#4 kins just so you know I would die for you as well

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 5: Resolve

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, all! I know, it’s so soon! But this one is a cobbled-together piece of stuff you’ve already seen, just padded out a bit more. I figured I might as well push it on out now, so here ya go! Featuring Jason Lannister for the very first time, to finally bring all this shit together a bit more cohesively. As always, thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reading though this and reassuring me it isn’t total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, age gap, general Daemon grottiness, allusions to non-consensual sexual situations.

According to most, Daemon Targaryen is a man in possession of little capacity for feeling beyond what is required to partake in lechery and barbarism. He knows himself; his disparagers are not entirely wrong. Except for one important, essential truth—he would die for his family. He loves his family.

Love, as he understands it, is what he has always felt when looking upon his brother, upon Rhaenyra. No matter the strife that has torn him from his kin time and time again, he can freely acknowledge that such sentiments will remain everlasting.

A kicked hound is one most loyal, he thinks with no small degree of bitterness. Or perhaps the meanest hound is more loyal. Either way, I am the hound—and my master, the King.

Love is what has wrenched harsh and twisting in his heart whenever he laid eyes on you, a toddling girl-child eternally eager for the cossetting attentions of your uncle, your kepa—and he had always been kepa, never Viserys, no, your father had never received an honour beyond being called ‘papa’ like any common pauper—now a stranger in so many ways.

The garden and the morning repast had served to ignite the wellspring of all his wildest desires, delivering to him seemingly all he had ever wanted in a prospective bride; young and beautiful, obedient and good-tempered, Valyrian of colouring and of status. But you had seemed smaller than your younger self—trapped in a prison of your own making, hidden beneath layers and layers of chaste courtesy and painstaking banality. And then, accompanying you to the Dragonpit had given him a curious glimpse into the power you kept hidden, the ancient strength of your lineage slipping through the cracks in your genteel veneer.

Regal. Arcane. These are the words that had come to mind watching you interact with your mount, none other than the famed Cannibal himself; something of the majesty of the Conqueror lay within you, waiting for the necessary spark to kindle the flame. Your exchange with Athfiezar—your silent fearlessness, your devotion to your savage beast, your unassuming poise—reminds him that, for all your equally meek and mild-mannered nature, you are still Targaryen. You are still his sweetling.

It is this that elicits a consuming curiosity to know more.

You are an interesting puzzle, a strange contradiction, one whose buttermilk skin and pert teats and spit-shine lips should herald as a welcome to sample the delights hidden by the fabric of your darling little gowns. Yet, you act not as a silly young thing learning of her sway over men—teasing with fluttering lashes and bit lip and lilting tone as Rhaenyra had—but as a docile girl disinclined to press the limits of propriety as all maidens do. You ride the most savage dragon in the known world, and yet there is no such quality in you that echoes your mount’s disposition; instead, a loveliness that is near to cloying, pure and unadulterated and surely too good to be true. You are a fucking princess, and yet you are perfectly content to fade into the periphery, drawing little notice to yourself and seeking none from those around you, not even your own blood. A scholar, quick-witted and erudite, but somehow still so sweetly unknowing of the depravities that rule the minds of men who lay eyes on you.

You fascinate him. And his newfound realisation does not lessen his temptation to fuck you—to ply you with praise and charm and no small hint of avuncular affection (the reminder of your shared blood thrills him to the bone as always) so that, over time, you might be swayed to give your maidenhead to him—but, rather, that it results in a metamorphosis, a muddling, his longing mingling the base needs of the flesh with a rekindling of his fondness for you.

Which is why he cannot stand the presence of Jason Lannister.

“Why are you entertaining this farce?” Daemon asks, fists clenched at his sides. “A pompous fuck like him has no business anywhere near her.”

“Whatever is the problem, brother?” Viserys says distractedly, hunching over his miniature of Old Valyria and studying the replica of the Targaryen manse on the outskirts with intent. “Jason Lannister is Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. By any standard, I would think he is the best contender for her hand.”

That fucking model of his. Daemon resists the urge to smash the King’s stone city into rubble, though doing so might grant him the attentiveness he is sorely lacking from the man. “Are you not hearing me? He’s an arrogant cunt. He’d bore her in a sennight, let alone whatever hellish span of time an entire marriage would last.”

Viserys hums noncommittally. “She will make do”—he waves Daemon off—“as all noblewomen must when their fathers command them to marry. That is her lot in life. Besides, Lord Jason is one of the wealthiest men in the Realm, and I am told he is rather pleasing to a lady’s eye. She could do worse than he.”

His brother’s remark is a fair one—of the trio, Jason is the preferable choice. And what a fucking miserable choice it would be.

He rolls his eyes. This is going nowhere. “And Tyrell? Your idiot son? Are they the ‘worse’ you speak of?”

Between that foppish peacock, his spiteful little twit of a nephew and the prancing Lion, the latter just barely scrapes by as the best of the bunch.

“Enough, Daemon.” The King sighs, finally deigning to look up from his pile of rock. “These are the suitors she herself has chosen. I care not for the particulars; only that the girl should be wed before her eighteenth name day. Each of them possesses some quality I am sure she finds worthwhile…”

At that, he pauses, brow furrowing. He squints up at Daemon. “What is your interest in the matter, anyway? It has naught to do with you.”

Shit. Daemon makes an evasive comment—something about sullying the purity of their noble lineage—and departs as quickly as he can, eager to escape the risk of Viserys’s suspicion falling on him. It would not do for the man to suspect his intentions toward yet another of his daughters.

He does not intend to seek you and the Lord out, truly; but it nonetheless does not surprise him to realise that, upon freeing himself from the wrathful spiral of his own musings, his feet have taken him to the very same garden where he had first laid eyes upon you again after so many years, where you are now enduring the attentions of the insufferable Lannister patriarch. On this occasion, Cole is nowhere to be seen, and the entry is instead guarded by one of the Cargyll twins.

Daemon spies you on the path just inside, a careful distance placed between you and Jason. Though he cannot make out your expression from his vantage point, he observes well enough the flourishing bow the lord proffers in your direction, the polite curtsey you extend in return, his smug prancing step as he leaves your company. He sees the manner in which your shoulders droop, your head bowing as you turn to wander past the great tree and out of sight. My poor girl.

And then his view is blocked by a garish wash of red and gold.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason says with a haughty simper. With a curt nod, Daemon wordlessly returns the salutation. His lack of warmth is noticed; the Lannister lord hesitates for a moment before returning to his condescending civilities, forcing a relaxed stance. “I was most glad to hear of your return.”

He doubts that. There is little love lost between him and the lord. Jerking his chin toward the garden, he asks, “Leaving so soon, are we? I had thought the entire afternoon was devoted to this little outing.”

Jason chuckles awkwardly. “Well.” He scratches his beard. “The Princess has another engagement to attend to. Something about a tutor.”

Thank the gods for that Lysan fellow. They had never met, but Daemon is certain he’d like the man well enough.

“Doesn’t concern you?” he asks, scarcely bothering to conceal the scepticism from his tone. At the confusion on Lannister’s face, he clarifies. “That she’d rather spend time with her tutor than with you?”

“Why would it, my Prince?” is the answer, self-assured as ever. “He is old, and frail. Best for her to spend as much time with him as she can before she leaves for Lannisport.”

That genuinely irritates him, and not simply the notion of you being shipped off to the lurid monstrosity that is Casterly Rock. Even he knows that your meetings with your tutor are less obligations and more gatherings of friendship—your spirit would surely crumble if you were denied your dearest companion after being coerced to marry.

Daemon suppresses a sneer. “Your confidence is… admirable.” If misplaced, he wants to add.

“There is little competition to be found,” Jason says with a toss of the head. His tawny hair rustles in the gentle breeze, giving him the appearance of the sigil his House has claimed. Fucking ridiculous. Then, the man has the audacity to clap a palm against his arm. “Never fear—I shall take utmost care of her. She’ll want for nothing as my lady wife.”

He shrugs off the over-familiarity, stepping out of reach. “For a time, perhaps. And in a decade? Two? A Princess of the Realm has no business playing nursemaid to her husband in his dotage.”

He is older than I, he thinks. And if she is truly considering him above the others, then…

“I might be the eldest of her suitors, yes,” the man says, a tense smile disguising his offense poorly. “But I have a rather substantial inheritance, unlike the Prince Aegon; and my constitution is more… pleasing than the Lord Tyrell, I’m sure.” His mouth curves into a knowing smirk at that, leaving Daemon with no uncertainty as to what he really means. That little—“I would not dismiss Jason Lannister from the competition just yet. She will choose me; I suggest you accustom yourself to reality, Prince Daemon.”

He grunts dismissively, incensed. There is no reply he can give in this moment that won’t incite the Lannisters to break faith with House Targaryen; and so, he chooses to remove himself from the odious man’s presence entirely, stalking past with nary a word of farewell.

You sit where your younger half-sister had a scarce moon’s turn ago, eyes fixed toward your lap, turning an ornament about with your small fingers. As he nears, the lion salient glimmers in the sun, gold against gold in dazzling vulgarity. Of course, he’d gifted her something with his own fucking sigil on it. What a worthless bequest.

When he calls your name, you hardly react. Your gaze flickers up to him for a mere moment before falling once more, resuming your surveyance of the item in your grasp. There is a pensive expression lingering in your frown, the crease in your brow. It tells him all he needs to know of your true feelings for the Lannister lord, regardless of the man’s own delusions.

“Why—you look positively miserable, sweetling,” he says, settling himself beside you. You glance up at him again, sullen pout puffing out your lower lip. Though your disposition is so downtrodden, it is tempting to press his thumb to that lip, to push inside and feel the wet warmth of your tongue pulse against his flesh in a coquettish tease. “Not enjoying being courted? The gifts, the attention, the romance…”

You take the bait beautifully. Starting at his reference to the pendant in your hold, your nostrils flare exasperatedly. “No. No. I—I just—” You stop, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

“Go on,” he cajoles gently, lowly. “Tell Uncle Daemon.”

It is all the encouragement you need. “There is little romance to be found in this—this charade.” You sigh, eyes fixed on some minute detail past his head. He’s struck by the melancholy in your voice. “These men—Lord Jason, Lord Denys, Aegon—they do not want me. They want an idea of me; a Targaryen bride with pale hair and Valyrian blood. One who will give them children they shall make little effort to raise, a silent doll to clasp onto and show off at feasts and balls… as though possessing me is somehow meaningful. They do not—they do not see me.”

It’s here your voice cuts off strangely. He wishes it hadn’t, for he finds himself enthralled by the mournful monologue that paints a picture of the loneliest girl in King’s Landing. There is something yearning and haunted in that saccharine stare of hers, he thinks. A babe with her arms held out, wailing at the world as it leaves her abandoned in the crib. It’s an eerie echo of a conversation that took place a decade prior, though the lead role lacks the infantile petulance of the previous star.

He finds himself retracing those steps almost without realising.

“Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa. Dīnakson toliot, gaoso gaomagon kostas.” He is testing, prodding, waiting for what might result from his efforts. Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like.

The words make your cheeks flush fetchingly and your brow wrinkle once more, glancing back at him apprehensively. Pretty pink girl with a pretty pink blush; how far down does it spread? You swallow; pause; look away, wrestling with a thought. You peep back up at him.

“Se skorverdon jessivo aōt kesrȳsi jiōrtas?” you ask with surprising cynicism. You exhale loudly, staring at some fixed point in the distance. “Ābrazȳri buttā, riñar daor, mērpāves… Tolī jaelan.”

And how much joy did this bring you? you say. A wife you hated, no children, loneliness… I want more. The quiet longing in your voice is palpable.

He grimaces at the mention of his bronze bitch—he’d rather not know how widespread the knowledge of the circumstances around her… accident… had been in the wake of his departure.

“What is it you want, then?” he asks, switching back to the Common Tongue, the corner of his mouth already contorting in anticipation of the naïve response. True love, a happily ever after… We don’t get to have happy endings, he thinks to himself.

“I want someone who loves me,” you say, pressing on crossly at the huff of laughter that escapes him. “I never said I would love him!”

The pessimistic elucidation takes him aback. Again, it is not exactly what he had been expecting. Full of surprises today. He tips his head consideringly at you, inviting you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment.

“I… They say my father loved my mother. I believe it, but—” You swallow, the corners of your mouth turning down as you mull over your words. “They say he had a choice when baby Baelon was born. That he could cut her open to get the babe out, but that it would mean her certain death.”

Gods above. Where in the Seven hells had you learned that piece of information? Viserys had kept the circumstances of Aemma’s death under tight wraps, never even deigning to mention it to his own brother. It was pure happenstance that one of the maids he enjoyed fucking at the time had been present on the unfortunate day.

Your eyes glisten as you speak, limpid pools of lilac glowing like fire in the light. “I do not think I could ever choose my own life over my child’s—but they say he did not even ask her, that he just… held her down while they—How could I ever trust a man to raise the babe I bore him if he would be willing to butcher his own wife in her childbed?”

He watches as you clench your eyes tight, set your jaw and exhale a few shuddery breaths. When they blink open, they are no longer so tear-bright. Daemon suddenly admires you for it, for the way you so ruthlessly suppress weakness. He wonders how often you’ve been made to force back your own pain for the good of your family.

“What happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, sweetling.” He reaches forward to finally grip your small, pale hand in his. It is cold and dwarfed entirely in his own. “But you cannot live in fear forever.”

You make to pull your hand away. He closes his grip tighter upon it, coercing you to look up at him properly.

“When hope is gone, what choice left is there but fear?” It is a whisper, carried on the breeze, and the thinly veiled misery pains him in the chest.

I thought that beating thing was black and dead by now, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head, smile. The picture of the melancholy maiden fades from view as you affect an appearance of energy once more, gentle and muted as it is. “I know my father loved my mother, and so love is no guarantee of loyalty; but it would be helpful, I think.”

“You see love and loyalty as intertwined, then?” he cannot help but to ask. He is intrigued by this rare showing of spirit, of vitality, a resurrection of his baby niece from long ago. It is you, finally; his little girl, only now you possess the curves of a gold-gilded whore and the thousand-year gaze of an ancient, arcane being.

“Do you not?” Your head is tilted like an inquisitive bird’s, artlessly assessing. “You cannot have one without the other. Loyalty without love makes for an easy traitor, and love without loyalty makes for an unhappy marriage.”

He laughs again at the latter part of your pronouncement. A sweet, trusting little filly waiting to be broken in.

“There are many ways to love someone, Princess.” He ogles you shamelessly, savouring the affectation of outraged bewilderment painting your countenance. “I imagine you’ll find few of them in the marriage bed.”

He waits for you to question him—to ask him what he means, to ask him to explain, to teach you, show you—but instead, you pull back, taking all the warmth from his palm with you.

“I dislike your implication, Uncle,” you say stiffly, returning your hand to your lap and nestling it between your thighs to retain the heat.

Fuck.

He backtracks raising his hands in a jesting show of defeat. “I meant nothing by it, gevivys.”

Beauty. It is an apt title. an underwhelming one, even. Surely there is little else more beautiful than the sight you make here, now, a rich blush spreading along the unblemished expanse of your chest—regrettably enclosed by pale damask just above the protrusion of your tits—the planes of your throat, not quite travelling up to decorate your cheeks.

You sigh. “You never do.”

Daemon lets the conversation lull, deciding to instead look upon the little revelation before him. You are an interesting puzzle, one whose decorum in the face of his gentle compulsion—that same persuasion he had so often utilised to get fetching girls to strip bare for him and show off their equally-as-fetching cunts—had instead left him lacking. The body of a slut and the mind of a scholar, all wrapped up in wide eyes and honey-sweet words and wild hair the shade of Old Valyria. Of home.

