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lightparty-fullparty · 2 months

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Gods okay I need to talk about the Stormblood Antagonists for a hot minute. Whatever personal issues I have with how Stormblood is paced or how certain characters are handled, the villains are absolutely fantastic.

If there is one singular theme that ties the main three antagonists (that being, Fordola/Yotsuyu/Zenos) together. It's the idea of the Ouroboros. The snake that is caught in a self-destructive cycle of devouring it's own tail.

Historical in our real world, the Ouroboros has been symbolic of main things, the cycles of life and death, fertility, even immortality. However, it can also been seen in a more negative light as a symbol of perpetuated suffering. Of being unable to let go of something that only end up hurting you more. And gods doesn't that just sound familiar?

Now I can hear you, in your head saying "But Gengar - Yostuyu and Fordola obviously have those parallels of suffering abuse and becoming abusers themselves, but what the hell are you doing throwing Zenos in there too? He's the abuser." And I get it, I do. Aside from the fact I'm a self-admitted Zenos lover, he doesn't at first glance really fit in with the ladies. But hear me out okay?

It's not just suffering abuse. It's refusing to let go and allow yourself and your perspective to change, even though your current way of thinking and acting is only making you suffer more. Yotsuyu was victimised for *years* at the hands of her Aunt/Uncle/Asahi. Then sold off to an (asummedly) abusive husband, and then sold again into prostitution. She was never offered a shred of sympathy or kindness during this time. And when she was given power, given authority and the means to protect herself physically. She choose to return all of the suffering she endured onto the people of Doma. She did not see them as being in the same position as her, suffering under the abuse of the Garlean Empire. She did not offer them any sympathy or kindness of her own, because (in her mind) they had denied that basic decency to her. Yotsuyu couldn't let go of her hatred until a literal giant wooden beam smacked her on the head and gave her complete amniesia. At which point, she displayed the ability to be kind. To think of others and to try and do nice things for them (Persimmons anyone?). Tsuyu was freed from her self-inflicted cycle of pain. She stopped letting herself be comsumed by her own anger and fear. Fordola was much the same, though her family at least very clearly cared for her. She grew up in an occupied Ala Mihgo. In a family with supported the Imperial force. Out of genuine agreement with the Empire or as a means of ensuring a sightly better life for themselves we don't really know (as far as I can remember at least). Fordola's suffering, much like Yotsuyu's, came at the hands of her own 'countrymen'. People who (rightly) despised the Empire for it's brutal oppression, but who choose to take it on someone more vulnerable and accessable. A child. A young girl who was given a horrible and sudden lesson on just how cruel people can be. On both sides of the conflict.

Fordola chose to join the Garlean Army in the hopes of amassing power for herself. Of trying desperately to carve out some place of herself and her friends where they felt they actually belonged. Where they would be respected. Unfortunately, she found none of this. The Garleans saw her as a 'savage', the Ala Mihgian's saw her as a tratior. Like Yotsuyu, Fordola couldn't let go of her desire for revenge. Her desire to "make anyone who ever looked down on (her) pay!". It drove her to extremes to try and hold onto that scrap of power she had managed to gather. The resonant, the Castrum, all of it more teeth biting into her own tail. So what can Zenos not let go of?

His belief that the only joy he can find in life is from dying in combat. Because let's be honest with ourselves, Zenos has no desire to live here. He wants a meaningful death, a brilliant, climactic, perfect moment and then he wants to not be alive anymore after that. It's why he chooses to kill himself after the Royal Menagiere. You beat him! You gave him his perfect moment! He knows (believes) that there's nothing left for him after this! So he dies. Zenos is infact suffering. It's just not as clear as Fordola or Yotsuyu. He's miserable. He's perpetually bored, and lethargic, and consumed by apathy. A prison of his own making because he has had tunnel vision since he was like 8? 10? that combat was the only thing capable of making him feel anything. So he chases after it, chases after you (the WOL). Trying to push you and push you like he was until you're capable of giving him what he wants. His perfect, transcendant moment of pure joy, and then death after.

Really what it comes down to is that Fordola, Yotsuyu, and Zenos are stuck in their own self-perpetuated misery. Yotsuyu in her fear of powerlessness, Fordola in her need for revenge, and Zenos in his desperation for meaning.

And none of them can see a way to break their own cycles until it someone outside of it comes in to try and do it for them. (Gosetsu/Lyse + Arenvald/WOL+Alisaie)

'Ere does the head devour the tail.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #zenos yae galvus #fordola rem lupis #yotsuyu goe brutus #it's important to me as well that Fordola is the only one to full break out of her cycle #the only one to get a meaningful second chance to try and start over again #because Fordola was the only one who knew what kindness and love was before her cycle started #she was the only one who was able to make connections with people #ghostly rambles

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kittyball23 · 1 year

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Sleepless Nights (a Hotel Transylvania fanfic)

Summary: Drac has some difficulty sleeping, as memories of a certain night exactly 124 years ago haunts his thoughts

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It was a beautiful day.

The sun was brilliantly shining above. Not a cloud dotted the sky. Birds were chirping from their perch in the trees. And, being nocturnal, such a beautiful day was utilized by monsters all around Hotel Transylvania, who were dozing contently about.

Well, except for a certain vampire.

Unlike his beloved, Drac could not succumb to the call of sleep, no matter how drowsy he felt, or how much his eyelids were drooping. There was that niggling thought - a memory, a reminder – that persisted to keep him awake. One that he had not been able to erase ever since that one, singular, terrible night. A night that had happened exactly 124 years ago.

It was incredulous to Drac, how it felt as though not a day had passed since then. And yet, so much did, with a lot of it leading to the actions he had taken and events that had occurred. But, as his mind so cruelly reminded him, it had all stemmed from that one sole event. If that hadn’t happened, who knew how things would have turned out for him, for Mavis… for his wife…

As if the universe had been cued to his internal thoughts, the form cuddled next to him suddenly shifted, soft, drowsy hands flitting lightly over his bare chest accompanied by a light sigh-like moan. The Count felt some of the dark thoughts lift from him in a relieving wave, leaving Drac with only fondness towards the woman resting upon his body. The warmth she radiated from her human self seeped into him like warm honey, relaxing some of the tension that had begun to overtake his muscles. He peered down at Ericka now and sighed, somewhat envious, marveling at how easily she slept and how peaceful she looked in that moment, comforted both by the blanket draped across them as well as the gentle contact of their skins, untroubled.

Well, a part of him did remind himself that Ericka was not without her own troubles, namely, her struggle with the ordeal on the cruise and family name. Sure, the woman had proven her worth in the heroic act of saving Drac from the Kraken’s clutches and standing up against the legacy that her great-grandfather had brainwashed her to believe in for so long. But the victory did not entirely satisfy Ericka. She was plagued with the horror of what she was about to let happen, to lose a love… a zing… It was a thing that monsters wouldn’t dare to imagine. But Drac didn’t have to.

With a sigh, he detached himself from Ericka, gently moving her away so not to disturb her slumber and draping the sheets over her form when he rose from the bed. Slipping on his pajama pants for some decency, he padded over to the window in the other room, drawing back the curtains to get a view of the outdoors. Drac had to admit that most of his son-in-law’s ideas were rather nonsensical, but he actually could appreciate the idea for repaneling the hotel’s windows with UV protective glass. In that way, the Count could now stand before the sun’s rays indoors without burning and take a look out at the perfect day that he should have been asleep to. This day that was as bright and cheery and as opposite as it could get from Drac’s current mood.

When he had thought of his wife, it had not been the slumbering beauty that still remained dozing as peacefully content as ever upon their bed. True, they were wed, with the golden bands around each other ring fingers to prove it, but Drac instead had the first woman who had stolen his heart and made him feel that giddy, euphoric sensation, so ideal it felt almost unreal.

Martha.

Her name alone still brought such a pang of sadness to his heart, a tightness that squeezed him, a stinging that pricked his skin, a dryness that parched his throat… and a shudder that went down his spine as he recalled those last, horrible moments he had seen her. The despair in her eyes. The fear…

Drac suddenly wished he was back in the bed, gliding his fingers over the smooth, rosy expanse that was Ericka’s skin. Caressing her soothed his mind, allowing him to focus on something other than his past trauma. But despite this effort, his mind kept wandering back to the memories, bringing them right back into his consciousness, and so much more than ever today.

The Count instead settled for rubbing his hands up and down his arms, the motion working not quite in the same way but still providing the comfort that he sought nonetheless. It's not that he didn't want to forget. It was the last thing he wanted to do. How could he forget his zing? She had meant the world to him, and still did, even in her absence. But it was that said absence that filled him with dread, made him uneasy and reminded him that this was the truth he was living. And nothing could be done to change it.

Drac shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing himself to remember that he still had Martha in his life. Not her in her physical, living form, but in the family around him. Being her daughter, Mavis was a constant reminder of that fact, inheriting her mother’s grace and beauty, as well as her everlasting kindness. Little Dennis also shared some characteristics as his grandmother. Drac could smile to himself recalling certain expressions the boy made that were a spitting image of the woman, or the way his blue eyes sparkled up at him with admiration.

Aside from his family, Drac also had material reminders of his late wife. The portrait that he’d managed to salvage from the fire had captured them both in their prime, at a time where their love was young and hardships were still ages away. For years he had kept it in his room, approaching it and gazing upon her still, painted figure, recalling the wonderful memories he’d shared with her and held dear to his heart. His old ring was another material reminder of her, a wedding band with a beautiful red gemstone on top that sparkled elegantly in the light. She had had one just like it, and his had found residence on the finger of his left hand for over a century before he was able to remove it and finally move on. And then, he thought, there was also the gorgeous little ukulele that was sitting upon his desk now, looking as fresh out of the box as it was so long ago when he received it as a gift from Martha, a memento of their time spent in paradise (or Hawaii as one may better know it as) after they first met and began dating.

