because so very tired.

Luke is like ??? but gamely follows along because Grogu is miserable, inconsolable  -

“What did you say?”

Luke blinks at the way the Mandalorian whips around, hand dropping to the blaster at his hip as he strides toward him and has to run the last thing he said back in his mind and oh, of course.

Cocks his head, because this Mandalorian, exhausted, hurting, and covered in...well, Luke’s not sure but there’s a very large creature behind them that was mostly dead before Luke had to step in at the last minute to save said Mandalorian, and anyway.

After all that and having gotten a glimpse of what Luke’s capable of on Gideon’s cruiser, he looks like he’s figuring out the best way to kill Luke and it’s kind of great?

(Leia would have conniptions if she could hear that part and would also kill him, which is why Luke is never, ever going to tell her. Ever.)

“He misses you,” Luke says, keeps eye contact with Din because the Force and all even with the helmet - even with the way Din’s fingers over his blaster twitch, the way it looks like oh, hey, the Mandalorian might kill him anyway, but -

He just sighs, shoulders dropping as his hand falls away from his blaster, head turning away.

Not much to look at here, rock and dust and burned out mining settlements.

“I have a job to do,” the Mandalorian grits out.

Luke studies him, considers his words and smiles. Small thing at the corner of his mouth.

“Want help with that?”

Which is how Luke gets dragged into a plan only an idiot could love, which of course is why he’s all for it and all kinds of fighty action.

(Including the one where he and Din end up back-to-back against a mob of baddies and quips an one-liners and dry retorts are exchanged and Luke is far more charmed by the whole thing than he should be, and the same for Din and it’s just a slippery slope from there, you know?)

Also, just when they think the fighting’s over the last baddie on a roof somewhere takes a shot at them and it’s hard to say which of them is more impressed at what happens after that. Din who shot the baddie dead, body tumbling from the roof as in westerns of olde, or Luke who deflected the shot with his lightsaber.

Still.

Din tilts his head at Luke as he holsters his blaster, says - mocking? teasing?

“You missed.”

Because he has seen, okay, he has seen Luke deflect blaster bolts right back at the idiot who fired them, knows he can do that.

Luke shrugs, that little smile on his face he had when this whole mess started back, and he says,”You had it covered.”

And then goes off to check on the innocents they were protecting, who hired Din to save them, while Din stares after him thinking uncomplimentary things about Jedi because seriously, okay, seriously.

But also that thing about Grogu and Luke not having to work all that hard to convince Din to come see his kid.

(Has this moment, though, when Din mentions what Ahsoka told him about the Jedi order and attachment and makes a mental note to have a chat with some Jedi masters he knows later, but for now, yes.)

Din who’s all...restless, antsy, worried about setting Grogu on a path to the Dark side, so he doesn’t stay.

Goes off on Adventures and such, meanwhile Luke’s sending him updates on Grogu’s progress. Sometimes just happens to be in the same place as Din - What a surprise Din’s ass, what with the smirk on Luke’s face and oh, look, Grogu’s here too.

There’s just.

A lot of that going on, and Din is kind of losing his mind about it because it’s hard to be noble and self-sacrificing when the person he’s doing it for isn’t letting him???

Just absolutely refuses to, and has the galaxy’s worst enabler in an annoying smug Jedi who should really know better, because Jedi???

Luke just shrugs, that same dam smile on his face s Grogu chatters at Din - lecturing him, really, with that scowl on his face and angry little growl to his voice.

“He misses you,” is all Luke ever says, and it’s just.

A lot.

And then there’s a situation in which Din evades the bad guys in his new ship but also ends up crashing it. Just staring at the damn thing, hull integrity compromised and listing sadly to the side because broken landing struts and also a pile of boulders and look, not his best landing ever.

He’s not in his best shape ever either, bruised and battered and just so, so tired, and then a damn X-wing shows up not too long afterward.

Skywalker, because of course it’s him, and Grogu too.

Din’s sitting on a boulder staring at his ship and just.

Tired.

Luke doesn’t say anything, but he sets Grogu down and Din’s tiny green gremlin kid scampers over to him and tugs on his pants. Lifts his little arms and Din obeys the unspoken command to pick his kid up, and stares.

Because his tiny green gremlin kid has a helmet.

Pilot’s helmet, though, and Luke just shrugs when Din looks at him because what? Things get turbulent sometimes when one is flying about in an all too recognizable X-wing and it’s not like Luke has a wingman to watch his six wherever he goes and also there are so many people out there who’d love to take a shot at him, so.

