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glitterge1pen · 3 years

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Duke Thomas Rings The Bells

Ch.1 , synopsis ; Moving to an elite boarding school Duke struggles to find his footing. But he clumsily stumbles his way into some friends, and soon his friends turn into comrades and allies. Duke knows his friends won't fall, and he doesn't plan on falling either. How long can people keep secrets? And what secrets are worth anything at all? Maybe Jason is right, and this is all just some really dramatic Dead Poets Society shit. But Duke liked that movie.

Duke's locker was articulate in it's decoration. There was the usual magazine cut outs, the stray polaroid, and the magnets he had made from postage labels. The organization of said locker was lacking a bit.

He didn't mean to just throw things into the metal cabinet but he was still adjusting to the ways of his new home. The locker also reeked of marker ink and the alcohol of his hand sanitizer. Duke learned early on in his young artists career that hand sanitizer killed ink.

Duke switched out his math textbook for the book they were currently reading in English, On The Road by Jack Kerouac. The cover was new, no finger printers or stray penned obscenities. Duke hadn't gotten a chance to read most of it yet but he got an extension from Mr.Farlane.

Transferring a week into school meant that Duke had missed most of the "Welcome Back To School" activities, part of him chided himself for being relieved about having avoided such crowds, but the other half dreaded his lack of basic information about the school. He didn't know the whole layout by heart yet, the schedule felt awkward and clunky, and of course he knew no one.

Despite the school's prestige the extra curricular art courses and clubs were lacking. On top of that most kids Duke had deemed assholes were in said clubs. Duke's current list of assholes was growing. In his throw up book, which was what he called his sketchbook, there were doodles of people he thought were noteworthy.

In his classes he tried to match names to makeshift seating charts on his pages. Not wanting to be caught in some embarrassing slip up of not knowing someone's name. Next to these names were things to pin them to a person. Ones who had bumped into him without apologizing, ones who said weird things in class, had been late or walked funny.

In his second period bio med class was a boy named Tim. Next to his name was a brash doodle Duke had done of the boy along with the phrase 'This is bullshit, the woman obviously died because of her diabetes! Look at the blood splatter you absolute fool! ’ which is what he had said to his lab partner.

Tim had been scolded for disturbing the class and Duke was surprised when his own lab partner also scolded Tim instead of finding the situation funny or amusing at least.

Even though they hadn't officially met yet, Tim so far was the only boy on the 'not asshole' list Duke had formulated. Duke wished there were girls around. They were always so much nicer, and they made guys less defensive.

Blue River Academy For Boys was an all boys boarding school that Duke would compare to a hell on a trust funds budget. Not to mention that so far Duke was the only black kid in sight. Beyond that he was the only not white person on campus he had seen so far.

With nothing but rich white boys surrounding him Duke was already feeling out of his element. Top that off with a new school, a new home, and his general positive attitude was taking a beating.

Duke sighed a heavy breath as he prepared to enter his AP English class. Only four days into Mr.Farlane’s dry, boring lectures were enough to have Duke dreading the class, he still had the whole semester ahead of him.

Fortunately Duke had managed to snag a window seat in the back, as it was the only desk left when he had arrived. Outside was the main courtyard, where most boys went during their study period. There was a stone fountain, several garden benches, and rose bushes that littered the grassy yard below.

Duke couldn't decide if it was cliche, pretentious, or both. All the architecture of the place was overly grand like this. Gray stone walls, silver railings, blue and white mosaic tile floor. None of it felt real. It made Duke miss his neighborhood, his home.

"Today we will be covering chapters ten through fifteen,"

Mr.Farlane’s voice was robotic and empty as he spoke to the class. Mr.Farlane had several conversations with himself about the themes of the book, the overarching plot, and how Jack Kerouac was an exemplary writer.

This was when the boy in front of Duke raised his hand. Mr.Farlane didn't notice him at first but the boy slammed his other hand onto the wooden desk to grab the teachers attention.

Mr.Farlane only let out an annoyed huff of air, Duke noticed the other boys in class had perked up as well. It felt like the moments before a great battle in a movie, like two unstoppable armies had come to face each other on a hill.

"Yes Jason,"

Mr.Farlane’s voice at least wasn't terribly dull anymore, Duke thought.

"Kerouac was not a good writer, he drones on and on, he deals in drivel-"

Mr.Farlane cut Jason off with the palm of his hand.

"That's subjective Jason-"

Jason cut him off in return.

"It's not subjective, he was high as shit when he wrote On The Road , and apparently even being intoxicated wasn't enough to get his ass to write anything good"

"Mr.Todd-"

"I'm Mr.Todd now?"

Jason asked, raising his voice with a snarl.

"Mr.Todd," Mr.Farlane said slowly repeating himself, "Please go to the office if you're going to act like this"

Jason, who was a tall boy with dark hair and icy blue eyes, a streak of white running down his bangs, didn't look handsome as he stormed out of the room, he looked pissed off. The other boys in class also stared at Jason as he moved through the room, knocking or bumping into desks not seeming to care who or what he intruded on.

Mr.Farlane continued speaking once Jason had left like nothing had transpired at all. Duke then deduced that Jason must be one of those moody brooding types who was prone to getting in trouble. A person who sat quietly until they exploded with rage. Which in this case was induced by bad literary opinion.

While Mr.Farlane’s hollow lesson went on, Duke drew. He drew Jason in a loose cartoon style. Putting emphasis on the boy's odd hair color, his angry scrunched up face which Duke only got a few glimpses of because he had been sitting behind him. Duke in scratchy bubble letters drew the words Jason had spoken as well. When it came time to put Jason's name on the asshole list Duke couldn't bring himself to do it.

Because yeah, yelling at the teacher, throwing around curse words, having tantrums in class, that definitely wasn't cool. It made Duke wonder if Jason was putting on some sort of bad boy act. But even this seemed pretty dramatic for something that was just an act. Regardless of the right or wrong of the situation Duke hesitated, because Jason was right. Jack Kerouac couldn't write for shit.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

That night Duke looked at the two boxes that he still had left to unpack. The school had confiscated their phones, so Duke had the radio on low. The radio had been his mothers, and it used to sit on their kitchen window sill, but it hasn't had any CD’s fed to it for years. It had been a long time since he had used the radio at all, and the stations were different out here. Eventually he settled on the ‘Rockin 80’s’ station that was playing that Easy Lover song.

Duke’s room was the same as all the other rooms in the dorms. One bed, one desk, a chair, a closet, and one small window that overlooked the empty fields beyond the school grounds. Duke had almost skipped dinner today like he had yesterday but had forced himself to go to the cafeteria. He didn't want himself to get stuck moping here. Even if he did very badly want to mope about.

His casual clothes were tucked into the back of the closet, while the pieces of his uniform took up most of the closet. The two sweaters vests, one blue with white stripes running along the bottom, the other an inverted version of the first. His black slacks, the gray ones, and the two pairs of khakis. Of course the variety of collared button ups and polos, then the singular school jacket. The crest was embroidered and intricate. The silver string shone even the dim light of his room.

Duke took the jacket off and hung it with the rest of his clothes. He used the key to his dorm to cut the tape off the last boxes. In the first box were posters, photos, pieces of paper he had tacked up on his walls at home, the halloween lights he strung around his room back home and his lava lamp. It took Duke longer than he thought it would to hang all the contents of the box on the walls. But when he was finished and flicked the lava lamp on, he did feel better. Like some sort of normalcy was placed back into his palms.

The second box was one he had been careful to keep from his mother, and one he had made sure to label school supplies. Because Blue River had rules about everything. The length of your pants, scented candles, music, and even books. But more hated than the list of curated books that had been banned from the school curriculum and hence the school grounds, was an even simpler rule and instruction that Duke had not only broken, but disregarded entirely.

In the school handbook, on page ten, was a list of contraband. Underneath the incredibly long list of banned books, was rule 15. No comic books. Duke appreciated his mothers sentiments of good education, he appreciated the scholarship that the school had offered. But Duke, like always, had his own plans.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: These chapters are also up on ao3 if that is your preferred reading space, and of course The Duke Thomas Playlist

LINK TO NEXT CHAPTER

#duke thomas #jaime reyes #tim drake #jason todd #the signal #blue beetle #robin #batfam #Duke Thomas Rings The Bells

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pinkievie · 4 years

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100 Questions I have about the final season of The 100

1. What was the point of the time dilation other than to give us Hope’s character?

2. Why did Dyoza, Octavia and Gabriel keep seeing the spiral image in the last season?

3. Why did Russell and Jordan also see the spiral images but not Murphy?

4. What did Murphy see when he was under the toxin?

5. Is there really a Hell?

6. What are the spiral images?

7. Are they a symbol of immortality from the higher beings?

8. Why was Jordan the only one to have glimpsed transcendence during his psychosis?

9. Why did Echo and Hope cut their hair?

10. Was it just a point of personal preference or because it helped them pass as disciples?

11. Why was Dev, a disciple, happy to help Hope infiltrate Bardo?

12. Why was Orlando seemingly more religious than Dev?

13. Why was the Anomaly from Sanctum under water on Skyring?

14. Why was the underwater Anomaly on Skywring always open?

15. Why did the temporal flare last season cause Octavia’s arm to age?

16. How did the Anomaly heal Octavia’s arm?

17. What was the point of Gabriel, Echo and Hope living on Skyring for 5 years?

18. How did Sheidheda’s spirit move from Madi to Russell?

19. Why were none of the other commanders in Russell’s body?

20. How did Sheidheda die originally?

21. What happened to Sheidheda to make him so violent and power hungry?

22. When Bellamy prayed on Etherea, how did he see and speak to Cadogan?

23. Why did the higher beings show themselves to Bellamy in particular?

24. After Bellamy prayed, how did the storm pass?

25. Was it the higher beings that calmed the storm, and why?

26. What do the eggs hatch into on Etherea?

27. When did Cadogon make his journey on Etherea?

28. If Cadogan knew the flame was on Earth, why didn’t he ever go back to find it?

29. What did Becca see when she was with the higher beings that made her so frightened?

30. If Cadogan loved Callie so much, why didn’t he go searching for her whilst she was alive?

31. What is the significance of Niylah telling Echo that her mother was Azgedakru?

32. Why didn’t Indra kill Sheidheda when she had the chance so he couldn’t be captured and used by the disciples?

33. Why was Clarke happy to shoot Madi when she found her paralysed?

34. Why didn’t Clarke, Octavia and Levitt attempt to take Madi away from Bardo to stop any further attempts to harm and use her brain?

35. Why did Clarke just leave Madi alone, paralysed and defenceless, whilst she went off to get revenge?

36. Why did the gang decide to cause a distraction so they could infiltrate Bardo and kill Cadogan even though Gaia had already explained that killing Cadogan wouldn’t stop fate, and that another disciple would simply take his place?

37. How did Sheidheda sneak into the final battle without being seen?

38. Why didn’t the pier change into something familiar for Clarke after she shot Cadogan, just like how Callie turned into Lexa?

39. When Clarke failed the test, why didn’t the higher beings wipe out the human race, like, straight away?

40. If the higher beings judge one member in place of the whole species, and Clarke failed, why did they change their mind by observing the rest of the human race?

41. Why did the higher beings allow the human race to transcend, when Raven only asked for them to have “more time” to do better?

42. Who are the higher beings and where did they originate from?

43. Are the higher beings aliens or gods?

44. Are the higher beings simultaneously everywhere?

45. When people transcend, do they also become the higher beings, and are they everywhere?

46. When people transcend, do they all have one mind?

47. As part of the higher beings, can the rest of the human race think and feel for themselves?

48. Can the transcended human race experience love and happiness?

49. Does the transcended human race have free will?

50. Do the transcended all have the power and knowledge that the higher beings have?

51. What do the Bardoans look like?

52. Why did the Bardoans fail the final test?

53. What qualities are the higher beings judging during the test?

54. What aspects does a species have to have in order to transcend?

55. Why do the higher beings use Gen-9 to crystallize species’?

56. Why do the higher beings annihilate entire species’, instead of just denying them transcendence and allowing them to live?

57. What do the higher beings actually want and what is their end goal?

58. If Earth is green and habitable again, why did everyone travel 75 light years to Sanctum?

59. Why didn’t everyone just go into cryosleep for 75 years above Earth and wait?

60. Why didn’t anyone acknowledge that Monty was wrong to believe Earth would never be habitable again?

61. Why did Clarke shoot Bellamy in the heart?

62. Why was Emori not shown more clearly in the final scene?

63. If transcendence is a choice, why didn’t Emori, Levitt and Echo return to their mortally wounded bodies?

64. Did the higher beings magically heal and revive the three of them just as a favour?

65. During their time as transcended, did the three of them have that power to mend their bodies?

66. Why didn’t Emori return from transcendence into her mind drive which was in Murphy’s body?

67. Did Gabriel and Josephine transcend if their mind drives hadn’t been destroyed?

68. Would Gabriel have been happy to live forever, considering his motto “death is life”?

69. Why did the higher beings remove the group’s ability to procreate?

70. How do the higher beings even have the power to do that?

71. Is Murphy and Emori really okay with not ever having children, especially as they helped so many children in Sanctum?

72. Is Indra, Niylah and Miller okay with never seeing the rest of Wonkru again?

73. Is Raven okay with living her life without finding someone, settling down and having children?

74. Doesn’t Gaia, Niylah, Miller and Jackson want to have children too?

75. Is Octavia and Levitt okay with not having children?

76. Is Jordan and Hope okay with not having children?

77. What would happen if any of these couples on Earth broke up or fell out of love, as some of them have only known each other for a few months?

78. Are the people left on Earth not gonna get bored of each other?

79. Why didn’t they collectively acknowledge that Bellamy was right and that Clarke was wrong to kill him?

80. Why didn’t they have a memorial or funeral for Bellamy?

81. If the moral of the show is that “there is more to life than just surviving”, why did the majority of the human race decide to become one with immortal beings?

82. Why did Madi choose transcendence over being with Picasso and potentially being with her other friends on Sanctum again?

83. Did Clarke’s friends choose not to transcend just because they didn’t want Clarke to be alone, even though it’s her own fault she couldn’t transcend?

84. How has Raven still got that orange puffer jacket?

85. Why was the Anomaly and the higher beings only introduced last season?

86. Why does transcendence sound a lot like the City of Light?

87. Why did everyone want to destroy the City of Light when ALIE was trying to convert everyone, but so happy with transcending?

88. Why did no one acknowledge how similar the higher beings were to ALIE?

89. Were Clarke’s friends really the only members of the entire human race that wanted to live mortal lives?

90. Was there no one else in Wonkru, Bardo or Sanctum who wanted their old lives back?

91. Why did no one stick up for Bellamy?

92. What was the point of having Bellamy “die”, come back and then to actually die alone and with all his friends hating him?

93. Why couldn’t Bellamy die protecting his friends, or being a hero?

94. Can Bellamy’s friends at least acknowledge the sacrifices he made for them?

95. Why did Clarke realise in Season 6 that she shouldn’t have chosen Madi over Bellamy, asked Bellamy for forgiveness, and then still made the same mistake and chose Madi over Bellamy in Season 7?

96. Why was everyone so against giving Cadogan the flame, when they didn’t need to fight in the war, and they didn’t believe in transcendence anyway?

97. Why couldn’t Bellamy have just survived the bullet wound with help from Bardo’s technology, and reunite with his friends in the end as a hero?

98. Why was Bellamy not even mentioned in the final scene?

99. Was that final scene overlaid with the scene of Clarke drawing on the floor of her cell from Season 1 a hint that this was all in her imagination?

100. Why is Jason Rothenberg incapable or re-writing an ending to his own show that makes sense, compliments the overarching theme of the series, progresses the characters, AND does not compromise the health and wellbeing of his cast and crew? 🤷‍♀️

#the 100 #the hundred #spoilers #the 100 spoilers #the 100 season 7 #the cw #jason rothenberg #my stuff

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goldenavenger02 · 3 years

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Susz's Halloween Recommendations Part 1: Movies, specials and TV shows.

Movies/specials

Girl Vs. Monster (2012)

Skylar, a teenage girl who discovers on Halloween she's a fifth generation monster hunter. When Skylar accidentally releases some monsters from a containment chamber she must recapture them before they wreak vengeance on her parents.