With sluggish steps, he approached the desk, running his hands longingly over the taut strings and wooden surface of the instrument. Many a time he had used it as a one-man ‘concert’ to sing various songs for Martha, Mavis, and Dennis. Why, just the other night his grandson had asked him how exactly it was that it was played, and Drac had gladly begun the process of carefully teaching Dennis how to pluck out melodious chords, in hopes that the boy would one day become as skilled as he was. The thought putting a smirk onto his face, Drac picked the instrument up and went back to sit at the window, cradling the ukulele in his lap. He very well remembered the first time he had played the instrument. It was for Martha, right at the one-week anniversary of their relationship. On automatic, his fingers resumed the position that they had taken upon the ukulele strings for that simple little song he’d tuned out for her, and began to play it out again. What resulted was a soft, sweet melody, etching itself into his mind and heart. The melody brought with it a wave of nostalgia, cheery but melancholic at the same time, bringing forth a pool of fresh tears that began to brim at the corners of his eyes. As his mind wandered, his fingers continued their caressing dance on the strings, and soon they brought the sweet little song to an end in a soft, tender crescendo.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips in that moment, the soft sound accompanied by an identical sigh from somewhere behind him. Turning towards the source in sudden bewilderment, he came face-to-face with Ericka. She stood shyly a few paces away, having seemingly just awakened. Neither said anything for a moment, allowing Drac the time to let his gaze roam over her, down from the petite bare feet to the tussled platinum-blonde curls on her bed-head. Rather than a robe, the woman had vouched for donning his satin pajama top, the article of clothing fitting her just about as well as a short dress, given Drac’s difference in height that allowed its hems to extend enough so that it hung above her knees. The sleeves dangled a bit loosely, the buttons having been fastened in a haste, as evident by how the top few had remained undone in favor of ensuring the ones in the middle were properly hooked so to cover her figure. The twinkle in her blue eyes was indicative to him that she was much more alert than what her tired appearance may have been giving off.

Conscious of his gaze, Ericka shifted her weight upon her feet, interpreting it as scrutiny for interrupting him at what appeared to be a private moment. She bit her lip, and began to speak ever so timidly.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

But it turned out she didn’t need to search for any more words. Gathering his senses, Drac smiled kindly at her, setting down the ukulele and approaching the woman to give her an appropriate greeting kiss.

“Don’t worry about it, honeybat,” he assured when they parted, tenderly caressing her cheek. “I should be the one apologizing. I did not mean to awaken you.”

Ericka shook her head. “You didn’t, Drac,” she whispered. “Have you just… ever had one of those sleepless nights?”

Drac nodded, averting his eyes as he felt his mood going back to that cloud of melancholic sorrow that seemed to want to engulf him once more. “Yes,” he finally muttered. “I have." He dared a glance up to gage her reaction, and could see that same look of despondency reflected back in her eyes. But along with it was a look of knowing that made Drac feel vulnerable under her gaze. She was aware why it was that he was having difficulty drifting off tonight. Ericka had been informed early on in their relationship of the tragedy that had occurred so long ago, scarring her husband’s soul permanently as the memory of it all still weighed down heavily upon him. The blame and regret, and the hand of time that kept ticking on, unfazed, and unable to reverse. Yet even with such an emotional wound, Drac never failed to show Ericka every sign of how he was still able to live fully and find happiness. The wound would not heal entirely, but taking life one day at a time with the friends and family he loved would in no doubt help dull that pain. Cherishing his experiences with Mavis, Dennis, Ericka, the Pack, even the boisterous Johnny acted as a balm to his spirits, uplifting them from the shadows and keeping the dark thoughts at bay.

It was all this and more that was communicated between she and the vampire in that one flit of an instance that their gazes locked together; the expression in Ericka’s eyes showing just how deeply she empathized with the man and how willing she was to offer her support and love without hesitation if needed. And he was incredibly grateful, honored even, to be able to call the Van Helsing woman his zing. No matter if he was his second, she was his zing all the same, and would always be.

Unbeknownst to the man, a small smile had begun to tug at the corner of his lips, Drac not having felt it until his cheeks began to ache slightly in response with how widely it had grown. Ericka reciprocated the smile with one of her own.

“And besides,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes, “It was beautiful. You have a real talent.”

Drac chuckled bashfully at the compliment. "I appreciate it, my love." Then, a thought entered the Count’s mind, and he smirked as he picked up the ukulele again. “I could teach you someday, you know.”

Ericka grinned, looking down at the instrument in his hands and seeming to give the idea some good consideration before she spoke again. “That really would be pretty cool,” she said, her fingers grazing the top of the strings, “but I think that I’d rather just listen for now.”

The vampire nodded understandingly. “As you wish, my love." Seating himself back down at the desk, he cradled the ukulele back into his lap and had his fingers resume the position anew. Strumming lightly, he began playing the same tune yet again, this time feeling much more at ease in doing so. Ericka sighed in contentment once more, coming up behind Drac and snaking her arms around his neck. She rested her chin atop his head, a slight sway in her stance as the music lulled the both of them into a peaceful state of serenity.

#hotel transylvania #dracula #ericka van helsing #memories #past relationship #ukulele #sleep depravity #moving on #bittersweet #fanfiction #kittyball writes

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keepthedelta · 1 month

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“y'all acting like it's been said Daniel is the worst person alive and should be dead and is basically Hitler”

sorry the timing of this is lowkey funny to me because I just saw someone being called out on Twitter for saying that supporting Daniel is like supporting hitler in 1946 which is.. a take

Anyway you’re right, we don’t know these people and how they really act and he’s clearly not a perfect angel but at the same time I don’t think he’s just been fake nice for over a decade to the many people in the paddock who clearly like him as a person and think he’s kind. And i really don’t think he meant anything negative towards Jack in that comment because he has been very invested in his career just in general. But yeah, it really doesn’t matter that much either way

okay i'm responding to this because you've had the decency to at least put a name to your ask, but it is the last one i'll be answering on this matter.

the hitler comparison is clearly ridiculous, but i did not say that, nor did the person whose ask you're quoting from. the fandom space that you have cultivated is not representative of mine. all i said was that i thought he'd been mean in his interaction with jack, and i stand by it. whether they're friends or not, i personally felt that his comments were barbed, and frankly i think that jack doohan felt that way too, judging by his facial expressions.

you do not have to agree with me. the wonderful thing about the human experience is that different people have different interpretations of any singular event. you may look at that video and think it was completely normal, and that's fine. other people watched it and agreed with me. i don't know every single person who interacts with my posts personally, so i can't say whether they have an agenda against daniel or not, but i can say that i don't. i agree that i do not know him personally, although i actually have met him and at least some of my opinion is based off of that as well as the experiences of people i know who have met him, and i trust both them, and myself.

i also don't think that "people in the paddock like him and think that he's kind" is necessarily the argument that you think it is. because, well, have you seen who's in the paddock? i wouldn't exactly call them paragons of virtue or morality. i also think that sometimes people treat those who can be of use to them differently to the way they treat those they perceive to be inferior. just because daniel is nice to people in the paddock who can have a direct effect on his career does not mean that he treats everyone well.

and while i agree that my initial post didn't really mean that much - it was literally just an offhand comment i made while watching the broadcast and i deliberately didn't tag it because i didn't want to start discourse - i do think that the response matters. i think that the death threats and accusations of schizophrenia, the essays in my notes saying that i was targeting danny and wilfully spreading misinformation because i was so desperate to tear him down, i think there was even an accusation of cultural appropriation in there which was particularly wild to me, i think that stuff does matter. and i hope that you are in the inboxes of those people telling them that one person having a different opinion of a millionaire is not important too

#asks #that's all folks there will be no more commentary on danny ric

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apocalypticavolition · 9 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 28: Footprints in Air

Yup, we're back to Whitebridge and I'm up to my old tricks. This reread is going to have spoilers for everything in the whole damn series and if you don't like that, you should skip this post. And maybe block the spoiler tags.

For everyone else, let's talk chapter icons! We've got Moiraine's staff again, and it might as well be her magnifying glass because she is playing detective this time around. She also plays off of Nynaeve, our POV, this time around (and really any time she and Nynaeve are in the same room).

Another legend, and they don’t even seem to notice. She resolved not to stare where they could see. They’ll laugh if they see me gaping like a country bumpkin.

Nynaeve is really good at getting in the way of her own happiness. Moiraine is way too busy contemplating the singular purpose to which she's dedicated her life to at the exclusion of all else like some kind of 90s anti-hero and her statue of a Warder would probably start gushing at Nynaeve about every cool relic he'd ever seen if he thought it would make her smile. While part of Nynaeve's attitude is just about spiting Moiraine, I think her insecurities come from the same kind of logic that Rand observed in how Wisdoms wouldn't possibly be allowed to dance at festivals: she's not allowed to have emotion or she's even worse at her job than everyone treats her already.

The scowl made her feel like a girl who had been caught acting the fool by someone in the Women’s Circle. That was a feeling Nynaeve was not used to, and the calm smile on Moiraine’s face only made it worse.

See what I mean? Nynaeve hasn't let herself be imperfect in a long, long time.

If only there was some way to get rid of the woman. Lan would be better by himself—a Warder should be able to handle what was needed, she told herself hastily, feeling a sudden flush; no other reason—but one meant the other.

"Their romance comes out of nowhere!" - people who clearly didn't read this sentence closely.

It weighed on Moiraine and Lan, too, as outwardly unperturbable as they were. She soon realized that, beneath their calm surfaces, hour by hour they wound tighter and tighter, like clocksprings being forced to the breaking point. Moiraine seemed to listen to things that were not there, and what she heard put a crease in her forehead. Lan watched the forest and the river as if the leafless trees and wide, slow water carried the signs of traps and ambushes waiting ahead.

They spent the last two weeks assuming that they were finally done looking and could get onto the much easier part of their job of fleeing to Tar Valon. Their POVs right now would be absolutely hysterical and full of exciting expletives, most of which Moiraine learned from Siuan.

Then, contradicting what he had just said, he added, “You should go back to your Two Rivers when we reach Whitebridge, and the Caemlyn Road. It’s too dangerous here. Nothing will try to stop you going back, though.” It was the longest speech he made all that day.

Much like Rand, Lan wants to keep his loved ones out of danger. If they were flirting any more strongly, Moiraine would have to look away for decency's sake.

Around the square at the foot of the White Bridge piles of blackened timbers, still leaking smoky threads, replaced half a dozen buildings. Men in poorly fitting red uniforms and tarnished armor patrolled the streets, but they marched quickly, as if afraid of finding anything, and they looked over their shoulders as they went. Townspeople—the few who were out—almost ran, shoulders hunched, as though something were chasing them.