Safety measures and all.

Really.

Although maybe having a Mando-Dad is influencing his son’s sartorial choices, who can say.

(But please consider Grogu in a full set of Grogu-sized Mandalorian armor as I sure the hell am right now.)

Din huffs, and when he looks back a Grogu his heart does this Thing inside his chest because there’s a mudhorn insignia on the helmet.

Luke just happens to be looking at something in the distance when Din looks at him again, but there’s this hint of a smile and an air of amusement about him and just.

Yes.

Anyway.

Luke wanders off to examine Din’s poor, poor ship, see if it can still fly and leaves Din and Grogu to their reunion. And since it’s mostly the two of them staring at one another and Din being emotional Luke sets about taking care of what repairs he can do with what’s on hand while he’s there.

Artoo trundles over from the X-wing and pitches in and between the two of them have the Din’s ship looking a little less pathetic by the time Din and Grogu come over to see what they’re up to.

“Huh,” Din says, because they did a good job, but it’s not like he can just say that, now can he?

Luke rolls his eyes, says, “It’d go faster with more hands,” which he isn’t wrong about.

So Din gets back to work, and so does Grogu.

Din stealing glances as Luke sneaks in Jedi lessons such as holding panels in place as they weld them to the ship’s frame and such. Tiny green gremlin son practically beaming as Luke praises him for a job well done and Din’s heart does that Thing again.

Anyway, they get his ship patched up far sooner than he would have on his own and then it’s this tiny bit awkward.

What he wants - no, what he thinks he wants - is to leave in search of another bounty, Karga always has some for him - keep busy, make himself useful, but -

“You look like you could use a few days to rest,” Luke says, kind about it.

Din knows very well he’s not in the best state at the moment. Armor dirty and tired down to his bones, and the Jedi’s not wrong, exactly, just.

Reasons.

Ones that don’t stand up to Grogu’s little face and sad eyes and Din’s tired, enough so to give in to weakness this one time and go with them to wherever Luke’s set up shop.

And then he just.

Stays

Mostly.

Still gets restless, antsy, and goes off to hunt bounties, but when his job is done he finds himself going back to Grogu and Luke more often than not.

Enough that he has a set of rooms shared with Grogu and he’s become a familiar figure to the town not far from Luke’s school and -

“You really don’t have anything better than to hang around here?”

Cara and the others giving him looks when he goes to Nevarro to pick up more than a handful of bounties at a time, or wanders the town to soak in the changes they’re bringing to it with the Empire gone and funds coming in - New Republic fighters and such stopping by for fuel and minor repairs.

Which.

Cara gives him a look, a smirk, as though Din’s got anything to do with that, and yes.

Anyway, anyway, no matter how long he’s away Luke’s always there when he gets back, Luke and Grogu, and it means something, doesn’t it?

After a while - the trips away don’t stop, can’t help that - but he stops staying away for so long, looking for excuses to stay away.

Starts to feel less like...like an interloper at Luke’s school eve though he was the only one to think like that, especially once Luke gains more students.

Because fighting and such, and sparring demonstrations and Din won’t mind, and really, it’s as fun for Din as it clearly is for Luke.

But also Din teaching Luke’s students in combat forms aside from lightsabers and such.

(Luke sneaking in at the back when his own classes are done, leaning against the wall and watching Din with an appreciative eye until Din has had enough of the smug and the smirking and hauls him in front of the class for practical demonstrations.)

Perhaps there are long walks together, Luke and Din with little Grogu toddling along or hitching a rid in their arms or on their shoulder, and quiet conversation and peace and quiet and this contentment Din hasn’t found anywhere else.

And, perhaps, on one of those long walks together there’s a moment where Din leans down, forehead against Luke’s while Grogu chases after a frog, Luke smiling up at him -

A splash and indignant little squawk, splashing from Grogu who chased the frog into the water, of course he did. Luke’s laughter as he pulls away to rescue their tiny green gremlin child while Din closes his eyes, helpless smile on his face as he listens to Luke gently chiding Grogu and Grogu’s protests, stubborn as Din and Luke combined and breathes.

(Also, though. Grogu pouting all the way home because he almost had that forg okay, if his dads had just given him another chance he would have had it.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #look even i don't know where i was going with this one #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post

[worldoffanfiction2021]

Eternal Love of Dream - Chapter Next 5

(Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/131730357839252427/)

It was the most exciting time of the year in Quinqui. It was time for harvest festival. This was a 7 day long festival with parades, performances from acrobats and a grand fair. Every year anyone related to Quinqui, no matter how far from home he might be, would make it a point to come. Even visitors from all over would gather here.