A wild thought seizes him. If he leans forward, he could do it. He could grip you by the back of the neck and pull you to him, press his lips to yours and coax you past your panic and fear and into a hot, sweeping rhythm, a push and pull of tongue and teeth that would set you both alight. And from there, how simple would it be to murmur pretty praise as he lowers you down, raises your skirts up, cleaves you open until your blood wets his cock with the proof of his claim, incontestable, not even by the King himself? The deed would be messy, perhaps distressing and no doubt painful, but it would solve several issues at once. He would be free to do as he likes with his lascivious desires after you are made to wed him, and you would be free from your pitiful suitors and given a husband worthy of you. In time, the hurt and shock and fright would fade, he knows it.

He could. He could. He—

The spell is broken. Your attention is diverted by the squeals of a dark-haired boy as he bowls his way to you, throwing himself across your lap with a cry of your name. Daemon tries not to glare at young Lucerys as he tries to roughhouse with you. Having somewhat learned the schedules of his family, it baffles him somewhat that the child is not at his daily lessons. Should Laenor not have him now?

The thought must conjure the man himself, the Velaryon scion appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Laenor’s expression is forbidding as he strides over to you and his son, silver locs swinging with the velocity of each step. With his glare affixed to his face, he reaches a hand down to you in silent command, staring daggers at Daemon all the while.

What the hells is his problem?

You take hold of your goodbrother, bewildered, and allow him to tug you gently from the bench beside Daemon. Lucerys slides from beside you with a rustle, easily revolving around to dart toward the grass. You are already grabbing at the boy’s hand to stop him running off.

Daemon watches Laenor attempt to rearrange his countenance into something less violent. “Would you take Luke off to the training yards, sister?”

A look of vague incomprehension cross your face at the question.

At least she senses the oddity, too, he acknowledges.

Laenor’s head turns down to where he sits, and it is then that it dawns on him that his nephew-by-marriage had very possibly been watching him stare at his baby niece’s tits for longer than he could claim plausible deniability of.

Ah, shit. The darting, mistrustful gaze suddenly makes sense.

“Of course, Laenor,” you say sweetly, biddably.

Daemon cannot help but wonder what else you might comply with if gently persuaded. He glances up at you from where he sits, smirking playfully as you turn to him.

“It seems we must part for now, sweetling,” he tells you. He ignores Laenor’s grimace from behind you.

“It does.” You shift lightly. It is clear to see that there is something about your shared conversation that has unnerved you. The notion sends a trail of perverse excitement through him. He wonders what other reactions he might prompt out of you with gentle teasing. “I—thank you, Uncle. For listening.”

The words are honest, free of artifice. It is surprisingly warming to hear. When you make to depart, he calls you back.

“What—no goodbye kiss for your beloved uncle this time?” he asks, hoping he’ll bait you into action. He determinedly disregards Laenor’s huff, eyes trained on you as you swallow with trepidation before quickly making the short few steps back to him.

Your knee settles on the seat beside him, clearly meant to be no more than a brief resting place so that you may carry out his implicit request and leave—if not for the way in which your skirts gather around your leg in a manner assured to result in your toppling over should you attempt to rise without fixing them. Daemon turns his head to yours as you free yourself from the tangle. Up close, closer than he would ever dare get usually, he can see each lash that frames your eyes, the hairs that sprout from your brows, the slick cherry bloom of your mouth—a whisper-sweet gather of plump, plush fruit he wants, needs, to take a bite from.

Would you let me, little girl? he wonders.

You gasp, a short little breath of surprise, and lurch away lightly at the closeness. A brave little thing, you return to him, pressing those precious petal-soft lips to the skin of his cheek. Your covered breasts press involuntarily against his arm.

Fucking hells.

“Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Good evening, Uncle, you say in that light little accent of yours, an unintended provocation of his basest yearnings.

With that, you bundle the boy up in your capable little hands and make for your destination, the Cargyll knight falling into formation behind you.

“Care to explain—well, all of that?” Laenor asks.

Oh—yes. Daemon pushes himself from his seat, deliberately stalling while he thinks of a response that isn’t what the fuck how the fuck when the fuck and why.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says idly, slyly, glancing over at him.

“No!” His goodnephew leans forward into his space. He is taken aback by the vehemence in his tone, uncharacteristic of the bumbling, affable man. “You don’t get to do this to her; not this one, not this time.”

“Whatever do you think I plan to do to her?” Daemon laughs, wondering at the answer himself.

Whatever would she let me do to her?

Laenor sighs, steps back. “Look.” He lightly nudges him to walk alongside him as they make for the garden’s entry. “She’s not one of your whores, Daemon. She’s just a girl. She’s not the type to play your twisted little games, so leave her be—please.”

He is warmed by the defence of your goodbrother, an admission of familiarity and care that is sure to have flourished since the man’s entrance into the family some years ago.

“What makes you think I have any intention of—how did you put it—playing games with her?” If he were a little less honest with himself, he would be affronted by the manner in which Laenor had jumped straight to an accusation. But Lord Flea Bottom’s reputation is inescapable, even after so many years. “Perhaps my objective is pure and wholesome.”

“Right.” Laenor snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands behind his back. “You’re far more likely to fall in with her horde of suitors than to believably claim familial interest.”

True. And yet… why not? He’s conceived all manner of plots to satiate his wants, from drunken fumbles in the dark to his half-baked impulse from but a moment ago. Unlike his previous conquests, though, he doubts the need will dissipate after a single fuck. You are too important to him—his precious girl turned darkest desire, the only woman he could ever deign to carry on his line with.

Viserys has been pressuring him to seek out a bride. He mightn’t be happy with the prospect of his brother asking for his daughter’s hand, exactly, but there is surely no debate that he is the best contender. Not Jason. Not Denys. Not fucking Aegon. Daemon. And, well, if the asking should go poorly—how simple would it be to whisk you away to Dragonstone, to speak the vows and seal the deed before it can be undone? There is no risk this time, no Iron Throne to lose, no treaty or agreement that cannot be broken…

He can see it now. Your sweet little face peering up at him, marked with his blood, lip dripping red with the pledge of entangling your souls together in savage Valyrian custom. Your pretty little eyes wide with maidenly shock as he breaches your untried cunt, tight and pulsing and hotwetwarm, binding you to him irrevocably. The slow waddling of your gait as you round with child, his child, his sweetest babe bringing forth life of her own, belly ripe with seed and leaking his spend—

“Laenor,” he says slowly, eyes glinting as his lips upturn in a wide grin, “I do believe you have the best ideas.”

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/120880855

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[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Memories of Defeat (pt 4/4)

An In Stars and Time retrospective that revolves around everyone's favorite star. Major "secret ending"/epilogue spoilers below the cut!!

[Start from Part One here.]

Once upon a time, there were two brothers: one made of light, and one made of meat.

The elder brother was capable. Resourceful. He’s the one who had to point the way. Even if he was lost, or exhausted, or hungry and scared and alone, he didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere left for him to go. So he died! He died on purpose!! He’d rather be dead!!! Anything would be better than this!!!!

The younger brother burrowed out of their sibling’s ribcage. They were afraid, too, but they weren’t hungry. How could they be? They were born from a banquet of muscle and bone. Fermented in a womb of fresh-spilled blood.

The younger brother swallowed their elder. They swallowed his liver and his entrails, his heart and lungs and light. Everything good that was ever inside him would be theirs now. Then they wiped their mouth and howled their loneliness into the stars. Why did it have to be like this? What can’t I remember? Why am I so alone???

The night sky looked down and said, Because I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you eat shit and die. Die unloved and alone. It’s what you deserve.

But I didn’t do anything wrong! the younger brother wailed, pathetically, and also totally blinding hypocritically because they literally just ate their only kin, like, ten minutes ago. I only wanted to be loved!!!

Cool, the Universe said. Try telling someone who cares.

* * *

There’s no room for Loop in the caravan.

Which is fine. Preferable, even. It’s not as though they’re particularly eager to spend the night two inches away from the nation’s most nauseating lovebirds.

Siffrin insists on pitching a tent for them. That’s fine, too. It’s a free country. Siffrin can do whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean that Loop actually has to sleep there.

(They can’t even look at it. It smells like the past. Like the hole in their chest.)

They sleep on the ground, with a scarf draped over their eyes. They don’t want to look at the stars.

* * *

Loop’s eyes snap open a few minutes before sunrise. There’s someone watching them.

“You’re not sneaky,” they announce, without looking up. “I’m not one of your oblivious little friends. You can’t hide from me. I’m better at it, anyway.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”

“You know it’s pointless trying to lie to me.”

“…Yeah.”

Loop rolls their eyes. He’s the one who won, isn’t he? So why does he always go around acting like a sopping wet cat left out in the rain? “What do you want, stardust.”

“I’m deciding if I have to give you our cloak,” Siffrin admits.

That gets their attention. Loop sits up, intrigued.

Siffrin tucks their chin behind their collar. “It seems maybe… right? Um. Morally. But I really don’t want to.”

“Aww, stardust. You think I want that ratty old thing?”

“Of course.”

…Of course.

Loop smiles sunnily. “I bet you think I’m going to say something like, Ohh, you don’t have to do that. It’s the thought that counts! That you even considered it is more than enough for me!”

Siffrin looks hopeful. Stupid little beast. How were a hundred bloody deaths still not enough to wring all the optimism out of them?

“Well, maybe I won’t! We don’t all find you so charming, you know. Maybe I do want it! It was mine first!”

Siffrin’s face scrunches miserably. As they reach for the clasp that holds their collar shut, the first gleam of dawn catches on a silver coin, still pinned to their lapel.

…Ugh. “It’s fine, okay? It’s not even my style anymore. Anyway, I got to keep both our eyes, so. Who’s the loser here, really?”

Siffrin opens their mouth.

“If you answer that, I’m taking the cloak just so I can throw it in the river.”

Siffrin closes their mouth. But they don’t walk away. They just keep standing there, staring.

“Stars, what?” Loop demands. “Have you got some more restitutions for me? Going to give me your other eye?”

Siffrin shakes his head. “It’s just, um. Loop.”

“What?”

“No, I mean the name. ‘Loop.’ Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Stars, it’s one thing after another with you! Talk about intrusive! Do you do this with all your little friends, or it just me you can’t trust to make a single blinding decision for myself?”

Siffrin scuffs the heel of their boot through the dirt. “It just… doesn’t seem fair.”

“Oh, you figured it out, did you!! Ve~ry clever, stardust! It is unfair! Much like everything else in this miserable world! Nothing was ever going to be fair! What do you want me to do about it? Well? Go on! I’d love to hear your brilliant solution!”

Siffrin just keeps standing there, silent.

Loop’s fingernails dig into their palms. “Do you think I should be Siffrin again? Is that it? You think we should both be Siffrin? I’m sure that won’t confuse anyone. When your pet Fighter calls your name and the both of us come running.”

“...It would get confusing.”

“I’m not him anymore, anyway,” Loop spits. “They’re dead. You should know. You’re the one who killed them. And killed them and killed them and killed them and killed them! And—if I can be honest? Good blinding riddance!! You think I liked being you? Being some desperate, needy little freak with no past and no future?” They let out a tinkling laugh. “Get over yourself, stardust. Frankly, I’d rather die.”

“I’m not saying you should be me,” Siffrin says quietly. “I just mean… Loop, specifically. It doesn’t seem a little… masochistic?”

Loop blinks at them.

“I know you’re not me,” Siffrin says again. “Or even the me you used to be. But you’re not the loops, either. They’re just—something that happened to us.”

Loop rolls their eyes. “You escape one time loop and suddenly you’re a qualified therapist?”

“Do you really like it, though?”

…Well. Well of course they don’t blinding like it. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s funny, isn’t it? Just like them!! Soooo~ funny!!!

“…Loop?”

“I don’t like it,” Loop hisses. “But. It’s… not as though I like anything else. And it’s. Familiar.”

Siffrin nods. Even he can understand that much. This world’s Siffrin may have had it easy—like, really, ridiculously, embarrassingly easy—but both of them went years without finding anything familiar. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“And you know you can change your mind.”

“Hard as it may be to believe, I am, in fact, fully capable of thinking for myself! But thanks ever so much for trying to dictate another aspect of my life! I was starting to worry that I might actually have to be a real person!”

Siffrin frowns. “You’re a real person.”

“Oh, for Stars— Haven’t you done enough? I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.” They flop back in their bedroll, draping the scarf back over their eyes. “Just leave me alone, stardust. It’s what you do best.”

[You dreamed that you were drowning. Even now, you still can’t catch your breath.]

There’s an old fairytale, back in (don’t think it DON’T THINK IT IT HURTS) about the saddest man in the world. He’s so miserable, so totally consumed by his hurt that he can’t even talk about it, because no one would ever understand. He is utterly alone in his grief.

So the world’s saddest man makes a wish. He wishes for a copy of himself! Someone else, someone new, who might reflect the emptiness inside him.

But the copy is too good. Much, much better than the man ever was. There’s no bitterness inside it because, for as long as it’s lived, it’s always had him. It never had to learn how it feels to be alone.

The man hates it. He hates it. He can't stand to see it walking around, smiling and laughing and failing and trying. So he lures it back into his study. He gives it a smile. He opens his arms.

It’s still smiling at him, trusting, when he drives the knife into its chest.

The man drinks the light from its veins and swallows the wish in its heart. He leaves it empty empty empty. And do you know what?? In the end, when he’s left shuddering in a puddle of blood and spattered viscera, nothing has changed!! There’s nothing different at all!!! He still isn’t any less alone!!!!!

*

* *

* * *

The morning after the party sets out from Bambouche, Loop wakes up to find Bonnie standing over them.

“How come you don’t glow anymore?” they ask bluntly.

Loop blinks. “Oh. Um. W-Well, it was wreaking havoc on my beauty sleep. Looking this good doesn’t come cheap, you know! It’s practically a full-time job!”

“But how? What happened to your sparkles?”

“They… washed off?” It is sort-of true. For a while after Siffrin set them free, Loop wasn’t anywhere at all. When they finally gasped awake, they were neck-deep in the same black, frigid water that carried them to Vaugaurde, all those years ago. Except this world’s Siffrin already took the boat. Loop had to claw their way to shore with their own two hands.

Bonnie looks disappointed. What else is new? Water is wet and Loop is disappointing. “That sucks. It was cool. But I guess it’s good you can sleep now. Being tired sucks too.”

Loop’s mouth ticks up. “I’ll tell you a secret,” they find themself saying. “But only if you won’t tell Siffrin.”

“DEAL.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah!!”

“Super promise?”

“Of course!!!!”

“Super duper promise?”

Bonnie flaps their arms. “You gotta tell me right now or I’m gonna explode!!!!!”

Loop looks left and right, conspiratorial, before beckoning them close enough to whisper in their ear. “...I can still glow a little.”

“What!!!!!”

“Shh!!”

“Ahem!” Boniface clears their throat. “Ahem, hem. Of course what I meant was: forsooth, how doth you, um. Glow?”

Wow, they really have been going to school. Loop’s mouth ticks up. They might not be the real Boniface, but they’re still way too cute. “Okayyyy, okay. You wore me down! I can’t hold out any longer! I have no choice but to confess!”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agrees, scowling fiercely.

“Okay, check this out.” Loop scoops a fistful of dust from the ground beside their bedroll and holds it in front of their nose. Their eyes scrunch. Their face puckers—

—and they sneeze a spray of sparks into their palm.

Bonnie’s eyes light up. “What!! What!!!! You sneeze light?????”

“Not always,” Loop explains. They still don’t really understand why it happens. It’s not as though the Universe ever deigned to explain. “And don’t tell anyone! It’s our secret, okay?”

“But why!!! It’s cool!!!!!”

“Haha, well. Sometimes people don’t like things that are cool.”

“But it’s shiny!!!!”

Loop smiles wryly. “Sometimes people don’t even like things that are shiny.”

Bonnie’s shoulders sag a little. “But that’s… That stinks.”

(Do NOT make Bonnie sad.) “Oh, no, i-it’s not bad! It’s, um, cool! Like having superpowers! Or a secret identity or something!”

“It is bad!” Bonnie snaps back at them. “People are so stupid!! I think your sparks are cool!!!”