Western Andor really isn't going to recover from Rand's recent tour for years, is it? And Elayne really has her work cut out for her; Whitebridge isn't anywhere near as far away from Caemlyn as Baerlon. It is a distance, but the books have already noted that this is one of the only river crossings anywhere in the continent.

Of course, maintaining the bridge is a complete non-issue because it's magic and not repairable even if it did start breaking anyway. If anything happened they'd have to just scrap it and start all the way over. So the crown would have no strong reason to worry about this place and without any serious military threats (*points and laughs at Altara and Murandy*), funding is quite possibly lower to this place than it is to Baerlon, whose mining territories aren't supernatural so far as we know.

So I guess the worldbuilding for the near collapse of Andorian territory actually checks out in a lot of ways!

The truth of the matter was there was a man somewhere in the town meddling with the One Power. It was time to have the Aes Sedai in; past time, was the way they saw it, no matter what the men said about Tar Valon. Let the Red Ajah settle matters. One man claimed it had been an attack by bandits, and another said a riot by Darkfriends. “Those ones going to see the false Dragon, you know,” he confided darkly. “They’re all over the place. Darkfriends, every one.” Still others spoke of some kind of trouble—they were vague about exactly what kind—that had come downriver on a boat.

This is a rare moment in the series where the rumors are more right than wrong. There was a male channeler in town (even though they couldn't have known that, because Rand did nothing), the Fade attack is basically a Darkfriend, and the trouble did indeed come downriver on a boat. Poor Bayle, being driven off for something that wasn't his fault. On the plus side, it may have saved him from further problems.

He seemed resplendent to Nynaeve, in his peaked helmet and burnished breastplate, until he took a pose just inside the door, with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword and a stern look on his face, and used a finger to ease his too-tight collar. It made her think of Cenn Buie trying to act the way a Village Councilor should.

By the end of the series, quite a few people will have put on costumes they never thought they'd wear. Maybe even this militia guy will have the benefit of growing into his role. He's certainly just a dick now though. What kind of asshole tries to kick Nynaeve out of town?

The Aes Sedai studied the tabletop for a moment before raising her eyes to Nynaeve’s, and when she did, Nynaeve started back from a flash of anger that almost seemed to make Moiraine’s eyes glow. Then her back stiffened, her own anger rising, but before she could say a word, the Aes Sedai spoke coldly.

It's incredible that Moiraine spent years being trained to modulate her emotions, first in the crazy political schemes of Cairhien and then by the White Tower itself, and Nynaeve gets her to be openly angry in just two weeks! She could make anyone break.

And that's a wrap on another short chapter. See ya next time for another Perrin POV!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #nynaeve al'meara #lan al'mandragoran #moiraine damodred

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ilikekidsshows · 1 year

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Regarding your Fandom PSA, anon wants to add something: the term "Mary Sue" was originally supposed to refer to OVERPOWERED characters, not characters with basic human decency. The term was coined in the Star Trek fandom to describe fanfic characters who somehow managed to become starship captains at only age 18, or something like that. But then the term got hijacked by fandom "fringe groups" who hate kindness and love cruelty, so now it's just a phrase to "lower the bar of acceptable behavior".

The wider fandom space has adopted a lot of stuff from the Star Trek fandom. I first ran into this term by the time it had already become standard, there were literal online forms you could fill out for your fan character to see how far they ranked on the Sue Scale. However, a character had to have an unreasonable amount of features listed to make the cut for "Mary Sue". This is because some level of importance is to be expected from a main character, even a fan-made one. Communities built up a singular meaning for the term that had reference materials you could use to check whether or not it applied.

During it's peak, the term “Mary Sue” referred to a new character created by a fan author who gets an isane amount of benefits from author bias. Basically, they’d get the best backstory and power ups (said power ups could even come from another media property), they’d be super important to the plot of whatever fanwork and all the author’s favorite characters would either instantly like them or soon grow to like them and all the author’s least favorite characters would hate them. Basically, Mary Sue is the Most Important Character allowed, making an established property suddenly entirely about someone the author just made up. Since then the term has mutated through too liberal application.

“Mary Sue” has been used for characters who are too strong, too beautiful or too “perfect”, with no actual scale for what measures as “too much” something. It has been used to refer to canon characters. It has been used for boring, or cliché characters. The idea most people have of “Mary Sue” now is: “badly written character” with no regard for how they are badly written and whether this badness is actually objective or not. The usage is no longer uniform, so "Mary Sue" has become useless as a descriptive term.

Many people have pointed out that these days “Mary Sue” just means “character I don’t like”, because people want to justify not liking a character, and claiming they are badly written gives a convenient one. Throwing the term “Mary Sue” around makes this argument even easier to make, because the term is now so nebulous, everyone can make up their own mind about what the person making the claim means. Basically, saying you dislike a character because they're a Mary Sue makes the people hearing or reading that claim make your excuses for you.

So yeah, I fully believe people who hate kind characters for whatever reason are going around claiming any kind character they see is a Mary Sue. If they want media to validate them acting like jerks, they would think that depicting kindness is bad writing. It's just standard fan entitlement.

#media and fandom response

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xtrevmcx1992x · 1 year

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BLACK LIVES MATTER

Folks of all Races, Feel At Home Here... Im bout to drop some Aware AF BLM Supporting Factual Knowledge From Myself a

WHITE ALLY

Who is elevated and is gonna open a can of worms that is a worthy read for the Folks of Color - Descendants of the Moors, & White People alike...

Alright here it comes all...

BLACK LIVES MATTER....

They matter more than some f***in racist a$$ Cops life which is spent inflicting awful persecution unto our undeserving, beloved neighbors of color... A life spent treating people this way due to an absence of any and all capacity for intelligent thought.. Well, theta no comparison at all.. I am a proud White Ally.. Black folks, oh the pain it causes me that I cannot tear away my White Privilege and shower it forever unto you, damn my peers for how they treat you... None moreso than those undeniably responsible for, and aptly bear the title of being the imbecilic racist a$$ freedom crushing subjugators, as well as absolute being child murderers, progress & success killing by planted evidence for those fortunate to yet be alive but unfortunate to sent that time behind bars for doing so well & gloriously ascending by way of hard earned morally pure and selfless actions in continous engagement.. The horrific punishments so common across America in these instances is atrocious and abominable.. Undeserving of Bigot idiocy of rage from those beholden to nothing but primate state consciousness equipped with mere singular braincell cognitive potential.. The actions leading to success and prosperity, in a sound Individual's perspective, are undeniably worthy of alternatively whole heartedly, congratulating and affirming them in their achievement and for a job well done... My heart catastrophically shatters for you all as you endure such torment like that of Hell... Made so much more atrocious as one can't possibly fein to pretend not to have noticed, the massive sea of endless privileged Whites expressing disdain for BLM & in massive uniformity feeling threatened, Death grip on their beloved, oh so coveted resting privilege of a society in racial inequality, their privilege undeserved and the awful result of horrific acts of racial supremacy leading to whites being the people beholden to unfairly elevated in the extreme, racially privileged social caste lifelong in secure status of a ruling class of said society giving a silent guarantee of this..

I'm heated, thusly I'm struggling to not hyperfocus on the disgust of my peers that I preach to of this endlessly, myself the clear fool as it forever falls upon deaf ears.. I am enraged at the white expressions of negativity and words revealing of a perspective which believes the folks of color are chasing a mirror image copycat, massive climbing over of these whites, to establish a secured position as the superior class, leading to elevated intensity of anxious worry, and you add insult to injury these whites whom as a group weild the mighty sword of influence and capacity to be the source of intense rapid progressing change to society which could mean truly reaching color blind equality amongst American citizens.. I grind my teeth tho at the remarks of persecution and naysayer poison in response you the folks of color risking all in the pursuit of simple base equality, and God Bless them & protect them in their seemingly unending battle, their cause... So undeniably filled to the brim with pure justice.. Beloved neighbors of color, you DESERVE PRIVILEGE, YOU DESERVE SAFETY it is your GODDAMNED RIGHT as it is every single individual's 100% always in every case, universally DESERVED basic HUMAN RIGHT. Your stolen, beaten & then oppressed to keep out of reach... That which every person is absolutely entitled to, God given birthright of equal standing and balanced to pinpoint accuracy, color blind, universally equal status of F***ing freedom to pursue greatness & safety rich comfort of decency of rights & civility...

I might've left some points of importance empty ended due to the heat of emotional intensity, but hopefully it was sensible enough... I will keep trying to ever further in simplicity and speak in different methods verbatim, preaching you my white peers the words I hope will eventually strike home and wake them up to the obvious circumstance in its complex & complete entirety... But admittedly it's hard you hang tight to hope as the Bigot Consciousness and pompous headstrong believe of absolute racist delusion that is the belief that The Civil Rights Pursuit & BLM Group's frantic struggle to achieve equal stance in human rights & privilege and simple deserved resting status of, hell let's start with a resting status of feeling secure as the young children are playing some Bigot doesn't f***ing hurt or kill them.. A resting state of not paranoid of a traffic stop turning deadly for literally no f***ing reason, add on no need to fear planted evidence of a crime that wasn't committed, I mean goddamn the list goes on without end...

Fact: White MFs, Yes I mean myself too, Thus verifiably a first hand experienced knowledge of its truth.. White MFs DO NOT EVER EXPERIENCE THOSE THINGS..

If youre white and yours reading this.. OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES OUR BELOVED NEIGHBORS, OYR BELOVED FRIENDS.. ARE IN F***ING DANGER PEOPLE!!! WHY AREN'T YOU STANDING WITH THEM, WHY AREN'T YOU AIDING THIS CAUSE?!?!

CHANGE YOURSELF THEN!!! GIVE UP BS AF WHITE PRIVILEGE AND DEFEND OUR BRETHREN!! IF YOU DONT YOU ARE A RACIST & A BIGOT!!

If that is read but ultimately not taken in nor understood then idfk what will fry though to the whites I'm constantly physically near to and converse with..

To the folks of color reading this.. I'm so.. F***ING.. Sorry... That I can't do more than I am... I'm so sorry for what Old White Money has done to you & the entire populous of color... And I'm sorry for what happened to the people of the Moors long ago... As well as the world around us having let that knowledge become near entirely unknown...