Bai Xian, the crown prince Ye Hua and their little son Ah-Li had also come to the fox den for this celebration. Ah-Li and Gungun were both super excited to go to the fair. Chong Lin was trying to keep them interested in other things long enough so that they could go only after the sun would go down a little. Bai Xian was so not wanting to walk around in the hot sun and had tasked Chong Lin with this duty.

She herself had come to Xiaobai's room and was helping her bathe and get dressed. Xiaobai had recovered quite a lot, but her wound still hurt if she tried to move quickly or even tried to comb her long hair. So Bai Xian had taken it upon herself to look after her favorite niece.

Dijun had ventured to the kitchen asking his mother-in-law's help to cook something tasty and nutritious for his wife. His mother-in-law was only too happy to oblige. Finding not much else to do by himself Ye Hua had joined in too. They all chatted and cooked away a whole feast with sweet and sour fish, noodle soup, congee and various types of cakes. All of them were feeling very accomplished. Dijun and Ye Hua loaded two trays with all the food and decided to go to Xiaobai's room so they all could eat together.

When the two reached Xiaobai's room, she had finished bathing and getting dressed. Bai Xian was combing her hair and they were chatting. "Please don't tell whatever I am about to say, to Dijun. I don't want him to feel any more guilty than what he is already feeling.", Fengjiu was saying. Dijun signalled to Ye Hua to stop and not enter the room. They both placed the food trays on a nearby table and waited. Ye Hua signalled to Dijun that he will be back soon and left in search of their sons.

"Ye Hua is a true gentleman!", mused Dijun and continued to eavesdrop. His wife was about to tell something to her aunt that she thought would make him feel guilty. So? It wasn't going to be pretty. But he was quite thick skinned and he could handle it. At least that's what he told himself at that time.

Fengjiu continued reminiscing and talking to her aunt. She was talking about some of the hardest days of her life and it wasn't easy for her. But this was her aunt and she was one person Fengjiu did not mind being herself with.

"I waited for Dijun for 73 days. Each day was harder than the one before, but I waited. Everyone told me he had chosen to go to demon realm with Ji Heng. I chose not to believe them.  I went to demon realm with Chong Lin to look for Dijun. There they told me he had been with Ji Heng. I was heartbroken.

I returned home here and was crying inconsolably in my room when medicine god Zhe Yan walked in. He sensed something off with me, checked my pulse and told me that I was pregnant. That moment! It changed my whole life.

I remember that night I did not sleep at all. But by the time morning came, I had made up my mind. God Zhe Yan  had left me two pills - one that would abort and another that would preserve the baby. He also left a note saying he would support me no matter what I picked.

This was my baby. Mine and Dijun's. The only man I have ever loved. This baby was symbol of my unconditional love for Dijun. I knew he had loved me sincerely too. May be after seeing Ji Heng in trouble, he had decided to spend the rest of his life with her. But I knew when he had told me he loved me, he had meant it. I would keep this baby and live for the baby. This baby would be my whole universe from then on.  I ate the pill that would preserve my baby.

Then I packed a few clothes, supplies to hide my birthmark, dress up as a man etc and left Quinqui. First I went to Sky Kingdom. Something in my heart was still not ready to let him go. I hoped to see him one last time. If he wanted to be with Ji Heng, all he had to do was tell me. I would get out of his way. But I didn't find him there. I knew I needed to be strong  for this baby. Especially since I would be his only parent. So I let go of everything and left sky kingdom.

From there I went to Nether world, and checked up on Ye Quingti. I knew I would pay his debt no matter what. I left a trinket with Lord Xie Gu so he could reach me when he needed me to wake Quingti up. And then i went to mortal realm and stayed there until... "

"Why mortal realm? Didn't you know you would be all alone and you wouldn't be able to use your magic either? How could you have acted so foolishly, Fengjiu?", scolded Bai Xian.

"Aunt, I chose mortal realm because I did not want anyone to find me. I knew if any of you had learned that I was pregnant, you would confront Dijun and make him take responsibility for me and the baby. I knew what it was like, to stay away from the one I loved, I could never wish that for him.", Fengjiu explained.