For a second, Loop almost forgets to laugh. “Haha! Well, I commend your exemplary taste. But there’s no need to worry about me, Bonb– Boniface. I’m doing just fine!”

Bonnie frowns at them. “Frin says that sometimes.”

The nickname nearly knocks the smile off their face. “...Is that right.”

“But usually only when they’re not.”

“Well. I wouldn’t think too hard about it. Siffrin is pretty stupid.”

“You’re his friend, though.”

(…Are they?) “Of course!”

“So maybe you’re stupid too.”

Loop chokes on a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sort of scary-smart?”

“No,” Bonnie says promptly. “Mostly they say I have learning disabrilties. ‘Cause my brain is bad at words.”

“Well,” Loop tells them, confidential. “Don’t tell your sister, but between you and me… I think the people who say that might be even stupider than me.”

“Pffft— You can’t say that about teachers!! They’re in charge!!!”

“Not of me, they’re not.”

Bonnie stares for a second before breaking into a radiant, gap-toothed smile. “You’re cool, Loop.”

“I— Ah?” For the first time in several lifetimes, Loop finds themself at a loss for words.

“It’s okay!” Bonnie says generously. “Frin doesn’t know what to do when people are nice to them either. You don’t hafta say anything. You can just know you’re cool and not even say anything.”

Not as cool as YOU! That’s what they could have said. But of course it’s always already too late. “Um…”

“I’ll leave you alone!!” Bonnie shouts in their face. “Cause Nille says I’m bossy which is a strenth but sometimes means I have to give people space so they can decide if they wanna keep hanging out or not! But I’m glad you came back!! ‘Cause Frin and Za are all gross and lame now, so it’s cool to have someone cool!!”

“H-Haha. Well. I’ll… try to meet your expectations?”

“You don’t hafta worry ‘bout that,” Bonnie scoffs. “You already sneezed glitter.”

* * *

When the party meets Madame Odile at the crossing, she looks at Loop very, very closely. She shakes their hand politely enough. But she doesn’t approach them directly until later, after the Fighter’s already turned in for the night and Boniface is fast asleep.

“Loop,” she greets them. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to discuss it in front of everyone, but I wanted to tell you that I’m very glad to see you again. I’d been hoping for a chance to give you my thanks. I know I was a bit, ah, preoccupied when last we met… But it seems we owe you a great debt. Siffrin’s life, for one. Not to mention the state of our physical world.”

Loop bites back a sigh and readies the usual spiel. Haha, yes, that’s me! Eternally helpful etcetera etcetera! I can see that you’ve noticed the new look; would you believe, it’s actually a very funny story—

“And Siffrin,” Odile says levelly. She doesn’t look away. “It seems we owe you an apology.”

Loop chokes. “Aha? Haha, um… I think you’ve… perhaps… mistaken me for someone? H-Haha, ah… Maybe in your old age, your eyes have finally—“

“She knows,” Sif blurts out, from across the fire. “Sorry. I had to tell her. She’d already mostly figured it out.”

“Not when it might have counted,” Odile says ruefully.

“Which would be….?”

Odile looks at them like they’re stupid. “Obviously, when it still could have saved you.”

OHHHkay. Hahaha, okay!! So they’re just going to talk about that!!! She’s just going to look at them with remorse in her eyes, and regret, like she can actually see them!! Like she thinks it’s not their own blinding fault that everything went—

“…Siffrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” That’s someone else now.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Hmh. Well. I think it probably isn’t.”

“What do you know?” S— Loop snaps. “No, let me guess. Because you’re old, you think you must be wise? Well, I do hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m afraid that’s just not how it works. I would know.”

“Of course,” she says again, backing off. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want anyone’s apologies. It’s not like there’s anything any of you could have done.”

“Hmh,” she says. Probably thinks she’s being diplomatic. Maybe she would be, if she were talking to someone as stupid as Siffrin.

“And I’m not—” The words lodge in their throat. Loop is seized by the violent urge to take a deep breath, but just thinking about it makes them want to peel their skin off.

They can feel Odile’s eyes on them, assessing. “...What was she like?”

“Wh-What?”

“Me,” she explains. “The one that you knew.”

...Oh. “Different,” Loop admits. “And… the same? You—or. She never figured it out, like you did. But I think maybe she might’ve. If I’d been less—” Weak. Spineless. Pathetic.

“Tch,” Odile scoffs. “Doesn’t matter what she might have done, if she didn’t.”

Loop blinks.

For once in her life, Odile actually looks embarrassed. “Ah. My apologies. I only mean that… I’m sorry that I was so useless.”

She startles when Loop barks a laugh. “You—haha!!! Hahaha!!!! You’re sorry! For being useless!!! That’s—no, no, it’s very funny!!”

Because their Odile could have been plenty useful, if they hadn’t been such a blinding coward. If they’d trusted her enough to let her in. But they didn’t, and now the Odile that Loop loved is gone. She needed them and S— Loop couldn’t take the heat. They gave up. They left her behind.

“I’m not sure I get the joke,” Odile says quietly.

“Well! It’s not exactly your strong suit, is it!”

Madame Odile studies their face, frowning. Then, disconcertingly, her gaze flicks toward Siffrin.

“Don’t look at them,” Loop snarls. Instinct thuds in their ears, take it back take it back TAKE IT BACK—

—but they won’t. What would be the point?

“Did you think we’d be the same?” they ask, sneering. Contempt dripping from every word like blood from the tip of a blade. “That you’d have one more cute little Siffrin tiptoeing around, hiding and crying and lying to people? Well! I’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but I think you’ll find otherwise. Oh, but don't get the wrong idea! It's not just me, teehee! We're both soooo~ much worse than you think."

“…Is that right.”

In another life, Loop let the King squeeze Bonnie into bloody pulp. They let the King throw Mira around like a ragdoll. They lied and lied and lied till they were sick with it, till their throat scorched black and their tongue dripped silver. They smiled and let her die and die and die.

“It really is!” They flash a bright, brittle smile. “How many times do you think I let you die, Madame? Would you like to take a guess?”

“I would not.”

“Too easy? I’ll try another, then. How many times do you think I killed you?”

She doesn’t flinch. Every muscle in her body deliberately Doesn’t Flinch. “...Loop.”

“Madame~?”

“I like your jewelry.”

“I—um?”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“I… did, yes.” When Loop finally clawed their way out of the sea, they had every intention of lying there until they died. But it wasn’t long before they were found. Apparently they’d washed ashore just a stone’s throw from a beachcomber’s hut: an artisan whose dilapidated hovel glittered with gleaming fusions of glass and stone and rusted steel.

Loop’s savior never spoke. Maybe they couldn’t. But their quick, clever hands could turn the ugliest, most disintegrating flotsam into inimitable treasures.

“Impressive.” Madame Odile says coolly, nodding. “Siffrin never had the knack for that sort of thing. Carving wood with physical tools is one thing, but mixing media? And across different Craft types, no less? That’s very advanced Crafting.”

“I—ah? Or, I mean… it’s not like it’s hard…”

“You may just have the knack,” Odile informs them. “Not everyone does. It’s a valuable skill, nonetheless.”

“R-Right.”

Madame Odile yawns. “Forgive me. I’m too old to be up this late. But I’ll see you tomorrow, I expect. And, ah—I suspect you don’t care to hear this sort of thing, but—I really am grateful. Truly.”

And before they can even begin to consider their reply, she’s vanished into her tent.

*

* *

* * *

Have you heard this one before? A Traveler walks into a House. Says, Housemaiden, I'm depressed. I can't find the joy in anything. I can't connect with people. I can’t feel ANYTHING. I can't eat, I can't sleep. No, I mean, literally, it’s been eons since I slept. The insides of my eyelids are brighter than the sun. It’s like a fireworks show in here.

Housemaiden says, You should talk to the Savior of Vaugarde. They’re soooo cute and special and pretty and perfect and everyone loves them no matter how many times they ruin everything by being a stupid little freak who can’t even talk right. I bet they could give you some advice!

The Traveler puts their head in their hands and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. Says, But Housemaiden! I -am- the Savior of Vaugarde!!!!

Aaa~nyway, they kill her and eat her heart. And would you believe? It doesn’t make them feel anything!!!!!!

[you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine you’re—]

—fine. You’re totally fine. It’s a clear, bright morning, the breeze brisk and playful, and walking into Dormont doesn’t make you feel sick. The smell of flowers and pastries and juniper doesn’t make you want to vomit. The spiraled roof and crenelled towers of the House don’t turn your breakfast to stone in your stomach. Looking down the path through the trees doesn’t make you want to pull your spine out through your mouth. You’re fine.

Why wouldn’t you be? Just because you abandoned this place? Just because it killed you? No. No. You’re toooo~tally fine. You’re being so normal about this.

A few steps from the House’s gate, Siffrin jerks his hand out of the Fighter’s and throws up. Pathetic. You step into their line of sight to make sure they can see you roll your eyes. They were always soooo~ sensitive.

* * *

Siffrin refuses to enter the House, because they’re a delicate flower who insists on making their damage everyone else’s problem. Loop, of course, never had that privilege.

* * *

“Ugh!” Mirabelle huffs, scowling down at her pottery wheel. “I’ve ruined it again! Siffrin, would you—”

She stops short.

“I-I’m so sorry!!” she squeaks, one hand flying to her mouth. “I meant Loop, of course!! Sorry!! That was so rude; I promise I wasn’t thinking of someone else, it’s just that you… remind me of them, sometimes? N-Not because you’re from the same country! The King was, too, and he felt very very different!! The two of you just… feel sort of similar, is all. The way you take up space, and… the things that catch your eye… It’s almost like you’re—” She shakes her head vigorously. “Ohh, never mind!! I know it doesn’t make any sense!! ”

To Loop’s horror, they can feel their eyes start to itch. Oh, Stars. It’s the worst thing imaginable. They absolutely cannot cry.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean— I-I’m so sorry!!!” Mira’s hands flit toward them before landing in her lap. “I shouldn’t have said anything; I didn’t mean to make things even worse, I— Do you want a, a… cup of tea? Or some cookies?”

Don’t worry! Loop tries to tell her. I’m completely fine, haha! No problems here! I’m probably just allergic to ceramics!!!! Unfortunately, the best they can manage is, “No Thank You.”

“I—!!” Mirabelle squares her jaw, both hands clenching in the fabric of her skirt. “Loop. Is there, maybe, some way I can help you? I know you don’t think much of us, but we owe you so much!!”

Loop looks away. “You… think I don’t think much of you.”

“Oh. W-Well, um. We… never saw you again, after you helped us save Siffrin. And they’d go quiet anytime we tried to ask about you, so I—I wasn’t sure if—”

“Mira,” Loop says. They take a moment to collect their thoughts. “...Mirabelle.”

“Y-Yes?”

“That’s not a very reliable gauge for what someone thinks of you.”

Mira’s eyes widen.

“For all you know, I might’ve thought the world of you,” they go on, uncharacteristically reckless. “Anyone might. People disappear all the time! They hide, or they die, or they… go somewhere else. It doesn’t mean they never cared. It only means that they cared about something else, too. Or they cared a little too much. Or they’re dead, teehee!”

Mirabelle pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her nose. “I-I’m sorry… I know you’re only here for our sakes, and now I’m being nothing but trouble…”

Um. What? “I��m here for what?”

“W-Well, um… I guess I thought you’d come to visit because Siffrin told you how upset we were, after you disappeared? Because you saved us—saved everyone—and then we couldn’t even thank you?”

“…What?”

Mira blinks at them, her disorientation mirroring their own. “Which part are you confused by…?”

For the first time in several eternities, Loop lifts a hand to their chest. They take a deep breath in, and out. “H-Haha. I guess, all of it? I certainly didn’t save anyone. Much less everyone.”

“But you did!!!”

“Uh…”

Mira’s eyes widen. “Ohhh,” she gasps, “I see. You don’t like that, do you?”

“—Um?”

“People giving you compliments and things. Praising the things you accomplished, as though you were some sort of storybook hero. When you know that what happened was much less heroic, and much more… accidental. Embarrassing.”

Oh. Huh. Loop had never thought about it in so many words. Probably because no one's ever tried to give them a compliment. But now that she mentions it... yeah. Maybe they can sort of relate.

“I’m sorry,” Mira says again, looking despondent. She slaps both palms against her cheeks. “Sorry!! I won’t do it again!! You just want to feel normal, right? So let’s—let’s Craft some clay!”

“If you’re sure,” Loop says faintly. (Calm down. You’re freaking her out. For once in your life just BE NORMAL.) “…But don’t take it personally if I turn out to be pretty good at this. I have it on high authority that I may have something of a knack.”

* * *

They keep it together for the rest of the afternoon. They finish Crafting their vase and help Mirabelle patch the weak points on hers, smoothing rough edges and pressing air pockets so it won’t shatter in the kiln.

They make it all the way to the bathroom before their smile drops.

The bathroom’s undergone some renovations since the last time they broke down here. Now tiny clay figures dance over the sink, and childish painted murals adorn the doors. A little Change God stands guard over each stall: waving its clumsy arms, kicking its stumpy legs. Its eyes are obscured, its expression unreadable. Its face is laughing. Leering. Mocking. What does it see when it looks at them? A memory? A means to an end? Or only a ghost?

Loop reaches out and takes it in their hands. The Craft that animates it makes it squirm like a worm on a hook. Loop doesn’t pity it. It’s only fair. The Change God never pitied them, either.

“Was it fun?” they whisper, as they squeeze. “Did you have fun? What about now? Are you having fun yet?”

Wet clay oozes between their fingers. The statue twitches and jerks. Loop’s chest feels hot. Their skull hums like a nest of wasps. Lumpy paper swollen with stinging hate.

“I’m having fun,” they tell the wriggling godling, smiling wide. They can’t even tell if they’re lying. To make the distinction, they’d probably need something to compare it to.

The wriggling slows. The heat of Craft fades as the statue goes limp in their hands.

Loop opens their palms. There’s no god there anymore. Only dead, lifeless clay.

They flick open the lock and shoulder through the door.

Outside the stall, there’s someone waiting. Watching. Staring straight at them.

Loop flinches. The stranger looks familiar, but also not. Like maybe Loop’s seen them before, but only in a dream.

—Claude. That’s who it is. Mirabelle’s roommate, Claude. (And who says they don’t have a good memory!)

Claude narrows her eyes. “…Did you just mulch that statue?”

Loop looks down at their hands, crusted with molten clay.

“People work hard on those,” Claude informs them.

Loop has already used up all their willpower for the day. They don’t have the strength to stop themself rolling their eyes. “People work hard on lots of things.”

Her eyebrows go up. “I could report you.”

“Please do,” Loop spits; and in one fluid movement, they’ve whirled around and flung themself out the bathroom window.

They’re three stories up, but they’re not worried about the fall. Worst-case scenario, they’ll drive their blades into the mortar and grind to a halt before they splat on the ground. Best-case, they die on impact.

[You dreamed you were being eaten alive. You can still feel the crunch and grind of tearing cartilage. The way the sinews stretch before they snap.]

Siffrin is fishing by the river. Just looking at the rod in their hands makes Loop want to throw up. They snapped that rod in half once. Tore it out of the fisherperson’s hands and broke it clean over their knee. And then they threw it in the river. And then then jumped in after it.

It’s not just the total futility of it all. It’s the whole process. Catching a thrashing, squirming being in your hands and squeezing the life out of it. Aligning your blade with the seam of its gills, just behind the thrum of its throat. Staring into those gaping eyes, that gulping mouth as you press down hard and harder. Careful, now! If you hit the angle wrong, you’ll miss the artery entirely! It’ll take ages to die! Minutes that stretch into eternities. Gasping, gulping, choking on the hot slick slurry of your own black blood.

Loop shudders. “…I can’t believe you can still touch that thing.”

Siffrin hums thoughtfully. “I think it’s the only thing that never got worse.”

“Ew. Or, I mean. Can’t relate.”

“Well,” Siffrin says. “We were always pretty different.” They flick the rod expertly, sending the fly dancing over the surface. “How’s Mira?”

