#she's orchestrated so much death and destruction

[nightcourtseer]

Pain Like This

Summary: Mor and Azriel finally talk. One year post ACOSF.

Read on A03

He had thought he had known agony. He thought he knew pain - thought that he had turned it on its side and around until he knew every part of what pain was, what pain could possibly be.

He had never known pain like this.

Orchestral music went on stories beneath him at the House of Wind. Winds and strings and the stories of their people, their freedom, drifted up to him as Azriel leaned his forearms on one of the house’s many balconies. Cool night air swept across his skin, tousling his air - as if it were an extension of his shadows which clung closer to him than they had done so in years.

He had discarded his fine black jacket at some point during the night, when things had all become a little too much and the close fit of the fabric had started to feel more like a noose than a luxury. It was tossed over the balcony next to an empty glass of champagne.

Typically he would turn to liquor to solve his problems - to turn the clock faster so that with each drink, the hand would spin faster and faster until the sun rose and he could wearily begin the next day.

But at the sight of her, just a glimpse of golden brown hair and an amethyst gown - in his arms, an emerald green jacket - Azriel’s stomach had churned. The scent of their bond drifted to him on a traitorous breeze and he had nearly emptied the contents of his stomach right there in the middle of the crowd.

Before her, he thought he had known the pain of heartbreak. But no, heartbreak was merciful, in comparison. Heartbreak was an arrow to the heart, a slash of a knife across the throat. Heartbreak was quick, its devastation brutal, but effective.

This was torture. And torture, Azriel knew well.

It had been over a year since that Solstice Night. And every day since, Azriel wondered at the fact that he hadn’t been driven completely mad.

He never slept, barely ate. He threw his body so brutally into training that there were times when Cassian had to physically drag him from the ring.

It was the worst kind of pain - useless, destructive pain that could never be resolved, never lessened. And he could not confide it in anyone, could not extend a shaking hand to help him, to please, help him through this.

He was alone. Just as he had always suspected he should be, had always been meant to be.

Maybe that was why the shadows had come to him - some pitiful offering by Death that until his soul was claimed by the Mother herself, the shadows would be his only constant companion.

The stars hadn’t even begun to make their journey across the sky before he had snuck away, his brothers too occupied with their mates to notice him fading away, trudging heavily up the stairs and through an empty bedroom, sliding open the glass door to step onto the balcony where he could watch the migration of souls alone.

He should have known that few moments of solitude on such a night would be too much to ask.

Azriel knew her scent as well as his own, even though her heels made no sound on the plush, expensive rug as she crossed the room to the balcony. The glass doors remained open, although she paused on the threshold.

He didn’t turn around to greet her. For as well as he knew her scent, so did he know the tells of her distress - the unique markers of her scent that hinted at what weighed heavily on her tongue. The belly-curling scent of red wine flooding the night air around them as she leaned against the doorframe to steady herself.

“Not now, Mor.”

There was no kindness in his voice. No warmth, that he usually reflected back to her.

“Az, please.”

He refused to turn. He refused to turn around and see the salty tears that his shadows whispered were gathering in her eyes.

“You’re drunk. We’re not having this conversation while you’re drunk.”

“I can’t wait any longer,” she pleaded. So unlike her, to plead for everything besides that they join her for a night of dancing, or another glass of wine. Nothing of importance - nothing that truly mattered.

She’s crying, the golden one is crying, his shadows whispered sorrowfully.

His head pounded, and more than ever he yearned for the bottle of powder on his nightstand.. Out of all nights that she would come to him, out of all of the nights that he had waited for her to speak, to finish the conversation that he had tried to start eons ago.

“Godsdamnit, Mor!” he whirled around to face her, and she recoiled as his eyes flashed. “You’ve waited 500 years to bring this up and you can’t wait one more fucking day?”

“Az-” Something in those stormy hazel eyes softened as she choked on a breath, the wine glass shaking in her hand. As if she held onto it like a raft, a physical way to ground herself as she forced herself to speak the truth they had buried for half a millennium.

“It can’t wait. Please.”

He didn’t give her an answer, but he didn’t give her any indication that he wasn’t listening either. He merely turned to return his gaze to the stars above. Faint lines of starlight still ghosted the dark night, as if white shadows had trailed the crossing spirits. Even the stars seemed to glow brighter that night, as if to put on their best show for the crowds toasting, cheering and dancing until the early hours of the morning.

Azriel remembered when it had once been the five of them down there. When it had just been him, Cass, Amren, Mor and Rhys - before the mountain. Before their world had broken apart for 50 years and they had barely held themselves together, not knowing if their brother, their High Lord, would ever return. They had gotten so drunk for so many nights that the years went quickly, even as the days dragged on.