Bai Xian rolled her eyes indignantly and continued with the questions. "How did you manage your pregnancy? Going into labor? The delivery? Did you take care of yourself properly at all?". She was seriously concerned.

"I did the best I could. I went to mortal realm and worked as a cook in a restaurant at that time. It was really hard work all day long. My body ached all the time and I was exhausted. But at least the owner who was an old lady, was kind to me. She let me eat leftovers  and also let me take breaks often in my last month of pregnancy. She even revived me when I passed out from 3 days of labor pains and she helped me deliver Gungun safely. I am so grateful to her.

I was really sad when her son showed up 3 months later and wanted to force himself on me. I fought him, made him unconscious and ran away with Gungun. I did suffer physically and I was also very sad to leave the old lady to look after herself. But, I had no choice, so I did what I could.", Fengju tried in vain to make light of it. Bai Xian was appalled at what she heard.

And so was Dijun. He felt he had been too naive in thinking he could handle whatever he heard about her days in mortal realm. He had really underestimated her hardships.

Her days had been hard. When she had given him up, she had also given up her family and friends. All because of him. He knew he could never repay her for the things he had put her through.

"You are a Princess of Quinqui. You are the Monarch of this kingdom. You are the Empress of one of the most prestigious, powerful and revered god in the Sky Kingdom. Yet you had to work in restaurant and pass out from labor pains with no one to look after you. That's just so ...... ", Bai Xian was so furious, so flabbergasted that she could not find the right words at all.

"How can you love someone so much? How can you love him so much?", she asked incredulously to Fengjiu.

"Love is mysterious in its ways.", Fengjiu replied with a faint smile.

She knew her aunt was very angry. So Fengjiu reached for her aunt's hand. She hugged her aunt and wiped her aunt’s tears smilingly. Bai Xian's anger melted away. No one could stay angry at Fengjiu for long. With more tears in her eyes, Bai Xian planted a kiss on Fengjiu's head and held her close.

Dijun decided it was about time the ladies were interrupted. He wasn't sure he could bear to know any more of the hardships this delicate woman had toughed out because of him. He wasn't that thick skinned after all. He picked up the tray of food that had gone cold and heated everything back up with magic. He saw Ye Hua return with both the kids and together they walked in.

They sat in a circle and ate together. Both guys were pretty happy seeing their wives eat and praise the food they had prepared.

Dijun kept stealing weird glances at Xiaobai. She could sense something off about him. Was he worried about something? Was he about to go away soon and leave her for long time again? That thought scared her and made her very sad. But watching him smile at Gungun, she reasoned with herself that that must not be the case. She would have to ask him later when they were alone, she decided.

And she did get a chance to be alone with him soon. After the food was all gobbled up, Ah-Li reminded everyone that they had to go to the fair after lunch. So Gungun, Ah-Li, Bai Xian and Ye Hua all got ready to go.

“I will bring you sugar paintings, mom. Tell me what kind you want?”, Gungun said.

“Bring me back one dragon and one fox.”, she replied and exchanged a meaningful look with Dijun. That did bring back fond memories and a smile to Dijun’s face. She was happy to see her trick had worked to lighten his mood.

After they were all gone, Dijun closed the door behind them. He came back to her and helped her walk to the window. Although it was quite bright and sunny outside, the glorious willow tree in the yard provided just enough shade on the window seat. They both sat there with Dijun wrapping his arms around Xiaobai.

“What’s going on, Dijun? What’s been worrying you? Please tell me. And please be completely honest with me, ok? No matter how bad whatever that is, I want to know. And I want to work together with you to make it better. So tell me why you are so sad, so worried?” Xiaobai said looking into his eyes with  sincerity.

“Xiaobai, I overheard what you were telling your aunt about the time of Gungun’s birth. I am feeling so guilty about that. As a husband I have failed you. Miserably failed you. I am so very sorry.”, Dijun’s voice cracked.

Xiaobai let out a long sigh and took his hands in hers. She looked at him, quite relieved that the worry wasn't anything about their future. She began to talk. “Dijun, what has passed is gone by. No matter what, we can never change it. So please let it all go. I do feel guilty about misunderstanding you, about talking to you coldly last time we met in the Sky Kingdom and keeping your son away from you for so long. But I am learning from it and learning to let it go. Let’s promise to always be completely honest with each other. Let’s start over, ok?”

A deep sigh left Dijun’s mouth as relief washed over him. His Xiaobai was still willing to give him another chance. She was asking to start afresh with him.