“She recognized me.”

That gets their attention. “She what?”

“Not specifically,” Loop admits. “But. She said I felt… familiar. Like…” The words lodge in their throat. It doesn’t matter. Siffrin knows what they mean.

“…Hm.”

“Aw,” Loop purrs, mocking. “Does that scare you? Is it scary, to know that you could be so easily replaced?”

“No,” Siffrin says right away. “I guess I feel… relieved?”

(…What?) “Why.”

“I wasn’t sure they’d know me,” Siffrin shrugs. “You, I mean. Us. I wasn’t sure they’d even want to, if we were being… less careful.”

Loop bristles. “I’m more careful than you could ever imagine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Yeah, no, they’re really not.

“So it’s… comforting,” Siffrin shrugs. “To think they’d still like us, even if we were—“

“What? A failure? A ghost? A pathetic piece of work?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Loop squawks a laugh. “Well!! Aren’t you the lucky one!! Even if you wind up as disgusting as me, your friends will still love you! Isn’t that nice!!”

“Yeah,” Siffrin says. “It really is.” They shift their weight, thoughtful, and then seem to remember something. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Loop rolls their eyes, but they don’t not listen.

“Why won’t you talk to Isa?”

Loop fails to suppress a flinch.

“He keeps asking,” Siffrin explains. “And I don’t know how to answer. But it’s getting harder to not-answer. I’m… not a very good liar.”

“…Is that right.”

“I’m an okay liar,” Siffrin concedes. “It just—feels bad.”

Loop is very much aware of that, yes.

“He just wants you to like him,” Siffrin says quietly.

“Be reasonable.”

“It’s hurting his feelings, I think.”

“Good,” Loop says coldly. They hope it does. It doesn’t even come close to evening the score.

Siffrin opens their mouth to argue and then just—shrugs, instead. “It’s your life.”

[You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were—]

—having a nightmare. You know it’s a nightmare because it’s the same one you have every night. You’re standing under a tree, looking at the man you love. He can’t be more than an armslength away. If you stepped out of the shadows, he would see you.

But he wouldn’t know you.

You watch him think of you. You watch him think of what to say to you. You watch him lose himself to heady daydreams. (This is not a metaphor. Subtlety is not his strong suit. The man you love is very obvious.)

You watch yourself approach him. You are short and strange and awkward. You are hiding and lying and you’re so, so, so-so-so-so stupid. The man you love loves you anyway, because he’s stupid, too.

“Isa!”

“Sif!!!” he shouts, when he sees you. “I was just looking at this Favor Tree!! Isn’t it cool!!!”

“Yeah,” you say slyly. “You might say it’s a pretty… TREE-mendous tree.”

Ha ha!! Ha ha ha!!!!! What a stupid blinding joke!!! It’s almost like your pathetic sense of humor wasn’t what won him in the first place!!! Almost like, all along, he was laughing along because he loved you!!!

Not that it matters now. The tree is in the past. The man is in the past. Your future is in the past. Everything you love was meant for someone else. There’s nothing left for you.

*

* *

* * *

Loop jerks awake. The dark is intractable. Undisturbed by any snore or snuffling wheeze. They are utterly alone.

Siffrin begged them to sleep in the Clocktower with everyone else. They even offered to sleep on the ground so Loop could have a whole bed to themself. But Loop wouldn’t budge. How could they? The thought made them physically sick.

They twist out of their bedroll and onto their feet in one smooth motion. They don’t know where they’re going, but they do know that if they have to lie here, alone with their thoughts, for a single second longer, it is actually going to kill them. So—getting up! Getting moving! One foot in front of the other! If they walk fast enough, maybe they can outrun an eternity of unrelenting dread!!!

They don’t have anywhere to go, so they just—go. They just walk. Anywhere would be better than here.

 * * *

Their feet take them to the Tree. Probably because it’s the closest thing they still have to a home. (And isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard!!!!!)

They stand at the foot of the trunk and look up at the canopy. Thick strong boughs and wide, glossy leaves framing little windows to the starry void beyond. Idly, without any real urgency, they imagine setting it on fire. It would be easy. They don’t even need flint or tinder, now that their lungs crackle with swallowed stars. All they’d need is a bit of kindling, some pine cones or dry needles, and they could reduce this place to ash.

—A twig snaps.

Loop’s stance stiffens, then hardens. They know that gait. The slow, careful breath before each heavy clumsy footfall. No one sounds more obvious than a great stupid oaf of a Fighter trying to be discreet.

Maybe he won’t notice them. They could make sure he wouldn’t, if they wanted. Loop knows how to disappear. But they’re tired of going unseen.

“…Can’t sleep?”

The Fighter startles so violently that he nearly keels over backwards. Loop could catch him by the elbow, if they wanted. Steady him; help him catch his balance.

They don’t move.

“W-Woah!!” the Fighter gasps. “Haha, whoa! Um… Loop? That’s you, right? Wow, you are really quiet! I totally didn’t see you there at all!!”

Yes, well, what else is new. “I’d expect nothing less, teehee! You’re not exactly observant.”

“Oh. Haha, um, yeah. I guess not.” Siffrin’s Fighter shifts his weight, uneasy. “ Um… Loop?”

“That’s what they call me!!!”

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Loop stiffens.

“Like… I don’t know. Step on your feelings, somehow? It just feels like you… maybe sort of don’t like me? Which is fine!!” he rushes to clarify. “Not everyone has to like me!! It’s just… if it’s something I did, I could… make sure I don’t do it again?”

Loop almost hits him. They want to. They want to grab him by the collar and shake him. To throw him back against the trunk of the Tree and shove into his space until he can’t not see them. They can see the angry thrum of his pulse in his throat and they want to trap it under their thumb. To close the space and feel his heartrate spike. For months they had to watch themself stand in front of him, wanting and wanting and doing nothing, knowing all the while that if it was them, they wouldn’t just stand there, wanting. They’d take him apart with their hands. They’d eat him alive.

“...Loop?”

“Siffrin,” Loop grates out, an ugly scrape of sound. “Sif. Before I killed myself, that’s what you—all of you used to call me.”

“Wh-What?” the Fighter asks, baffled. “What does that even—”

“But that doesn’t matter now!!!!" Loop shouts, grinning wildly. "He’s dead now!! Now there’s only me!!!!”

“I—I don’t understand. I just saw Sif? Th-They’re totally fine!“

Loop rolls their eyes theatrically. “Ugh. Weren’t you supposed to be smart now? Not your Siffrin, obviously. I obviously meant another Siffrin.”

“But—what? What do you… How would that even work?”

A molten sort of hunger comes over them. Loop flashes a glittering smile. “Isn’t it obvious? ~I’m~ what happens when you don’t save me! When you just let me die!!”

“N-No,” the Fighter mumbles.

“Y-Yeah, actually,” they stammer, mocking. Throwing his pathetic stutter right back in his face.

“No, but… Come on. No way. Sif would’ve said something!”

“Oh, because you can definitely count on Siffrin to tell you anything that matters.”

The Fighter has the gall to look offended. “Hey!! They’re honest about important stuff!!”

“I am literally telling you that we are not!!!”

Isabeau shrinks a little. “B-But— But that’s not possible. It doesn’t make any—”

“Then how do I know them?” Siffrin snarls. “How do I know everything about them? Why do I blinding hate you?”

“I don’t…” Isabeau trails off. They can see him starting to wrap his mind around it. Blood cooling, stance wilting. “You… Are you telling the truth?”

“What do you think.”

His shoulders slump a little. “You… killed yourself?”

“Your Sif tried to break the world,” Loop says scornfully. “I think we can all agree on who’s the more well-adjusted.”

Isabeau staggers back. They can see him getting ready to freak out.

“Nope!!” they shrill. “Not allowed!! This is mine!! You weren’t even there!! Besides, you already saved your Sif! So clearly I wasn’t worth saving!! Or were you just holding out for the new model?”

“That’s not—”

Bile sours in their stomach. Steel screams in their veins. Their blood burns with the absolute assurance of what will hurt him the most.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Loop asks sweetly. “If you must know… I hate you! I always hated you. You had everything. Everything!! A home, a family, friends… and still you were dissatisfied? I mean!! Talk about entitled!!”

“I— What? I never said—”

“But you di~id! To every version of me! Even the pathetic rotten failures, teehee! You shared all your ugliest, stupidest hang-ups and guess what? They were all soooo~ lame! Barely an inconvenience! Baby-school trauma for babies!!! It's no wonder you couldn't save me, teehee… You were way, way, way out of your league!”

Isabeau just stares.

Loop’s fists clench. They wish he would get angry. This would be so much more satisfying if he would lash out already. Throw them back against the Tree and snap their brittle neck. But instead he just keeps standing there, looking devastated.

“Ugh,” Loop spits. “This is pointless. You’re pointless. I’m done.”

“L— Sif!!” Isabeau yelps, and that’s the last blinding straw. Loop tucks their head and bolts.

* * *

Isabeau tries to chase after them, but he’s big and slow and Loop can reach terminal velocity in about three seconds from a standstill. He might as well have tried to catch the wind.

They don’t slow down until they reach the field.

Then they cry.

(The cruelest thing is this: If there was no Siffrin in this world, Loop would be the one everyone loved. Loop would be the one who was difficult but loyal; high-maintenance and universally adored. Loop could have been the weird little freak who everyone considered worth the effort.

But Loop gave up. They gave their chance away. And now they’ve got what they deserved: absolutely nothing.)

What are they even doing here? Why would they come back? They knew what was waiting for them. There’s no space for them here, in this place, with these people. The understudy already took their place.

It’s all Siffrin’s fault. Siffrin the hero, leading their perfect shiny life surrounded by all their perfect shiny friends. Siffrin, who got everything they ever wanted and still demanded more. Siffrin wishing wishing wishing to see them again, yanking on Loop’s subconscious mind all day and night to make sure they could never, ever forget. To make sure they’d never be truly free.

…Maybe they’ll just leave. Without telling anyone, without leaving a note. That would show them, wouldn’t it? Siffrin would be so blinding pathetic about it. So hurt and confused. Almost as hurt and confused as Isa, when he found out that his precious little Siffrin could turn into something like this. Something ugly, broken, hateful. Living spite, made manifest. A ghost haunting their own blinding life.

There’s a rustle from the bushes. Light, uncertain footfalls. Loop stiffens. There’s someone coming up the path. Not Isabeau. Not Siffrin, either. A stranger?

From the shadows, someone clears their throat. “Um—”

They don’t get the chance to say anything else. Loop already has the jagged teeth of their knife pressed tight against their throat. “Who are you? What do you want???”

“I’d let go if I were you,” the stranger says coolly. “Unless you want to lose that hand.”

“You wish,” Loop spits. “You’re out of your league.”

“Bet?”

Against their better judgment, Loop can feel themself starting to smile. It’s strangely comforting to be on the receiving end of a threat, for a change. Talking to someone who doesn’t quiver and quail and bend over backwards to accommodate their every demand.

Loop flits backwards, out of slashing range. Probably Siffrin would land in a fighting stance, but Loop is above that sort of petty, childish showmanship. They don’t need a lot of posturing just to kill someone. “What do you want?”

“I heard crying.”

Oh. Was Loop crying? They didn’t notice. Though now that they think of it, their vision does seem a little blurry. “So?”

“Are you stupid or something? So I thought someone might need help. Obviously.”

Hm. That voice isn’t entirely unfamiliar, is it? It feels like Loop might have heard it before. Possibly recently.

—Oh. “Claude,” Loop realizes.

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “So what if I am?”

“Mira’s roommate, Claude.”

“Oh. You’re with the Saviors.”

“I’m not,” Loop snarls. (STOP IT, calm down, you’re going to scare her. Just apologize and run. Say something conciliatory and disappear, like every other—)

“Change,” Claude swears grumpily. “Sorry for breathing, I’m sure. I know you’re lying, anyway. I saw you show up with the Saviors. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t.”

…Oh. She… really isn’t scared, is she? “I—um. Traveled with them, I guess. For a little. I’m not with them.”

“I wasn’t asking if you all made crabbing friendship bracelets,” Claude huffs. “I just meant you’re not from here. What’s your damage, anyway? Why are acting like that?”

Loop chokes on a laugh. Wow, she really isn’t scared. “…Lifestyle choice?”

“Kind of a shitty one.”

“Like you’re one to judge.”

“Takes one to know one,” Claude says coolly.

Hah!! “Well. I’m sure you were really looking forward to swooping in to save some pathetic little loser, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m doing great, actually. Just… out on a walk.”

“Uh huh.”

Why do they feel so defensive about this? “Sometimes I can’t sleep! Is there a law against that? Is it illegal to go for a walk?”

“It’s not illegal to go for a walk.”

“Well! What a relief! Then it seems like you have no justifiable cause to follow me around, harassing me!”

Claude snorts. “Wow. Okay, now I know you’re not with the Saviors. Those guys are way too sensitive for this kinda thing. And too sanctimonious for all that… you know. Lying.”

“Shows what you know,” Loop sniffs. “They’re not half as righteous as they’d like you to think.”

(But even so… She’s right, isn’t she? Siffrin would hate getting talked to like this. For a party of powerful warriors, the gang was awfully terrified by confrontation. Fighting Sadnesses is one thing, but fighting with each other? You couldn’t pay them enough.)

Claude gives Loop a flat stare. “For someone who’s not with the saviors, you sure act like you know them.”

“Well!” Loop says brightly. “W-Well!!! What if I told you that I used to be with them! For long enough to know them better than they know themselves!”

“I’d say you were full of shit.”

“Shows what you know!!!” Loop practically screams. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!!!”

“So tell me.”

* * *

Somehow, the whole story comes pouring out of them, in fits and starts and halting, hysterical gasps. Another life, another world. Another Wish. Another Mirabelle, abandoned to her fate. Another pathetic blinding failure of a Savior.

Claude listens, nodding. Then she says, “The King.”

“I’m familiar.”

“I wanted to be the one who beat him. The one Euph— The Head Housemaiden chose. I’m not saying I was right,” she adds, defensive. “Mirabelle is a marvel. There might be no one else who could do what she did. But I— I still wanted it to be me.”

Loop blinks.

“Mirabelle was… the right choice, probably,” Claude concedes. “Better suited. She’s got the right constitution, or whatever. No one could have done it alone. And I’m— I don’t know if I could have recruited like she did. Going around making friends and things. People don’t like me,” she explains. “People love Mirabelle.”

“I like you,” Loop hears themself say.

“Oh.” Claude stares for a beat, unblinking. “Really?”

“Yes.” They’re 90% sure that it’s not even a lie. When’s the last time they could say that?

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks. But I think you might have sort of bad taste. And maybe a bad personality.”

Loop sputters a laugh. “Haha!!! Yeah! I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

“No.” Most people are too scared to say it. “I should, though.”

Claude nods. She can understand that. “But I never got the chance. I couldn’t save everyone. I couldn’t even save anyone.”

“...How do you live with it?”

Claude shrugs. “Eat. Sleep. Don’t die.”

…Right.

“You should probably get out of here, though.”

Loop raises an eyebrow. “Are you throwing me out?”

“Are you actually stupid? Or are you just being difficult?”

(Hah!!!) “I’m being difficult.”

Claude rolls her eyes. “I just mean… You can’t step out of someone’s shadow if you’re still walking side-by-side. You gotta do your own thing.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you can’t.”

“And if it kills me?”

“Then you die,” she shrugs. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

Wow. Mirabelle’s roommate is… actually cool? “I think you could have done it,” Loop finds themself saying. “If you’d been the one Chosen. I think you could have beat the King. You just didn’t get the chance.”

Claude stares at them for a moment before her mouth ticks up. “Hah. Yeah. Maybe. No way to know now, huh? We just hafta go from here.”

*

* *

* * *

At the outskirts of town, a blot of stillness catches Loop’s eye. The absolute absence of movement. A hole in the dark, black against the surrounding gray.