Notes: I've been watching this since it came out and it's always been a favorite of mine! Has a great message about facing your fears and not letting them control you with the backdrop of monster hunting!

Halloweentown (1998)

When a young girl living with her good-witch grandmother learns she too is a witch, she must help her grandmother save Halloweentown from evil forces.

Notes: I watched this for the first time last year, and I was pleasantly surprised even as an 18 year old!

Hocus Pocus (1993)

A curious youngster moves to Salem, where he struggles to fit in before awakening a trio of diabolical witches that were executed in the 17th century.

Notes: another movie I watched last year, and so surprisingly dark for Disney, especially in the 90s.

The Haunted Mansion (2003)

A realtor and his wife and children are summoned to a mansion, which they soon discover is haunted, and while they attempt to escape, he learns an important lesson about the family he has neglected.

Notes: Eddie Murphy trying to keep his family safe in this haunted house? It's one of my favorites!

Scooby Doo (2002)

The Mystery Inc. gang have gone their separate ways and have been apart for two years, until they each receive an invitation to Spooky Island. Not knowing that the others have also been invited, they show up and discover an amusement park that affects young visitors in very strange ways. Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby soon realize that they cannot solve this mystery without help from each other.

Notes: this is a childhood movie of mine, and the sequel is so good as well. Definitely a good mix of spooky and fun!

Scooby Doo: The Mystery Begins (2009)

A made for TV movie about the origins of the Mystery Incorporated gang.

Notes: a high school/Disney Channel style movie with horror elements starring Robbie Ammel and Hayley Kiyoko. This one is one I've been watching since it came out and it's one of my favorites.

Coraline (2009)

An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

Notes: watched this one last year and I absolutely adore it! It's so terrifying and I highly recommend.

The Boy (2016)

An American nanny is shocked that her new English family's boy is actually a life-sized doll. After she violates a list of strict rules, disturbing events make her believe that the doll is really alive.

Notes: the movie is suspenseful the whole time, and the last 15 minutes are absolutely horrifying.

Flashback (2020)

After a chance encounter with a man forgotten from his youth, Fred literally and metaphorically journeys into his past.

Notes: I watched this psychological thriller a few months ago and it has it's scary elements, but it's really interesting to see the main character descend into madness and obsession due to something in his personal life.

Edge of Winter (2016)

When two brothers are stranded by a brutal winter storm with an unpredictable father they barely know, the boys begin to suspect their supposed protector may be their biggest threat.

Notes: pretty sure this movie was filmed around the same time Captain America: Civil War, so it's very young Tom Holland, but this is a movie he is so good in. Definitely makes you wonder just how far parents are willing to go.

Hubie Halloween (2020)

Despite his devotion to his hometown of Salem (and its Halloween celebration), Hubie Dubois is a figure of mockery for kids and adults alike. But this year, something is going bump in the night, and it's up to Hubie to save Halloween.

Notes: Don't take this one seriously and you're more likely to enjoy it. Definitely more of a comedy than anything scary. Adam Sandler is very polarizing but I enjoyed this.

Hotel Transylvania (2012)

Dracula, who operates a high-end resort away from the human world, goes into overprotective mode when a boy discovers the resort and falls for the count's teenaged daughter.

Notes: a family Halloween movie that really is just a fun time.

Ninjago: Day of the Departed (2016)

On the Ninjago holiday: Day of the Departed, the ninja remeber those who have departed.

Notes: Takes place in between season 6 and 7 and really explores grief as well as the concept of being forgotten. Obviously you have to watch the seasons before to understand this, but it's really interesting to watch for sure.

My Friend Dahmer (2017)

Jeffrey Dahmer murdered 17 men and boys in the Midwest United States between 1978 and 1991 before being captured and incarcerated. He would become one of America's most infamous serial killers. This is the story before that story.

Notes: a fascinating look into an infamous serial killer, both parts fiction and non fiction and suspenseful the whole time.

TV shows

Teen Wolf (2011-2017)

Scott becomes the eponymous teenage werewolf of the series after he is bitten by an alpha werewolf the night before his second year of high school, drastically changing his once-ordinary life.

Notes: one of my absolute favorite TV shows, and perfect for the Halloween season! Especially since the movie is coming out next year!

Only Murders in the Building (2021-)

Only Murders in the Building follows three strangers, played by Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez, who share an obsession with a true crime podcast. After a murder in their building, the three neighbors decide to start their own show that covers their investigation of the murder.

Notes: Already fantastic and season 1 is still coming out on Hulu! The blend of comedy and horror is always one of my favorites!

Cruel Summer (2021-)

The series follows two teenage girls in the 1990s and the repercussions on everyone's lives after one disappears and the other seemingly takes her place.

Notes: this has huge triggers for domestic violence, grooming and sexual assault. If you're not triggered by that, I HIGHLY recommend this, and I'm so excited for season 2! It also has some great LGBT+ rep!

Nancy Drew (2019-)

Nancy Drew (Kennedy McMann) is a brilliant teenaged detective whose sense of self had come from solving mysteries in her hometown of Horseshoe Bay, Maine – until her mother’s untimely death derails Nancy’s college plans.

Notes: I've been watching this since it came out and season 3 is about to start airing! The first season is so wonderful and full of twists and turns (season 2 isn't as good, but it's the CW) and I highly recommend!

Ninjago Season 5, Possession (2015)

The spirit of the evil Morro is released from the cursed realm and the Ninjas have to unite in the battle against an evil foe.

Notes: one of my favorite seasons of the show, and definitely one of the darkest ones! Deals with grief, depression and high expectations and it's so good!

Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated (2010-2013)

Scooby-Doo and the gang attempt to solve creepy mysteries in the town of Crystal Cove, a place with a history of eerie supernatural events.

Notes: this starts off similar to the original Scooby Doo show from the early 70's, but as the overarching plot gets deeper and deeper, you really spend your time just wondering "what the heck is going on".

I'm not going to put specific episodes of TV shows on here, because that'll get daunting, but part 2 is books and fics!

#susz's halloween recommendations #halloween

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sugar-petals · 4 years

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Please do a tarot reading on bts personality? Thank you

if we’re talking personality, it’s time for the big guns. i promised i’d use this deck to an anon, today we’re doing a shaman soul reading.

Jungkook: THE RAINBOW

A sign that the end of the storm is near. This card is truly blessed and imbued with great innocence because that’s exactly what Jungkook is. It’s the “everything is alright” signal: The rainbow symbolizes completion of the soul in the Himalayan region where shamans consider rainbows a bridge to the afterlife. Believe it or not: What we see as JK is the last incarnation of his line. His journey is basically complete (!), it is whole. He’s found what we will all find and the end which is a state of profound happiness. There’s a reason why he brings so much ease, fun, and talent everywhere he goes. That sense of lightness and positivity is deeply embedded in him. Brightness, bubbliness, fleeting moods but always optimistic. His personality is all about joy and the feeling of soaring high. It’s not a farce we see on camera, he really is like that. What I noticed is. Since we see a colorful bird dashing forward on a ray of light, I believe JK is headed somewhere blissful, and he’s headed there fast. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, pretty much. Not just the shamans in Nepal consider the rainbow as an arch, Norse ones do, too. The Bifröst bridge connects Midgard to the Æsir. Jungkook has a sort of divine connection going on. That’s why his personality is dignified. Bifröst is translated to ‘shimmering path’, that he got famous was destined from the beginning.

Hoseok: THE SWEAT LODGE

Hey, Mama. I am not surprised that this card is all about a connection to mother earth and all things maternal. The hut — and the ritual that is behind it — is essentially an image for the womb. Hoseok is looking for that warm and cozy feeling in his life. That tells you a whole lot about the personality we rarely see on stage, it’s a much calmer state. The act of sweating disperses old habits and bad thoughts, this is precisely what he seeks. That blissful, protected place/state of being attracts him, or rather, draws him back into his past. His character is so youthful and cheery because he longs for a space like the sweat lodge that leaves you relaxed, drained from the weight of the world, and without sorrows. What he longs for is purity. He’s let go of demons and phases in his life he’s grown out of. His goal is to feel renewed and being without baggage. Note also that the sweat lodge is a community place. He is deeply social, it’s not an act. Hoseok aspires to be a nurturing figure in the future, and peace is very important to him.

Jin: TAMING THE WIND

Think about it: Something as dynamic as air representing Jin makes a lot of sense. He might be a fire sign, but air is nonetheless strong in him. He is a person who is self-directed and cannot be grasped at any time. Air does what it wants, and few other forces can stop it. On top of that, wind is malleable. It can be completely still, gently blowing, come on strong, or be a flat out hurricane. The different levels of intensity are all present in Jin’s character. As in, he can be the introvert of all introverts only to turn into extroversion embodied. The card tells us about just how versatile he can be. That he will achieve more consistency in the future is represented by the act of taming: Yes, he will settle. Visually, the feather is the most important part of this card. It symbolizes a holy dedication to life and distributes smoke during shaman rituals. It can also be interpreted as a pointer when you’re in alignment. So, I’d describe Jin’s character as something that dispels the old to bring about harmony. Thus, he is wild and tame alike. Very interesting duality.

Namjoon: THUNDER

Next to Jimin’s card, this is the most powerful one I pulled. If you’re familiar with The Tower in tarot, THUNDER is similar. Especially in its spiritual weight. Thunder always hails of new things coming. Namjoon is that kind of vanguard. Even his voice booms like thunder man, that’s no coincidence. That he’s the leader of one of the most famous boy groups on this planet means something dramatic and big coming our way. At his core, he is revolutionary. Namjoon is Namjoon because of his message that’s loud, terrifying to great many a hater, and a call to awakening. I am certain he is on his way to enlightenment, I’m not kidding. Because think about, thunder comes first, then: lightning. It describes his personality progression well: Namjoon did a full 180° in the last years. He did all of his shadow work. This card always says a person is about to fulfill their purpose, so he’s currently at the very brink. He is scared to the core but knows that he’s destined for great things. Like buffalos storming ahead, he is unstoppable just like that. It’s because of him that the game changes 😊

Yoongi: THE PRESENT

Beside the literal interpretation of Yoongi being a present to this world which truly is the case, this card also means unconditional offering in a general sense. You’d think it’s his wonderful music that he has gifted us. The meaning of the card says otherwise, things go deeper, it’s about something that is not material in nature. Only true love and true feelings can fully belong to a person and they can give them as a present. I think this is what Yoongi’s personality at its deepest level is about. He is a generous man. Who is more giving than someone so dedicated and full of tender emotions. The card is also a signifier of gratitude, and I think Yoongi truly is thankful. The winged woman shown on the card lifts up the sun, which tells me Yoongi wants to uphold joy and that he was sent to us as an angelic, radiant being. Lil’ cherub he is. The card is colored in such a bright yellow and orange way, I think he could be a kind of light worker, even, if you’re familiar with this concept. What Yoongi’s aim is at its most basic level is to gain access to the happiness of life. And he wishes so dearly we experience it, too. I need a moment.

Jimin: THE INCA CROSS

Ooof. Oh shit. This card is a massive fucking deal. I’m stunned every time I see it. It has a huge wtf factor. A simple but overarching symbol. To shamans, the Inca Cross symbolizes all directions and dimensions coming together. It even connects the Underworld with the Gods themselves. It also has a hole in the middle, allowing us to travel to a different perspective. It tells me Jimin is the one holding everything around him together with his personality. He is that cross, a compass basically. He has access to greater wisdom. The Inca Cross is a big leap, this is what Jimin essentially is. What he exudes propels us forward and unites us. He can make people change their mind and direction in life. He is only halfway aware of that skill. I wouldn’t mess with him either way, he is the true axis of Bangtan. The crucial (=cross-like!) one, even Namjoon said that. Now what’s also important is not just the cross itself but also the color. It is made of solid gold, a very warm tone. His charm and soothing character is innate to Jimin, and that is a regal feat. It’s very important that he knows his worth, that is the crux —cross— of the matter. Now this is where it gets really metaphysical: That the Inca Cross bridges the lower, middle (Human), and upper realm to shamans in Peru is no coincidence. It tells us Jimin was sent from a place that is not this, aka the middle world. I think even people who are not into spirituality can feel that. He is either a saved soul from the Underworld so this is his first incarnation after a long time or he was sent from the Gods. Because the cross connects all worlds, it could even be both at the same time. And since the Inca Cross allows dimension and time travel (!)… maybe he can do even that. This card is telling me the wildest shit.

Taehyung: HEART OF SKY

During the last tarot readings I drew The Empress for him several times, the energy is no different here. This card has Queen of the Night type of imagery. It’s a very dreamy, whimsical woman immersed in melancholy, dressed in lavish garments. It’s not hard to see the parallel to Taehyung’s character. He is just as nostalgic and concerned with all things that bring more beauty to this planet. That is his purpose. I repeat: Taehyung is here to spread the fine things in life to bring us sophistication and wholesomeness. The Heart of Sky is quite possibly the card most connected to creativity and love. It encourages the one receiving it to paint. We know he’s already an artist at heart, the shaman cards know it, too. Heart of Sky means to pour out your emotions. And to show all your talents in a gorgeous way. The card is just… spot on. Nighttime plays an important role in this illustration, Tae is more Moon than Sun in personality. He’s in tune not just with his divine masculine, but also feminine. Perfect balance. The Heart of Sky carries with it a strong ethical component also, that means Taehyung is figuring out his intent very often. He’s a benevolent person, a creator. A good person, a benevolent heart. He wants the best for everyone, you and me, anybody.

Bangtan: THE SUN

I also pulled a card for the personality of the group as a sum. THE SUN is pretty straightforward: BTS are luminaries, a figurative giant. A super-star. Shamans connect the sun to male energy so the allegory fits, there’s a bright and positive masculine quality in their work. BTS are a hot topic and the energy is high. Sometimes even overpowered because their solar pizzazz is so ardent — burning out is the #1 danger here. That’s why the members connected to the moon and night (Joon, Tae, Yoongi, to some extent Jimin) are so important to balance everything. Passion, humor, creativity, playfulness are always around when BTS is near. The sun is at the center or the universe and widely seen, the group indeed takes that center spot right now. Many other life forms depend on the sun, revolve around it, BTS and their light are needed. If they fall, a system collapses. The card tells us they are currently at their zenith, truly radiant now, soaring like the winged spirit on the card. Also, to state the obvious: Come on, who’s the sun of BTS? Hobi’s personality sticks out the most, reflects back to the group dynamic. This is his card and time to shine. He makes or breaks the deal and the cards know it. He sets the tone.

bighit: THE JAGUAR

I wanted to see what the personality of bighit as a whole is, too. Unsurprisingly — what came out is an animal who’s a roaring force to be reckoned with. The energy is a lot more competitive and serious compared to The Sun. I find it convincing and see why these cards came out: Lighthearted group, big business company. Now, the Jaguar has a dark side as well as extreme advantages. He sure doesn’t look like the scariest animal ever, but being on top of the food chain allows him to do whatever he pleases: He’ll never be prey. On the other hand, he is protected because he’s so strong. Bighit does have that quality of being untouchable. Much like the jaguar, it’s an undertaking that operated in the shadows for long. We know that Bang PD claims to have the secret success formula and isn’t as public as say Lee Soo Man and JYP. There is a component of mystery, and the other companies are careful because of it. On the light side, BTS certainly have powerful and rational guidance. To give an analogy from the jungle book: Bighit is like Bagheera, the voice of reason, infusing BTS with strength and knowledge.