“When did my silly little fox become so wise?”, he chuckled and petted her nose. Hugging her, he let out a long sigh. She shifted to be more closer to him.

He pulled her close and said, “Are you tired, Xiaobai? Sleep a little if you are tired.” He planted a soft kiss on her hair, “Be a good girl and take rest for a while. We can take a small walk outside later if you feel better.”

“Hhmm..”, she said. Then she  sunk her head on his chest and closed her eyes contentedly.

#three lives three worlds the pillow book #eternal love of dream #pillow book #bai feng jiu #dong hua #donghua dijun #xiao bai #cdrama

[janekfan]

OH another prompt... saw this one post about jon probably not doing well with waking up in unfamiliar places what with having been kidnapped so many times and having so much trauma with that and like what if he forgets where he is when he wakes up in the safe house and/or at upton house? bc that would be. disorienting and upsetting and scary huh!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517015

Staring wide-eyed up at an unfamiliar ceiling, Jon felt a kind of fear for he’d not experienced in a while having gotten sadistically used to being the most powerful being in a hellscape of his own making. He forced himself to hold still, unconsciously reaching out for abilities he no longer possessed in an effort to create a sense of safety.

Upton House.

Blindspot.

Right.

Right.

Martin was beside him, deeply asleep, and with considerable effort, Jon matched his slow, even breathing, the fingers of his scarred hand twisted into the filthy shirt he’d been traveling in above where his heart was doing its level best to painfully beat straight through his breastbone. Ever since his various kidnappings, waking up in strange places with no memory of how he came to be there inspired absolute panic until he could parse out the information. But he was here. In this realm buried in another realm where he couldn’t See. And Martin was here. Exhaustion rolled over him, a heavy, turbulent surf dragging him back out into the deep, and Jon turned onto his side to press against Martin’s soft warmth.

“Jon, Jon! What’s wrong?” This time it took solid minutes, scrabbling both for and against Martin, remembering that he was here, somewhere and that meant he was safe, desperate for his solid comfort and reassurance, terrified of the same hands keeping him in the bed. Keeping him from clawing at his own skin in his attempt to get out, out, out, away, away, away. Keeping him from escape! “Jon!” Back arching off the mattress, Jon attempted to twist out of grasping fingers trying to hold him down.

Wrists caught, held together in one hand, another brushing back sweaty curls. Soft words, soft touch, soft noise, soft. All soft.

All Martin.

Filling up his vision. Filling every sense up with him. With Martin. Only Martin.

“I, I...where. Where are we...?” He went lax, exhausted. Confused. Concerned when a crease appeared between Martin’s brows.

“You don’t remember?” A thumb traced his cheek, almost absently.

“N’n’no? Have. Are.”

“Hush, take a breath.”

Upton House.

Blindspot.

“I can’t See here.” Concrete thought was slippery, like trying to hold a handful of the fog that spread over the heath in the early mornings at the safe house.

Jon didn’t recognize this place. A strange light filtering through the windows illuminated Martin’s unconscious form next to him and his throat closed in panic and fear. How did they get here? Who had them? With more effort than it should have taken (had they been drugged? Is that why everything was so loose?) Jon forced himself up on trembling arms, trying not to wake Martin until he was certain of what was going on. Quietly, he slid from beneath clean silk sheets, reaching for the information needed to fill in all the empty spaces as he made his way across the lavish room.

None of this made any sense. But when he tried to dig deeper, to reach for the threads drifting further and further out of his reach, pain lanced through his head. It didn’t stop him from reaching again, probing, worrying at the blank like one would tongue at a loose tooth. It hurt. He had to. He needed to get Martin out of here before--

“Jon-love?”

“Martin...I, I.”

“What’s wrong?” Nothing? Was there nothing wrong? Martin didn’t seem worried but maybe he didn’t know how insidious the entities could be. Had they been tricked?

“Wh’where are we?” An emotion he couldn’t identify flickered over Martin’s face and distantly Jon wondered if they’d had this conversation before. It felt familiar? Like a faded dream or nightmare or memory. “Are we safe?”

“We’re safe.” Placating. So something was wrong. Was this even Martin? Was this a trick? Again, Jon reached for the bank of knowledge just out of his reach, dropping to his knees with the effort and the agony boring into his very self. Not?Martin stepped forward and Jon threw out a palm.

“No! NO! Stay back!”

“Jon?”