“I told you,” Loop says coldly. “You’re not sneaky.”

Siffrin huffs a quiet laugh.

Loop eyes them warily. Even now, Siffrin has almost no presence. Almost like Loop is the one who survived, and they're the one who's dead.

For once, Siffrin is first to break the silence. “Running away from home again?”

“You are not my home,” they can’t help snapping. “But, well. I suppose so. Why not? After all, it went so well the last time.”

Siffrin chokes on a laugh. Then the smile drops. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I should hope not! I’m excellent company.”

Siffrin looks unconvinced.

“But there comes a time in every beautiful traveler’s life when they must shake off the bonds that hold them back and move on to bigger and better things! Forge their own path; digest their own trauma, etcetera and so forth! Maybe I’ll wind up even more famous than you!!”

Siffrin frowns. “…If you’re really leaving, can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask.”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

Ugh. “Fiiiine. I can’t stay because I—I can’t be here without— Without wanting my—” Their throat closes over the words. Fortunately, Siffrin isn’t so stupid that they can’t connect the dots. (My friends back. My life back. Everything that was supposed to be mine.)

Siffrin gives them a plaintive look. “We could share..:”

“Aw, stardust,” Loop laughs. Not a fake laugh. “Two people can’t be the same person. Anyway, we already aren’t.”

“...I know.”

This world’s Siffrin is the source of all of their problems. The root of all their suffering. So why does it make them so sad to see his shoulders droop?

“I’ll come back,” they hear themself mutter, grudging. “I won’t be gone forever. I wouldn’t—”

Loop falls silent. They know that they’re both thinking of the same scrap of paper, crumpled on the library floor.

“I won’t be gone forever,” they say again; only this time, they say it like a Wish. Like they can make it true just by wanting it. “I won’t disappear. I just—can’t be here. Yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Siffrin whispers.

“We all had our roles,” Loop shrugs. “You just got a better one.”

“But— But what if I never find you? What if we never—”

“We’re family,” Loop tells them firmly. A different kind of family. Not the kind you choose—the one you’re saddled with, by blood and bone, whether you wanted it or not. “Aww~~ Don’t worry, stardust. We’re bonded, aren’t we? You know I’ll always find you.”

“If you even want to,” Siffrin mumbles.

“Stars, how are you still such a brat!!! I’ll find you when I find you! Okay? You don’t get to control this! Just let there be one blinding choice that’s mine!”

Siffrin takes a breath. They let it out. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” they say again. “You can be in charge. But you have to tell me everything, next time. How you came back, and… everything else. Because we’re family.”

Loop can’t stop themself from smiling. It’s just that—it’s all so unfair. They way Siffrin always gets what he wants, and… the way they can’t help loving him anyway. “Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

Before vanishing from sight, Loop glances over their shoulder. “Stardust?”

“Loop.”

“How do you get used to it?”

Siffrin tilts their head. To what?

“The not-knowing.”

“Hah,” Siffrin huffs softly. “If you find out, write me a letter. I’d really like to find out.”

[You dreamed you were alive.]

Did you know that hamsters eat their young? If you stress out a nursing mother—leave her out in an earthquake, or make too much noise around her tank—she’ll eat her pups alive. You’ll open the lid to find her nest stained black with blood. The half-eaten husks of her children, their claws and bones and hindpaws shriveled-pink and lifeless. It isn’t malice. It’s pragmatism. We can’t survive this threat, she’s saying. We must recoup these resources. Some of us, any of us, have to survive.

Wish Craft can’t hear your words. It only knows the Wish inside your heart. Loop ran away, but they never gave up. They wanted to be free, but they didn’t want to lose. And besides! What’s a little cannibalism between friends! They are family, after all.

There are things that Siffrin wants, too. Things they want and can’t have, because they’ve sunk their roots into the present. Loop isn’t trapped like that. Loop can go where they please.

Off the coast to the north lies an island that Vaugarde forgot. A graveyard for the lost. A monument to stories long forgotten.

But Loop knows how it is to be forgotten.

They look to the sky. The stars have already started to fade, making way for the brilliant flare of dawn. Loop runs a few calculations, cross-comparing the angles from the horizon to the Highstar and the sun.

They go north.

If you want, feel free to read the series in full here! Or if you want for something a lil comfier, you're invited to this very cozy isa/sif side-story.

#isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #isafrin #isat bonnie #isat mirabelle #isat odile #isat fanfic

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // thirty

| @izayoichan | @maladi777

ABILITY CHECK | CHARISMA Aster is assigned a base stat of 10 charisma, with a bonus of 5. Question #1 requires a roll of at least 15. Question #2 requires a roll of at least 16. Question #3 requires a roll of at least 18.  Question #4 requires a roll of at least 18.  Question #5 requires a roll of at least 20. 

next / previous / beginning

LUCIEN: Then… someone died? ELDEWYN: Indeed, someone did. And none of the remaining nine claimed responsibility. Made things quite interesting for spectators. There was some rumors that perhaps even the Chosen of the Sun might have been the killer. INDRYR: Surely the goddess of the moon would not select a murderer as her chosen. ELDEWYN: Ah, but it is sometimes the case. After all, back then, anything was acceptable. Even had they admitted their deed, they would not have been punished. LUCIEN: How awful… INDRYR: And who was the victim? ELDEWYN: Mm, the last to lose their life in the moon trials… What was it… ah yes… Castien, was his name. Castien Thallan. KYRIE: Who was he? ELDEWYN: A rabblerouser from the south. He used to get into all sorts of trouble. I remember before he was chosen, he and his little gang would stir up the city, made people restless. The guard was always after him for one thing or another, but never could hold him long. Imagine our shock when it was announced he'd been picked. After that, he was untouchable of course. Ironic, you ask me. KYRIE: He was just a delinquent, then? ELDEWYN: Yes, you could say so. A thorn in the capital’s side, really. But clearly honorable enough for the Moon to choose him. ASTER: A toast! To a veritable troublemaker! I can certainly relate. After all, they only had to drag me out of jail right to the steps of the church! ELDEWYN: Ha! That’s right! I’ll say, there was quite the gossip about it in town! INDRYR: Whatever were you arrested for, anyways? ASTER: Oh, you know, a little scuffle… bit of a bar brawl if I’m honest. I’m not much of a fighter, but tell that to my tongue! INDRYR: How curious that no one ever admitted to the deed. Are they certain he didn’t die to the elements? ELDEWYN: To be frank, there was a great deal of speculation about it, but seeing as how no one but then Ten were inside, there’s really no way of knowing. Afterwards, he was given over to the King’s clerics and prepared for burial. We honor the fallen, of course. They’re still Chosen, even in death. But he had no kin to speak of, and no one after came to claim him that wasn’t one of his fellow troublemakers. KYRIE: Whatever happened to them? ELDEWYN: I’m certain I don’t know. Went on their way, or grew up, I suppose! INDRYR: Perhaps there was someone else in the labyrinth? ELDEWYN: Hm? What do you mean by that? INDRYR: You said there were many dangers within the maze, it could be that he encountered someone there. Someone not Chosen? ELDEWYN: The labyrinth is located on the outskirts of the city. During the trial the entrances are heavily guarded, and very few people know the way through. Even if someone could get passed the blockades, they’d be utterly lost! INDRYR: Then, it doesn’t seem particularly efficient that anyone would plan to use the trial as a cover for murder. Unless… LUCIEN: Why would anyone think to do that? ASTER: Quite conspiratorial there, Indryr! And who doesn’t love a good conspiracy theory? Mm? I’m sure there’s a secret dragon under the castle waiting to make snacks of us all. More wine, my lord? ELDEWYN: Of course, of course! KYRIE: Surely you don’t think there was outside involvement? INDRYR: I’m only speculating. KYRIE: I’m certain there’s no evidence of that. Isn’t that right, my lord? ELDEWYN: Well, you know, he’s not the first to say so. There were rumors at the time that perhaps Castien’s involvement in the trials had been predetermined. KYRIE: Predetermined? ELDEWYN: They said he was selected deliberately. At request of… It’s all hearsay, anyways. LUCIEN: But the Chosen are selected by divine right! Lunar Priests get their orders directly from the goddess of the moon! Right, Your Grace? KYRIE: Uh— ELDEWYN: Of course, Your Highness. It is silly gossip, nothing more. Some people believed the presiding priest was espousing false information. But the trials were successful as every year before. There’s no reason to think he was lying about Castien being one of the true Chosen Ten. But people will get all sorts of ideas if given even a shred of mystery.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: aster songleaf #cc: indryr #oc: lucien aravae #y'all are so fkin lucky it was Aster #his base stats had to carry this scene because all the rolls are DICE PENITENTIARY WORTHY #wcif karmatic dice #for text readers: beginning dialogue is cut out for wordcount

[bonefall]

What's your opinion on Pinenose? She's one of my favorite background characters. Look at all this interesting canon lore about her: She pushed the stone in the ice hockey game that caused Flametail to die. She had a kit who died in the great battle. She had kits again, later, but their father, Spikefur, couldn't have been the same cat who fathered the kit who died in the great battle, because he would have been too young then. Given all the interesting thing that have happened in Shadowclan, Pinenose could have an awesome story! She died during the Darktail arc, but there's so much that happened before then. Her mentor was Ratscar (interesting!) She was the foster mother of Violetshine, as well! AND Puddleshine (the medicine cat) is her son, and he healed her of the yellowcough plague. Her other children all have interesting interactions with the Kin and Darktail as well! Lioneye and Birchbark 'disappeared' because Darktail probably killed them, and Slatefur joined the kin and then escaped with Berryheart and others before returning and becoming a mentor and having kits! I think Pinenose has the potential for SUCH an interesting character, since she has direct ties to the medicine cats, due to (accidentally) causing Flametail's death and her son being chosen to be a medicine cat at such a young age. I want to know her thoughts! Pinenose should get a book about her. I would be so happy. What do you think?

I have a growing fondness for her with my AVoS reworks, because of her foster relationship to Violetshine. I keep trying to nail down what exactly her relationship with Violet is going to be.

Because, Owlclaw is now a child of Mudclaw, the only one of a litter of 3 that Whitewater kept after seeing the sire get squashed by a tree. The older two, Harespring and Kestrelflight, were given to Torear because she felt like there was something... cursed about this litter.

So the nasty little ShadowClan bully from Po3 is getting some more depth; a strained relationship with his mother, a feeling like there's something different about him, and a deep wrongness about his life. He bonds fast with Violetpaw.

So I'm trying to work out what that means between him and Pinenose. If he's just a mentor to Violetshine, or if he replaces Pine as Violet's foster, or if there's something deeper between him and Pinenose.

It will depend on how the tree pans out, too. Owl and his siblings are the oldest of the Lakeborn cats, and my hard cutoff for age gaps in relationships is 4 years. Bonefall Po3 and the start of Bonefall OotS is at LEAST 2 years apart... but really, 3 years would be more appropriate for characters like Sedgewhisker and Marshwing to start being seen as young-but-respected warriors.

Which is all to say that I really need to work on the Clan Dynamics of ShadowClan, really.

#Pinenose #Owlclaw #Violetshine #Bonefall Rewrite #Bonefall AVoS #Bonefall Po3 #Bonefall OotS

[takiisieju]

Gold and purples on the floor: Chapter 5/8

My MK OC Stinger-centered fic, part 5. Finally, the 5th part! This entire fic is Kotal Kahn negative. If he is your favorite/comfort character, consider not reading.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

STINGER’S BIO

NAKARI’S BIO

Taglist: @roofgeese @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @spacestephh @mistalintu @vivilovespink

“The scouts say there are no traces of Kotal’s men or their messengers in the canyon,” a young Tarkatan reported.

The right side of his torso was bandaged, with more care than Baraka’s kin deemed acceptable. It seemed like somebody took it upon themselves to save the proudly savage man from a rotting wound. Stinger’s own back, scratched raw by the sandy stone he fell on during the attack, ached as well, and just like Tarkatans, Stinger deemed it beneath himself to care.

“They better be right. It would be a very convenient place for them to ambush us,” he said, clacking his mandibles.

“The passage is safe, general. They were adamant about that.”

“If they are wrong, I will disembowel them myself.”

“I believe they know that, general.”

Stinger sighed. Shakrat understood him well, despite his young age, or perhaps because of it. The canyon was important. There was no other path to the gates to the forest they needed to reach, and even if there was, only the canyon could provide them with water. A regular Outworldian can live up to a week without food while regaining his ability to fight. A Tarkatan or Shokan can last twice this time. Stinger himself could probably last up to 16 days. But all of them would die in as little as two days without water, even faster in this desert heat.

So the topic of the canyon path should have been on the forefront of his mind, and Stinger did keep it there by will, but a single other thought kept buzzing, out of sight, yet not out of mind. He’d shove it out, and then it would return, agitating his already anxious mind further.

The decision.

What did he decide?

Would he just leave, without an announcement? He could. Perhaps he thought Stinger would get angry at him. Or worse, he thought all of this meant that Stinger was annoyed with him and wanted him to go away. That damned accountant! Why did he have to make things so hard?

“Finish with your food, check on the wounded,” Stinger commanded to the still-waiting Shakrat. “If somebody can’t walk anymore, finish them off, quickly and painlessly. Then we move to the canyon. And keep the weapons on you.”

“Yes, general.”

“Dismissed.”

Shakrat bowed and walked out. Stinger was about to return to wallowing in his worries, but a voice cut through them, immediately drawing his undivided attention.

“May I come in, general?” Nakari called out.

“Yes,” Stinger replied quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, but Stinger could barely care.

Nakari walked in, smiling meekly, carrying a wooden bowl of porridge with some pathetic meat straps. In a perfect world, Stinger would have fresh blood meat as a meal, but in a perfect world, he wouldn’t be stuck in the desert either.

“I take it, you’ve made a decision…” Stinger said, a little more quietly than needed.

“Yes…” Nakari answered, coming closer to hand the bowl over to the hybrid. “I have, general.”

Once again, Stinger cursed his creator, that blasted sorcerer, for not giving him an ability to smile. Usually content with appearing stern and serious, he now wanted nothing more than to show his appreciation for Nakari’s decision. As if in a haze, he took the bowl, shortly gripping Nakari’s forearm with his other hand in an attempt to express the sentiment.

Immediately, he regretted this act. The other man looked surprised, but not disgusted. Must be very good at hiding it, Stinger thought bitterly. He placed the bowl aside. As if he needed Nakari to break the respectful façade upon seeing him eat.

“I see you already see yourself as one of my men, too,” Stinger said, hoping to fill the uncomfortable silence.

Nakari smiled coyly.

“Your man? Or just your soldier?” he asked.

As Stinger didn’t answer, frowning, his coy demeanor evaporated, replaced by the usual anxiety.

“My apologies, g-general,” he added hurriedly. “I did not mean to offend you by the implication, and…”

“I suppose it was a joke?” Stinger spoke slowly.

“I very tasteless one, general, please forgive me…”

“Yet, you should know that the last man who was perceived as ‘mine’…”

Stinger stopped mid-sentence. The memory was too painful. An empty room, broken furniture and blood stains. A body he never found. His blood started boiling as that image flashed before his eyes. Yet he forced himself to calm down, else he would harm his (not his, he corrected himself, not in that sense) Nakari.

“And you should know, my general, that such rumors have already spread,” Nakari said, cautious and quiet, but dead serious. “And whether you decide to make them true…”

There was a long pause. Just as Nakari started to wonder if his skin was to be used as a carpet after all, and his hands started shaking slightly, Stinger spoke in an unusually unsteady voice.

“You… seem not to be disgusted by the idea.”

“Because I am not.”

“Yet you are still afraid of me.”

“Not any more than I am afraid of any other armed man.”

Stinger couldn’t help but chuckle. Nakari smiled at the sound.

“I found some azure lichen nearby,” he said, changing the topic unexpectedly. “When crushed with water and applied to a wound, it eases the pain. In my village, we used it quite often. I wanted to ask permission to use it on the injured.”