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#holy moly jimin's card #bts #bts tarot #bts shaman reading #tarot #anon #bts oracle cards #bts oracle reading #cub mail 🐅

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im-a-fading-star · 4 years

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lost at sea

you know, i have died a lot sooner than you or i might think. the thing is, you haven’t found my body. you’re not going to be able to. im describing the area and what i remember when i woke up outside of it being carried by a floating hospital bed, as if i were just as weightless within a dream, but you will never be able to find it. i will elaborate for you on that later.

my body is locked inside of a lighthouse tower, and the rainfall that occurred two days ago has dried out the landscape back to its barren core. the sand doesn’t even glisten within sunlight, it’s dreaded and nearly gray from what looks like centuries of being untouched. there are only two palm trees with wilted leaves and black roots that carry no life, no fruit to bare.

i can see fine out of the lighthouse window to what it looks like, just as i could without a window. its clear enough to feel like you’re not dreaming, but unconscious enough to feel like you are. it looks like it would’ve been populated long ago. the ocean still whispers, lush and loudly with its waves. there is no sea life though. no seashells or the echoes of a baby dolphin.

it looks like what once would’ve been a beach that i’d have been to with my family before their bodies too started decaying, now with the scenery of sand and ocean losing colors. it symbolizes my entire being - the memories are in front of me now, but they’re more dull and lifeless than before. this is where i always wanted to be.

i may have never been here, but i miss it anyways, you know? i feel like if i were here before what i assume would be the civilization fallout and the erasure of all humanity, it would be happier. i wouldn’t feel dead here - like one gravestone among a century spanning miles across earth. that’s where this is, and that’s what it is - but i’ve been given my own place to rot. the solitude i’ve always wanted is right here. its not exactly what i bargained for, but it’s the rules of the monkey’s paw. i felt no need to elaborate further on my anguish, i just wanted to be alone - to die alone.

now that i regret it, however, i wasn’t told that there was going to be another path - that this was a trap for the animal who dared follow the trail of alluring nutriments. i was too naive in my own pain to remember you. and i’m sorry. i did bring myself to my dying place, so technically, this is a suicide letter? i’m still not even sure. it’s not that i wanted to die, you know. i just wanted to disappear. but when i got what i wanted, i didn’t anticipate everything being ripped away from me except the memories of them. starving for them - like the meal in front of you that you just can’t reach through a wall and you’ve been malnourished for so, so long. and it’s all you have to look forward to before you die. its so cold out there, and its so warm in there with the fireplace, and oh god, why did i lock myself out? i don’t even remember what hunger feels like anymore.

i don’t remember what anything feels like anymore, really. i know this probably isn’t where my child self wanted to go to in the future - she would’ve been praying to some god out there that her soul wouldn’t be damned to purgatory so it wouldn’t lead up to this. now that i’m here though, and i have all the time in this timeless, grey dimension that lacks any appealing scenery, isn’t this what i deserve? all those times i’ve spent my life living just as a human would, taking more than i ever give out, taking advantage of anyone in my way, crying tears for nothing when i should’ve sucked it up - should’ve been stronger. all of that potential was wasted. i wish i went to where all my potential could be, dumped in the trash. not stranded in the midst of a nostalgic memory bucket - but then again, i’ve spent most of my life doing that.

so this is where i am now. i don’t physically feel what the steel floor of the lighthouse feels like. the light that populated it simply passes through my eyes like its not even a light - that its just part of the scenery. i don’t know what light or dark even is, because time doesn’t change here. the storms are occasional, but the lighthouse is never touched or budged an inch. nothing ever toppled, nothing ever moved, i never moved. i don’t want to move.

i wanted a dream i could never wake up from, and i got what i earned. i’m not allowed to fly with the birds above our overarching Mother Earth. no. i’m allowed to be buried more than 6 feet under. i don’t even have the luxury of a spider crawling on the back of my hand to keep me company. not a cockroach - not a scent, or a sensation, any new sights or anything new to hear except the same 3 sounds of the weather. thunder hardly even strikes here, not even on a blue moon. its just a feeling of numbed pain in different intervals. not even the memory of you brings any life to me anymore, because all i’m going to have are the memories of you.

where i live now isn’t with you anymore. that time where you came home from a long day of work to pet our 2 year old dog who was happy to see you on his hind legs and then laid in bed with me for the rest of the evening? neither of us knew it was gonna be our last. i just remember the warm sensation of you, but the shit i took for granted was wishing that i were dead and to free you of your burdens. i didnt a god was out there was analyzing all of my sins that would bring me to the perfect ‘resting place’.

you see, you can’t come here to save me. because this place does not exist, and i long to be where i don’t exist. this isn’t how i want to die particularly, but this is a glimpse into the future - and it looks like its the only way my bastard soul is headed towards. what is with you now physically is laying her head at the dinner table, the gaze that of a dying person in a ward who wanted to be deceased long ago. but maybe she was. the point is, you cant get her back, because this is what her mind and soul are accustomed to from now on.

the body is still with you, making dinner, but staring at nothing - because nothing is possessing her except fragmented memories and regurgitated speeches with you. my spirit lurks in the spirit of our childhood beach 20,000 years later in a grey wasteland that is no longer human, trapped like rapunzel but never able to be free. its my status quo where i feel null and devoid of everything to ever want to feel again - to lose you first and to suffer any more heartbreak than my fragile soul is ever able to handle.

i’m sorry that i can’t hear your thoughts, that i don’t know where you are now or how you’re coping, but i’m gone now, and staying gone is all i feel like i want to be. i love you, darling. i love you and the rest of the family that lives with us or checks in with us, who maintained their happy and healthy lives as they should. i hope you’re still able to in your materialistic and beautiful earth, while i’m stranded beyond our mortal plane where no soul has possibly ever gone, unless they were as bad as me.

i’m in the doubling point lighthouse, and i won’t come back.

#writing #tw: depersonalization #cw: hospital #cw: suicide #depression #anxiety #rsd #avpd #bpd #bipolar #idk i could tag this with a lot??#trigger warning #my first writing vent on this blog i think lol #the message of this was actually not what i initially had in mind so thats interesting

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zcldrizes-a · 5 years

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“ 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. ” ⋰ canon divergence.

my daenerys is very heavily influenced by book, show, and personal headcanons. i have taken what i want from each, but ultimately, if you don’t like certain things, you are free to unfollow. this is what you can expect if we write together. massive credit to both @killthebxy and @tymptir for their input, and everything they’ve contributed.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌; 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕. ┊┊ spans the time across all books, and seasons 1 - 5.

The main verse takes place as a mixture of book, show, and headcanon influences, starting with the history we know and love, so I won’t go into a ridiculous amount of detail since the plot points are pretty universally known. Born during the worst storm the world has ever seen, and at the cost of her mother’s life, Daenerys was raised by her brother Viserys in exile, to escape the wrath of the Baratheons who had already destroyed the majority of her family. She was eventually taken into the Free Cities with her brother, by loyal retainers, and after years of trying to raise support, they were given sanctuary by Magister Illyrio Mopatis in the Free City of Pentos. Despite living in constant fear of her brother ( who threatens she’ll “wake the dragon” ) and somewhat meek and malleable in response to such treatment, she dreams of finding a peaceful home and a place to belong.

SUBVERSE NOTE HERE: In any canon where someone who is not Viserys raises Daenerys ( whether that be Rhaella, or whether that be any other person – Arthur Dayne, Elia Martell, etc ) the tag will be as linked beside this. This is to signal that her background in that verse may be different, thus lining her up for the potential of a different life.

After reaching a ripe age for marriage, she is sold to Khal Drogo in exchange for an army of 40,000 men for the khalasar, for an army to take back the Iron Throne, Daenerys is initially terrified of her husband, who does not hesitate to take what is his by purchase. Throughout her time with the dothraki, she eventually finds the strength to fight back against her older brother, and manages to impact the culture of the people around her - instilling ideals against the way the dothraki used to live in a respectful manner. After Drogo’s death, and the birth of her dragons, her time with the dothraki comes to a close, as they won’t follow a woman who has not displayed traditional stereotypes of strength. As such, she seeks out the major cities in Essos in an attempt to fortify her power beyond just her broken people.

Making her way from Qarth, to Astapor, it is there that Daenerys acquires the army of the Unsullied, and forms an alliance with the Stormcrows. After freeing the slaves of both Astapor and Yunkai, she marches to Meereen, though she suffers unrest from the people under her power, and some degree of disobedience from her dragons, resulting in two of them being locked beneath the Great Pyramid after her largest slaughters a child. Note, there is a lot of content within this timeframe to take in, and solely for the avoidance of rehashing everything in the earlier books and the earlier seasons, I won’t go into more detail than that, but time frame wise, this verse will cover the duration of Daenerys’ reign until the fighting pits, where she takes flight on Drogon for the first time. It is also worth noting that while I will not defer to show canon when it comes to things like Doreah’s betrayal, if it works for our plot, I am happy to make it work.

The important things post books ending begin here. I will be accepting the canon that accompanies the course of season 6. That is, that after being found by the dothraki, Daenerys is taken to Vaes Dothraki to be tried before the council of Khals, and potentially fated to live a life with the widows. I will also be accepting the death that she gives those Khals by fire, and the new support of the entire Khalasar at her back - as their Khaleesi, she instills new values to ban their traditional sexual violence and strives to continue positive changes to the more problematic aspects of their culture, as she did as Khaleesi. I will also be accepting the season 6 canon that after securing Slaver’s Bay and renaming it the Bay of Dragons, she accepts an alliance with the Greyjoys, who escort her to Dragonstone.

SUBVERSE NOTE HERE: After the attack in the fighting pits by the Sons of the Harpy, Drogon carries a wounded Daenerys ( who took a blade to the thigh whilst mounting him ) from the arena and across the narrow sea to protect her from her enemies, finding his way north, to be found by the Lord Commander of the night’s watch. Over the duration of the time her leg heals, she remains within castle black, forging a friendship that buds on the edge of something more with the young Lord Commander, and is at the castle for both his death and resurrection. Only after his announcement to travel south does she decide it’s time to travel home, and back to Essos. upon return, and whilst Drogon stops for rest after his long fight, she is found by the Khalasar, who take her as prisoner. This default verse is based on my plots with @killthebxy and allows some prior interactions with members of the night’s watch, should any wish for it. Within this same verse, her armies travel North to fight alongside at the Battle of the Bastards, before returning to Dragonstone once he is crowned King of the North and realising she is no longer welcome there. Heavily plotted with Fil.

This verse will span upwards to her journey North, though heavy plotting can change her reasons for that. By default, it is Jon that persuades her of the real fight to the North, but happy for that to change. Also happy to keep the canon of Daenerys executing the Tarlys - controversial, I know, but it’s staying. The major changes within this arc come from a personality basis; she’s not nearly as entitled in these exchanges, nor as bloodthirsty. This verse will also include her arrival in the North, by which time she faces massive isolation amongst wary people, and even from her own advisors. It is up for discussion whether she agrees to Northern independence at this point or slightly later, in either subset of this canon - but she will agree at one point, or another. This canon will end at the Battle of Winterfell.

from here, there are two potential paths for my canon to follow. one in which the battle ends with arya killing the night king, and one in which the battle ends with winterfell’s ruin. & note that in both, after what happens at winterfell, daenerys is forced to carry a sword, and to wear armour for both larger scaled battles. whether this be a small one created for her, or whether this be dark sister, gifted by the free folk ( thanks to @arcusignis for that theory ) is up for speculation. in both, at the very least, the dragons will be forced to wear chestplates.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. ┊┊ set after the battle of winterfell.

Massive credit to Fil, who also helped to write this verse. In this verse, the premise is simple to follow. The battle of Winterfell happened as per show canon to an extent - battle strategies were different than the mess that was show canon, and I’ll defer to @killthebxy and his beautiful headcanons, along with discussions with @tymptir for how Jaime would have integrated his own strategies. Instead of killing the Night King, Arya managed to kill an Other - this resulted in a large portion of the wights dying, and enough time for the Northern people to begin to scatter. Note, it is also unclear in this verse if Bran is alive or dead, and that is also up for negotiation. The casualties that take place in their attempted retreat are enormous, thus leading to more wights, and very few managing to escape. In this canon, Daenerys is harmed after her fall from Drogon, though Jorah is still very much alive.

Forced to retreat South, and find what little resources they can, the remainder of the Northern forces must reach an agreement with Cersei, who is admittedly shaken at the fall of the Northern forces. In this verse, as part of that agreement, Jon Snow is taken as prisoner until the battle, to ensure that this is not a trap for Daenerys to take power.

SUBVERSE NOTE HERE: There is also a subverse here wherein Daenerys herself offers up her own claim to the throne in exchange for support from the South. This agreement also extends to her own execution following the potential success of the battle - a deal she would agree to, given that there are more important things than the throne at this point, though her key condition would be that the North is left alone and untouched by the South.

Within this verse, the battle for the Long Night continues on to an extended battle at King’s Landing, with the dragons fighting over the Dragonpit, until the Night King is separated from Viserion once again. In most canons, unless specified otherwise, I will also have Daenerys as pregnant during this fight - and with that in mind, she fights anyway because she would never let the dragons fight a battle without her. She is their mother.

SUBVERSE NOTE HERE: There is also an alternate subverse here where Daenerys does, in fact, temper Lightbringer for Jon as Nissa Nissa once did for Azor Ahai, and once again, we can all thank Fil for this. In this verse, she willingly gives her life to temper his sword.

Following this time, we welcome a dream of spring easily, given that the people of King’s Landing have seen her saving them from the darkness, and that timeline will take place in a separate part of the overarching verse.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅. ┊┊ set during season 8 timeline, post bow.

This verse follows the show theory, that the big bad is not in fact the Night King, but the purpose of the story is the fight for the Iron Throne. As a result, any deaths in 8.03 will be considered canon in this verse unless plotting dictates otherwise. In this verse, after rest and recovery of her armies, Daenerys begins the fight for the Iron Throne by travelling South once more. Firstly basing herself at Dragonstone, and then travelling closer to King’s Landing. Any events of 8.04 ( Rhaegal’s death, Missandei’s death, the Greyjoy ambush ) will not be considered canon in this verse unless we explicitly discuss otherwise.

In the actual attack on King’s Landing, the main focus for Daenerys will be eradicating the scorpions on the castle walls. In conjunction with @tymptir and her lovely Greyjoys, there is potential for Rhaegal to be used against her via Dragonbinder, or alternatively, for Euron to lose at an earlier stage of the battle ( because presumably it’s not over so shortly ) and to make an agreement in exchange for his own life, to betray Cersei. In verses where that is void, either Yara/Asha Greyjoy can lead the charge against the Iron Fleet with the remainder of her own, or alternatively, Daenerys will burn it herself. If and only if Varys betrays Daenerys, will she consider executing him - and no, Tyrion will not be betraying her in this verse. She has the support of her Hand, at the least, and she will not abandon him.

SUBVERSE NOTE HERE: Another subverse! In this one, I’m going to be controversial and embrace the madness storyline - but not done the way the show did. In this verse, upon her attack to King’s Landing, Daenerys accidentally sets off the wildfire in the city, and the guilt at finishing what her father started causes her psyche to fracture, unable to split reality from fiction. In this verse, she either loses her unborn child or Drogon, and her madness manifests in seeing visions of herself as if she was standing in the room with her. Grief and isolation cause her to want to take her own life.

Once breaking through the walls to King’s Landing, and once the armies there see what forces she brings, a surrender is quick to follow - and is one she takes gladly. Resources are distributed to the citizens of the city to ensure they don’t suffer while the transition of power happens. Cersei’s fate is up for negotiation, though I defer to the theory that either of her younger brothers will deal with her long before Daenerys has to. She takes the throne quickly after.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. ┊┊ set in the future.

This verse, finally, takes place after Daenerys is in power. In default, she will take Jon as her husband - though he will not rule as King, but instead by personal choice, takes the title of Consort. Her rule is a peaceful one, granting Northern independence - and truth be told, if any others ask for independence, so long as they prove themselves happy and functioning, she will grant it. Every year, she travels to Meereen several times to check on how progress is going there, and instills forms of welfare and many orphanages within King’s Landing, as well as basic forms of education and skills trades for all. Tyrion remains her Hand.

She knows that a perfect world isn’t created over one lifetime, and eventually if there will be a broken wheel for all, then she’s okay with the idea - but for now, it’s about building the city from the ground up so that no one knows what it’s like to not have a home, not like she did.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅. ┊┊ official season 8 ending verse.

This verse is the closest to the canon for season 8 that you’ll ever see me come, and is based on theories like this one here. In this verse, Cersei frames Daenerys by setting off the wildfire around King’s Landing ( referencing that one line about Cersei “having other plans for the Dragon Queen ) after the bells have been rung, making it look like she didn’t accept the surrender ( and making Dany herself think that she herself set it off, by the timing of it all ). Blaming herself for the thousands of deaths that have now occurred, and believing she is responsible for the deaths of so many innocents, Daenerys begins to burn the Red Keep itself as the city burns around them.