I live in Blaine Minnesota, USA.. If you also live near there.. You have an Ally Here... I'd risk all to protect you.. My privilege, life, wherever it takes to know in absolute certainty that my neighbors of color, their elders, their beautiful children, so deserving of a future so bright they never come to know rain.. I openly want to tell you my friend... That I would die to save the priceless futures of your kids, their lives supercede the value of my own.. oh my neighbor, and I am truly absent the veil with an open and aware third eye, I see the beauty of the Sun in your rich beautiful skin, You're body yet carries the wondrous Moorish Sunlight, how tragic it is, that such a beautiful thing which is deserving of awe and envy, causes instead, due to a system of persecution and hatred for such idiotic reasons of utter shocking disdain, Instead is a major source of your suffering and negativity..

You are beloved by this White Person, please rely on me if you're residing anywhere near you me, if anything happens, please reach out for help.

Black Lives Matter

Anyone not standing beside them & taking every opportunity to benefit, enrich & assist in their cause... I am so immensely shocked, and doubly disappointed in your choice to Bogart, a desperately clutch your perspective of being deserving of your safety & comfort to the point of absence amidst this nearly constant existencw of obviously hate driven killing of good people who deserve all of America standing with them.. But you f***inng don't, Stand with them, because you are a Bigot & a Racist.. Disagree? Fact: You are both simply due to not standing with all people of color, and instead choosing to demean by things like "All Lives Matter" and believe these good people to be in the wrong.. Why do you think that? Idfk honestly, because you're choosing to stay quiet, safe & cost in your privilege which you literally only f***ing get to have because you were born white... White guilt? Oh f*** yeah, soak it in.. You aren't guilty because you're white.. You're guilty because you indulge in comfort while your beloved neighbors are being brutalized & murdered by cops & bigots.. And you choose to let them f***ing do it alone... Shame on you..

Black Lives Matter

That's my rant for now

Elders of color, especially those who were Panthers... God Bless You, and I hope to God these damn White people i call my peers wake TF up because you brave folks are deserving of a White Army standing with you.. If they won't give you the base status of permanent color blind equality & provide your beautiful black children the safety and opportunity as white kids... Then the Bigot Minded, Black Folk Oppressing & Sicking the Dogs = Cops who are Bullies with the sole purpose of violently Subjugating & stomping on all black folks achievements and progress..

Sorry I'm getting into it again... Umm.. In an undeniable circumstance of regular murders and false charges ruining families system that won't evolve to the mere position of providing equality in a color blind state.. Folks it's gonna be inescapably a necessary state of things requiring a Mask on Gloves On, Straps Ready.. Liberty or Death, Civilians vs Suits & Cops type of situation...

At some point the unrest needs to be the gunpowder that allows the shot which sends a bullet through the head of the Old White Money Banksters to shock the world.. Not like CIA FBI freak the fuck out, but rather a Metaphorical expression of poetic structure, which is the eruption of the American people's outrage and unwillingness to sit quietly and allow this to go on forever...

Holy shit have I ranted for a lengthy time.. I'll summarize with a concluding statement..

You, my beloved neighbors of color whom my heart is in agony for... This must end... You are so far beyond deserving of such base human rights which you live whilst they are kept from you... I will do all I can to help.. I won't give up on trying to wake up the white people I'm able to talk to, I'm so horrified at their choice of position to reside in regarding the pursuit of civil rights by the people of color...please be safe, God watch over you and hinder any police presence during your travels...

Endless Love, Blessed Be.

#blacklivesmatter #racialequality #civil rights #safety #Security #comfort #privilege #equal rites #black and white #white allies #black power #activist #activism #justice #freedoom

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focr · 2 years

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The entire congregation. . . the body singular

Although Paul is addressing the entire congregation, he yet speaks of the body in the singular, in order to bring out once more the fact that they are all one in Christ Jesus. Each one for himself and all of them together are the temple of the Holy Ghost, who has deigned to make them His abode, to take up His dwelling-place in their hearts and in their bodies. And therefore they are no longer masters of their own bodies, to perform their own lusts and desires. According to the heathen idea, prostitution was a consecration of the body; according to the Christian idea, it is the filthiest desecration of the body. The Christians may no longer use their bodies for the gratification of their sinful passions, but are bound to employ them in doing the holy will of God. And to this end St. Paul concludes with a powerful appeal: For bought you were at a price; then glorify God in your body! We Christians were bought, delivered, redeemed, from the power of sin and the devil, not with corruptible things, as silver and gold. The price of our redemption rather was of a nature to make us stand in adoring astonishment and praise in all eternity: with the precious blood of Christ, as of a Lamb without blemish and without spot, 1Pe_1:18-19. Through this redemption we have become Christ’s very own and are to serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness. That is the inference of the apostle: Glorify God in your body; let all the acts of all your organs and members be undertaken with the object of increasing His honor and glory, let your body be a temple wherein each man serves as a priest to the most high God in all chastity and decency.

~ Paul Kretzmann

#focr #focr 34 #self-harm #paul kretzman #commentary

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adorable-deku · 3 years

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ok so hear me out: an au where like... baby izuku 'saves' afo

baby izuku (lets say hes like 5 yrs old here) is running away from some older bullies. he succeeds in getting away, but he ends up stranded in a neighborhood that he doesn't recognize. it also looks kinda dangerous.

he tries to go back in the direction he came from but he was so stressed while running away he cant quite remember the turns he took.

while trying to find his way back, he sees a tall man in a suit being ganged up on by three guys way bigger than him. the guy in the suit doesnt look very strong, and izuku assumes hes just a normal businessman (the man in question is of course in no danger at all, but izuku is five years old and doesn't really understand nuance)

of course, this is cause for concern to izuku

izuku runs up (with no sense of self preservation, worryingly enough), grabs the man's hand, and pulls him out of the situation, which he is only able to do due to the stunned surprise of every person in the group (except the bastard in the suit, who had heard him muttering from the very beginning)

izuku pulls him a few streets down, the man in the suit sending a warning glare to the guys who had him surrounded (they are his subordinates after all) so they wouldnt follow him. once izuku is satisfied with the distance, he looks up and asks if the man is okay

afo looks at the bigass puppydog eyes and squishy cheeks of the baby child who thought he'd just rescued him and his heart does the grinch thing and grows a couple sizes

absolutely unused to this feeling, he asks izuku what his address is, teleports him there, then bounces

after spending a couple weeks getting himself together and creating a non villain persona, he begins to insert himself into izukus life because "cant you see kurogiri, the child needs to be protected!"

kurogiri kinda just glances at shigaraki

afo poses as a parttime counselor at izukus school, and gains izukus favor by never letting him get bullied ever

in this au, bakugou does not have a superiority complex. no, that is crushed before it can fully develop

over time, afo becomes kind of a surrogate father to izuku, and shigaraki a surrogate brother bc one year after kurogiri was sure that afo had developed one singular ounce of moral conscience he mentioned that izuku probably wouldnt like how he was treating his enemy's child

afo makes a face of pure disgust but resigns himself to treating the shimura brat with a modicum of decency

how does inko feel about all this? well, afo is very good at acting and although she gets some Off vibes from him at times, he's also the only person in their lives who shares izukus near obsessive fascination with quirks

that being said

for solidly the first three years, inko would not let them be alone together, for reasons that we all understand

but she grew comfortable with him too, eventually

when afo is not off committing villainy, he can be found hanging around izuku, the only source of positive emotion other than revenge

the only cause for concern to inko is that afo gives izuku some pretty expensive stuff and parttime counselors are not paid that well. given his formal demeanor and dressing habits tho, she just kind of assumes hes from a wealthy family

afo pretends to have moved away when izuku is nine bc thats when all might fucks up his face, but he still sends books and videos and games that he thinks izuku will like. izuku and shigaraki often meet up online and play video games.

so izuku grows up a lot more confident, and also learned how to fight from light sparring with his fake dad and brother, so hes not weak at all.

still quirkless, but all might changes that.

how do afo and shigaraki feel abt izuku becoming a hero? he can do whatever he wants. literally. whatever he wants

if izuku asked them not to kill all might theyre so fucking weak for him they probably would listen

#bnha #midoriya izuku #deku #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #dad for one #dfo #kinda #bnha au #mini boss au

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phrynewrites · 2 years

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☆ ✿ ♡ i was originally gonna ask this for blind date au but after the volleyball scene i just had to change it to teachers au. i love those idiots (affectionate)

Babes I cordially invite you to also ask them for blind date au gkfkjsgjk But also ugh thank you like volleyball scene has been my baby for the last week or so and now it's like people love my baby! wow!

☆ - happy headcanon

While Bosco is very private about their dating life, allowing only one (1) singular picture of them and Jasmine into their room, which eventually moves behind their desk once the kids are very clown-y about it, Jasmine is much more open with her new class. She literally has a picture of Bosco Aveyah with Theo sat on their shoulder as her computer screensaver and gets so smiley whenever she plugs her computer in to project something.

✿ - Sex headcanon

The first time they have sex is in the bathroom at a bar after they had to chaperone the Valentine's Day dance. They really tried to play it off as subtle but when they got back everyone was like huh you were gone for a while. There was a line outside the bathroom the whole time like y'all could have had the decency to do it in Jasmine's car smh.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Jasmine told Bosco that she literally got dumped on her birthday once so Bosco, despite not being super into big romantic gestures, sets off to make Jasmine's birthday beyond nice. Like they get up early to make Jasmine breakfast in bed and they get her flowers and fix that weird little error in Jasmine's online gradebook and also bribe her students to act normal and good and it's probably Jasmine's best birthday.

#Also her new class has drawn pictures of bosco #and bosco's like literally how do you know that one is me they're both stick figures with blonde hair #and jasmine's like well because this one is holding a potato and i told them you roasted potatoes for dinner and they were really good #and bosco's like???#also how did that come up in conversation ???#also while jasmine loves the romantic breakfast in bed and also what followed 👀#fixing that gradebook sync issue was the thing she most appreciated tbh #for anon #jasco teachers au #asks answered

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not-siri · 3 years

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I told y’all I’d do a pointless commentary on ”Tsst”. Let’s go. Controversial opinions and a bit of a hot take about Liane coming through. Oh, and it turns into another dumb overly descriptive analysis near the end. TW for a singular graphic image from the series.