“I don’t. I can’t remember. I can’t See.” Shaking, wrapping himself up in cold, bony arms, he wanted Martin. “I. How do I know it’s you?” Voice quivering, tears dripped hot and fast from his chin.

“Oh, oh darling.”

“Who took me? Us. Us?” Martin? made no attempt to move forward or convince him, just lowered himself to the floor, patient. “Are we. Am I?”

“We’re safe.” And how could he believe that when he couldn’t Know? How could he trust his eyes when he knew the Stranger could take people and make them theirs. Take like it took Sasha.

“Who took me, u’us?? Who?”

“No one, love.”

“But I. I.” Jon crept forward, almost subconsciously zeroing in on what he needed more than anything, small and slight in his oversized clothes, Martin’s clothes. “Why don’t I remember?” His voice broke around a sob.

“I don’t know. Come here, darling, come here.” Jon let himself fall into a familiar embrace. This had to be Martin. It had to be. He wouldn’t be able to handle anything else.

“Love, you’re human here, or at least have human needs. Please, have a lie down with me.” Shaking his head, Jon let his entire aching self lean against Martin. They were in the garden, a peaceful spot that quelled the claustrophobia, and he hadn’t slept in days preferring to wander the corridors the whole night long wondering if the glimpses of Annabelle were real or imagined and not really sure it mattered. Anything to escape that sliver of time between waking and awake where he forgot how they came to be here and why.

“I. I don’t...I forget. It’s. Martin.” With a helpless whine, Jon rubbed his face against the clean wool of his well-worn jumper, eyes burning with the lack of proper rest. “Don’feel well.”

“I know,” Martin pressed a short series of lingering kisses among his curls “Come on, let’s have a bit of a kip, hm?”

“No. Stay here.” Pulling up his legs, Jon tucked his bare feet beneath him, pushing his way under Martin’s arm, dragging it around him and hoping to pin them both there. “Stay.”

“Okay, okay.”

Jon woke alone.

With lashes heavy and lined with lead, stomach churning, head pounding, pounding, pounding in his temples to the cadence of his hammering pulse. Swallowing, it was through force of will that he kept quiet when he stood, stumbling over uneven, quicksand tile to press an ear to the door, closing his eyes to listen over the rush of blood sighing through his veins. Despite hearing nothing beyond the room, Jon was too much a coward to try the ornate handle, deciding instead to sequester himself in the bathroom. The porcelain of the tub was cold through the thin fabric of the clothes he found himself in, where it pressed against his bare skin as he curled up close and covered his face with both hands.

It was then he let the tears come, shaking fit to fly apart and relying on that age old belief that if he couldn’t see the monsters then they couldn’t see him either. He would hide here, safe and small and no one would find him. No one could hurt him or touch him or take his skin or burn or cut or hit or slice or yell or blame him if he was here alone with only his muffled and keening cries for company.

“Jon?” He froze, naked toes curling, biting down hard on his thumb and ignoring the sharp hot pain in his hip where he was forcing the joint far past what it wanted. “Jon?” It was a trick. It had to be. They, they wanted him to let down his guard so he’d offer himself up like he’d offered himself to Magnus but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of beguiling him again. The knob turned and he held his breath. Waiting. Martin’s voice louder now for its proximity. “You don’t have to be afraid, love.” The gilded shower curtain was drawn. Jon tasted blood, like old flatware, metallic and bitter and flooding his tongue. With care, Martin climbed into the tub to sit across from him, leaning forward to cup his face in his palms before lowering Jon’s hands with his own, thumbs tracing little circles over the backs of each. It wasn’t long before his cheek was pillowed on Martin’s soft stomach, sore fingers tucked up under his chin.

“I didn’t r’remember.” Murmuring in response to Martin burying kisses in his curls.

“That’s alright.”

Inconsolable, Jon let Martin hold him, so off balance he couldn’t help but let the tears slip in silence over his skin. He didn’t understand why he was so afraid, even with Martin right here. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being kept here even though there was little evidence other than his poor muddled memory.

“It’s alright, love. It’s alright. I’m here. We’re safe. Remember?” Maybe he would. He did sometimes after a while and would flush with embarrassment and shame at his ridiculous behavior.

“No, no, I, where are we, Martin?” He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to be like this.

“Together, darling.” He tugged him closer until the whole room narrowed to only him. “We’re together.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #Jon Sims #Martin Blackwood #Jmart #JonMartin #Upton House #self harm #just a little #panic attack #biting #love #cuddling #reassurance #hurt/comfort