“Permission granted,” Stinger answered with a flick of his braid.

This was the closest they were to ever get a healer anyway.

“Thank you, general,” Nakari bowed. “Shall I also bring some for your wounds?”

He then looked down and added meekly:

“Your wounds are on the back, too. I could help you reach them, if you wish.”

“Only if there is some medicine left after all of my men... soldiers are treated.”

Nakari bowed again.

“Shall I leave you to your food then, general?”

Stinger nodded slowly. Nakari smiled again, turning around to leave the tent. But just as he was about to exit…

“You’ve washed your clothes,” Stinger blurted out, just as shocked by the words as Nakari was. “They are purple again.”

“I… yes. I like them too much to leave them dirty,” Nakari chuckled nervously.

“You should. They look good on you.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Stinger remembered every foul word he could possibly call himself.

“Thank you, general,” Nakari answered finally, slowly and cautiously.

He turned back to the exit, about to leave, then added, almost inaudible, but clear as day to Stinger’s inhuman senses.

“They would look better on your floor.”

#takii writes #original character #ship: gold and purples on the floor #mk stinger #mk nakari

[eulaties]

marionetta: first impressions

as you can tell, i veryy much love marionetta so far and i am super excited to see where the story will go in terms of conflict + character development! so below, i will be theorizing about the connections between anthonn and the ah’kon people, as well as julia’s overarching role in the story. please bear with me bc this'll be pretty rambly ^^;; and because everything is subject to being proven horribly wrong by canon, please also take everything with a grain of salt!

edit (1/4/23): ok so apparently the Hot Guy isn’t anthonn. unless....he’s just lying and he actually IS anthonn.........../hj

jokes aside i have no idea whether this entire post was immediately proven wrong by ep. 4 or not so. i’ll just leave this here in the very slim chance that my crack theory is right...or, if anthonn’s identity is finally revealed and i am proven horribly, horribly wrong, i’ll still leave this up but make another edit.

in either case—happy reading! i am truly excited to see where this story’s mystery will take us ✨

edit 2 (1/10/23): ok yeah i was proven horribly wrong lol but also i would die for tonnie

1. anthonn & the ah’kon people

firstly, with all the emphasis the narrative places on the ah'kon people within just the first 2 episodes, i think it’s clear that—with the whole three eyes thing, and the fact that they look pretty similar—anthonn is related to them in some way. maybe they’re kin, or maybe they only have a shared identity. either way, they are connected.

another interesting thing to note is the way that kalgratti citizens speak about the ah’kon:

a) episode 1 ➜ the scene on the bus

b) episode 2 ➜ julia’s conversation w/ her father

J: “No way am I sitting there! Can’t you see who’s sitting next to it?!”

K: “Oh, right. That man is one of those Ah’kon people. Do you think it’s true that under that badge they have...?”

J: ...“Stay behind me. It’s dangerous letting this guy travel with normal people...Don’t make eye contact with him, Kamille.”

Afterwards, the people on the bus excitedly talk about going to the circus.

J: ..."But the new uniform orders just came in! The rest of us will have to do twice as much work! You're all just slackers!”

c) episode 3 ➜ the scene after julia wakes up from the dead

F: “We have to return some Three Eyes to the Aspett Research Center.”

J: “Yes, I saw one on the bus yesterday. Why are they letting them walk around like that?”

F: “I don’t know, but don’t even think about talking to them...They’re superstitious people.”

After this, Julia tells him that she went to the circus last night.

F: “To the circus? What for? Only slackers go there!”

these three scenes give away a LOT of information:

J: “Yes, that’s it! Are you trying to drive me crazy?! I’ll report you all!”

D: “Hey...”

J: “You use cheap tricks to poison the minds of Kalgratti citizens! You’re a bunch of—” [censored by the speech bubble]

D: “Calm down, young lady...”

julia, as a character, is very restrained in that she is pretty conservative with her lifestyle and perspective of the world (ofc i don’t mean “conservative” in the political way, i just mean that she’s more traditional compared to someone like kamille, who is naturally free-spirited and inclined to adventure). this is mostly seen in episode 1, where she acts grumpy all throughout the trip to the circus, and consistently wishes that she was anywhere but there. she also doesn’t hesitate to say “i’ll report you!” whenever she gets angry at other people (namely, the circus troupe).

this characterization makes a lot of sense when we consider that julia’s father seems to be a decently ranked official in the village. he looks like he may work for the law enforcement, given his uniform and how he says, “we have to return some three eyes.”

the fact that the three eyes, or ah’kon people, are regularly sent to research centers signals that not everything is as innocent as it seems. it’s almost as if kalgratti citizens generally accept that ah’kon people are all “crazy” subjects that need to be studied by researchers. this dehumanization is similar to what we saw in hooky, though it seems to be more covert; not as outwardly violent as burning someone at the stake, and yet just as harmful. this silent persecution may be one of the driving conflicts of the story.

2. julia’s identity & narrative role?

from the scenes outlined above, i believe it is also pretty obvious that julia parrots a lot of the rhetoric that her father says. from thinking that the circus is just for slackers to wholeheartedly believing that the ah’kon people are freaks, she doesn’t seem to have an identity for herself. even her steadfast work ethic and “stick-in-the-mud” attitude is largely due to her upbringing. this means that the way julia perceives the world is very much molded by her father; she believes she leads a respectable, normal life, while in actuality she lives according to convention and doesn’t question societal norms.

and here is where the circus comes into the picture.

everything that she has ever known is suddenly turned upside down by the contract that she hastily signs (and doesn’t even bother to read the fine print of). anthonn’s wandering troupe presumably gives the unfairly deceased a second chance of living, at the cost of shedding their former identities, so when julia is simultaneously killed by the circus that is so very diametrically opposed to who she is at that moment, it’s ironic! because she’s also given a second chance through the circus—only that, rather than shedding her former identity, she must pay her dues through murder.

regardless, it seems that when she does commit the murder months later, her former identity is already long gone.

and there is certainly a lot to unpack here about her chosen (or assigned?) circus costume.

as preface: miriam bonastre tur is an artist from spain, so i think it is reasonable to assume that she’ll be incorporating spanish and/or latin american cultural influences into marionetta. therefore...

julia’s mushroom hat & makeup: mushrooms in spanish and latin american folktales have strong connections to spirituality and are highly respected in traditional shamanic culture. this is super interesting when we consider the context of the circus in marionetta...

“Shamanism is a system of religious practice. Historically, it is often associated with Indigenous and tribal societies, and involves belief that shamans, with a connection to the otherworld, have the power to heal the sick, communicate with spirits, and escort souls of the dead to the afterlife.”

julia’s mismatched tights: they may be a visual representation of going against what is perceived as “normal,” and breaking free from strict conventions. perhaps by being in the circus, julia will gradually unlearn her own subconscious prejudices. this ideological change would then set up conflict with her father later on in the story.

julia’s braids: instead of wearing her hair in only one braid, like what was seen at the beginning of the story, she now wears her hair in two braids. this parting of her single, unified braid visually parallels a fork in the road; in turn, this may imply that she will come to make a crucial decision (i.e., to kill or not to kill anthonn). maybe she won’t choose either of the paths laid out for her. maybe she’ll create a new path for herself...and maybe that'll involve her trying to escape the contract.

3. miscellaneous wonderings

is there narrative significance to having julia (& everything she represents, especially in relation to the ah'kon people) “kill” anthonn?

in a society where ah'kon people face covert persecution, was founding the circus troupe anthonn’s way of surviving?

who wrote the contract? who “chose” julia to kill anthonn? alternatively, are there more people in the circus tasked to kill him?

#decided to post w/o editing much #sorry if some sentences dont make sense! #just wanted to get this out before the 4th ep dropped lol #anyways i wonder how much of this will be proven wrong by the 1st season's end #marionetta #webtoon #miriam bonastre tur #my thoughts #eulaties #meta

[outpost51]

Summer reading/writing tag

@captain-kraken tagged me over here and @void-botanist tagged me over here, thank u both ily

1) Describe one creative WIP project you're planning to work on over the summer:

i am going to fucking finish between a rock and a hard place if it kills me

2) Recommend a book:

if you like blinding neon, go read The Darkest Flower by Kristin Wright, that book permanently altered my brain chemistry

3) Recommend a fic:

oh i'm boutta go FERAL cuz if there's one thing i have it's fic recs, below the cut so my followers don't riot lmao

obvs for mass effect there's the Exponential Differentiation series by @sparatus but if you want something a little shorter Still on Patrol is fucking fantastic mass effect flavored maritime horror with a side of delicious worldbuilding and I'll Follow You hurts so fucking good, he literally established the desabrudas tag and also he is my soulmate.

further there's the Project Sunseeker rewrite and i can't just post @thetrashbagswasteland's entire library but if you want a good, hard ugly cry for stress relief reasons, get yourself a pint of ice cream, a glass of wine, and spend the evening with like, anything in there, also? there's some really good crack in there, and like, also also established a ship tag. and HURTS ME WITH IT.

@teamdilf has great crack in the form of A Cheesy Situation (counterfeit cheese? kidnapping? team dilf? yes please) and A Night in the IKEA, but then gives me emotional whiplash with masterpieces like A Man of Many Talents, also writes minor/underrepresented characters and i would die for cecilia and tullia.

and i don't even fucking go here which is how you know this shit slaps but @bambino1294's Floriography and of beasts and blood and An Upright Tower feed me so well. oh my god.

and if THAT isn't enough to occupy your summer, have Starwind Legacy by @commander-krios bc dash and leo have stolen my heart, and Next of Kin and Flesh of the Weak, Food of the Strong by @princess-prawn are so. i don't go to ANY of these fandoms, her writing just makes me SALIVATE anyway go stalk my friends. tell cersei them. i want them to know it was me. and @autodiscothings' Acts Of Repetition and Sirens and Selkies were HUGE influences for blinding neon. honestly soignee is the reason i decided to write a police procedural at all.

4) Recommend music

anything tagged tunes.mp3 on this blog or my main but also anything by aeseaes (including covers), denmark + winter, or power-haus, i've been streaming those all this week OH ALSO iniko's whole discography, but especially this:

5) Share one piece of advice!

take what you can, give nothing back.

stay frosty, much love xox

if you were tagged above, consider yourself tagged, or come steal an open tag from me!

#summer plans tag #tag game #outpost chatter #promos.txt #i'm still having a very very rough time with very little sleep so have this little bit of serotonin in the interim #while i'm trying to feel like a person again and y'all can get that korble brand spirit back #very low energy means lazy tagging so most of my tags are gonna be open; i mean it when i say grab em hell i'll tag you retroactively lmao #go figure i forgot one and had to go back and edit

[cantbeonlyonethinkingit]

Characters I kin and why:

(Characters I relate to and why:)

--Eleven: Honestly I kinda look like Millie, and her style in season 3 is exactly what I would wear.

--Will Byers: We both get pushed to the side of things (seasons 3 and 4) and want to help other with explaining their feelings, "you wanna know how we feel? Hahaha, no. Let's talk about you and forget about me."

--Robin Buckley: We have about the same personality. Like when she rants to Steve at Family Video in season 4, I would rant on as well. And when I realize I am ranting, I would completely apologize. I also would've done the same thing to the Russians as she did. And I'd be the exact same drugged as her. (I think, I've never been drugged before, and don't plan to be.)

--Max Mayfield: When we have something tramatic happen, we both close everyone out, dissapear from everything. But we know that it's not the best, yet we still continue to do it.

--Joyce Byers: We fight for what is right, we fight until we cannot anymore. Joyce never stopped fighting to find Will. She only stopped when she had Will back with her. People may have thought that she was crazy, but she didn't care. She just wanted her son back.

--Richie Toizer: I mean, his wardrobe, 100/10 Would wear. Who wouldn't? Plus, we both push our feelings and stuff back and cover them with jokes. (plus all my jokes are about me, they tear myself down, but their funny and make everyone laugh around me.) "Hey look! *points at trashcan* It's me because I'm garbage!"

--Stanley Uris: Sarcasm, we both use it a lot. I mean, who doesn't like birds? They are so cool! Mentally, we are probably the same person. Others most of the time: "I would die for *instert name here*" Me and Stanley part of the time: "I just wanna die."

--Bill Denbrough: We both will do anything for the people that we love. Even if that means putting ourselves in danger first. Plus we have younger siblings that we love very much.

--Miles Fairchild: We both lost people who we were very close to young. We both have had experinces that have completely changed our lives. (not the same event) Plus our mindset can completely change from happy go lucky to I will literally end your life and not be guilty.

--Nicholas Nelson: Person: "You like this thing (girl)?" Nick & Me: "Her/Their dog died." Loves dogs.

--Nellie Nelson: They are a dog. I like dogs.

--Victoria (Tori) Spring: We both have tumblr blogs. And would most of the time rather be alone.

--Wednesday Addams: We both have this fighting spirit like if no one will help, join the cause, or they tell us no, we still do it. We need to finish what we started, and we won't stop until we are done.

These were just a few people that I could think of atm, but there are definately more than this. If I think of anymore, I may do another post, but idk yet.

#my thoughts #eleven #will byres #robin buckley #max mayfield #joyce byers #richie tozier #stanley uris #bill denbrough #nicholas nelson #nick nelson #nellie nelson #victoria spring #tori spring #wednesday addams #kin #people I kin

[binch-i-might-be]

i'm reading your newest fic!!!

1) okay first of all i love eliza i fucking love her i love her so much just to be clear

2) "arent you literally george washington" this part is so funny like you used to be the PRESIDENT and now. you're just some guy. also i have a really vivid picture of george wearing a polo shirt rn

3) bro imagine you're the president of america and some guy (wearing polo shirt and cargo shorts and socks with sandals) walks in and hes like "whats up bitch im literally george washington lol"

4) wait. is alex on the 10 dollar bill. like is his face just there like imagine trying to buy a bagel but then your face is on the money

5) is this kid my best friend? why do they have her speech patterns she always says it's child abuse when i ignore her (note: we are literally the same age)

6) FAVOURITE PROBLEM CHILD

7) JAGGER MORE LIKE GENDER

8) they remind me of traycn im telling zem about this

9) okay i am LOVING angelica in this?? her fucking EYESHADOW like okay queen i love her so much she is just marching in here and threatening (?) john god i would die for her

10) i love how they have their colour schemes no matter what fanfiction or universe they're always pink blue and yellow (pansexual)

11) okay i would DIE for jagger?? why are they so fucking funny i love them so much oh my fucking god ray "fight over who gets to kin him" HELLO WHAT THE FUCK

12) why isn't he running out of the cafe as fast as he can and tracking down the schuyler sisters so he can ask about alex why isn't he doing that

omg hi!!!

extremely valid of you. beautiful lovely girl. we stan <3

YEAH it's like "sir you literally were one of the most powerful people in the whole WORLD at one point" and george just stands there sipping coffee looking like every dad you'd see recording their kid at a school play. also I'll approve your polo shirt vision because it's you <33

LITERALLY CRYING THIS RANDOM GUY SHOWS UP IN HIS CARGO SHORTS AND FUCKING USURPS YOU JUST BY BEING ALIVE HELLO

you know what. I'll say yeah. yeah he is. twenty years older and kind of distorted over time and multiple versions of print but yeah. he's literally on the ten dollar bill and it freaks him the fuck out

they can be if you try hard enough! (I'm just so down with the kids I can emulate a teen's speech pattern ;))

YES

SO TRUE BESTIE

you know you did a semi coherent job at writing a fictional teenager when another (real) teenager feels themself reminded of other (real) teenagers

I hate to be that guy but the girl with the yellow eyeshadow who comes in to sort of yell at John is Peggy, not Angelica. she's described as a teenager not much older than Jagger and repeatedly referred to as the youngest 😭

yeah! this actually was through no conscious effort on my behalf, I just think all of them would dress in bright colours and it sorta happened on its own lmao

JAGGER IS THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE I WOULD DIE FOR THEM TOO!! they're the funniest bitch in that whole fucking establishment. business would have TANKED without them there

well you see he is currently the only person in charge of a business that isn't his own and also a child that isn't his own, and also if some random guy fucking SPRINTED after three young girls yelling for them to stop he would probably get arrested on the spot! hope this helped :)

#this commentary was so much fun omg #also i knew jagger would become a fast favourite. they're my beautiful gremling baby <33 #reincarnation au #ask #jon my jonstie

[just-some-friendly-fun]

Forged by The Stars AU (FbTS) Pt. 1

*clutches my transformer blorbos together* okay-- hear me out.