Between the losses of everyone she’s loved and knowing she’s being betrayed by so many people, and adding the guilt of her actions, this verse ends in her taking her own life with her last conscious thought urging Drogon to destroy the Iron Throne. ( Note that if you would rather it be Jon who kills her, then I’m not opposed to the idea, but it’ll require plotting beforehand to clarify! )

In this verse, Drogon carries her body away towards Volantis, and either Red Priestess revives her, or in burning her body, Drogon manages to revive his mother as per the fire and blood rituals that have saved her before. This verse was also written in collaboration with @killthebxy.

#verses #i. headcanons. » a dragon is not a slave. «#tag drop #v. canon. » if i look back; i am lost. «#v. canon alt. » the big house with the red door. «#v. canon alt. » at the end of the world. «#v. canon. » the long night is here. «#v. canon alt. » a dragon is not a slave. «#v. canon alt. » her strength and her courage all went into the steel. «#v. canon. » with fire and blood. «#v. canon alt. » queen of the ashes. «#v. canon. » a dream of spring. «#v. canon. » a targaryen alone in the world. «#long post #long post cw

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 5 years

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Hey Sarah! Another GOT question. Since episode 2 was so wonderful, which of our favorites do you think will be killed? Any time there was a heartfelt moment I immediately thought one of those characters wouldn't make it out of episode 3 alive. I feel like Jaime, Theon, Jorah, and Gendry won't survive. Mostly because the showrunners don't like to give us happy endings. What do you think?

Hi lovely!

Okay, so, the first thing to note is that I really don’t think that the showrunners like denying us happy endings. I think they’re working—more or less—towards the same ending that GRRM has planned, and I also believe that they love the characters. I think they really love the characters and want to do them justice, whatever that means for the individual. Sure, some of the deaths have been shocking and sad, but I’ve never seen a major character die with their arc still in progress. Every major death has served a purpose and made complete sense to me. So with that in mind, here are my theories on all four of the characters you’ve named. Let’s bullet point this mother!

Jaime: I honestly think he’s safe next episode because he still has an overarching plot with his family to resolve and I honestly can’t see the show letting him go without him at least telling Brienne that he loves her. The fact that Cersei has sent Bronn to kill Jaime and Tyrion seems like a guarantee to me that both Lannister boys are making it through the battle, because you know the show is going to touch back on that again.

Theon: Of the four characters you’ve named, I can see Theon dying in the battle because his arc could very well point him to an act of self-sacrifice in the service of the house that has been his truest family. I think the audience are going to feel cheated if at least one major character isn’t killed, and Theon dying—after all of the horrors he has endured and all of his growth and self-improvement—would fulfill the dual purpose of ending his arc in a fitting way and breaking the audience’s heart. I am hoping that he won’t die, but worried that he will.

Jorah: I could go either way on Jorah, honestly, but his growing bond with Sam and Sam’s clear discontent with Daenerys leads me to think that he has more still to come. He’s been largely away from Dany since season 4 for some reason or other, and he hasn’t truly seen what kind of person she’s turned into. I’m still 100% convinced that she is on a villainous path and that he could be the last person to defect from her. So I dunno. Jury’s out.

Gendry: A lot of the theories flying around about Gendry seem to be based on the common horror/thriller trope wherein two people have sex and one of them dies afterwards. Since Melisandre informed Arya in season 3 that they would meet again, yet she hasn’t shown up at Winterfell yet, I feel like that means Arya is safe. If we’re following the common trope, that would put Gendry in the firing line, but Game of Thrones has never been a show that conformed to common tropes. It subverts tropes. I think it’s trying to make us fear for Gendry, but I don’t actually think he’s going to die.

Some other things to consider re: Gendry (because anyone who knows me knows that Arya, Gendry and the Gendrya pairing are my top priority along with Sansa and Bran)

He’s the only Baratheon left in the world, and we were reminded of that in his most recent scene, which seems pointed, especially when you consider that…

Ned and Robert wanted to join their houses all the way back in season 1, but unfortunately, the son that Sansa was betrothed to obviously wasn’t a real Baratheon. Yet Robert’s proclamation was an assured one, it always seemed oddly prophetic to me.

The below shot of the two of them leaving King’s Landing on the wagon headed north, while a procession follows on foot, has always seemed to me like foreshadowing. Can’t you see them ruling the people of Storm’s End together? The show has used imagery to foreshadow before. In season 2, Tyrion and Shae lay on his bed in nearly the exact positions they were in when he killed her two seasons later. That’s just an example, but you get me.

The show spent two seasons building up a foundation to Gendry’s relationship with Arya before Melisandre took him away. Arya trusts him. She cares for him. She was in love with him way back when, and he clearly cares about her. When she took off her clothes in front of him, he was very concerned by her scars and, I dunno, that seems like…not nothing. It seems like a segue into a deeper examination of their relationship. He is clearly trying to get a handle of who she is now. Of all the relationships that Arya formed as a runaway over the years, her friendship with him was the healthiest and purest. The connection and affection she feels for him will, I believe, play a vital part in furthering Arya along on her journey to reclaim her humanity and her sense of peace, rather than continuing on this insanely damaging revenge mission. Their relationship has depths to explore, and I don’t think the show is going to throw that all away just to give us a sad death. If he did die, I feel like she’d go careening in the other direction, and as I’ve already stated, I feel like the showrunners and writers (and especially the Bryan Cogman) love her character too much to do her such a disservice, especially since this season and season 7 have gone such a way towards pulling her out of that darkness.

On Gendry’s part—because he has as much agency as Arya and he matters as a character outside of what he represents for her, I also think that Cersei could be his real mother. I’ve detailed as much in the article I wrote here which you can take a look at if you like. It saves me from explaining it now, haha.

Even if she isn’t his mother, I still think the fact that he’s Robert Baratheon’s only surviving child is important and that he has a role to play in the restoration of that house. He’s certainly a much better man than his father, and he’s been one of the smallfolk for long enough to care about them and ensure that they are well treated—and isn’t that the kind of liege lord the people need?

This answer was mostly about Gendry and Arya. If Tumblr mobile messes up the formatting (which it will) I will be pissed.

#Game of Thrones #Gendrya

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childotkw · 5 years

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When you write your fanfics, do you plan ahead or write what comes to your mind?? What aspects must a fanfic have to be good quality in your eyes?? BTW big fan of yours;P

It’s a bit of both to be completely honest, darling. Most stories I have the general outline already planned out before I start writing. I knew pretty much the entire plot of Consuming Shadows before I started writing (and that was 3-4 years ago). Same with you belong to me and Gold Dust and yesterday i died, tomorrow’s bleeding. I know the overarching plot like the back of my hand, all the major moments and points of character development. There are no big surprises for me when I’m writing, and very rarely will a scene that has serious ramifications on the overall story/characters come to me. I actually have a rather rigid focus when it comes to that.

That being said, a lot of the details of the scenes seem to almost write themselves. I know the basic gist of what I want to happen in the scene, but the dialogue and the individual actions tend to just come to me on the fly as I go. Take the kiss scene in CS Chp. 38. I knew I wanted the kiss to happen in that chapter. I knew I wanted Hadrian to threaten Riddle with the knife. I knew I wanted Hadrian to be marked. But I had no concrete plan of getting from one moment to the next. That just comes to me randomly as I go.

If that makes sense??

As for what makes a good fanfiction? This is purely my personal preference, and I don’t mean to say that stories that don’t have any of the elements I like can’t be good. This got a bit long so there’s more under.

PLOT

I just find it extremely hard to get into multi-chapter stories that have a weak or uninteresting plot. I need stimulation. I need mystery. I need intrigue. The more compelling a plot, the more likely I’ll get drawn in. Plot is just such a core part of long stories, that it has to be strong enough to weather itself. A plot can’t burn out. It can’t lose too much traction. Of course there can be moments of respite or calm, but the longer the story, the bigger the tension needs to be to keep interesting. It’s a really thin line to walk, since you don’t want your story to be so high-strung it turns people off and they never get a breather, but at the same time you don’t want long gaps of inactivity. CS is where I’ve been trying to learn this balance of action vs. inaction, and I still feel like I’m failing in most instances.

But yeah, I typically know within the first chapter if I’ll like something enough to keep with it, and I know that’s kind of rough, since like CS, most stories take a couple of chapters to really do anything, but that’s always been me.

CHARACTER

My second biggest thing is character. I can’t stress how much I need to click with a character, on some level. There needs to be something about them that I can look at and be like I get that. I think the more emotionally/mentally damaged the character, the more intriguing they are. That’s basic human nature in a lot of ways. We’re drawn to the broken ones.

More often then not, my favourite characters are the ones with issues. Tony Stark. Wally West. Harry Potter. Tom Riddle. Naruto Uzumaki. Keith Kogane. Izuku Midoriya. Bruce Wayne. Stiles Stilinski. Edmund Pevensie. I am drawn to every single one of these characters because they are, in some fundamental way, fragile. (And yes, I know that all of them are male, don’t think I’m hating on damaged female characters, there’s plenty to pick from, these are just my personal favourites). The more compromised a character is, the better.

No one likes a Mary Sue (though they certainly have their place, too). For me though, characters need to be flawed in some way. Whether through some form of trauma, through their own reckless sense of morality, or simply from something as simple as a personality trait. It’s important that characters reflect some version of reality. No one’s perfect. Everyone’s got something that’s a mark against them. Once you find that for a character, it instantly makes them more interesting - note, interesting, not likeable, there’s a strong difference between a likeable character, and an interesting one.

TENSION

This is a lesser thing, but still remarkably vital in my eyes. There needs to be some form of tension or conflict (of course, this isn’t always the case, I just tend to drift to the angsty stories because I’m a glutton for that sweet, sweet pain). Tension is key because it instantly gives us things like stakes, and obstacles, and, perhaps most importantly, growth. A character or story with tension/conflict is immediately presented with an opportunity to grow. The higher the tension/the more painful the conflict, the more room you have to play with. Tension let’s writers experiment with their characters.

Tension let’s certain things be revealed - the type of person your character is, their desires, their motivations, etc. This kind of ties back into the plot in a lot of ways as well. Stories need a good balance of tension and resolution. Each problem in your story should have a solution - whether the character actually solves it is just another point of tension. Or perhaps it’s something they could easily do, but something holds them back? (Sorry to keep bringing my own work into this, but take Hadrian and Riddle’s interaction with the kiss/mark. Hadrian could have easily avoided that whole mess if he just sat down and spoke with his mother, but because he didn’t, it became a much bigger problem than it should have been. And that snowballs from there. Tension.)

DIALOGUE

Last point, I swear. Dialogue is also a thing for me. Stories with good dialogue are excellent. I think a lot of stories/author don’t understand what an effective tool dialogue can be when used properly. You can reveal so much about a character with just one single line of dialogue. You can solve a million issues with a simple sentence, or, alternatively, you can cause a whole storm of problems with one slip of the tongue. Dialogue is dangerous because it serves so many purposes. You can have conversations between Character - Character, or Author - Character - Reader, depending on your wording. It’s a beautiful, multi-layered thing that doesn’t always get the credit it deserves. Dialogue is one of the most fascinating things at your disposal when writing, and you can always tell a good story from a great one based on the dialogue (not all stories have dialogue in them, of course).

Speech patterns, vocabulary, all of it. Dialogue can breathe life into characters. It should never be underestimated.

I’m so sorry! This turned into a bloody essay. Omg. I don’t normally rant this much, but your ask come when I was doing my Creative Writing assignment on the techniques used in a book I’m reviewing so I was in the analytical mindset. I hope this helped though? Please note that I’m not saying these are the ‘be-all and end-all’ of good story elements. There’s plenty of stories out there that are fantastic without some of the aforementioned things. Again, personal preferences! Thank you though, Anon! I’m glad you like my stuff

#anonymous #writing #this is a long one #whoops #my personal preferences for stories

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lighthouseofthewanderess · 5 years

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Shirkers

Yesterday night, I watched a Netflix Original Documentary called Shirkers, set in Singapore. It was a story about enthusiastic teens filming a movie in the early days when there were only reels and cans of film. Their director, ‘a man of untraceable age and origin’, absconded thereafter with the tape and they <spoiler alert> never heard about the footage until he died. As I went to sleep after it, I mulled about what I had seen. The way a 2-hour piece left me registering just a few shots -- the close-ups of mosquitoes taped onto notebooks, the cigarettes that every woman smoked, and Catcher in the Rye. The movie’s overarching theme was that in the world there were the shakers and the movers, and then there were shirkers. The ones who got up and ran away, broke free and did whatever they wanted to do. Zero responsibility. Here’s a new word for myself, I thought as the concepts was unraveled. I was a wanderess, a Benjamin Button, and now I was a shirker in my own sense.

My teenage years were a breeze for my mom. It was almost as though she braced herself for it but I never got in to any trouble. I was being a responsible adult like I had always been. The more I grew up, the more that word started to feel heavy on my shoulders. Choke me and mock me. So what did I do when I couldn’t keep it calm around me anymore? I ran away and avoided it. This was the mind state with which I moved to Pune. Unleash the freedom, let me taste what everyone’s going gaga about I thought as I got off the bus with my mom in tow on a rainy, gloomy day. I was left with some staff of the college first as we didn’t have any vacancy at PGs. It was both a good thing and a bad thing. Bad part was my mom paid a bomb for them to just let me occupy some space. The good part was that I dived into a new world and tried to take it all in. The red-eared turtles that had super soft necks. The Sundays spent watching them wax each other. The smell of tadka in the air as they all rushed in the morning to work. Every day I learned something new. And I processed it with all too much time in my life. I lazed around, spoke to the turtles, took them on a walk and sometimes I just sat in a bakery nearby and watched the people. In the rain, they all looked like huge ants scattering about.

When college started, I still had a lot of time. There was always one movie project in production, mostly with one of the seniors. I hung around them and helped wherever I could. We sneaked into parks were permission was denied, and shot in the blind spots where there were no cameras. And when we wrapped up and left, everyone looked like this was the only way to do it. We asked them nicely, but they denied. What else to do? Don’t worry so much about it. I on the other hand, was filled with euphoria that I got away with some trouble. So it was possible -- to do whatever you wanted and not fall prey to the normalcy with which others struggled. It was as though a very limited world, with rules set in stone, all vanished to leave a blank canvas. The real question was how was I going to fill it in and make it mine? Around this same time came the thought that changed me as a person. It divided my space and time into two halves -- the goody-two shoes girl who listened to everyone, had a plan for everything and always stayed two steps ahead of the rest, and the new procrastinator who went against her one-member family, stumbling and learning, but all the while loving and growing. I believed, in many ways, what Shirkers was trying to say: “In order to move forwards, you have to move backwards.” I had to unlearn the things that I thought were right so that I can look at the world with an objective eye. I had to let go of trying to earn praises from people so that I can find myself and give this new me to the world. And for Benjamin Buttons, this is a very hard thing to do. I started experimenting again, but this time not with hobbies or food. I was trying to stay true to myself and act in a way I wanted to be perceived instead of what others wanted to see me as. I forced myself to take breaks, slow down and try not to hold everything other. When I started doing that, things crumbled to ashes. I watched some ambitions burn down, some expectations lurking in the corner, waiting to be picked up and met. I felt I had made a wrong decision to be a Shirker and run away from my responsibilities. But once I had my pile of ashes, it was easy for me to be reborn. With everything shed, I could now choose a new identity. When I visited Bangalore every few months, my friends had started seeing the change. Some even stopped talking to me because they felt I had strayed too far. My mom was annoyed I wasn’t keeping my room clean. That I was up all night and sleeping in late. And me? I was beaming inside-out. This is the new me; and I’m a Phoenix. When I am bored of myself, I will burn every trace of my identity down and build myself up again. How cool yet powerful was that possibility? I could do it at will and don any hat I want. And to mark this rebellious phase and make it absolutely clear that I care only about myself, I went and got a tattoo on the back of my neck. It was a Phoenix.