How much had changed, since then.

Rhys held Nyx in the crowd below, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s head as Feyre came up behind him, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and tilting it up to Rhys’ lips. The smiles on their faces so wide as to rival the stars that had just fallen.

Cassian led Nesta through the throng of dancers, his waltz having vastly improved over the past year of gatherings and parties on her arm.

He didn’t dare look to see who else might still be on the dance floor.

“Azriel,” her voice broke on the first syllable of his name - like a snapped violin string, mournfully twisting the sound of what had once been a beautiful melody on her lips. One he had once longed to hear, over and over again.

“I’m sorry.”

Azriel waited with bated breath for her to continue. His shoulders curled in on themselves involuntarily, as if waiting for the sword of her golden tongue to thrust a blade into the back he had left exposed to her. When in reality, there was already a knife there that had been twisting and turning for centuries. Blood leaking and dripping behind him for as long as he could remember.

She didn’t continue, so he finished for her - his voice as cold and deep as it had been for the past year, since that Solstice Night when he had turned away from any glimmer of hope that he had seen reflected back in a wide pair of brown eyes looking up at him, fluttering closed in anticipation -

This was a bad time for her to come to him with this. He had no patient bone left in his body - every part of him felt battered, bruised, tender.

He had no kindness in his soul that night, and so he lashed out.

“I’m sorry for - what, Mor? I’m sorry for stringing you along for 500 years? For letting you trail after me like a godsdamned fool? For making Cassian feel like he had to sit between us at every dinner, every night at Rita’s, every possible opportunity where you might have been able to tell me how you felt?”

She let out a shuddering sob at the frigid anger in his voice. Anger that he had never once directed at her before, only threw out in her defense. And even then, it had frightened her. The depth of that anger, that chilled his very bones.

“It doesn’t even fucking matter anymore. Nothing does.”

Gods, he was so godsdamned tired. If only he could sleep, if only could he close his eyes without seeing her, without hearing her voice, without seeing the devastation in her eyes as he uttered those four words that repeated themselves over and over in an endless loop in his mind.

“It matters to me.” A bit of anger colored her tone, as she went on the defensive.

“It matters to me that we talk about this. And yes, I’m sorry for that - for everything. But don’t pretend you didn’t know. You’re too smart for that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair and not bothering to wince as it pulled at the roots. Physical pain meant nothing to him anymore.

“Of course I knew, how could I not? You practically shoved her in my face, and still you said nothing.”

His voice wavered, as he struggled not to shout. Because there was still a party going on below them, and even in his anger, his frustration, he didn’t want to reveal her secrets like that.

“Andromache,” Mor whispered, and he could scent another tear sliding done her perfectly blushed cheek. “Her name was Andromache.”

Her pain was bitter - more bitter than the red wine that stained her teeth, her red lips. Even after all of these years, it still felt fresh to her - that grief of losing her lover. One that Azriel had very much been aware of, but had never spoken of to anyone - not Mor, and certainly not his brothers.

“You knew I was in love with you, and yet you had the decency to carry on that affair right in front of me.”

He gritted the words through his teeth. And still, he did not turn to face her.

“I didn’t think you would be able to handle it - if I outright told you about her,” Mor’s voice persisted, even through her tears. She took another step closer to her, and his shadows clung together to his form. She stopped when she noticed this.

He had known, and he had let it carry on. For Azriel had foolishly hoped that at the end of it, when her heart was inevitably broken by a cruelly short human lifespan, that she might turn to him for comfort - to fill the hole that the human queen had left in her heart.

What a fool he had been. What a fool he still was.

“Liar,” he snarled, barely leashing himself as he snapped his head to the side, still avoiding the sight of her. A part of him was satisfied, when he felt her recoil.

His voice was a discordant tune to the uplifting melody lilting below. Their family a happy, peaceful thing lost in the crowd even as he and Mor lashed and wounded each other above, out of sight.

That was always had been, in the Court of Dreams. Anger and hurt and nightmares relegated to dark corners, to dark bedrooms, to warded houses. Carefully tucked away, tucked inside, turned inward - until there was nowhere left for it to go but out.

Azriel didn’t have any room left in his heart for it.

“You love me.” she corrected, “You haven’t been in love with me for centuries.”

Azriel was silent, anger and anguish and defeat radiating and intermingling as he struggled to vocalize the very words that he had struggled to voice for hundreds of years. In all of the ways he had imagined in this conversation to go, it was never like this.

“I’m not sure if I even know the difference anymore.”

“You do,” Mor asserted quietly, taking a step closer and abandoning her glass on the balcony. She put a hand on his arm, so slowly it was as if she was trying to comfort a wild animal.