Haha, good old Cartman. Back when he’d casually make some fucker dismember himself offscreen for insulting his weight. Stuff like this is the reason I think Cartman’s criminal record is worse than what we’re treated to onscreen.

Yes Liane, cry me a fucking river about your the out of control kid you made. 🎻

I love it when you can’t tell whether Cartman is trying to act normal for a hot second or just being a dick.

Cartman’s songs are always amazing, even if they’re just like ten seconds long and to make someone stop crying.

Nanny 911? You should know that’s not gonna do anything for this kid, Mackey.

A kid literally trying to restart the Holocaust? Nothing ol’ Nanny Stella can’t fix, apparently.

Damn why is Stella so THICC?

Bri’ish Carmen?

It pisses me off to fucking hell and heaven that a certain incredibly shitty YouTube puppet channel used this premise. Fuck the unnamed creators of the unnamed video in question.

Woah, how did Cartman do that? I wish I had the escape magic he does when I was a kid.

You’re right that you shouldn’t get on his level, Liane. Looks like Cartman taught you right to be respectful and obedient.

The virgin Nanny Stella getting called out for being a virgin by the, unfortunately enough, not virgin Eric Cartman.

This new lady is thicc too

Nah lady, we’re gonna see a new Super Nanny. Namely, one that eats her own shit in a mental hospital.

Is she wrong though?

WOOOO! The king is here!

Hell yeah, you’re the dog whisperer! Now go train that psychotic, obese fourth grader and his perverted, antisemitic mom!

Friendly reminder that Cesar’s technique also allegedly works on actual kids

Yeah Cartman, you’re just big boned. And later in the episode, your bones shrink.

Does she love you, Cartman? Eh, debatable at the time of this episode.

Cesar just brought out Cartman’s equivalent to fucking cocaine.

The only real reason to watch this episode:

He’ll be back, soon he’ll see, that he’s a dependent homeless little pussy (People who get the reference deserve all the Cheesy Poofs in the world)

Side commentary, I think if Cartman has anyone in that town who’s truly loyal to him in the current season, it’s Clyde.

Valmer. Sad when some huge bitch with small, detailed eyes from the real world knows Jimmy better than you, Cartman.

Craig is the best.

Proof that the vaccine didn’t make Liane artistic right there.

Yay another tsst pose.

Good for you with controlling him, Liane. Now since I’ve seen this episode, I have a reason to get mad at you at the end.

Thanks to the art style, we’ll never know what Cartman saw in that mirror. His own self being bossed around by his mother? A very slightly slimmed face? Some semblance of decency in his eyes?

See, Cartman could do well in school if he gave two shits. He’s not entirely inherently book-dumb.

Look here, Liane knows full well what a monster her son is. And she knows at this point in the episode what she needs to do to keep him on his positive path. This is important.

Cartman looks less fat now, and taller. I think he’s the second tallest fourth grader.

I see Butters’ surprise at his plan. From his experience, it goes the other way around.

Cartman is being really two-faced about his love for Hitler here…

While I don’t condone assisted matricide over her bossing you around, technically I imagine ol’ Jimbo would happily give Stan a gun. Also, just a few episodes back Cartman had a gun. Couldn’t he hypothetically just lend it to him? Basically, that line sucks.

Look at Stan’s eyebrows. This must be one of the few times he was the one most concerned about Cartman’s twisted bullshit rather than Kyle. Stan also has the best relationship with his mom of the kids in that room. Connection?

Just. This scene. It’s actually dramatic and perhaps telling of Cartman’s psyche and worldview. Now I’m gonna get mildly serious.

Cartman is trying to kill his mother. Usually, he only physically hurts/attempts to physically hurt specific people if it’s a) protecting his massive yet fragile ego or b) in a mutual physical fight. Why is he trying to hurt his mom?

Seemingly, because she’s not obeying him anymore. I wanna elaborate on this with a theory: he largely sees her in a twisted light- as not really a person, more a servant. A servant who mainly asks for his validation in return. As such, she is expected to serve his greedy, spoiled, unhealthy self and protect his enormous ego from the insecurities of everyday life (being fat, cruel, hated, etc). That’s the arrangement. (Hell, if he wholeheartedly meant what he was saying about how she apparently doesn’t love him anymore, then that’s his perception of a normal mother-son relationship.) And now the arrangement he’d been raised and gotten comfortable under was being taken away. Liane isn’t being validated by him anymore, she’s not protecting him in the aforementioned sense, and he’s changing away from his lifestyle of narcissism, cruelty, and laziness. Cartman doesn’t like that, so tries to end the whole shebang by offing the source of the now invalid, uncomfortable relationship. (A bit like what he attempted to do to Heidi in “Sons A Witches”... this kid is truly twisted.)

Or he just likes playing the victim. Or both. Idk

Then we see him wonder whether he really should. Maybe I don’t have the right to kill my mom. His suppressed, perhaps deliberately self-neglected conscience is coming out. I think that would have happened in a case where he would try to kill his mom even without Cesar’s help. And it’s just more proof that, technically speaking, Cartman is in fact not a sociopath.

But here’s where Cesar does come in next. Because of his behavior changing due to him, Cartman is so conflicted in the first place. (I think he quite possibly could have gone through with it if it weren’t for Cesar.) First, I’m gonna say that his “evil side” in this scene is a sort of metaphor. The joke seemed to be an allusion to some evil being controlling him usually, but it probably shouldn’t be taken literally due to its being a joke. Rather, I’d like to argue that it also represents the cruel, despicable Cartman we had gotten to know before this episode, who he really is so to speak. And his “good side” is popping up too, representing the decent, self-aware human being he could have been and we knew for about a minute.

We have his “evil side” telling him that he can kill his mother, because he can do whatever with her. And the “good side” is disagreeing, and saying things like maybe all these changes are good for me. Maybe… the world doesn’t revolve around me? And that idea is so alien, so impossible to Cartman’s self-centered, evil-dominated little mind that he nearly goes mad, and his “good” and “evil” are in war, seeing which side to him will prevail.

The next morning, we see which side won the war. A mother by the name of Liane Cartman is about to ask her son about a knife and paper towel roll in her bedroom, when she sees a calm, well dressed, self-sufficient little boy studying before his school day while eating a healthy breakfast, which he did all on his own. She tears up with joy, for that’s her son.

Liane then goes to see Mr. Millan, a man who had been helping her and keeping her company. She proudly told him about her child, and then asked him whether he would like to go on an outing with her. Millan rejects the offer, telling her that his job is done and that he must go back home, then leaves.

And happy fun validation-with-no-strings-attached times are over for Liane, and so is my ability to have a lot of sympathy for this woman. I already made several points and allusions to this point in the episode. You see, Liane learned something today. She learned that in order to have a normal, healthy child, she’d need to treat him as such. (Now here’s where my unpopular and very low opinion of Liane shines through next.)

But fuck all that, she needs her stupid validation. Fuck her son, fuck his chance at being a normal person, fuck his health, literally fuck the whole world.

Now, FYI I wouldn’t be as harsh on Liane with what she did here if it were just an eventual slip back into the old routine. Old habits die hard, I couldn’t fully blame her if that were the case. But given what she learned/knew and then so immediately and in such an extra manner (telling him they’ll go to KFC and she’ll buy two toys) it must be so deliberate that it hurts.

And I must emphasize, Cartman’s choices are still his choices. From an omniscient POV, Liane is just his Freudian Excuse. And while Liane is an enabler to the point of manipulation, it was still ultimately Eric’s choice to go back to his old ways.

#memory posts tag - posts that were once tagged but aren’t anymore bc they’re cringe

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zuihuojoui · 3 years

Text

wonders of a new game

Thoughts had lifted him from the bed shared with his beloved. Her strands of midnight were left peaceful atop the plush haven and he was careful not to wake her. Out from the inner chamber, silk robe tied around his frame, and he walked carefully across the cool marble towards his writing desk. He affixed the crystal, powering moderate light into the room and once the light shone under the door, in walked a junior butler, curious as to why he was awake, ready to make his commands known. Just tea he said, sending away the butler with a nod.

The singular draw housed a journal, leather bound, with a golden J in the lower right corner. He laid the book open then wet his quill, then again into ink. His mind wondered and his thoughts pressed into the pages.

The travelers say he looks like me more with each day. They say he even laughs like me.

I know that is to be solace, to ease the ache in my heart and this yearning. But it cannot. There is no peace nor comfort that abounds in this state. Only the wondering of my mind. Oh how I miss his presence. To see him look upon my face and watch his expression brighten as he marks who I am. And yet I know it pains her more, for their bond is ever more than words can describe.

He does have her gaze, that focus that brings shame to all that defy her. Oh how marvelous he will be wielding clones with her ferocity. Phantasms wrecking the confines of the subconscious in one breath, then rending all possibilities with another.

My heart, I desire nothing more than to watch you take every breath and grow in every moment, but duty requires me here. Duty requires my actions in this place that I will shape in the image of our will.

He sighed and looked up, leaning back into his chair for a moment, silently holding the image of those little golden eyes in his mind before continuing.

It baffles me though, how little the mind of the inhabitants process outcome. It seems that either they are just ignorant and incapable of weighing any step beyond the present, or perhaps their minuscule lives force them to live only in the current second. Shamefully tragic it is, but entertaining to behold. For only such fools could act as they do. How easy is it to benefit from their inability to comprehend and see.

Taking the highest level of authority while existing in a rebel cause that aims to reduce the very system that authority is built upon, not sensible. A young imbecile thinks the ideals strung together in filthy taverns with unwashed foul mongrels can do anything but offer a laugh. Certainly, gather together with pitch forks and roar of the world. For woe, how horrid, life is dreary and mean. The annoying screams of poverty and all that is lacking from the corner of this land that chose to live as such is ironic and shows how little they know of their own forefathers.

How much ignorance keeps them tied beneath the surface, it is clear they simply do not know. For why else would he take this post, outing these moronic night antics and explosive screams of anarchy, and naming himself openly as a criminal. The assumption that supposed brand new concepts for they who chose such an existence, alone, would remedy their aches, while marking your charge as traitorous. However did he conclude this was the best way? And of the remnants of this family? Did he not think of how amusing it would be to string their limbs up throughout that said disease filled corner, just out of his own distaste? For I thought of it. Just a passing murmur of a laugh when sharing time and air with the family.