There was a pack of wolves that I ran with in Pune. Prerna’s family, the Mahtanis Each one of them -- her, her sister, and her mother -- were all shirkers. They had some basic responsibilities in place but other than that they had their own version of UBE going on. From painting backdrops for birthday parties to choreographing sangeets at weddings, the two sisters did it all. And that energy, for me, was infectious. It was what I thrived on, no matter how less we slept or how unproductive an off day seemed. I left my flatmates behind and started living with them. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Archana would take out the car and we’ll just ride off into the dark. Buy ice cream (buy some meds as well), and head back. The house saw us play board games, do havans, party till morning, as well as work our assess off. This is life I told myself, but like always I would be wrong.

I got bored of that routine too. I wanted more than dhoklas for breakfast, and long rides from college to home. More importantly, I needed a change of scene. It’s time to burn down this chapter of my life. So I made the move back to Bangalore. Since I had freelanced a bit in Pune, I got into an ad agency and slowly worked on what adults do. A career. As I stepped back into goals and dreams I found myself sorely disappointed. I had it in my head that come what may, I will publish a book when I turn19. This later turned to 21. What was I doing when I was 21? That’s right, editing my film with a horrible hangover. Then I sifted through all my years in Pune -- it felt like I had done absolutely nothing in life while others were carefully building themselves for the world! The lesson was learnt; shirkers cannot be shirkers forever. For me to splurge and do what I wanted, I need a career that will get me the means too. And if I wanted to grow super fast, I needed to work super hard and forget the fun a little. Goodbye scrapbooking. Goodbye long nights nursing a bottle. Goodbye Shirker.

4 years into that change, the familiar and unsettling feeling crept in again. I knew I had to unwind a bit more, air out my mind a bit more, and simply let go of the world for a while. Bitterness had set in and was festering in my work. I couldn’t love what I did for a living, and because of that I didn’t love myself too. Walking in to work, I would just stop on the first flight of stairs and breakdown. Then it turned into waking up and breaking down. The idea of not being happy and yet confining to something I decided to do was tearing me in two. What was I doing with my goddamn life? My health was too messed up -- internal hemorrhaging, abnormally high thyroid, eye infections and a slew mental illnesses. I knew what the problem was, but I was afraid to risk what I had going on for me at work.The Shirker in me wanted to forget it all and disappear. And that’s exactly what I did.

I took a 2-week break and traveled alone; it worked like magic. I went back to running up some stairs to catch the sunrise on top of a lighthouse. I stood rooted in the storm and snuck in to the warmth of my room, drenched and satisfied. I stuck my tongue out and tasted morning air as I waited for my coffee. But most of all, I felt lighter. I used my phone only to take pictures, which I would compile into an Insta story at the end of the day. For the larger part, I would carry my faithful doodle knapsack which contained: a book, a notebook, my Instax, a water bottle, some money all rolled up and hidden. When I came back home, I came back with the idea that I didn’t have to choose between a Shirker and a shaker. And folks, is how I ended up writing this book. I asked Shivangi what she’s up to and she introduced NaNoWriMo to me. A whole month to dish out whatever you want to write from your heart. Why not, I thought. I shall take three steps back with my ‘must-publish-before-21’ dream so that I can propel myself forward with greater speed. Hello forever shirker.

#nanowrimo #nano 2018 #nano writing #life story #life stories #writing #loveforwriting #writing challenge #writedaily #writers #shirkers

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starsailorstories · 6 years

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The Major Goddesses of the Sweet Chariot Universe

Well, at least the Andromedan corner of the universe.

The most common family of religions among Astraea species is known as Cosmonism/the Cosmonist faiths. They’re inspired by ancient observations of the universe, its governing forces, and what happens to actual suns/stars--which the starlike astraeas understandably conflate with themselves--over their life cycles.

In prehistoric times before interplanetary space travel became common each world had her own religion, often centered around nature as it was perceived in that particular solar system. But as more astraeas returned to the vacuum--genetically, their ancestral home--they began to both blend their traditions and deify broader forces that affected the galaxy on the whole.

At some point a VERY long time ago, some rando–they call her the unknown scholar, but her anonymity just kind of drives home that she didn’t have any specific credentials for doing this (although really, what kind of prophet does)–gathered up sacred poetic texts from the 16 Holy Worlds where planet-based society was supposedly created, translated them into the common proto-space-latin, and in the translation sorted all the local deities mentioned into the service of the three governing forces. So Altamai’s mother goddess of daybreak, for instance, became an incarnation/guise of Orellistia because she controlled heavenly bodies, and the storm goddess honored on the inner rings of the gas planet Shali became a guise of Levinoxia because she represented a chaotic/entropic force.

The collection of poems is the text they all refer to as the Holy Poets (so called bc they come from the Holy Worlds, not necessarily because they themselves constituted religious figures, although they do for some people), which forms a core for a lot of their view of morality and the world, though it also has just…stories, not all of which have an obvious religious lesson, many of which are probably allegories, a lot of which are love stories. Like every sacred text anywhere, there are about ten billion million different interpretations of it. I’ll discuss several of them in later posts, but most have the reverence of three overarching cosmic forces, their metaphorical implications for daily life, and their correspondent deities at their center.

This post will be LONG, but it has art!

Cunaderia is the goddess of the Origin (the big bang), birth and beginnings, time, and fate, born from the nova of the Dead Goddess (who is implied to be a form of Levinoxia and/or Orellistia, although it may not always have been such) at the moment of the big bang. She is always depicted as a young child, usually seated on a cushion in a shallow basin floating in vast blankness outside time and space and reading a scroll that bears the Story of Time. The echoes of her long recitation can be heard in the cosmic microwave background.

Although she is not the designer of most things within the universe, she is the creator of the universe itself, and holds the singularity from which the next big bang will issue on the tip of her finger. Her recitation of the Story sustains the continued expansion of the universe and therefore the procession of history. Because of all this she is considered the most awe-inspiring and ineffable figure in the whole Cosmonist pantheon, and it’s considered improper to speak her name aloud in an unconsecrated space. Most refer to her with euphemistic nicknames like “The Child” and “The Little One.” People will sometimes say “the Little One stammered” to describe a moment so charged time seemed to stand still.

Unlike Orellistia and Levinoxia, Cunaderia is generally remembered and worshipped on a regular schedule rather than receiving prayers and offerings on an as-needed basis. The perception, for the most part, is that everything she controls is already decided, and she can’t be swayed by loyalty or hospitality. It is considered right to thank her for unexpected twists of good fortune, though, and there’s an adorable tradition of leaving handmade dolls and toys at her shrines and temples as tokens of gratitude for good luck, since she’s dogmatically considered to be like five years old.

(The five years old thing figures into a lot of irreverent humor, by the way. Every time you have a day where you’re like “this might as well happen,” they say, remember that the whole pageant of history is just a story made up by a kindergartner at the end of the day.)

Her guardianship over fate gives Cunaderia charge over who will rule each of the Holy Systems, and she’s usually depicted holding or surrounded by seven stars, representing the lives of future queens to one day be incarnated at her discretion. The same seven stars have been a symbol of the peace between the systems for many hundreds of turns, but at the time of the story, all seven mark the diadem of the Empress and the seal of the Hyperian dynasty.

For this image of her I tried to get as close to her “official” Destigravitationist representation as I could. The shell she’s sitting on forms the shape of the Sun Lily, which is a traditional motif in depictions of the goddesses because of its associations with sanctity and power, although not coincidentally it’s also the symbol of the Aula. Her clothing is a style of dress--inspired by the armor worn by an ancient, now-extinct order of warrior priestesses from the Altamaian arctic circle--worn for occasions of Altamaian, and therefore Basilean, national pride. She also wears the round hair comb associated with schoolgirls in the Atya-Jenya system (where the Basillan homeworlds and the Rings are) in general, though hers is made of royal white-gold rather than the usual cloth and cardboard.

In addition to the familiar and the patriotic motifs Cunaderia’s icons usually incorporate a number of symbols of time and fate. Behind her is a star-dial, a device held/placed at the horizon to show the time and date based on the positions of specific reference stars which are close and bright enough to be distinct from the light of the dome. Around her hand is a fortune-teller’s coin (I need to make a post about Andromedan divination soon!). The colors she wears are also significant: for Astraeas, blue is the color of youth, the ephemeral, and innocence, while red is the color of wisdom as well as of death and therefore destiny. Her light is also blue--because blue stars tend to burn brighter and not live as long, a blue light is a symbol of a kind of tragic eternal innocence--a spirit too pure for the material world.

Orellistia is the goddess of Gravity, the force which orders the stars. It follows from that that she is also the goddess of all matter, which gravity forms into stars, planets, and galaxies; as well as of light (a consequence of this pull), order, inspiration and creative activities of all kinds from construction to motherhood, prosperity, love (attraction and loyalty, at least among stars, are both functions of gravitation), marriage, family and the home. “Home” can mean everything from “household” to “home planet” of course, so she also has superintendence over all national/state/planetary protector deities. Until fairly recently the ruling classes have stopped short of actually claiming she protects the empire on the whole, but that’s a line the Hyperian dynasty have been more than willing to cross.

Gravity is an incredibly important concept in astraea cultures, to the point where it’s usually capitalized and spoken of as not only a natural law, but a moral and devotional one as well. The most extreme view of it holds that every single physical thing in the universe--people included--is organized into a perfect hierarchy by a series of literal or metaphorical orbits. The galaxy turns around the dome, within which Sol Atya, Sol Jenya, Sol Minerva, and Sol Suraya move around the gravitational center of their system (once believed to be, and still honored symbolically as, the dwelling place of Orellistia herself); the four suns are attended by their planets, who are attended by their moons and satellites, who are attended by their queens and ruling councils, who are attended by the royal family, who are attended by the nobility, and so on down the chain all the way to lux laborers and the dishonored poor.

Of course, while Orellistia is often seen in the mainstream as maintaining the status quo, her depiction in the holy poems is a little less convenient. Most often, she’s portrayed as a stereotypical artist, trying things out and gradually molding the universe towards perfection with a careful balance of gentle nurturing and sometimes ruthless erasure. Love and war are equal products of her instigation, and both are simply mediums through which she executes her grand vision. In her more ancient portrayals she shares many traits with some of the solar demigoddesses (who, most historians agree, were once worshipped as goddesses themselves despite being much more flawed and down-to-earth than the current Big Three)--she’s warm and personal and rather human, prone to frustration and jealousy and even insecurity. The many syncretic devotional paths centered around her--particularly in the antedome and farther afield--definitely have more in common with this version.

Titles used for Orellistia include variants on Mother of Gravity, (Nebula) Genetris, Creatrix Regina, Flower of the Cosmos, Mother of a Thousand Suns, Core of the People, Map-Drawer (particularly when she is taken up as a war deity), and Galaxy-Weaver (especially popular with the massive antedome textile industry). Often people will pray or sing to her and leave gifts at her shrines before undertaking an endeavor--either to ensure inspiration or success, whichever one they’re more concerned about. She’s usually pictured wearing gold, salmon and pink--the colors most associated with stellar nurseries on the galactic scale, sunrise on the planetary scale, and the mini-nebula in the womb of every Mother on the family scale; colors associated with nurturing, creation and new life--if not actually dressed in and made of nebular clouds. It’s also common to portray the central dome of Andromeda (or at least all the important bits) either symbolically or literally in her hair as if they formed there and are now in her orbit (this picture went for symbolically). Other depictions give her distaffs and embroidery hoops, architects’ tools, paint brushes, and other implements of Creation (it honestly usually depends on where you plan to hang the picture).

Her light is usually portrayed as bright white, sometimes with a blue tint. White lights are associated with the full energy of young parenthood and the prime of life.

Levinoxia is the goddess of the Vacuum and Orellistia’s wife, although the Basilean religious establishment has done everything in their power to downplay that. She is the goddess of uncharted, dark space and of antimatter, and as such the goddess of darkness, night, the unknown/exploration/the pursuit of knowledge, the pursuit of truth, truth itself, entropy, magic, change, and travel in general, as well as being the protectress of the dead (although Orellistia is said to choose who will live and die).

She travels the cosmos, broadening the borders of its beings’ understanding, maintaining a long-distance relationship until the wife’s art block gets bad enough that she needs her to come home and keep an eye on things while she does an epic studio cleanup and then takes a nap, which ultimately results in the heat death of the universe and, once they’ve spent the night together and Levinoxia has showed her wife all the new ideas and perspectives she’s gathered up, a new big bang.

Her roles as a protector of sailors and travelers and as a guide in the pursuit of truth are usually signified in icons by having her holding navigational tools (astrolabes, star maps) and ships’ lanterns. The lantern in particular represents the ability of wisdom, observation, and critical thinking to cut through the obscuring veils of rhetoric and misinformation.

Just as Orellistia’s mythical character is a warts-and-all picture of the creative process, so Levinoxia’s is a picture of the pursuit of the truth in all its confusing, depressing, endlessly fractal murkiness. She’s heavily associated with vagary and nondistinction (the practice of Levinoxian modesty is intended to be a reminder of these very things) and stories involving her generally teach that the truth is so complicated that a mortal mind is lucky to even get close. The gentle dialectical practice she exemplifies, however, results in a very compassionate and peaceful demeanor, and those who study her as a discipline tend to think of her as an unconditional comforter and a loving guardian, albeit mischievous (but only to keep you on your toes and learning, like a sensei in an old martial arts film).

Because of the radical realism she represents, however, she lends herself to morally ambiguous interpretations and is frequently misunderstood. The Destigravitational Ecclesia in particular have been on a campaign to paint her as a destructive trickster figure and more Orellistia’s opposite than her counterbalance. Around the time the old rebellion was really getting off the ground, the Aula outlawed worship of Levinoxia entirely in response to several vestal orders coming forward to call them out on their habitual twisting of the facts. Despite this, many vestals and devotees still practice her rituals, particularly those which petition for the safety of sailors and the peaceful reincarnation of the dead. It’s very bad luck to say prayers or wear symbols associated with Gravity in space (the reasoning for this varies--the fundies say it’s because Levinoxia can’t abide the suggestion of order in her domain, the cynics usually say “lol she’s a sailor, don’t remind her that she’s got a girl back home,” the romantics say being reminded of her wife simply causes her such a pique of longing and loneliness that she forgets to do her job and will leave the ship unprotected) so for superstitious spacefarers Levinoxia is THE goddess; many of them know no other beyond a name.

Levinoxia is often depicted as older than her wife (she is, if the creation story is to be believed) or as having a young face but an age-reddened light. Although she is the most passive of the goddesses, she is also considered the wisest.

#sweet chariot #sweet chariot mythology #worldbuilding #the cosmic lovers

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thescholarlystrumpet · 6 years

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All Through the Night Rated Explicit

Smutty one-shot for the @a-monthly-rumbelling January prompt: “I don’t mind if we sleep in the same bed tonight.”

Bae's nanny, Belle, harbors a secret and - she's certain - unrequited crush on her employer, Bae's father. But secrets can be tricky things to keep when people get trapped together by a thunderstorm, with no electricity and only one bed.

Bed-sharing!smut with some feels and added child!Baelfire cuteness bonus. Tropes abound!

A/N: Big thank you to @rumple-belle for both encouraging me to just go ahead and write this and for beta-ing it!

On AO3 HERE

“I don’t mind if we sleep in the same bed tonight,” Baeley asserted, holding up a corner of his quilt to welcome her under it.

Belle bit back a smile at his earnest little face, completely unaware of dimensions and how she’d never possibly fit in the nook he occupied. A growing boy of six and a half, he’d be too small, himself, in a year or so.

“Well that’s very sweet of you but I’ll be just fine on the couch.” She smoothed the blanket up under his chin.

“Oh. Are you sure? It’s kinda lumpy.” The boy’s expression twisted with distaste.

Belle cocked her head to one side, “Are you worried about my comfort or does someone not want to sleep alone like a big boy? Is it because of the storm?”

Bae’s lips pursed. “Nuh-uhh. I am a big boy! I’m just being nice. You can sleep wherever you want.” he grumped, sounding oddly like his father in his rush of obstinate defensiveness.

Accustomed to her young charge growing more mercurial at bedtime, Belle gentled her tone. “I know you are, Bae. You’re growing up so fast! But even big boys can dislike big scary sounds like thunder. Even I get scared of it sometimes, you know.”