*crushes my blorbos together and changes them into jewelry/crystals/weapons then drops them onto the floor*

... That's it, that's the idea. Or at least a simplified version.

Can't remember what inspired this but I thought about making my three main tf ocs into celestial beings infused into weapons, crystals, or necklaces that make powerful contracts with Autobots/ Decepticons, for their soul in return once they've reached that limit.

They're similar to both being used as a power-boost or a fighting ally to their holder with certain conditions. That

1. Both must rely on each-other in some way or form, (aka. Forged items require life/energy, and the holder requires their help)

2. The forged artifacts have to choose their user

3. The only way to break a contract is by the holder ultimately dying, thus the forged item can be given to someone else (but this still applies with 2.)

4. Lastly, forged artifacts can be broken or destroyed is if the holders' and the contract-maker's request/wish remains uncompleted. (This again applies to 2-- in terms of artifacts having to really REALLY trust who they make a contract with to carry out their plans, otherwise if both ends are not met. They both lose BUT-- if one of them manages to get their wish completed, that person will not die... In most cases, it's the artifact who gets to live the most-- but the opposite may occur as well).

5. (sorta) Another way that forged artifacts can be broken or destroyed is by eliminating that holder who carries said-artifact with another forged artifact.

It all sounds a tad bit confusing but hopefully I can make it make sense another time when I have time to revise this but as of now, I just thought it'd be neat. Now time to talk about it and first-time interactions with certain characters.

This is Pt 1 (you're here), Pt 2, and Pt 3 to this are linked or will be linked when I finish them.

Let me inform you about The Twin Swords of The Stars -- Quartzstreak & Sundrive

Quartzstreak (and Sundrive but we'll get to that later) -- Quartzstreak is a tanzanite necklace that becomes found-- originally first by Reformes, and during the Reformes' elimination-- it was intended to be given by the trusted hands of the Autobots but was suddenly misdirected elsewhere after a skirmish happened onboard to the vessel carrying this artifact (Quartzstreak) and so-- she ends up on Earth. By now, in time, she's probably along the same time as when the Decepticons start conveniently looking for their relics along with Autobots who stop them from getting such items until *boom* Quartzstreak happens to crash-land to Earth. Of course, she's unaffected by this since she's-- basically not awake and is still in slumber. Until the one con who happens to find her and awaken her from slumber is Dreadwing. The interaction is-- normal for the most part and is probably the most docile, as Dreadwing simply questions her existence and who/what she is upon appearing to Dreadwing and his search party. Quartzstreak in turn, definitely answers to him without recollection to how she ended up on Earth and with the vague yet connected ties that her split-spark is here too, with the obvious intention to find them although--- can't. Not without a host. Understandably, Dreadwing makes a reassuring note that Megatron will make an exception to helping to look for her peculiar (necklace??) split-spark but that was mostly what he, himself, wanted since the idea of losing or being unable to find his kin again hits close to home. Megatron, being the mech he is, definitely knows what Quartzstreak is-- and wants to use them for evil. Obviously, Quartzstreak does not accept to forging a contract with Megatron and only extends the offering to Dreadwing, with the promise that she would do anything in her power to help him meet his wishes, so long as he helps her with the sole quest to find her twin, Sundrive, another celestial being encased in a orange topaz-like necklace. Dreadwing, at first, accepts the contract-- but only for the reason being that he wants to help Megatron defeat the Autobots.

The results to this? Quartzstreak does in fact find her sister again, but Sundrive's contract wasn't as she anticipated, having made promise to a former Reforme member who tricked them otherwise into bringing Sundrive to Quartzstreak in order to destroy her.

In the end, Dreadwing and Quartzstreak resulted with no other choice but to eliminate both Sundrive and Jackedwheel, completing Quartzstreak's wish to reunite with her sister.

Plus, if we're following this canonically-- all the way through, once Dreadwing dies. Quartzstreak continues to witness this as her contract with Dreadwing ends and she is left with a bitterful rage of wanting to eliminate Megatron. (This is also where Knockout gets to come in and accidentally create a contract with Quartzstreak because who wouldn't want to loot a shiny crystal your recently deceased lieutenant dropped and have to deal with providing therapy for a traumatized 2x celestial being, amirite?)

I will continue to talk about the other two in another post but yep. This is all I've got for Quartzstreak as of now in Forged by The Stars AU. Hope you enjoyed hearing me talk about it

#Forged by The Stars AU #oc #my oc #original character #quartzstreak (oc) #oc x canon #there is slight romantic tension that goes on between Dreadwing and Quartzstreak through some portion of this but I think it's more just-- #covered up by drama and also other stuff that's pretty much going on #Dreadwing #tfp dreadwing #tf #transformers prime #tfp #Knockout and Quartzstreak simply become besties sharing the horrors of losing someone close to them #Librarian Blabs #tfp knockout #knockout #tf oc #transformer oc #Megatron #tfp megatron

[booperbeanv3]

ok i know this ask game is from Þe Olden Times but.

everything except 1, 2, 7, 8, 30 and 31. covering all the bases

“Homestuck Isn’t Dead” Tag

jesus a full faq here

Well I'm incredibly vain and love talking about myself so here goes

3. Do you call your s/o a matesprit? 4. Do you call your best friend your moirail?

S/O, no. Best friend, sometimes.

5. Are you “kin” with any characters or commonly called a character?

I've never taken kinning seriously and never will, but I strongly related to Dave and Karkat thanks to that "born wrong + childhood neglect" flavour. But my friends (SIDE-EYES YOUR URL) have holed me into Jake English, so, y'know, whatever. Not everyone can be davekat, I get it

6. God Tier?

Knight of Light!

9. Do you roleplay homestuck? where and how often?

I haven't been able to do it often thanks to the circumstances. I'm too scared to use dreambubbles.xyz. But if you're interested, my discord is boolean2390 and while I main alphabeta boys (i.e. Dave, John, Jake, Dirk), I have RPed Dave and Karkat before in actual, concrete examples I can show you.

10. Do you cosplay homestuck characters? Who and where?

I was gonna cosplay Karkat before Omegle shut down.

11. Are you apart of ask blogs?

I am not and I have actively avoided this! I'm gonna be real here, I'll never top the current set of kid ask blogs, so I'll just watch from afar. Plus, it's quite a bit of work when my faves are so popular, and therefore will not fill any real niches. (a jake english would be kinda funny even if it already exists tho)

12. Are you in any homestuck groups?

Hoesslut server on Discord

13. Favorite character?

you can make a tri venn diagram of all my faves with the headings "waifu", "literally me" and "actually good/interesting character" with some mild overlap

that said

objective best is jade and personal fav is karkat

aradia is super based also. best part of act 5 but utterly forgettable afterwards. served cunt, died, served cunt, revived

14. Least favorite character?

tri venn diagram of "obsessive hatred", "boring" and "annoying"

most of my "least favs" disappoint me from lack of potential being utilised effectively

idfk doc scratch??

15. OTP? 16. NOTP? 17. BROTP?

JANEROXY 4EVER!!!! that's the only consistent one. i can like any ship if given some good enough motivation (even if it's my dick).

that being said i scour johndave and johnkat most often. however i am THE blackrom vantas and johnkat/davekat must be spades ONLY. spades johndave is fun but no one writes it. dude i just love spades

18. Do you want homestuck to just die already?

No, I just got here!

19. Are you following up with hiveswap? Do you play? Watch YT videos?

I don't, and I don't care.

20. Tell us how homestuck has affected you in real life?

Locked myself in my room and did nothing but read Homestuck for about 2 weeks to a month. I finished it during this time

Got so high I tripped balls thought I killed my best friend and got stuck on Prospit while Homestuck music was playing in the background. Last summer!

Started laughing uncontrollably in the middle of a psychotherapy appointment since I was being so Davecore

My karkalicious x wannabe remix is on my friend's playlist bc she genuinely enjoys it. This remix also haunted me during an important art project I was doing and singlehandedly cursed the entire thing

Wore sunglasses IRL for a bit. (It does help.) Would keep doing it if I didn't lose my clip-ons

My sister thinks I sell Karkat foot fetish art now. She follows me here

21. Have you met anyone through homestuck?

IRL? No. Online? Duh

22. Have you left the fandom before?

No, I'm a total newfag

23. How many times have you read through it?

TOTAL newfag. Only once

24. Did you ever skip intermissions/dialog/animations?

I'd scan over them, but not totally skip. I also read act summaries in full when they were there because I am a baby with goldfish memory

25. Opinions on the fandom?

Depends... I think it's gotten a lot better from my observations, but of course, Twitter is still a cesspit full of retarded babies that shit their diapers. But that could be said about any fandom that's majority kids. Also any stridercester that thinks theyre oppressed for liking shota boy twincest should btfo and jerk off in peace. Which in fairness, most of them do! But to the ones that don't, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY NOTES FAGGOT

Besides those, I think it's great, but I also main Tumblr, so...

26. Opinions on the comic?

Personally I enjoyed it a lot, but I'll get a more rounded impression once I re-read it. All plot shenanigans aside, Homestuck's main selling point has always been its characters, and its method of introducing and developing them is one of my favourites. Also its humour

27. Do you favor the trolls, humans, or carapaces?

Humans, because I'm a boring fucknut who reads sci-fi for the humans and will put them in an office building and say "imagine if they did IT"

28. Favorite moment of all of homestuck?

29. Least favorite moment of all of homestuck?

beginning of act 6 felt like i nodded off on dope and woke up in the hospital. retcon was kinda mid

#homestuck #bean answers

[clarks-letterman]

Wally anon: Bi guys gotta stick together 🤝 It's honestly kinda wild to me howww popular they are in ~that~ way. No judgments, just a very, "Oh...okay" reaction from me. 🙈 Yesss. You know he would be very. attentive to the script he had planned for you. 🫣 And even to this day you can unpack all kinds of new ways of Jill's plans & manipulations. She was running Woodsboro like the Navy fr (& would've gotten away with it had Gale not noticed the ~matching wounds~ line). 🫡 Aw, I actually like him as Hughie. What makes you find him misplaced? But, yup, the beard just makes me 😮‍💨 I unpopularly think Ethan should've remained as the ~repeatedly accused as a killer, but turns out to be innocent & die~ type ala Liv just cause it would've funny if Mindy kept being wrong. 😂 But yeahhh, 6's finale with everybody trying too hard to give CRAZY!!! really did not work for me. Ghostfaces need to differ from each other to stand out & it was all just too samey to get much of an impression for me. 😶 Just like that pool scene for sureee. 💦💦💦 Okay, keep going @ handsy/strong. 👀 (4's mask is my personal least fav) It's sooo funny how. consistently bad the mask got when the OG just. DIYed the mask with cheap spray paint & scissors. 😭 The apartment is deffff the best sequence next to Gale's (as long as you don't think of some of the...dubious plotting, like Chad & Tara fleeing instead of all of them overpowering the single. killer 💀), but yeah, the bodega felt...Idk. Like, seeing tiny ass Jenna Ortega immediately. knock Ghostface over so easily before they run inside kind of undercuts all the tension for me dhskdb.

You were, yup. ♥️ (Luckily, it's pinned on his acc, so super easy to do; probably not as. excessive as I made it sound, but it's still reallyyy hot: https://twitter.com/griffinbarrowsx/status/926924161817202688 🥴) (And imagine him pinning you up on a wall with it, with it leaking all over you, to make it easy for him to relentlessly pound up into you + use it as lube 😮‍💨)

(Exactlyyy. And sometimes he just wants to spit on you to see how it looks like on your skin 🫣) And you knowww that just works Wally's nerve more cause it makes him incredibly jealous, thinking that you might choose over him. 😶‍🌫️

I have a few other reasons to tune in off & on, but those reasons have slowly but surely waned so I feel you (cause he was for sure one of the best parts of TFATWS). Unfortunately, I never watched Daredevil even though I've seen how popular Murdock is. 🙈 But yesss Steve was my MAN before Endgame. I stuck through for sooo long just for him & they just...blew it all away in the span of one movie. 🙃 yupyupyup @ the Get Out comments. He really did. 🫣 (also did not see Kin so I am very unfamiliar with Charlie's work djdhdk)  I actually enjoy Jill a lot, but it's difficult to fully. get into what she's doing for the reasons we've listed. I just love a ~shady, mysterious character~ & they reallyyy needed to capitalize on that behavior instead of making her inconsistent as hell.

And there's nothing wrong with a healthy. expression of one's feelings/anger/etc. but if it's just nonstop, it's like...why even bother engaging with things you know will piss you off?

I shockingly have not seen those videos for myself. 😮 But you knowww in this scenario, he's gonna cum everywhereeee from how much you're teasing him with him unable to do anything held down like that.🫠 uh oh @ 45 mins left. You'll have to let me know how the rest went for you cause I know what's coming. 👀 A complete whore for him fr.

So true🫡 we gotta keep the numbers strong. Yeah, I can’t see that. Sometimes the hype just isn’t there but it feels like it affects everyone else. Yesss Roman would make sure it’s very on script and no room for improvising🤭 JILL WAS SO CLOSE. wes craven was too scared to not kill her off because he knew she would be too powerful fr. Maybe I just don’t like Hughie, and Jack sells it soooo well that I extend the critique to him. But idk, it’s mostly the fact that he looks older than he is in the show and is a bit too buff to fit it to me. It’s mostly physical, because the acting is pretty strong. Yesssss Ethan should’ve never been a killer because, while 3 killers is cool, it lessens the kill count and overshadows the other killer’s motivations. He should’ve died towards the end with Chad (gay roomies plot supremacy idc.) The only person selling crazy was Sam, because she ate up that “I need to go killer mode on all of yall nowww.” Honestly, Mindy being wrong would fix the movie geek problem somewhat… but still not enough😪 Handsy and strong and ready to make me feel like if I use my teeth while blowing him… it’s not gonna end well for me. That’s part of the thrill, being so intimate yet so close to danger by gravitating to a man of his size🫣 And yeah, maybe it’s because the were using a high budget to look low quality, but ended up making a dumb abstract art piece sksjsk. EXACTLY it was one guy and a room full of five or six people I think? Just tackle him and take the risk instead of letting it be one on one😭 Chad can take Ethan and I think it was Ethan attacking them because Bailey was at the crime scene and Quinn was obviously in the apartment sooo. Yeah. Could’ve been tackled by Chad (gay lovers romance continues)

THANK YOUUU i will be watching🫡 Ugh I love when a guys dick is just… backing you against the wall because he’s that big and hard😮‍💨 ready to cum in or on you🫣

Casual spitting> just letting it sink in as he spits on you 🫣😮‍💨 Wally tries to do it too, using it in his hand to make your dick wet while they’re both thrusting into you omfg

Exactly!! No one gets a good ending in the MCU.. Scarlet Witch fans were betrayed by her sudden exit in MOM (which wasn’t even her movie!!) and neither has Bruce Banner (still mad that he’s just a joke character now + same with hawkeye. two good characters from the start of the MCU ruined for younger, and worse characters to take their place😪) Bucky still has his strengths, and has surprisingly been respected in recent years of Marvel. Steve… oh my blonde beautiful baby what did they do to you😭 It’s so criminal that he was done so dirty at the end of Endgame. Again, missed potential for Stucky!! Right there!! (So glad tony was gone by the end of Endgame, I didn’t like him much at all.) Sebastian had his whole rack out for that scene and I wanted to suck them as much as his dick sksjsj. Charlie is sooo🥴 One of my fave dilfs with a fat ass and… woof that picture of him in white boxers and you can see everything in the front in the outline. I’d suggest looking it up because it’s a sight🤭 He’s really good as Matt and is my favorite iteration of the walking religious mess and morally conflicted hero. Jill is tough to describe. She’s got a good motive and association to John and his accomplices but they really threw it out the window😭

Exactly!! Their entire culmination of the online experience sounds negative.