The junior butler returned, setting down the tea aside him, then powering on another lamp. Joui set his quill down, the butler moving to refill and stir his ink. The taste brought his eyes to the butler who only smiled then looked away. “You intend to return me to bed”, he said then chuckled, hand extending for the quill.

Oh the ways the inhabitants are lacking. Even in manners. Such notion has been passed around, whispered, but still catching my ear. And now this wager amongst the clan. For all know that my kindness, even out of boredom, comes with expectations of decency and the modicum of honor these lowborn can muster. In curiosity I affixed my gaze, gave the honour of my presence and my affections did grow. Generosity is ever my nature, for what else am I to do with this useless wealth but freely give it to those who please me.

And I have shared comfort and my very protection, the care and consideration that earned shows of ire from my eternally beloved. But She, the one who illuminates my being with the glow of the cosmos, She spared this one’s life, a gift She only could give. And the answer to such grace is taking the favour, the very possibilities granted, and walking from my protection, forcing my questioning if life should continue to exist within that one.

And so this wager, several hundred platinum now I hear, for curiosity when sours only leads to the need to wash one’s hands and to acquire newness that sparks.

This one’s claimed family too lacks sense, beyond walking towards he that I am tied to yet am unsure of. For out of the affection that bloomed came privalege that let insult and insolence be spared for a time. For never had I intended that pardon to be final. Those views of their happiness and joined claws did bring smiles to my face yes, and oh the truth of their warmth was clear. But to love and be senseless is to die. For now, no affection keeps me able to consider calmer measures, and rents the lease on that pardon. What joy, new questions are birthed when old ones lose their draw.

As kindred they are, they share lacking foresight. He who proclaimed the blessings of my influence with every smile and acted humble bow, and how it lined his coffers, bared fangs to me and lived only because of another. Now he freely walks, lacking the fear to behold danger and to flee this land with no return. My influence has not diminished, nor the sheer ability to grant weight to accounts by just what adorns me. For this wretched brand across my arm still glows golden, an infinite gap between I and all others. But still, Now the weight of that can be felt for what does not.

Joui set the quill down taking another sip of his tea before looking out to the night sky. Softly he thanked the butler and sent him to bed, promising he would return to rest shortly. The butler nodded, though looked to the High Fae with doubt making Joui smile as he walked from the room. His shadow persisted under the door, Joui’s smile remaining as he looked out to the sky again. Calm posing with few clouds passing by, still the stars shone, just slightly dulled. His eyes returned to the page, turning and continuing.

I, who will see well beyond their years, have calculated their worth and actions, and set my own in motion. It is a lesson to

The door leading to the bedchamber opened and his eyes raised to her, standing in the door way, long locks adorning portions of her uncovered frame. “Bold of you”, she spoke, eyes meeting his own.

“My love, what troubles your rest?” he asked gently.

Her eyes intensified and he chuckled, closing the journal, drawer opening as her petite frame moved closer. He placed the journal away then turned to face her, who stopped paces away from him, the faint crystal light landing on her softly. “Hope you are not fond to those pages, for they are about to be greeted by the flames, daring to take you out of my bed ”, she said then yawned, head turning and shifting her locks behind her.

Joui stood, powering off the crystals then walking to her. He lowered, lifting her by her thighs, then holding them at his own, mouth meeting her cheek. He walked back within the bedchamber, feet shutting the doors behind him, before moving back to their bed. He set her down, then eased off the robe, tossing it to the chaise before joining her. Arms went about her, pulling her close, and though the room was darkened he knew what expression persisted on her face.

“Never again”, he gave then closed his eyes, nuzzling into her neck. Her hands pushed him back, holding his face and again he knew her mind and expression, a smile holding his lips before meeting her own.

#sp: Journal entry - wonders of a new game #ab: a glimpse of the mindset #feature the goddess that is sayi lol

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el-oh-her · 3 years

Text

To the one who said yes

There is a time I recollect when they told me to become uncomfortable and while scratching off the anxiety to make more plans with my friends, and then they would love me. How could I dare expect an invitation when my depression locked my throat up, stealing the asking voice, causing me to never invite others or even make plans. It hardly seems fair, sitting at the bottom of the river watching them float above on the raft.

It was a yearly pancake breakfast my university hosted. Be brave, I whispered. Take back your own tongue for god's sake. Perhaps thirty texts went out. I am doing what they want. Perhaps now they'll love me, the ones who keep telling me to swim while pouring water in to raise it's level so I never reach.

I try not to cry at every I'm busy. At the seen, but not responded. At the ones who told me to stop expecting human decency if I did not behave neurotypically and act the way they do.

It is the friend I hardly speak to, the one whom I was one floor-mates with, who says yes. Twenty-nine battles lost and one battle won, but it's not even close to winning a war when I can't even see in the dark.

I often wondered why I was so obsessed with meeting the conditions of their conditional love with unrealistic expectations, ignoring that one singular yes. I'm sure they don't even remember this. I'm positive that the one who said yes doesn't remember either. But I do.

It meant something. It still does.

Thank you

#original writing #writing #creative writing #writblr #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #autofiction

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worldcakecakecake · 3 years

Text

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64 I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68 I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75 I Chapter 76 I Chapter 77 I Chapter 78

Chapter 79

“Now!” Arthur shouted.

Renata quickly ceased the glow in her hand, gone like the flicker of a candle.

“Now somebody go get-” Louis was interrupted by a sudden blast, white and rampaging across the room. They quickly thought it an attack from Destro that had managed straight at their location, but they didn’t hurt…the light became one of warmth, of familiarity. They actually heard Augustino laughing. The light was gone swiftly, everyone began to stand from their fall, just in time to see Feliciano arise, taking a large deep breath, to then cough as he held to the stairs of the pool. The first one to come to his side was Kiku, one hand to help him stand on the dry stone of the room, the other comforting on his back. They all rushed to circle him, but Kiku held a hand to give Feliciano some decency of space, to breathe back in actual living oxygen into his physical body…alive again after a month.

In all honesty…Feliciano looked horrible. He was hunched as he leaned to breathe again, wet, dripping water to the ground, his clothes haggard and his body was only slowly recovering back its color. He still leaned on Kiku, who still offered to give him support.

This was not how they expected him to return. If he was like this…it only meant… “You…couldn’t get it…couldn’t you?” Roderich guessed, deflated, all joining in this accept of what was soon to be a world ending failure. They believed it more so when Feliciano hanged his head lower, refusing to look at them.

They sighed, some began to tear and whimper, given up, kneeling to the floor ready to have everything destroyed before them. But whatever wallowing that wanted to continue, was broken with a sudden red glow, cracking and even drawing upon Feliciano’s fallen hand. Feliciano chuckled, beginning to stand, carefully moving Kiku to the side. All water on him left, dried, looking pristine even if he was bare footed and still wore a simple blouse and pants. His hair and skin shone brighter, with deeper colors and from him came this stronghold of magic, decorating the room in a sense that alighted them, shone them forward to be coated in this new air.

“I got more than just the alignment,” he assured as he opened and showed them his eyes covered completely in magic, bright, powerful, but yet still they held the childish wonder of Feliciano, assuring them it was deeply him. “Much…much more.” He opened his hands to let his arms begin to get decorated in shines of gold and red, letting the room tremble and grow with a garden of magic, of sparks and lights that fascinated all to a stupor. He let it all stop with a simple sway of his hands lowering, his eyes closing to then alight again with his usual amber. Before all could word and celebrate, smiling and shinning deeply with hope, another crash came into the room from a messenger, tired, huffing and ready to fall to the ground.

“Destro is in the midst of the city! He’s approaching the castle and we are not enough to hold him! You must come and help us!”

“Perfect! We have Feliciano with us and he holds the alignment,” Yao announced, as all brandished their weapons and magic again. Only but Feliciano startled and questioned as his gaze was frantic.

“We’ll help him however necessary. We will attack this instant and make sure Destro is dead by the-"

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Feliciano interrupted his father, standing before all as a blockade.

“Feliciano, we have to act now!” Lovino shouted.

“I know, I know! Just please…don’t kill him…”

They all widened and stood perplexed, for not just the words but the feel in his tone.

“What do you mean not kill him? He has helped destroy a large part of Clubs and is the culprit for having the entire southern Hearts kingdom obliterated. If he comes any closer he’ll have us all killed instead!” Aldrich shouted.

Even if all the energy currently rested inside him, Feliciano hurt, holding back tears as he shook and tried to control them to stay inside. “Let me deal with this! You can help me all you want when we have to defeat Khaos…but leave Destro to me.” With the words he managed his calm and straightening, a stronghold that actually got the rest to fall and stand back, lessening the hold of their weapons and even the energy of their magic.

Feliciano sighed, calm…then potence as he turned to the messenger still trying to calm his breaths. “Tell everyone to fall back…and to come straight to the castle. One brigade is commanded to keep a Titanium shine spell so Destro can attack until everyone is safely secured inside. Once done, I myself will place a protective shield to keep the castle safe. I assure you all no harm will come.”

“And then you’re going to face Destro alone?” Lili was dreading.

Another shook that caused pieces to fall in the room, a roar that made them all shutter.

“Yes. I will.” Decreed strongly in his voice, one everyone knew they could not go against, having to nod and accept, if even shaking with worry. “I will only put up the shield once everyone is in…and you have to promise you will stay inside.” He turned with strength in his foots, one that made all bow to in reverence and accept. “Only then will I head out and face him.”

“Your majesty…what are you doing now?” Elizabeta dared herself to ask.

“I will watch and make sure that my commands are fulfilled…and I have to look for my harp.” And with a surprising calm he took to the halls to head to its storage.

The call was done quickly. Feliciano saw from his heights as messengers spread and began to lead way back to the castle. Some rushed alone, others needed assistance because of their wounds, depending on the help of other soldiers to make way, but they made haste. Whoever was left in the city made approach to the castle, all behind a line of wizards that kept the Titanium Shine as the Queen had told. The spell was but a hallucination, a tall pillar of strong grey magic that feigned the energy of a living person, a perfect distraction for Destro, who attacked it as viciously as he had done everything, the ricochets deadly to the city, tearing and coating in smoke of destruction. Entire streets were there no longer, others blackened, Destro’s mere presence calling poison to reign even in the skies, tempting to rain with burn.