He wrinkled his nose at her. “You don’t get scared of nothing.”

“Anything,” she corrected automatically.

“Anything,” Bae echoed dutifully. “Right?”

“It’s alright to be afraid, sometimes,” she assured him, rather than face more questions. If only he knew…

Sure, she was lying about the thunder. That hadn’t frightened her since she was younger than Bae. But Belle definitely lived with a large and overarching fear. One that consumed her thoughts and left her more than her share of sleepless nights. It was as adult a fear as she had ever felt: the fear of revealing her most secret heart to one who would surely reject it. Belle lived in the shadow of an undeniable and overwhelming attachment to the most unsuitable and indifferent man she knew - her employer and Bae’s father, Mr. Gold.

Loving Bae was easy. Most days, when he wasn’t cranky from staying up too late, he was an absolute delight; sweet, intelligent, and highly inquisitive. He kept her on her toes and she treasured the way his eyes lit up whenever she helped him to discover new facts about salamanders or satellites or whatever new subject had caught his fancy that week. They went to the library every weekend so he could stock up on books for them to read together. Now that he was on chapter books, he would even insist on reading to her, at times. Bae was her little darling and she loved him unequivocally.

His enigmatic father, on the other hand, was another story. He should have been nothing more to her than the father of her charge, the man who signed her checks. He should have been a glorified roommate, since she’d finally agreed to move into their guest room after that messy break-up with Garrett left her homeless. He should have been a friend, co-parent, or mentor. He should have been anything but the object of her increasingly embarrassing fantasies, the one person in town whose very silhouette could make her heart jump into her throat, the man she couldn’t stop picturing as the quintessential part of her someday Happy Ever After.

Belle had been raised on fairy tales. Or rather she raised herself once her mother passed away and her negligent father stopped even trying to be a parent. Belle had wanted that knight on a white horse so badly as a girl, as a teen, even into early adulthood. Unfortunately, in Storybrooke, there had only been Garrett and his gas guzzling car, and his possessive grasp, and his wandering eye.

Mr. Edmund Gold was certainly no Prince Charming but he had rescued her anyway, in her time of need. And his brusque manners weren’t so off-putting once she’d gotten to know him. He could be surprisingly funny, even charismatic when his guard was down. And the way he was with Bae these days was so alien from the way she’d first seen him (the way the whole rest of town still saw him), all warm affection and playful teasing. Belle liked to think she’d been an influence for the better in that regard.

It was just about three weeks ago, while Gold and Bae were playing, that Belle had first realized she was falling in love. In a moment of weakness, she’d let herself imagine what it would be like to have Mr. Gold look at her with the kind of affection he only ever bestowed on his son.

“Bae?”

The velvety voice of the man himself, broke Belle’s reverie. He stood in the doorway of the tiny room dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a shaggy robe, his long hair still damp at the very ends. He had a battery powered lantern slung around his wrist on a cord, the blueish light throwing his already striking features into a deep, shadowy bas relief.

They’d been just coming back from the lake, the sun sinking fast toward the horizon, when they got caught in a sudden downpour. A streak of lightning lit the sky, followed in seconds by a roll of thunder. The raindrops felt sharp as needles against Belle’s skin, blown hard by the rising wind. Returning to town on foot, as had been the original plan, would be impossible. They made a snap decision to head to Gold’s cabin, instead. All three were soaked and shivering by the time they arrived. For a day that had dawned quite warm and sunny for fall, it had come to a rather miserable end.

Belle had ushered Bae into a hot shower to warm his numbed fingers and toes while Gold attempted to build a fire. Unfortunately, the wood was all damp and refused to catch. There was a single electric space heater that helped a little, but was useless once the electricity went out. Bae’s room wasn’t too chilly, small as it was, and the boy was packed in with as many blankets as he could tolerate.

“Papa!” Bae threw back the quilts and blankets to extend his arms toward his father.

Gold looked askance at Belle. “He’s still up?”

Belle blushed and rose from the edge of the bed where she’d been sitting. “We were… just talking about the storm.”

“Is that so, son?” Gold perched on Belle’s abandoned seat, bracing one side with his cane as he hugged Bae back thoroughly with his free arm. “I hope it’s not too loud out there for you to get some sleep.”

Bae shook his head, his eyes already drooping with exhaustion. “Belle is scared of the thunder so I said she could sleep here with me. Is that okay?”

Gold chuckled and ran his fingers over a cowlick in Bae’s dark curls. “Well, I don’t quite think there’s room for her here, but I’ll make sure she stays safe and dry, alright?”

“Okay. So she can sleep with you, tonight?” Bae asked, settling drowsily back against his pillow.

Gold made an indecipherable sound at the back of his throat before turning his head to cough politely into his forearm. Belle’s cheeks burned, the air suddenly thick in her throat. There was a moment of stark hesitation before Gold leaned in to kiss Bae’s forehead.

“I know you’ll sleep like the dead once you settle down. Just all this excitement keeping you up. Close your eyes,” Gold ordered softly.

Bae obeyed.

Belle could tell him something a thousand times, cajoling and convincing, occasionally even bribing him to do it. His father need say it only once. Such was the kind of quiet power Mr. Gold could exude.

Belle would never admit it aloud but she’d had more than one little fantasy feature Gold giving her orders of an entirely different nature. She closed her eyes and rubbed the spot just between them, above her nose. It was an entirely inappropriate thought to be having at this time. Gold was probably a little peeved at her for not getting Bae properly settled. This was the third time father and son were saying good night, Bae having bounced up and out of bed twice to ask Belle for another story.

They hadn’t brought his reading material for a day by the lake and the only book Belle had on her was definitely not child friendly. Instead, she’d told him variations on fairy tales that her mother used to tell her, personalizing lead characters with traits Bae would recognize as his own.

Two such stories in, Belle had felt herself being watched. She’d looked up to find Mr. Gold’s eyes fixed on her, his expression intense and unreadable. Bae had also noticed his father and gotten so excited to share Belle’s stories that he leapt out of his blanket nest and it took several minutes to ease him back into it.

Third time, it seemed, was indeed the charm. Bae’s face had gone slack, his breathing even, as his father rose slowly from the bedside.

Gold inclined his head back toward the living room and the two of them adjourned, shutting the door to Bae’s room to just a sliver. He hated when his door was fully latched.

Belle shivered in the main room of the cabin, the higher ceiling and poorly insulated windows making it much draftier than either bedroom. She didn’t have a change of clothes, but luckily Gold had found a spare pair of fleece pajama pants and a sweater. The clothes smelled musty and were comically long in both arms and legs, but she was grateful enough to be dry that she didn’t complain. Gold was similarly outfitted in his spare pajama pants and a T-shirt with that ugly, tattered bathrobe thrown atop it for warmth.

Belle turned to face Mr. Gold, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset at having to put his son to bed a third time that night. She had no real defense for not putting her foot down. The truth was, she spoiled little Bae like he was her own. She’d never really been a nanny before this, and now she was starting to understand that perhaps she ought to have stayed a babysitter and part time librarian instead. It was easier when there were dozens of children to mind. With just one to focus on - and one she already adored - her judgement could get a little clouded. Then again, Belle could see such a world of difference from the unhappy child Bae had been a year ago. It was little wonder that she couldn’t help but indulge him.

Mr. Gold had been rather stiff with his son when she first met them both, as though he feared the child would break if he handled him too often. Mrs. Gold had only recently left and it was clearly a sore spot for both father and son. Bae was pale and entirely too serious for a five year old child. Gold was distant and uncertain in his attempts at showing affection. He’d apparently only hired a nanny to provide supervision and enforce the house rules, seeming genuinely confused the first time he came home to find the two of them crawling around on all fours, pretending to be dinosaurs.

Early on, he had even reprimanded Belle for letting Bae “take advantage” of her “tender nature.” She’d have taken the latter part as a compliment if it weren’t for the way he frowned when he said the word “tender,” almost like it was a dirty word. It was one of the few times Gold had really gotten her goat. Children needed tenderness, she told him, emphatically, to be reassured that even when they were naughty, they were loved. She’d let everything she’d been holding back up until that point pour out of her: how lonely Bae was, how he longed to spend time with his father, how difficult it was to be a child expected to behave like a small adult. Gold had listened to every word she’d said with a grave expression. Belle feared for her job by the time she was through, but she could not have stayed mum if her life depended on it. She should have known even then that she was already too far gone. Gold had been silent a long time before simply nodding and dismissing her from the room.

She’d spent a week on tenterhooks, flinching every time he addressed her. Yet he never reproached her for her tirade, or even mentioned how inappropriate she had been to lecture him in his own home. That weekend, however, was the very first time Gold stayed home from work and went with them to the park on Sunday. Bae had been overjoyed for the chance to play with his father and it quickly became a new part of their routine. Gold could still be prickly at times and Belle had learned to read when he was getting overwhelmed so she could step in and distract Bae with another activity. Overall though, the relationship between Bae and his father had grown in leaps and bounds - much like the youngster himself, who seemed to shoot up like a weed in the sunshine.

After that, Belle had also been a lot less afraid to speak her mind, when it counted.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold,” Belle began, noting how heavily Gold leaned on his cane, his shoulders slumped with weariness after such a long day.

He waved his free hand. “It’s no matter. He’s had a lot of excitement today, it’s only natural he’d have trouble settling down.” He limped to the couch and lowered himself gingerly. “I, on the other hand, may need to sleep through the next century just to recover,” he smiled thinly.

Belle returned the smile with a tired one of her own. “Well, Rip Van Winkle, I have a feeling a certain human alarm clock won’t let that happen any time soon.”

He gave a short huff of amusement. “Just as well, not really sure I’d like having a long, white beard just yet.” Gold ran a hand down his very clean shaven face.

“It was good enough for Gandalf,” she shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her forearms for warmth.

“Ah, now there’s a fashion icon worth emulating,” he replied dryly. His brow creased. “You must be freezing. My apologies. Let’s get you to bed.”

Belle blushed again at his words but he didn’t seem to notice as he was focused on standing up. He inhaled sharply, swearing under his breath as he heaved himself to his feet. Belle flew to his side, attempting to help support his bad side but he waved her away.

“I’m not an invalid,” he snapped, wincing again as he tried to take a step forward.

Belle frowned. “I know… but, it’s been a long day and I thought…”

“I don’t need a nurse, Miss French.”

Belle sighed. She was exhausted too but it wasn’t in her nature to stand by and let someone suffer. Even if they were being a pratt about it. “Well that’s good because you’d be a terrible patient. Now, do you want a hand or would you rather be stubborn and suffer?”

His lips thinned as he gave her a hard look. When she returned it, flatly, the corner of his mouth quirked upward for just a moment before he looked away. He cleared his throat. “There’s, ah, there are some extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed. I was… going to fetch them.”

“Okay then. I’ll be right back.” Using her phone’s torch function, she went to the aforementioned chest and threw it open. Inside was a mess of fabric, tarnished silver, and and what she really, really hoped was not a giant spider web. She tried not to think about that last part as she reached in and fished around for something that felt blanket-y. She pulled out two swaths of scratchy wool, grimacing at the way they felt in her hand. After a few more minutes, she determined they were the only passably blanket-like things in the pile and closed the trunk.

She returned to the living room to find Gold on the sofa, bent double to massage his calf. She held up the hunks of tartan patterned wool. “Did you mean these?”

He looked up, quickly pulling his hands from his leg, fingers flexing in the open air before settling in his lap. “Yes. Those would be the ones.

Belle bit back a face of disgust. She didn’t fancy sleeping under these harsh, dusty things but beggars couldn’t be choosers and at least she was dry. She set one down to shake out the first.

“Ahhh, Mr. Gold?”

“Hm?”

She held up the blanket - what was left of it. “I think you might have a moth problem.” There was a gaping hole in one side and several smaller ones dotting the rest like Swiss cheese.

Gold’s face fell. “How about the other? Let me see…” He started to stand and reach for it, grunting and swearing again, then muttering an apology for swearing as he regained his seat. Belle handed him the first blanket and picked up the second. Unfurled, the second was almost worse than the first; nearly as much hole as blanket.

Gold’s jaw went still and tight as he stared at the woolly remains, nostrils flaring.

“Mr. Gold?” Belle eased onto the seat beside him.

He swallowed audibly and spoke without turning to look at her. “Mothballs. They told me I’d need mothballs. When I put the blankets in the trunk, I forgot.” He ran his hand over the tattered cloth in his lap. He looked at at her, almost unseeing. “They’d be very disappointed.”

“Who?” she asked, softly.

Gold’s mouth fashioned the tremulous ghost of a smile. “My aunts.”

He looked smaller than usual and rather lost in the thin, pale light of the lantern. Belle was overwhelmed with the urge to pull him to her, to rest his head against her breast and stroke his hair. Instead she gripped his upper arm, very lightly, just a little touch to know she was there, that she cared. Gold looked at her hand on his arm as though he’d forgotten he was capable of being touched.

Belle leaned in just as a flash of lightning illuminated his face. He was oddly beautiful in his sorrow and she was immediately ashamed for thinking so.

“They… they meant a lot to you,” she surmised.

Gold met her eyes, again, his own dark and fathomless. He nodded. “They were all I had,” he stated simply. “And these,” he indicated the blankets, “were all I had left.”

Belle knew it was just the storm and the quiet dark, just the exhaustion setting in and tearing down both their walls, but she didn’t care. She was fully and brilliantly alive in this moment, only inches from the man she loved, and he was being more candid with her than he’d ever been before. She might never get another chance to be with him like this, again.

“I know what that’s like,” she admitted.

“Do you?”

Belle nodded. “When my mother died, I was left on my own. All I really had were her books. They became like friends, cold comfort for a lonely little girl.” She huffed a small laugh at her own self pity. “When we moved, my father made me choose only one favorite to bring with us. He said we wouldn’t have room in the new place. One out of a whole library. I thought he was so cruel for that.”

“He was.” Gold agreed solemnly. “Monstrous.”

Belle paused, uncertain if she was being mocked, but Gold’s frank expression didn’t change. She allowed herself a small smile. “The joke was on him, though. Rather than work in his flower shop like he wanted, I got a job at the library after school. So I could read all my favorites as many times as I liked.”

Gold gave a low little chuckle. “I always knew there was something of a rebel in you, Belle French.” His voice was a low rumble, accent deliciously thick, the ‘r’ rolling off his tongue in a way that made her want to chase it with her own.

His breath was warm as it wafted across her face, still smelling sweet from the lemonade she’d brought to the lake. She tilted her face toward his just a fraction more and his gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth and then back. A crack of thunder sounded, so close it may have well been in the room, and Belle shivered.

Gold pulled back, blinking rapidly, “I… I think I ought to get some rest.”

Belle deflated against the couch cushion. “Oh. Oh, right. Well, uh, at least let me help you.”

His brow furrowed. “Help me what? I’m already here.” He indicated the couch. He hoisted the holey blankets over his lap. “These are… less than expected but they will suffice for the night.”

Belle crossed her arms over her chest. “You are not sleeping on this lumpy couch with barely enough blanket to cover one limb at a time.”

He pursed his lips, “Miss French….”

“Mr. Gold….”

“Well, where on earth should I sleep, in your expert opinion?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “In the bed.” She stood, grabbing his cane from where it had fallen to the floor. “Don’t be such a fussbudget. Come on, I’ll help you into the bedroom.”

Gold made a blunted noise of outrage. “Do you think I’d be such a negligent employer - nay gentleman - as to let you freeze to death out here on the couch?”

“So, what? You’d rather martyr yourself for my comfort?”

“Yes!” he splayed his hands in exasperation.

Belle paused in her efforts to get him to take his cane and stand. “That’s… sweet. In a misguided sort of way.”

Gold’s eyes scrunched closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes, with his forefinger and thumb.

Belle sighed. “Look, I know the mattress isn’t huge but it’s bigger than Bae’s bed so I think there’s plenty of room for the two of us to share.”

Without moving, Gold made the same strangled sound as he had before at Bae’s similar suggestion that they share the bed. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose before opening his eyes and removing his hand. “I hardly think that is… appropriate,” he said, without much conviction.

“Appropriate is in the eye of the beholder and the only one to behold it would be the six year old who suggested it in the first place. I think we’re on safe territory, Mr. Gold.”