And maybe that’s all he was, to her. Some beast that had been locked in a dark cage for the better part of his formative life. An Illyrian designed to kill or be killed - a winged devil stalking through the night. A torturer wringing blood in the coldest part of their world.

He was the opposite of anything she had ever wanted. She had crawled her way out of Hewn City with her own bloodied hands and would do anything in her power to keep from going back to that place. Back to what he clearly reminded her of - of darkness, and death, and torment.

That was why he had started to love her, after all. She was sunlight incarnate - from her easy smile to her quick humor to her golden hair - she was so, so easy to love. Too easy to cling to when his own darkness threatened to swallow him whole. If she was the sun, he was the moon chasing after her - night after night after night.

“Maybe you were in love with me, in the beginning,” Mor continued, her voice softer, gentler than it had been before.

Maybe she was just as tired as he was.

“But I know that you haven’t been for a long time. And now, with -”

“Don’t,” Azriel loosened a warning growl. “Don’t say her name.”

Mor let out a shaky sigh, and his shadows didn’t even have to alert him to the change of her scent - one from fear and anger to pity and sorrow.

“It’s different with her, and you know it.”

Azriel wondered when she had noticed. Maybe that strange, unworldly power inside of her had told her this truth long before even he himself had known.

He had been to the cabin, after Feyre had painted it. He had stopped and stared, marveling at a small drawing that clearly had been done by an unpracticed hand - three winged males beside three females with long, flowing hair. He had stood there, staring at that little drawing for far too long.

“And yet, it’s not different, Mor.”

Exhaustion swept over him - a sudden wave that weighted him down to that very spot so heavily he wondered if he would ever fly again. If he would ever be able to lift the wings that he too frequently let drag on the ground behind him, when no one was watching.

“The ending is the same.”

“You don’t know that.” Red-tipped nails dug into the sleeve of his dark shirt, insistence coloring her voice, steadying it as she clung to him.

But her light could not touch him this time. Shadows pressed closer to his form, shielding him. He did not want to feel hope. He did not want her to tell him that he would find another - he did not want her to tell him about Emerie, or second chances. He didn’t want to hear anything at all.

“Azriel-”

He stopped her, before she could say any of that. Before she could try to wash over his agony, before she could cradle him in her warmth and goodness and light.

“I can’t do this for another 500 years,” he admitted.

Maybe it was the defeat in his voice - or maybe some dark implication that he had hidden even from himself. That he could barely take another day of this agony, let alone another hundred years.

Mor broke apart in his arms, legs wobbling beneath her as she cried out, halfheartedly trying to contain her cry.

Frantically, Azriel pulled her in close. Maybe to keep her quiet, to keep their location unobserved from prying eyes. Or maybe because this felt like a goodbye, in more ways than one.

He let a scarred hand cradle the back of her head, pressing her close to him and letting the kohl around her eyes bleed into the black material of his shirt. Sharp, heaving sobs wracked her chest as her cries were muffled into his chest, right above his heart. He turned his head so that he could rest his cheek on the top of her head, and lifted his heavy wings to pull them around the pair, cocooning them.

“I’m sorry, Azriel, I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you…” he could just make out her muffled words.

He held his friend, the female he had once hoped would be his lover. The female whom he had once hoped would choose him above all else.

Azriel closed his eyes. Let the wind kiss his dry cheeks, fill his stuttering lungs with air once more. Mor’s cries quieted, with time, until her shaking form stilled beneath his hands, her bare skin revealed by her strapless red dress still somehow warmer than his own.

“You have to tell her, Azriel,” Mor insisted, red-lined eyes still somehow beautiful, as she looked up at him. “Before it’s truly too late.”

“Let’s talk about this another night, Mor,” Azriel said softly, but firmly, as he tucked her back into his chest. As he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that this night had turned out entirely different. That it was not Mor, breaking off the final piece of her that he had struggled to hold onto for so long. That instead, golden brown hair clung to his expensive shirt - the shirt that he had bought with some misguided hope that she might look at him - that there might be some way that she would look at him again and smile, and take his hand for a dance.

Then maybe she would have led him up here, to the balcony of her old room in the House of Wind. The room that her scent still clung to, although faintly - honey and jasmine. He dreaded the day when the scent faded completely, when he would no longer be able to slip through the door in the middle of the night to look at the stars, imagining she was in his arms as they looked out onto their city together, their home.

No, not even during those years of pining after Mor, had he known pain like this.

#mor and azriel finally talk #angst #post acosf #elriel #emorie #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger

[zee-the-zebra]

About The Kaveh Reincarnation Theory

I will make this theory make sense and no one can stop me.

Story Parallels

We know very little about the Goddess of Flowers but her connection to Kaveh is less about backstory and more his personality.