This was the first time Feliciano’s eyes fell on Destro, the expanse of darkness, raging and swinging with its own arms and face, with runes of red and white, shaped with strengths that were actually wider than Khaos. He had yet to see Khaos in his alignment, but already Destro proved much more evil than the depictions he had seen long ago in the cave of artifacts.

He gulped, he gripped harder the column of the harp he had now…trying to contain his fear…to see…

The ground shook, awaking Feliciano from his thoughts, to realizing that the wizards and the last of the soldiers were entering the front gardens of the castle. It was his time to leave…to face…to begin and end this all. He actually…believed. He had confidence, one that made him stand prideful, with a deep breath that was only for the beginning of a melody.

“I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my Queen.”

He sung it underneath his breath, tranquil and peaceful despite this disarray.

In the eternal reserve, there was indeed much more than just the alignment, more than just power and magic. There was information, knowledge and instructions about everything, even notes of power left behind. One of those messages was the ability to actually change the harp. No…he would not dare change the design, structure and color Augusta had placed, for it was sufficiently beautiful. All he needed was to change its size, something small he could carry in his palm, to easily begin his descend down the castle, like a singular entity that existed out of everything, merely trying to make a passing.

“No heat, no cold, will stop me of my search,

No sun, no rain to go against my strength,

Just promise me your hand,

And love me in our eternity.”

This music he tried to make his own sound, away from the shouts, the hurry of everyone trying to make their place in the castle for the shield.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love,

I know it’s a journey you will overcome,

But I don’t need you to go so far,

I want you here to kiss me.”

He entered the place of action, of all running and creating a panic that Feliciano felt suspended in as he made his way across. He paid no mind to them, he left them to their disorder. No one really came into silence until they noticed him…easy, like he was just strolling through the castle trying to find a pleasant breeze.

“Would you want all the gold I will find for you?

Would you like the songs I will bring from afar for you?

Would you accept me as your shield?

And would you want me always by your side?”

He sang on, making that image more the one that all thought Feliciano was really going through. They all stood as they witnessed him, letting a rare peace fall on these halls.

“What is he doing?” One soldier asked.

“Isn’t he supposed to be facing Destro?”

“They said he was going to do it alone!”

“But he’s just singing!”

The whispers continued.

“I don’t want any of the riches you will bring,

I don’t care for any of the songs,

I only want you to hold,

I only want your arms around me.”

The voices would always fall, beginning to just accept…and trust whatever it was that the Heartian Queen will do.

It was his own silent parade down the rest of the halls, down every stair he needed to take, reaching ground, the main door of the castle now appearing before him. The commotion was the strongest here, filled, with people in shouted pain and tears, healers coming to act quick, screams and hurry to head in from the royals at the front.

“Bring me your love, your kisses, your loyalty,

Your passion, your hope, your defeat,

Your promise, your weakness, your strength,

I will keep it all in my heart.”

“The casters are almost here!” Kandake shouted, shock panic in her expression.

“And where in the hell is Feliciano?” Vash shouted, just as he was met with a surprising silence, noticing how all gazed back to the very figure he questioned, making his way singularly down the hall.

“Let the doors open wider…let the last of them come in,” Lili reminded, strong and pushing so all could fulfill despite this rare glow Feliciano shone in, distracting and even beautiful.

“I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my King.”

Nobody dared question the song…they just gave the necessary space for Feliciano to take, in that moment handing everything to him. He now had their lives and future, hanging in his hands and power.

The last of the soldiers made entrance to the castle, the casters were now right before them, still holding to the spell, turning to the royals awaiting the next command.

“Stop the enchantment. Head inside. I’ll deal with him.”

They nodded, albeit fearful still as they turned their hands to release the hold. They rushed inside, leaving the pillar as it was, able to withstand a couple of more whiplashes from the remaining energy.

There was still some time.

While all shook at the image of Destro so near the castle, Feliciano stood stable, unaffected and with a calm some were envious the Queen could keep. The royals kept a guard around him, watching and waiting for any action. Only Pookie broke this as he took landing on Feliciano’s shoulder as usual, cuddling and comforting no matter the turmoil. It was almost like the monster before them wasn’t there at all.

“If you are waiting for me to change my mind, I am not.”

“To be honest, do whatever you want…just get rid of that thing,” Arthur admitted, his fear shown in the slight shake in his tone, as well as the fierceness he gave that made this a command.

Vincenzo glared, but it eased as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’ll be here, ready to serve you for anything. Defeat this menace…but stay safe.”

Feliciano smiled, the enchanting one that spread and made them all shine on this eve of darkness. “As I’ve said before…stay in the castle. Leave everything to me.” And with that he took a step out of the threshold, beginning his way, the others not daring to close the door, for it was their watch to the spectacle they knew would mark them all forever. Many others took watch from any of the windows, frozen and expecting.

In that chest of power, not only had Feliciano found information, but he found the forgotten lyrics to a song Augusta had long ago created, a hymn to the misery of losing her beloved.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he had begun to sing again. It was louder this time, echoing to the point that all in the castle could hear it…they even wondered if it spread to the whole city, since Destro suddenly stopped, a widened expression in his eyes that was eerily human.

“The sky has all fallen…” he continued, but he didn’t go on without a sudden deep breath, alighting in beautiful marks, ruby red. Once all that energy he needed was gathered, as he released his breath, large red lights began to grow from different corners of the city. He didn’t have to twirl his hand or utter some incantation…he walked on down the main courtyard, a simple thought in charge of letting these lights glow the streets they were located on, rushing forward until they reached the center of the castle. From the base it created at its edges, a net like structure began to grow, beginning a covering sphere of the castle, slow as Feliciano was still kept at its circulated area.

“The kingdom weeps their king’s farewell…” he managed to sing on as he found himself ever reaching the official gates, only a matter of steps now.

“And a queen breaks at her lover’s parting again…”

To his surprise…Destro remained awfully still…as if he was enjoying from the song…perhaps trying to find its location…or trying to find his target.

“But in your defend, all will join and fight for our future…”

The shield continued its upward current, to the amazement of all who stayed inside the castle, distracted in its form enough that they didn’t see as Feliciano finally placed a foot outside of the perimeters. With his exit, the shield met at the top and finished. The castle was now well protected…nothing would be capable of destroying it…and even at the worst it will still stand. Feliciano could now keep his focus on only Destro.

“…so the heavens will bless in your rest our perfect peace,” he finished the song, elongating an indeed rare silence in the city. To the surprise of those back in the castle, Destro didn’t lunge forward and Feliciano didn’t attack…they were easy in this stillness. They both continue to breathe out, nervous, like two strangers worried over their first meeting.

Somehow…even for this, Feliciano had a song, new and his…with thoughts for Ludwig and a willingness to do anything…absolutely anything for him.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he then began a slow reach, a walk forward, brave and with a shining happiness from his expression to his steps, eager, each new approach lighting the more, extinguishing more the fear.

“My king who shines above all,” he smiled, such joy that already teared at his eyes.

Destro continued this stillness, awed and wondered, frozen yet in his spot.

“Darkened, lost and taken…” and Feliciano finally took that weakness to use, beginning a spell that lighted up the entire city, glowing in gold as he used it for an intense heat, one that surely burnt and brought Destro back to screeching and sending swings, destroying streets and buildings…and yet Feliciano stood in their fault, smiling and unaware.

“I know your heart is stronger.”

Now the song was an add to this poison. Destro wanted rid of it, so he trampled forward meaning to fulfill his kill as intended.

Raging, monstrous, Feliciano still looking so diminutive in his shadow, and yet the Queen continued to smile and only move forward, in a want to meet him.

Many in the castle had to shield their eyes, some began to weep and others shook as if Destro’s was above them ready for taking. It could very well happen if he just swallowed Feliciano…which seemed would be very likely the case.

“Your light is brighter…” And Feliciano dared halt, much to the anguish of the castle, slowly, painfully slow, raising a hand…not the one that had the harp. From there, he gathered light…warming and loving…comfortable and even…happy. Despite how diminutive it was, right in the middle of this darkening blaze, looking like it could easily drown between all…Destro stood just as Feliciano, both not daring any harm to the other.

“You are ruler, you are king…” and they saw then that the song was dedication…dedication to Destro. The gaze their eyes shared was of childhood friends…turned to lovers…to then the King and Queen of Hearts. Destro let himself sit, the viciousness of his killing hands, turning gentle, forming fingers…familiar fingers that reached only for a simple touch. There was no fire, no magic, when Feliciano reached for its touch, he didn’t hurt, in fact, his smile was only larger, letting his hand caress the large hand of darkness like any regular skin. He embraced it, he even cradled it, letting himself lay on it, already feeling him entirely. He gazed up, with hint of tears from the peak of this happiness, to those large eyes that now more than ever reflected his beloved.

“I know it’s you…Ludwig…” he couldn’t keep the last words in the tune of the song, for it was more important that he knew he was there, more important that they had this reunion, a reminder that at the worst…they would triumph.

Destro…Ludwig…accepted this welcome, letting himself lean in blissful rest and comfort, careful as he lay right over the tiny figure of his husband. How he could, Feliciano raised his arms and embraced him, even as his face was formed this monstrous, loyal in giving him his ever devoting love, caressing and mending and how he wished he could kiss him. It was difficult, but…he tried, his lips reaching to any corner of a mouth he could reach, and with it, he began the full intent of his spell, one that went on its own course as he instead focus on feeling the powerful emotion of having his husband's lips again.

“Is he…is he kissing that thing?” Vash couldn’t help but mention. The rest were too dumbfounded to response, only watching as the city began to glow more in the scene of this kiss.

Despite how it was all gold, it seemed like color was brought back to the city, enveloping everything, slowly tearing apart every inch of darkness from this evil vessel. No more storms, no more poison, instead there was healing, coating everything in flowers, in new jewels to the buildings, in a brightening that made the damaged parts of the city new again. Destro turned smaller, smaller, every part of him slashed to nothing, disintegrating instead in shine and stars that made this grey day shinning with the colors of a beautiful morning. Piece by piece this vicious monster began to be chipped away until only this body remained…a human body. The golden light it was developed in was too much to really notice any features, but there was no hesitation in the way Feliciano desperately held to it, letting it rest on him, coming to kneel down until it could lay on his lap comfortably.