It rankled her just a little that he was being so dense about this. In a little over a year, he’d barely just begun to treat her as a human being, let alone any kind of companion. Tonight he’d been so open, almost easygoing, or as easygoing as the Town Misanthrope got. She’d started to think maybe there was a chance… the way he had leaned toward her, the way he’d looked at her just moments before… that perhaps her attraction was not wholly one-sided. If that was the case, why wouldn’t he want to share a bed?

He licked his lips and, without a word, held out his hand. Belle placed his cane into it. He leaned on the cane, but did not object again as she came around to his bad side and helped him rise. Leaning on her and the cane, he limped into the bedroom.

She helped him get situated before crossing to the other side and sliding under the heavy quilt. The bed was chilly and also covered in a layer of dust (Belle made a mental note to send a cleaning service out once they got home). The blankets were unevenly distributed and sheets twisted down at the foot so she found herself sitting up and running her hands along the edges to try and fix them.

Gold shifted uncomfortably beside her as her wandering hands brushed his legs once, and then a second time. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“They’re uneven,” Belle groused, tugging at a sheet.

“Good God, woman, relax. You are off the clock. I am not Bae and I can fix my own blanket,” Gold snatched it out of her hands, rolling onto his side, away from her.

“Well, at least Bae knows how to share properly,” she replied, snaking an arm over his shoulder to pull the blanket back. “You’ve got the long end and if I don’t flip it, we’ll both have cold feet!”

He resisted for a moment before releasing it with a grumble. Belle set them to rights, smoothing the sheets up and blanket down. Gold was curled in a tight, unmoving ball and she made a face at his back.

At last she sank into the mattress, her body relaxing. She closed her eyes and let her mind meander through her day. It had been a beautiful day at the start. Gold had taken them out in a rented motorboat and shown Bae how to fish. They didn’t catch anything but that hadn’t been the point of the exercise. Bae had happily listed every fish fact he knew while his Papa listened attentively, and Belle had wished she could take a surreptitious photo. Gold looked ten years younger, lounging in the sun with his boy, relaxed and thoroughly happy. He’d even smiled at her a few times, in the brisk distracted sort of way he occasionally did these days.

Once they got back to shore, Belle had taught Bae how to recognize edible berries and they’d collected handfuls to add to the picnic lunch she’d packed. Belle kept stealing glances at Mr. Gold over Bae’s curly head. It was just so rare to see him out of a suit, dressed as he was in jeans and long sleeved shirt. The suits were always lovely and well tailored, and gave her plenty of thoughts about slowly unwrapping him like a present. Dressed down he seemed… human, like his sharp edges had been filed down. He’d caught her looking more than once, and they’d both quickly looked away.

Now she could feel the warmth of his body beside her, seeping into the sheets. She breathed out heavily through her mouth, fighting down the urge to snuggle up behind him. It was ridiculous, feeling this way for a man who could be so infuriatingly opaque. One minute they were swapping childhood stories and he looked very much like he wanted to kiss her. The next he was a human boulder, shutting her out in every way possible.

She must have drifted off at some point but a crack of thunder jolted her awake. She and Gold had rolled closer in their sleep, he on his back with an arm flung over his head and she on her side, facing him. He must also have shed the bathrobe at some point because he was only in the T-shirt now. There was barely enough light to make out his facial features but it occurred to her that he was smiling softly, unselfconsciously. She pulled herself up onto her elbow, cupping her cheek in her hand.

What would it be like to wake up like this and belong in a bed together? To lean in and kiss him awake? To have a playful little tussle before stripping each other bare and making love ‘til morning?

He made a soft little sound and Belle fancied that he was agreeing with her fantasy.

“What do you dream about, Mr. Gold?” she whispered, lowering her head back to the pillow.

Another little sound, low and masculine, greeted her query but then he fell silent and Belle fell back asleep.

The second time she woke, the rain had stopped and the moonlight shone strongly through the window. Belle had curled into Gold’s side, one arm slung over his waist. She held very, very still, listening to the thud of his heart beneath her ear. Despite the rain and the dust and the old fusty clothes, she swore she could still smell a hint of his cologne and she inhaled it deeply, trying to commit this moment to memory. The arm beneath her had fallen asleep but she couldn’t bring herself to move just yet.

She felt a rush of warm breath against the top of her head.

“Belle.”

His voice was more air than sound but it was loud enough in the now-quiet early morning.

Feeling guilty of trespassing, Belle began to shrink in on herself. Until she realized he’d used her first name. Gold had never called her anything but “Miss French” or, rarely, “Belle French”,” never just Belle. She loved the way it sounded on his lips.

“Yes?”

He released another, shakier, breath. “You’re awake.”

“Yes.”

“I… I need you to move.”

Disappointed, Belle began to slide her arm away when she realized that it had not been, as she thought, at his waist. Her arm had extended across his belly at an angle toward his hips. So as she began to roll away, her hand skimmed across… oh. Oh.

They both froze.

Belle moved first, lifting her hand away and pulling herself up on her other arm, tingling with pins and needles, to look at his face. Gold was wide eyed and slack jawed, his lips parted as he seemed to be taking one very deliberate breath after another. He studied her with an expression that bordered on fear.

Belle gathered all her courage, though her mind was sluggish with sleep and foggy with pent up desire.

“Is that… Is it because of me?” She lay her hand on his chest, noting how his heartbeat had accelerated.

“Belle,” he whispered again, almost a whimper as he added, “Belle, please…” His eyes roved her face in the moonlight, asking a question he could not seem to form with words.

“Please, what?” Tentatively, ready to pull back at any sign she was unwelcome, she slid her hand downward, toward where she’d felt him hard and straining beneath the sheet. “Is it… I want to touch you, Edmund. May I?” Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears and her pulse seemed to have relocated itself to the apex of her legs. She’d wanted him so badly for so long and it seemed like she must be imagining this happening, even now. It took every effort to keep her hand from shaking.

He shuddered just slightly as she said his name, his eyes closing briefly before reopening on her face. “Why?” His tone was incredulous.

Belle hiccuped a giddy little giggle. “Because I’ve wanted to for months? Because if I’m just dreaming again, I don’t want to waste it? Because… because you’re finally letting me? Pick your reason, Mr. Gold.” Seeing the look on his face, she self-corrected, “Edmund.”

He made a needy little sound at that and lifted the hand that lay between them to stroke the side of her face. “And how do I know I’m not the one dreaming?”

Belle smiled gently, leaning toward him until her mouth just barely hovered over his. “Only one way to find out,” she breathed. Her eyes shut, she made a silent wish before closing that infinitesimal space and kissing him. For half a second she feared he’d push her away but then the hand at her cheek slid into her messy curls, his fingers tangling between them as he held her fast. His other arm came up to wrap around her shoulders, lips parting to allow the tip of his tongue to dart between them.

Belle met that volley with a flick of her own tongue and Gold moaned into her mouth, tightening his grip. She slid down the bed, needing to be even closer, flinging a careless leg over his hips. And oh yes, there he was, pressing hot and insistent against her inner thigh. He ground himself against her as he devoured her mouth, the hand not buried in her hair tracing her waist and hip like he was learning every curve by heart.

She snaked a hand upward, running her fingertips through the baby-soft silver hair at his temples. She’d always wondered if it would feel as good as it looked and it absolutely did. They broke apart from kissing only to gasp for air, Gold breathing half a swear word into her shoulder as she moved to straddle him completely. Belle nipped at his earlobe as she centered herself on the rigid line of his cock, bringing both knees forward to gain friction where she needed it most.

His lips found purchase along the long column of her neck, trailing biting kisses up and down its length as she shivered with pleasure and shimmied her hips against his. His hands traveled down to grasp her arse and squeeze. Belle hummed her approval and he did it again, the tips of his fingers sliding to the crease at the back of each thigh, agonizingly close to her heated core. She was embarrassingly wet already, her panties sticky and clinging, twisting with her increasingly desperate undulations.

Growing frustrated with the many layers between them, Belle sat up.

Gold’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked up at her. “Is, ah, is everything….?”

“Oh God yes,” she nodded. “Just... too many clothes, don’t you think?”

Gold made a low sound of agreement, a smile on his kiss-swollen lips. “Whatever you say, Miss French.”

“Mm, can I get that in writing?” she teased. “And I thought we were on first name basis, now.”

He looked down. “I’ve never been fond of my first name.”

“Oh.” Belle bit back a frown.

“But I like it when you say it.” He met her eyes again, his tone the quiet, confessional one he’d had on the couch earlier that night. “I… like a lot of things when you say them.”

Belle felt herself melt a little inside and dipped down to press her lips to his. He kissed back hungrily and it was all she could do to pull away long enough to tug off the loose sweater. They teased and tasted one another until they were both breathless and she touched her forehead to his.

“I’d like to see you,” he murmured.

Happy to oblige, Belle kissed the tip of his nose and sat up again, feeling his cock twitch against her.

He inhaled deeply, “Fuck. You’re…” His hands shaped her waist, gliding over her ribs to cup each small breast, the nipples already pert with arousal and the chill air. She trembled as he flicked his thumbs simultaneously under their sensitive undersides before then running a thumb over each nipple. He shook his head, hair fanning on the pillow below him. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

Belle blushed deeply, the color running from cheeks to chest.

Gold continued caressing her nipples with his thumbs until she was squirming, little mewling noises escaping her involuntarily. With a hand at her waist, he wordlessly directed her to lower one breast over his mouth, using his lips and tongue tease her as his other hand moved down toward the juncture of her thighs. She shifted her hips to allow him better access and he slid his hand beneath the elastic band of her borrowed pants, finding the soaking gusset of her knickers with his fingertips. He groaned at this discovery, the sound reverberating against her breast. Belle turned to allow him access to the other breast and gasped as one knuckle slid deftly along her cleft.

“Less clothes,” she mumbled, moving off of Gold to shuck her pants and underwear. Before she regained her place atop him, she tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, giving him a meaningful look.

He frowned. “Are you certain?”

Belle raised both eyebrows. “You ask that, now? Maybe I should remind you what you do to me, Mr. Edmund Gold…” Kneeling on the bed, the cold causing gooseflesh on every exposed patch of skin, she pulled his hand between her parted thighs. His fingers just barely skimmed her nether lips, coming away glistening with her arousal. He stared at them, spellbound before returning his gaze to her face. The pure adoration in his eyes was enough to leave her momentarily stunned.

She choked back an unexpected lump in her throat before gingerly reaching for his shirt, again. “Yes?”

Gold nodded, allowing her to help him sit up and divest himself of both shirt and pants. The moment they were both nude, he hauled her atop him and fervidly captured her mouth. She kissed him back with equal exuberance, rolling her hips as her slickness coated his erection. The blunt head nudged her clit and she made a needy, throaty sound that Gold eagerly swallowed. He bucked his hips beneath her, hitting the same spot again and Belle pulled back with a swear on her lips.

“Please, no more teasing… I need you,” she pleaded, almost mindless with the steadily building ache at her core. She ground herself against his cock, the head nearly slipping inside her.

“I don’t have any…” He forced the words out with some difficulty, his thighs below her tense, the muscles strained and quivering.

“Protection? It’s ok. I’ve got an IUD. And I’m clean.” Raising herself up and wrapping a hand around his shaft, she bit her lip and looked down at his face. “Please, Edmund?”

“Fucking hell, Belle,” he rasped, gripping her hips with both hands, nearly hard enough to bruise. As he lowered her hips, she guided him inside her, both hissing with pleasure as flesh met flesh, wet and hot and oh so deliciously ready. Inch by inch he filled her, her inner muscles already clenching and fluttering, until he was fully seated.

“God, you feel fucking amazing.’ His voice was almost a growl, hands still at her hips as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her.

Belle leaned in to kiss her way up his jaw to his ear. “You do too.” She canted her hips, rising up just a little before sliding back down, then repeated the motion. He rolled up and into her downward movements, echoing and answering the language of her body. “So good…” she crooned, as they began to establish a rhythm of short, sharp thrusts.

Gold’s breathing was harsh and ragged, his parted lips brushing her neck, her shoulder, her ear, whatever they could reach. Belle ducked her head to kiss his cheek, his jaw, nipping playfully at his earlobe and at his voluptuous bottom lip as heat began to spiral up her spine and down her legs. Conscious of how quiet it was without the storm, Belle held back the moans and half formed words that kept bubbling up, bursting to escape in shuddering gasps. She was getting close, slipping a hand between them to press at her sensitive little nub and riding him faster. Every fiber of her being was focused on their joining, on the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, his hands moulding to her flesh as he hit all the right spots within. Her peak hit her suddenly and with a blinding force. Gold’s dull nails dug into her skin as her pussy milked him hard. She felt his teeth sink into her shoulder to muffle his moans as he reached his own completion.

Belle grasped his face between both hands and kissed him soundly. “That was worth waiting for,” she murmured against his lips.

He made a sound of agreement, pulling out of her reluctantly as she moved to lay on her side. “I’m only sorry I ever made you wait, sweetheart.” His tone was half amused bewilderment, half pillow talk.

Pulling the blankets up, she tucked herself against his side again, his arm curling automatically over her shoulders - as though they’d done this a million times. “Apology accepted. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I like when you say that word, too. Again.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I mean it.” Belle tightened her arm around him, kissing his chest, just over his heart, in reply. Cocooned in his warmth, she began to drift off, noting that they probably had very little time left before dawn. It wasn’t light yet but she could almost feel the morning coming on.

Drowsily, he added. “I did dream of you, by the way. Just like this.”

Her heart gave a powerful thump in her chest and she tilted her head up to share a sleepy, lingering kiss. “Me too.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle smut #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #belle x rumplestiltskin #rumbelle au #a monthly rumbelling #young baelfire #bed sharing #rumbelle bed sharing #my fic

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magicalgirlartist · 6 years

Photo

Finally drew my Sentinel Comics OC, Diamond Heart! I originally came up with her as a concept for a fan deck a couple years back, and am planning on transferring her to the RPG once it comes out.

Character notes, lies about publishing history and story arc, and game mechanics below the readmore. (With deepest apologies to mobile users.)

Character Notes

Diamond Heart is an archetypal magical girl. Her civilian name is Yukiko Chevalier. She grew up in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. She’s of mixed heritage, being both Japanese-Canadian (mother) and French-Canadian (father), but she doesn’t speak much Japanese--mostly English and Quebec French. Her outfit, though difficult to see, is made up of a silver dress, white jacket, gloves, and boots, and metallic blue accents, plus an actual diamond heart as an embellishment to the jacket. Her powers mostly involve bursts of magical energy and transformation.

Publishing History (all lies)

Diamond Heart is a relatively new character in the Sentinel Comics lineup. Back during the manga boom of the late 90s/early 00s, Sentinel Comics acquired the translation rights to a few different manga series, mostly short shonen series and some superheroes. One of these series was a magical girl series called Heart of Diamond (Daiyamondo no kokoro, although honestly only weeaboos called it that), which had seen limited success in Japan due to everyone comparing it to another, more popular magical girl series, saying it was a direct ripoff. However, the Sentinel Comics translation was very popular in North America and it brought in a new reader base for them. One of the things readers liked was that they stuck very close to the original script, or at least as close as possible, rather than going the 3Kids route and making it take place in America or changing the characters’ names for no reason.

Unfortunately, Heart of Diamond was the only series that took off for Sentinel Comics. The other series didn’t sell well, and the translation rights were eventually sold to other companies. Heart of Diamond was one of the few series that was completely translated by Sentinel Comics. This left Sentinel Comics with a bit of a dilemma: Heart of Diamond sold well and brought in a previously untapped market of teenage girls. How could they hold on to that when Heart of Diamond ended? It was only about 30 chapters long, after all.

So they did what comic companies do best: reboot. (okay that’s not fair but still) Once Heart of Diamond ended, they announced a new book called Diamond Heart that would be coming out soon. Said book featured a new protagonist with the same powers and costume as the old one, but with a new supporting cast. Two new girls (Emerald Heart and Topaz Heart) were added to the roster, bringing it to a team of five (up from three in the original manga). Her mascot also got a makeover, going from a floating jelly-like ball (affectionately nicknamed Slime-chan by fans) to a small stone creature, a sort of cross between a less-ugly gargoyle and a less-gigantic inuksuk. Her basic story stayed the same--fighting evil aliens (called Titons) that live on Saturn’s moon Titan, but she was now officially part of the Sentinel Comics universe, and the team had full control over her story.