Yeah you’d be lucky to have him not mess up your icing patterns with some extra from his own coating whatever you’re making. (I assume it’s pastries or something in the realm of baking if you need his milk. Or maybes it just something like scrambled eggs idk.) IT WAS SO SAD BJT SHE GOT REVENGE IN THE END YAYYYYY‼️‼️ Awww you’re so sweet🥰

#wally clark #wally clark x you

[dual-plunger-enthusiast]

1. EXACTLY! They really need a therapist. Mean, look at T-Speaker. He's now filled with rage and guilt because of the toilets making him hurt/kill his allies and kin. He needs someone to help him overcome that guilt :<

2. No no, you might be right tho. Seeing his old animations, I would not be surprised if he's the kind of therapist that farts every 5 seconds while his patient is talking about their traumatic experiences.

3. Awwww, that's too bad. He would've been p cool since all your other OCs are cool too 😢 Oh well, maybe someday someone will make a therapist Cameraman OC.

4. Haha yeah. His character is based off of John Wick from the John Wick movies and Hank Anderson from Detroit: Become Human and Leroy Jethro Gibbs from NCIS. A senior Cameraman who's strict with his students and other Alliance members and will head slap them for swearing around him and lectures them nonstop for doing something foolish on the battlefield (like Simp Cameraman simping and that one Cameraman from 56 with a Skibidi) but only cuz he cares too much to see them die. Even Titan Tvman got a head slap and lectured by him for going into a battlefield that he knows is a trap xDD (I'm rambling. Oops, sorry for that 😓).

5. Nuuuuu, elaborate it please. I'll be haunted to know what it means D:

1. True

2. True x2

3. Who knows, maybe I will end up making it lol… My head just likes to go empty when I draw sometimes

4. I WOULD GIVE YOUR MENTOR OC A KISS ON THE TOP OF HIS HEAD EVEN IF I HAVE TO GET A FLICK ON THE FOREHEAD FOR INVADING HIS PERSONAL SPACE SORRY THATS SO SWEET

5. Sorry I saw the mention of Plungerman. I’m normal. I promise. You believe me.

#thumbs up #titan time #orange justice #answering the mailbox

[bonefall]

Yes, I want to ask you more AVOS and Needletail stuff, I want you to do justice to one of my favorites...

So given that Breezepelt is another POV joining the kin in the rewrite and also has an arc of disillusionment from them, how do you plan to distinguish Breezepelt and Needletail's roles in the story and personalities so they don't feel like the same character/the same role besides one of them dying and one of them surviving? How will their motivations with regards to the kin differ (I'm hoping you can portray Needletail at least with a combination of genuine idealism, feeling of alienation from her society, and romanticization of violence as a way of having autonomy for herself and belonging)? How will Needletail and Sleekwhisker be shown to contrast in personality as well?

I am trying to preserve her as much as possible, but it is difficult because from what I'm seeing, a significant amount of her draw is based on how ludicrously evil The Kin is from the very beginning. How she sees that, knows that, and goes forward with what she does anyway. Her disillusionment comes when she finally realizes that Bad Society means that She Is Affected By It As Well, her rebellious boredom resulting in real-world harm.

And I don't want The Kin to be that anymore. I want it to be confusing and cultish, I don't just want it to be a Violent Alternative to Clan Culture, which I strongly established for the previous 4 arcs of the Rewrite is violent as a major theme. And like I've mentioned, it bothers me immensely that the Apprentices were basically just rebelling because they were bored little shits and Rowanstar was "too soft," because the main series couldn't admit that Clan Culture is flawed and worth changing

(thank god for TBC finally changing the status quo)

And, tangentially, this arc is already showing a bunch of similarities to previous arcs, even in canon. Needle's execution feels like Stonefur 2 (Kill this child or you die), The Kin feels like BloodClan 2 (Evil foreign barbaric horde that hates love and friendship), Darktail feels like a combination of Sol (manipulative almost supernatural force with a grudge against clan society) and Breezepelt (wants to kill because his dad sucks but loves his mom)

And then on top of it, specific to my rewrite, I'm both trying to fix canon AND complete the dropped character arcs from OotS. So I've got Heather and Breeze here too.

But I am considering these things and here's the current WIP plans:

Needletail: Remorseful Rebel

I'm trying to build on what I think is the part of her character people like the most; how much agency she has over the Kin's takeover. I'm approaching her as possibly the most important individual in their rise.

The fear and violence The Kin's tactics involve are acceptable, ESPECIALLY because she immediately becomes one of the higher ranking Kin members, until it personally affects her or someone she cares about.

Her role is as a perpetual bad influence. She likes what the Kin offers her personally; power and respect. Sleekpaw was the real leader of the Rebel Apprentices, but saw Needlepaw like her deputy and always heard her out. Berryheart, her mother, adored her daughter and would follow her to the end of the Earth. Violetshine looked up to her.

When Darktail murders Mistfeather, lamenting what he "Must do now that his paw has been forced", Needletail sees this, and understands. It's about being able to get rid of anyone who embarrasses you. Here is a system that allows her to go from a low-level, powerless scrub to an elite. No more apprentice tasks. No more being bossed around. No more being 'humiliated,' by whatever arbitrary standard she sets.

But Darktail will need her help, she needs to offer the cats of ShadowClan an alternative to the life they live now. Sleekpaw and the Apprentice Rebels want power to force the Clans to work together. Berryheart and the adults want a competent leader. The ex-Dark Forest trainees and HalfClan cats want acceptance. They all want change.

Needletail doesn't realize it, but she's Darktail's inside voice to spread his propaganda and funnel information back to him. Without her, the Clan society is too big to understand the intricacies of so quickly.

Sleekwhisker, Needletail, Rain, Breezepelt, Darktail. A tight inner circle that grows smaller and smaller, until Sleek alone leads the remnants of the Kin away from the Lake.

Needletail is now the first of this inner circle to die. Violating rules as if they don't apply to her, bringing Violetshine to see her sister, sharing herbs with another Clan, calling out Darktail's cruelty in taking one of Rain's eyes, Needle is one of the first public executions The Kin carries out. Violetpaw was to be killed for breaking the rules, but Needletail tried to fight to free her.

Darktail makes a small speech about how the REAL problem was surely Needletail and she'd just been corrupting Violet, instead of canon where trying to get Needletail to kill this child was just a cruel mind game with no purpose.

(tangent: I firmly believe Tigerstar commanding that Stonefur kill the apprentices was as an excuse to get rid of his political rival, on top of wanting to kill halfclans. "Prove you aren't disloyal like the other halfclan filth. Oh, you won't kill kids? See everyone! He's disloyal! I am justified in commanding this execution." So I don't want Darktail to be commanding Violet's death for... lulz I guess.)

Darktail becomes worse after this, his paranoia escalating. Bonefall Needletail also does not go to StarClan, she is in the Dark Forest... but as you know, the Dark Forest isn't a horrible fate.

Breezepelt: A Reflection

Needlepaw's first order of action was getting word out about Darktail, appealing to cats who feel othered in their Clans. Breeze is one of the first to join, tired of his problems in WindClan. Furzepelt and Sunstrike join him, more loyal to Breeze than anyone else. This is Darktail's first wave of recruitment; he goes from his Original 6 and his SkyClan Pack to suddenly having almost 20 members, and they still don't have the ShadowClan Apprentices.

Breeze and Dark hit it off immediately. Breeze is probably the only one who gets into that 'inner circle' because Darktail legitimately enjoys their company as a friend.

Being so close to Darktail makes Breezepelt start realizing things about himself. The rage and obsession with WindClan, how isolating this kind of anger is, how paranoid power makes him. But all this is a very slow process, which only truly starts to cause a turn around after Needletail's death.

(A change: Crowfeather is now also involved in Harespring and Kestrel's plot to bring herbs in defiance of Onestar. Crowfeather brings some to Breezepelt, and hopes that he is safe. Breeze snaps at him but the experience sticks with him.)

I'm thinking there's some kind of 'party purge' towards the end, the final days of Darktail clinging to power before Violetshine finds SkyClan for the final confrontation. Heathertail is one of the cats who is going to die here, and it's the moment where Breeze has to make a choice.

I think this fight actually ends in a draw, both of them nearing the drop-off of the lake shore, unable to get enough of a lock to hold the other under. They realize neither one is strong enough to kill the other without dying. That's how Breezepelt comes up with the plan to drown Darktail, feeling that if he'd done it in that moment, he could have been "redeemed" and he feels it's his fault that so many people are dead.

In conclusion; What makes them different

Where Needletail is rebellious to the end, Breezepelt is doggedly loyal to Darktail and betraying him was personally painful.

Needletail does more diplomatic work, Breezepelt is an executioner.

Needle's plot is more politics-centric, Breeze is more about self-exploration and his relationships.

Their personalities are different. Needletail is self-centered, motivated by her desire for authority and freedom. Breezepelt is seeking a sense of belonging and justice.

#Sometimes fixing this arc feels like being a snake trying to eat an egg #No matter where I try to bite it there's another awkward curve #I'm an unstoppable force so I'll get it eventually but man #AVoS Hard. #Bonefall AVoS #Bonefall Rewrite

[tehaspy-spec-evoposting]

And we keep balling @creepymutelilbugger

Humanity's end was not by nuclear war, nor was it by aliens. It was by their hubris.

Sixty-five million years in the future, humanity has spent so long in omnispace, that their city of Omnitropolis has taken up nearly all of omnispace. Nobody has known that the physics anchors are alive, let alone our kin, in 65 million years. And that shall lead to their downfall.

The physics anchors are beings of closest kin to man, so they are suseptible to our diseases. And so, sixty five million years in the future, a plague would go about them. A deadly one. Because all of humanity believes at this point that the physics anchors Make The Physics, they also believe that they would die without them. And so when the Omniplague ravaged through the Anchors, the people around them died as well. And so the world was in panic. The top scientists were looking for a cure while so many people died that numbering them would be arbitrary. Vaccines were developed, but they didn't work as nobody knew that the Omniplague infected the physics anchors. So many plans were devised, yet never used as nobody knew about the physics anchors until it was too late.

Three months after the Omniplague began, there was only 1300 billion people left. This is atomic in comparison to those that died. And it only continued. 650 billion people left, 300 billion people, 170 billion. Until the population was in the hundreds of thousands did people finally realize that the Omniplage infected the physics anchors. And they accepted their fate. You see, making a Crack popped a bubble universe. And in the tens of millions of years since mankind first discovered omnispace, the Cracks grew larger. You know what happens when you pop a bubble in slow motion? That happened to every single habitable universe. The Cracks grew too big.

The few people left resigned to their fate. They lived their lives as best as possible, as they knew that it was the end of days. It only took 4 months for for humanity to be at just thousand of members. And it took another three for them all to be gone.

This was the Tale of Humanity.

I hoped you all liked it, as I've moved on from that project. Still, questions are welcomed, and I will answer them all.

#worldbuilding #the tale of humanity #aspie infodumping #sci fi #friendpost outpost please see this #loreposting

[talesfromeorzea]

Future

@ishgard​

Day 4 Prompt: Peace

Peace for Ishgard, a phrase Sallee never thought she would hear in her lifetime, but here it was.  As she stood amidst the crowd gathered before Saint Reymanaud’s cathedral watching as Aymeric launched skyward upon the wyvern’s back she felt a happiness she never thought she would.

For a thousand years her people had been at war, a thousand years they and dragons both had needlessly shed blood again and again over the greed of her ancestors.  The truth of the war was known and while many still struggled to accept it.  Ishgard at long last found itself at peace.  No more would the children of Ishgard grow to learn to fight and die in the flames of battle against dragons.  No more would dragons grow and be compelled by Nidhogg's roar to enact his vengeance.  No more would Isghardians drink dragon's blood to transform and become a part of his never ending hoard.  

And although she had long since stopped considering herself Ishgardian, Sallee still felt a sense of pride that her kinsman could finally begin to move forward beyond the crushing weight of constant war.   She couldn’t help but smile as she heard an elder near her say, “It's finally over dear, no more will our sons and grandsons die from fire or claws…”

Her husband beside her nodded looking pensive, overtly wanting to voice concerns but not wanting to spoil his wifes elation.  Sallee decided to speak up stating softly, “Aye now our people can move forward from the pains of the past.  Learn from our ancestors' mistakes and not repeat them.”

The man jerked and looked at her. It only took a moment for him to recognize who she was and he nodded, “Aye Warrior, ye have the right of it.  It's just……”

“You find it difficult to forgive and forget,” she responded knowing full well many of her kinsmen were of similar reluctance, “That is not what is being asked sir.  We are simply asking people to learn from the past and look for a brighter morrow.  I know there are many who find it difficult to see dragons as something other than the enemy.  However in my experience with them I have seen first hand they are as many and varied as man is.  The “enemy” were those who could not let go of Nidhogg's hate, his desire for vengeance.  But not all dragons were part of those, the ones you see here chose the path of peace rather than blood.”

He blinked for a moment then slowly nodded, hearing the point she was making overtly by the look in his eyes and judging by the looks she saw on other faces many around him did as well.

“To forget this war, is to repeat it.  We must remember what happened, all of the pain, the suffering and try to prevent it from happening again.  I know all we've been taught is right now being shaken but remember this, we are not the Knights of Eld nor do we need to be, we are ourselves and I believe the Fury would rather see her people live to battle another day instead of throwing the life she gives away.  Instead of clinging to the past let us look to the future and make it as bright and beautiful as we can for those that follow us.”

She saw again many in the crowd near her nodding and looking eager for the future, also those with anger in their eyes and overt hatred.  She expected this and then gave a soft smile stating, “If we let ourselves cling to the hate and anger of the past, we will be the same as Nidhogg.”

This caused many of the naysayers to start and glare at her all the harder and she continued, “I cannot bring myself to hate Nidhogg to be honest.  He chose his path out of grief and self hate,”

Several people blinked and she continued, “His brood sister died because she spoke truly and relayed his feelings to the King and his knights.  He felt responsible and was enraged that over mere words they chose the path of blood.  Nidhogg was a prisoner of his own emotions and driven mad because of it.  So, I don’t hate him even with all the suffering he has caused to our kin, because tell me this and tell me true, if any of you had lost a loved one to similar treachery would you not choose that path as well?”

Some of those who had hatred in their eyes had it fade to become contemplative instead weighing her words and actually considering them.  To which she was grateful, if Ishgard was to move forward her people needed to think more than react.

There was suddenly a rush of air above them and the crowd backed up as Vidofnir hovered a moment before landing and looking at Sallee, “A Warrior, I was hoping to see thee.  I wanted to thank thee for keeping thy word, for ending the war.”

Sallee gave a smile, “I told you then and I meant it I was tired of seeing both our peoples die to bloodshed and hate.  I wanted the cycle to end and now it has, now we can take steps toward a more peaceful future,”

Vidofnir nodded, “Aye, that we can, I look forward to a day when our kindred can work fully together as they did in the days of eld.”  She then looked over the crowd adding, “A day when thou can look upon  a visage such as mine and not feel uncertainty.  Mayhap thy children or thy children's children shall. Till that day my kindred will endeavor to show thee we are not thine enemy.”

With that she took to the sky along with her brood father and brother and together they flew off back to Abalathia’s spine.  Sallee simply smiled and waved as she flew off then turned to those she had been speaking to saying, “I look forward to such a day as well when my kin can let go of the hate of the past.”

And with that she left, setting out into the city proper to join in the celebration that was starting, a celebration of war's end and life beginning anew.

#ffxiv #april writing challenge #april showers #oc Sallee Reinard #elezen #wildwood #aether data center #midgardsormr #sentinal elf