Knowing it was safe, the shield on the castle fell, in a blink, and in that instant the castle doors slammed open with the insistence of the royals. Feliciano didn’t care for this commotion, he simply let his hands trail on the figure’s hair, their blond strands coming back, their silk and softness, the hardened head, the strong jaw, nose and cheeks. His skin turned its rightful pale, his body as perfectly as Feliciano always considered it, left with only tattered remains of surely the last armor he had fought with. The brightness began to dwindle, leaving a wondrous heat in the city that made them swear a melody continued to sing. With the last twinkling of gold gone, there was a sudden grasp of air, of steady breathing…along with a heartbeat.

Ludwig remained in this rest, letting his body slowly get used to skin, to breathing in and out his control, testing with sudden grips and shakes that indeed…he was his own again. He baptized that aware with a fluttering of his eyes, that beautiful blue that the very sky seemed to have granted him. He saw a shining day, he felt the warmth of great summers and then he saw…his own angel, his sun, his love and queen and already he smiled. It caused a slight pang…but it didn’t matter…it was just the right reminder he was back…this was real…Feliciano was there.

“Ludwig?” Feliciano still questioned it, still wondering if this was the plethora of all dreams and he was still stuck in one of the realms.

Ludwig groaned and still found it hard to move for now…but it would pass, he would heal…and he will live. This time he could show a grin that reflected the light of this new sun on him, making it more real for Feliciano, who began to tighten the hold he kept on his body, whose eyes began to water, but even so his own grin wanted to keep expanding.

“Feliciano…” he managed to speak, rusted and sore, “…do you…remember that spell I used to do as a kid after my power activation…the one I had to do-” “-two for each afternoon hour,” they repeated together in a perfect sync that made them chuckle.

“And do you remember…how it was you that always convinced me to do it when I complained about it…and you always…tried to heal or calm whenever I got burnt afterwards…”

“Yes…yes, yes I remember that dearly.” Tears fell, but even with this shake, Feliciano went on smiling.

“I feel like…something just like that happened now…I couldn’t…control my power…I couldn’t…I couldn’t….” Ludwig found it hard to speak when he was shaking with the same tears that took him, the emotion piling. “-do anything…I left myself turn into a monster and destroy everything I hold dear, but you …you brought me back…you stopped this…you saved me…”

“Oh, but Ludwig, despite all this darkness, you managed to see me between and let the spell heal…you let yourself be freed. It wasn’t me alone. Oh, how I missed you and how I love you, I love you dearly and I just…I just had to save you. These last few weeks…without you were awful. I was so lost…everything was darker and hopeless…I was so ready to give up and join you wherever you were but…there’s a world looking up to us, there are tons of other millions we have to save and…” he raised his arms to the jewels were their children lay. Ludwig managed slight reaches to be able to caress them, smiling, the joy letting him raise from his lay a slight more. “…we have our own kids to show the very world we live in.” The jewels had gotten brighter, new red vines began to grow around Feliciano’s wrists and Ludwig was sure to touch every line, proving to his children that he was there…that he will be there. Their gazes met and they knew for sure all was real, their touch was theirs, their breath running and every fiber of magic in them was glowing now for their return. It exploded as they reached forward for their kiss, deepening and passionate, letting themselves in that fuel, letting whatever tears come down and fall for once in comfort and trust in the new flourished land below them. They settled between on one another in whimpers, in a hold all around them that was tight and placed, nothing, nothing…not even the approach of all, shouting, crying and celebrating was enough to depart them.

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There’s so much that went wrong while writing this. To me, this chapter should have meant more, but in the end…I don’t know…it doesn’t feel like I wanted it to. I tried what I could of fixing it but after noticing I haven’t gotten any comments or words for this story in months…yes including the last amount of chapters…I should just…no care about this as most people do. So many times the last few weeks I’ve thought about stopping…but, NEWS, there’s only about three chapters left to finish the story, and after five years with this…I think I should give it the chance to at least let it be done. I told myself many times, I created this adventure for myself and anyone else who reads is just welcomed to come along on the ride. I really don’t like coming here all guilt trippy like this, but just…been through a lot the last few weeks, thinking a lot about usage of time…and sometimes I wondered why continue with a story that I only care about, wasting time? But then, exactly, I care about it, I adore it, I don’t need the lack of interest of strangers. It is great, I love it, and it is taking swell time. For those who have stuck and the very few who are the pushes that keep me going with this hideous mammoth. Thank you, and thus, I bring you a chapter in what I could of messy holiday shenanigans.

As I said, savor it…only three more to go.

Also, was this part really like the one in Moana? Yes, I know. I had this idea long before the movie came out, but sadly I was slower. The movie did give me the idea to add a song though~

#fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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a-long-walk-in-the-forest · 3 years

Text

Sasuke’s saturn degree exploration

This post is about his saturn which is likely in 3rd decan cancer.

23-24

It denotes a strong, masterly character of great endurance, stability and daring; ambitious of honor and capable of withstanding his enemies while achieving greatness and fame for himself. It is a degree of MASTERY.

The native’s soaring ambition is fanned by great qualities and as great failings; it takes but little help by other astrologic factors to have that ambition satisfied even beyond expectations. This degree grants ,an inborn prestige, admirable courage and untiring industriousness, but a snake-like hypocrisy as well, a tendency to cool-blooded, ruthless scheming, a mean way of cowering and cringing until the desired aim and the attending distinctions are in sight. Such vices are hard to sublimate into virtues. The native’s religious spirit would offer a chance, although exactly the contrary-namely, perversion of that outer intolerant and hypocritical formalism-might be expected. But the importance of the other factors and their marshalling, can never be overstressed. There will be no lack of enemies, whom the native will not fear. He may instead go out of his own way to bargain with them, if this can lift him but one step higher. As soon as he has the whole flight of steps behind himself, he will have them all under his heels and will rule over them all as a tyrant.

Music; denotes the seer; a charming person who may use his gifts for a good cause; a good critical writer; he can blend truth with imagination to make his works interesting; literature; has the audacity to be different; gastric ulcer; blood vessels.

24-25

It indicates a person of much independence of spirit, self-willed and daring. Such is capable of carrying out designs conceived by himself without the aid or companionship of others. He may be a pioneer; it is certain he is venturesome and self- reliant; and where such qualities may have influence, he will succeed and be singular in honor as in action. The native will be somewhat estranged from his kindred; taciturn and self- contained; but will make his mark in some field of work requiring independence of spirit, courage and perseverance. It is a degree of SELF-RELIANCE

The strongest man is the one who stands most alone. Ibsen, An Enemy of the People A high-spirited being, full of noble purposes and setting his aims high, cherishing freedom above all earthly things and driving this love so far as to stray away from his kind into silence and seclusion. If other stars help, this will not prevent his doing great works likely to exert a deep influence on his neighbors and to leave a mark in history. The secret of his success is his unshakable self-confidence supported by a fiery will. Under less favorable influences his daring may become a reckless love of adventure, his zest for work wild and fickle fanaticism, his lofty aspirations selfish ambitions. Travel will play some role in his life. Concurrent emergence of suitable factors might make him into a pioneer.

Literature; gift of healing; musical ability; art; denotes the seer; a degree of “darkness”; independent; capable of carrying out his own ideas; fired with great aspirations, his influence will be felt in far places; afflictions threaten trouble with and danger through liquids, water, gas, poisons or dog bites; rising; said to inspire admiration for the canine species; proud and easily angered; petulant; duodenal ulcer; digestive organs. .

28-29

It indicates a person of docile and tractable nature, combined with a certain subtlety of mind and high order of intelligence. One who will be held in restraint by others, or whose freedom will be taken by the hand of Fate and the force of circumstances. Although thus held in check, the native will be subject to dangers of an unknown character from secret enemies and jealous foes, and will be in peril of an untimely end. It is a degree of forced RESTRAINT.

Where there are pointers of honesty and decency, this degree bestows a superior intelligence and a sense for business. Unfavorably aspected, it will produce a low cunning leading to unscrupulous doings, cheating, and even theft. Strange as it may seem, the native tends by nature to be shy, yielding, self-conscious, and close. Such a pliancy will remarkably relieve the educator’s task, provided he can see through his pupil, but will increase the danger of evil as well. Should other astrologic factors concur, an unhappy end might be foreseen: jail, death sentence, violent death and the like. The ambushes of men and fate are, in any event, to be feared.

An interesting person but sometimes unreliable and uncertain, conscious awareness of hair, often acts on inspiration or impulse; last 2 degree of Cancer not favorable for Neptune unless there are good aspects (Mars favorable to this Neptune; energy for the work denoted); spleen.

29-30

It denotes a person of much intelligence, ardent spirits, somewhat willful and daring nature; having a great love of freedom, contempt for public opinion, and much self-reliance. The mind is quick and alert, but somewhat untamable and willful, and the emotions are apt to run away with the reason. There is, however, a good deal of intuitive judgment in the native, and this degree gives a keen sense of justice, a warm passionate nature, strong will, little self-restraint and much insight into human character. It is a degree of FREEDOM.

As are all over-compensated half-wits, the native is firmly persuaded that other people’s opinions count for nothing. As far as he is personally concerned, no-one can deny him a certain ready wit, a certain insight and a degree of psychological penetration, or the sense of justice. But unless very favorably aspected elsewhere, he cannot be expected to be modest and to harbor any feelings of human brotherhood. His force does not lie in his thought, but in his will power, which, if backed by other good aspects elsewhere, can really be above average. He will disdainfully reject help and shun dependence, plunge boldly into action and engage single handed in fierce struggles-and will still succeed best in that very field any logical mind would deem the least congenial to him, namely, government career. He might take to the sea and have to stand the hardest ordeals and face the worst dangers in his career, which, in the light of abstract reasoning, would seem to fit him to a tee.

Avid collectors; botanists and foresters; hoarding or miserliness (or a spendthrift); sometimes physical misfortunes the native cannot avoid; not favorable for Neptune unless well aspected; clairvoyance; bronchitis; twelfth dorsal vertebrae.

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