Reactions were...mixed. Some Heart of Diamond fans felt like Yukiko and Diamond Heart were just “fake ripoffs” of their favourite thing (which was already 100% a ripoff but y’know). Most fans took to the new book, though, and Diamond Heart ran right up to the Oblivaeon event.

Most issues of Diamond Heart followed the original “monster of the week” formula that Heart of Diamond had used, though with more focus on the overarching story about the Titons. There was also some focus on how the team fit into the Sentinel Comics multiverse as a whole, but as the Canadian setting was relatively separate from the rest of the major goings-on in the other comics they tended to remain fairly isolated. They knew of other heroes and other heroes knew about them, but there wasn’t a lot of cross pollination happening. The weird part of Diamond Heart was that it was trying to follow a very Japanese plot, but doing so from a very western perspective. Comparisons to Sentai Rangers were drawn constantly among western fans. Occasionally the book would have crossovers with other heroes (notably Nightmist, the Argent Adept, and Guise) in an attempt to boost sales, bring new readers in, and reestablish Diamond Heart’s place in the multiverse. These crossovers usually only lasted about an issue or two before going back to regular production.

Story (also lies)

At the start of her grade 11 year, Yukiko found a necklace with a sliver-white heart-shaped pendant in her new locker. She figured it had belonged to the last person who used it and tried to figure out who that was to return it to them, but no one she asked about it had ever seen it before. She kept it as a good luck charm and started wearing it everywhere.

It wasn’t long after this that an alien attacked her school, screaming something about a silver-white necklace. Figuring they were looking for her, Yukiko tried to escape, but ran into a short, round creature made of rocks just before she could escape the school. It introduced itself as Rochmananov, Guardian of the Heart Stones, and told her she’d been chosen to lead a team of magical warriors against the evil Titons. Naturally Yukiko didn’t believe it at first, assuming she’d bumped her head and everything happening was some kind of hallucination, but Rochmananov managed to change her mind by getting her to say her transformation incantation, “Heart of Diamond! Release!” She transformed into Diamond Heart, and though still a bit in shock was able to defeat the alien attacking her school with Rochmananov’s help.

Afterwards, Rochmananov (later nicknamed Rocky) explained that it had hidden the Diamond Heart in her locker so she’d be able to find it, as it was her destiny to lead the Gem Hearts. Yukiko wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, thinking that anyone else would do a better job, but Rocky insisted she was the right person. The two of them set about assembling the rest of the team, which was fairly easy thanks to Rocky’s ability to see people with magical potential. After a few issues they had the whole team--Sapphire Heart (Michelle), Ruby Heart (Neha), Emerald Heart (Charlee), and Topaz Heart (Jackie).

As a team, the five of them protected Ottawa and searched for a way to bring an end to the Titon threat. They fought other enemies as well, mostly in crossovers, but generally all their foes were Titon-related. They stayed in Ottawa up until the OblivAeon event.

Signs of OblivAeon started showing up in Diamond Heart around the same time as they did everywhere else, though since there wasn’t a lot of activity in the Ottawa area before the event itself, there wasn’t much. Teams had been told to wrap up story threads and loose ends before OblivAeon showed up to reset everything, so shortly before the event itself was published the Gem Hearts found a way to magically transport themselves to Titan, and in a several-issue climactic battle finally defeated the Titon King. They used a Titon spaceship to get back to Earth, having exhausted most of their powers in the fight, and by the time they returned the OblivAeon attack was in full swing.

The team mostly fought Aeon men and kept to the ground protecting civilians, unable to do much else with their depleted powers. Finally, Rocky revealed that he had a way to give them a power boost, giving them his own energy to restore them at the cost of his life.

Michelle, Neha, Charlee, and Jackie all tried to find help through the various multiverse portals, and were still in those other worlds when OblivAeon was defeated and the doors between worlds slammed shut. Yukiko, devastated by the loss of her friends, searched desperately for a way to bring them back, but couldn’t find anything. After the Sentinels of Freedom were formed, she went to them looking for help, and that’s about where things stand now.

Character Arc (still more lies)

Yukiko starts the series as a cheerful teenager, friendly and always willing to help. She doesn’t have a very high opinion of herself, though, and has to be convinced of her own self-worth constantly through the series. As the series goes on, she matures more and even manages to ask her long-time crush Parker Matthews on a date. Parker eventually becomes aware of his girlfriend’s secret, and spends a lot of time worrying about her as a result. He tries to go with her to meet the Sentinels of Freedom, worried about her safety, but she tells him she can take care of herself and goes alone.

Part of Yukiko’s character arc (in the Sentinel Comics universe, she gives up the mantle of Diamond Heart in the Mist Storm universe) was to deconstruct the “power of friendship” trope. Part of her power set as Diamond Heart is to amplify others’ powers or take their power and add it to her own. Because of this, she feels more like a supporter than a leader. Her friends make her strong, but as far as she’s concerned she’s useless without them.

Card Game Mechanics (yet more lies)

The Diamond Heart deck is made mostly of oneshots with four “ally” cards (the other Gem Hearts), one“mascot” card (Rocky), and one equipment card (her Diamond Pendant). She has 28HP. Her base power is called “Glittering Diamond Burst!” and its text reads: “Diamond Heart deals one non-hero target 2 energy damage.”

“Ally” cards have 7HP each. Their power names are in the flavour text at the bottom of each card. Each “ally” card gives the player an added ongoing passive effect:

Sapphire Heart: Reduce all damage dealt to Diamond Heart, allies, and mascots by 1. (“Dazzling Sapphire Shield!”)

Ruby Heart: Increase all damage dealt by Diamond Heart, allies, and mascots by 1. (“Searing Ruby Blast!”)

Emerald Heart: At the start of your turn, each Hero target regains 1HP. (“Healing Emerald Wave!”)

Topaz Heart: At the start of your turn, choose one of your Hero targets. They deal each Villain target 1 Energy damage each. (“Roaring Topaz Storm!”)

The “Mascot” card has 5HP. Its card name is just “Rochmananov.” It grants the player access to the following power: “Reveal the top card of your deck. If it’s an Ally, put it into play. Otherwise, discard it.”

The Diamond Pendant is an equipment card and therefore has no HP. It grants the player the following passive effect when in play: “You may draw or play one card at the end of your turn.”

The rest of the cards in Diamond Heart’s deck are oneshots. Some include:

The Power of Friendship: Diamond Heart deals one Villain target X energy damage, where X is the number of hero targets in your play area.

Secret Identity: Diamond Heart deals herself 1 Psychic damage. If she takes damage this way, you may draw two cards now.

Rainbow Gem Love Barrage!: Diamond Heart deals one non-hero target X energy damage, where X is the number of oneshot cards in your trash.

Here to Help: Search your deck or trash for an Ally card and put it into your hand. If you searched your deck, shuffle your deck.

(non-comprehensive list, also has never been playtested because it doesn’t exist let me live)

RPG Mechanics:

The Sentinel Comics RPG isn’t out yet, but when it is I’ll make Diamond Heart for real and put her mechanics here.

#sentinels of the multiverse #sentinel comics oc #DEEPEST APOLOGIES TO MOBILE USERS #art #fanart #traditional mediums

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stennnn06 · 7 years

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I mean, I love you

A little prompt from last night’s ep: Lena, after hours, thinking about the day, finding the planner Kara got for her, and flipping through the pages. For @weinzapfel ;)

I mean, I miss you.

I mean, I trust you.

It had been such a whirlwind of a day. A day that felt like several days all crammed into one. First day jitters had given way to pleasant greetings, only to be replaced by cold, harsh realities. It was tough love, and hard work. It was all the things she knew she could handle, made precariously more difficult to navigate considering the audience.

Considering Kara.

Lena had woken up that day earlier than normal. To be fair, she wasn’t sure she really slept at all. After she secured Kara’s response -- the cheeky “see you tomorrow, boss” text that confirmed she wasn’t going to be in this alone -- her mind hadn’t stop turning over what she was about to do.

Kara Danvers believes in you. Even when Lena was at her worst, and had no one else, that was true. Somehow, some way, it’s still true. Lena knew they were struggling, could feel it in the way Kara had been distant and cold. But when it mattered, Kara was there. Kara was always there.

How often do you get to work with your best friend? Her own words crept into her mind. How often do you get to have best friends at all? A best friend that she would go to the ends of the Earth for, if she had to. Or, at the very least, buy out a multimillion dollar company for, just to try to bring her back to herself. To try to bring her back to them. So maybe there would always be that something more between them, but if this was all she would be allowed to have in the meantime, then this was going to have to be okay. Lena didn’t regret her decision to buy CatCo. It really was an investment, just like she assured Kara it was. They had proven, once again, that they could figure this out. They could make this work.

It had been a rollercoaster of a day, but ultimately a successful one.

She could count this as a success, right? No attempts on her life. No hostile takeovers. No burned bridges. Lena smiled wryly at the thought, at the fact that the bar was set so pathetically low. There was friction with some of the staff, sure, and there was the overarching stress of leaving L-Corp in new hands, but all in all, nothing was worse for wear after today.

What would her mother think? Lena rolled her eyes as she pushed that thought far, far away. There wasn’t enough scotch for that tonight.

Lena allowed herself to slink back on the couch in Cat Grant’s former office, her fingers delicately kneading at the small knot in her neck, the one that always seemed to pay her a visit after these types of days. She kicked off her stilettos, humming in satisfaction as her sore feet finally got a chance to rest. She had walked through the halls for hours, asking questions, listening to conversations, being present -- doing all the things she believed would make the most of her time at the helm. But with everyone gone, and the office dim and quiet, Lena replayed the events of the day on a loop in her mind. She was joined by her old friend doubt, the one that never seemed to quite leave her side. In the silence of the night, she could only hope it was all enough. That she was enough.

I’m just trying in my small way to be more like Supergirl. The girl of steel, the one that had the same golden sunlight tracing her cheeks that Kara had. The only other person in National City that Lena could consider a friend. A confidante. Someone to emulate and admire. Could she really be like that? Lena never saw herself as the hero of her own story. Somehow, she was always the villain of a narrative she wanted no part of. But recently, something had shifted inside of her. It ignited a fire in her that she never thought she had. It burned brighter than her darkness.

Hope.

Be your own hero. Whenever she hears the words Supergirl had spoken to her nearly a year ago, she somehow hears it in Kara’s voice. Sometimes, it’s so hard to tell the difference, Lena can’t distinguish where Supergirl ends, and Kara begins.

Lena knew they were different people, because to think otherwise would just be absurd. But on quiet, calm evenings, her mind wandered to that place where she almost wondered what if…?

She shook her head and forced herself to focus, her mind generating a never ending list of action items and to-dos, meetings to schedule and phone calls to make. It felt like her first days at L-Corp all over again, except this time she wasn’t cleaning up after a homicidal maniac. She was simply chartering a vessel, creating a new direction. It was exhilarating and exciting and downright terrifying. She wouldn’t be sleeping in the near future, that much was obvious. As she began to make a mental checklist of all her notes, her eyes fell on the cheery notebook with the bright blue bow that had gotten placed in her bag, forgotten, after all the events of the day. Her heart dipped and fluttered, the way it always did when something reminded her of sunshine. Of happiness. Of Kara.

A Danvers’ family tradition, Kara had said, her voice soft and sincere. She had looked at Lena with bashful, almost sheepish eyes, like she doubted her gift would mean that much to someone who could drop millions on a media empire. Lena had barely heard her explanation, as her mind had fixated on the only words that mattered. Family. It wasn’t so much the gift as the gesture, and the sentiment that came with it.

Warmth. Stability. Home.

Lena gently picked up the planner, and ran her hands softly over the binding, feeling the cool soft leather underneath her fingers. She smiled, despite the familiar lump lodging in her throat as her emotions threatened to get the best of her, the way they sometimes did when she wasn’t buttoned up and careful. It wasn’t just because she was overwhelmed by Kara, though that was often the case. It was the sharp reminder that only a few hours ago, she felt like she might lose that connection, that bond that she cherished above all others.

She thought about the way Kara’s eyes had glazed over and her words had gotten sharp and jagged, the way her lips had curled in an attempt to hide so much pain. Pain that, no matter what she did or said, Lena knew she caused.

I have more baggage than I previously thought. The words almost knocked the wind out of Lena’s lungs, even now. Just hearing Kara confirm in her watery voice that she was hurting, and there was nothing Lena could do to make it right. But Kara came back. She always came back. It was something Lena was trying to get used to, even though it was hard to believe.

I’ve never had friends like you before. Lena smiled to herself, as she stared up at the ceiling. Despite the storm, things were clearing up. Things were getting better.

Lena turned her attention back to the present. She opened the planner, flipping idly through the pages in search of this week’s calendar. She rummaged for her pen, thinking about the ways she would fill up these pages. Status meetings, interviews, reports. Proposals, conferences. It felt like a brand new start. The fresh start she had come to National City for, finally at her fingertips.

As she flipped to the proper page and went to write, she noticed she had a meeting already scheduled for her. Lena couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face, as she held the notebook close to her chest, hugging it close, as if it could feel the happiness radiating off of her. The way it had when Kara had hugged her hours earlier, casting favoritism aside and assuring Lena that she was good.

No, great.

Lena’s cheeks flushed thinking about the compliment, but more importantly, the source.

I mean, I love you.

She placed the book down and stared at it again.

Sunday: 11am, Brunch? - Kara

They were going to be okay.

#fanfic #supercorp #lena luthor #SO MANY LENA FEELINGS ALWAYS #my soft angel #the girl of marble

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zcldrizes-a · 5 years

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“ i am looking into hell, but i dare not look away. ” ⋰ canon divergence.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌; 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕. ┊┊ spans the time across all books, and seasons 1 - 5.

After reaching a ripe age for marriage, she is sold to Khal Drogo in exchange for an army of 40,000 men for the khalasar, for an army to take back the Iron Throne, Daenerys is initially terrified of her husband, who does not hesitate to take what is his by purchase. Throughout her time with the dothraki, she eventually finds the strength to fight back against her older brother, and manages to impact the culture of the people around her - instilling ideals against the way the dothraki used to live in a respectful manner. After Drogo's death, and the birth of her dragons, her time with the dothraki comes to a close, as they won’t follow a woman who has not displayed traditional stereotypes of strength. As such, she seeks out the major cities in Essos in an attempt to fortify her power beyond just her broken people.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. ┊┊ set after the battle of winterfell.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅. ┊┊ set during season 8 timeline, post bow.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. ┊┊ set in the future.

⋰ ⊰ 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅. ┊┊ official season 8 ending verse.

This verse is the closest to the canon for season 8 that you'll ever see me come, and is based on theories like this one here. In this verse, Cersei frames Daenerys by setting off the wildfire around King's Landing ( referencing that one line about Cersei "having other plans for the Dragon Queen ) after the bells have been rung, making it look like she didn't accept the surrender ( and making Dany herself think that she herself set it off, by the timing of it all ). Blaming herself for the thousands of deaths that have now occurred, and believing she is responsible for the deaths of so many innocents, Daenerys begins to burn the Red Keep itself as the city burns around them.

Between the losses of everyone she's loved and knowing she's being betrayed by so many people, and adding the guilt of her actions, this verse ends in her taking her own life with her last conscious thought urging Drogon to destroy the Iron Throne. ( Note that if you would rather it be Jon who kills her, then I'm not opposed to the idea, but it'll require plotting beforehand to clarify! )

#long post #long post cw #i refuse to put this under a read more but #here we go #i. headcanons. » a dragon is not a slave. «#v. canon. » with fire and blood. «#v. canon. » if i look back; i am lost. «#v. canon. » the long night is here. «#v. canon alt. » the big house with the red door. «#v. canon alt. » a dragon is not a slave. «#v. canon alt. » her strength and her courage all went into the steel. «#v. canon alt. » queen of the ashes. «#v. canon. » a dream of spring. «#redoing my tags NOW #tw: assault #tw: miscarriage #tw: mental illness #tw: suicide

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