What do we know about her? She foresaw her own death in the cataclysm and didn’t run away from it. She facilitated her so she would leave a legacy greater than herself behind. And she did, creating the Jinn and the Khvarena. And what does Kaveh do on a near daily basis? Break himself over and over again to create things that will outlast him. And while he has succeeded in creating great things, he is still trying to make a legacy, no matter how much he brings himself to a closer ending than he should ever have.

Artifacts

Honeyed Final Feast

"In those days, the moonlight would tell of their happiness to the nightingale and the rose." "And they were so frightened and abashed that they could sing no song in response." "Peace and ease reigned, and there was no division or misfortune in this worriless paradise..." "If only these wonderful days, as lovely as a shimmering mirage, could last for eternity, and that they should never have to taste the bitterness of parting."

Could possibly parallel Kaveh and Al Haitham’s relationship before their falling out, as well as how Kaveh was living at what he thought to be the high point of his life before he ended up homeless.

Later, time sundered the contract between day and night, destroying the ancient oath. The gentle moonlight sank into the quicksand. The sun shrouded all things in its fearsome gaze.

The mention of quicksand is interesting, considering that is how Kaveh’s father died.

Dreaming Steelbloom

"When the moon leaves your palm, and the lonesome silver light retracts from atop the labyrinth on the sand ocean," "One hopes that you will remember how your companion in the dreams shone like the burning sun."

This is the same line I pulled for the Al Haitham write up but it still tracks as a possible parallel to Kaveh and Al Haitham’s falling out. Or rather, an implication that if things were to continue as they are, history might repeat itself between the “sun” and the “moon”

Ay-Khanoum's Myriad

In a bygone time which only the Jinn recall, the Lord of Flowers was cast aside by the heavens. Her magnificent vessel was left a savaged husk, her kinsfolk punished by way of being stripped of their minds... Legend has it that the Lord of Flowers wandered the barren wastes for seventy-two nights... Her heels were worn through by the merciless gravel. Her wounds gushed into limpid springs, turning into streams with no boundaries.

Could act as a parallel to Kaveh losing everything he has to create the palace and being homeless afterwards.

Wilting Feast

The Lord of Flowers capitulated to her friend's folly, finding a most admirable rebellion burning within the ambitions of the god. An idea that joined the wisdom of thousands, and the great attempt at binding their dreams to power. What hides here is more than lies, but also the future of humanity, burning like the sparks of hope... Dreams will always dissolve, their landscapes fated to collapse — this is the true meaning of the blooming flowers. Only by suffering through the destruction of a god's delusions can humanity learn to rise against divine will... Just as the stubborn God King orchestrated this secret rebellion, surviving on the strength of individual will alone. However, the Lord of Flowers never knew a love that could be as sweet as wine, let alone the paltriness of human emotion. Brilliant as she was, even she could not easily predict when these little beings would finally realize the truth... "... Have these so-called gods not been superfluous to you since the beginning?"

Oh boy, there’s a lot to unpack here, but I’ll attempt to simplify. 

This is the very culmination of the parallels between Deshret and Nabu Maikata as well as Al Haitham and Kaveh. The main purpose here is that the Goddess of Flowers never truly agreed with Deshret. She could never fully believe in his ideas, yet she stayed by his side anyway in a hope that they could do something truly selfless for their people. This is almost one to one Al Haitham and Kaveh’s dynamic. They will never see eye to eye. Yet they are each other’s mirror, equals in every way.

And like the past, eventually these ideals clashed and the dream died. Deshret, like Al Haitham, chose to do all his work on his own. And Nabu, like Kaveh, did everything she could to be selfless, but could really only watch as her world crumbled. Nabu and Deshret’s love, like Kaveh and Al Haitham's, wasn't sweet. It was chaotic, all over the place, impossible to fully pin down and yet it was still there. After every tragedy, after every hardship, after the times where they believed they were nothing to each other, the emotions there had never grown dull.

The final thing to connect is the question Nabu was asked and the question Al Haitham asked Kaveh.

“How has realizing your ideals gone for you?”

For Nabu, the answer was to design a legacy born of both bitterness at life and the gods, as well as so those after her could live on. For Kaveh, he hasn’t figured out his answer yet.

Secret-Keeper's Magic Bottle

In a bygone time on which the Jinn alone are silent, King Deshret poured his deepest ambitions out before the Lord of Flowers... As the moonlight's visage drifted across ripples within a glass of pomegranate wine, the Lord of Flowers finally succumbed to the persuasion of a friend most beloved. The words King Deshret spoke that night remain unknown to all. Even the eldest Jinn bestow only silence when asked about that which was said. None know what secret desires King Deshret revealed in the dark past daylight, desires that might shock even the wisest of gods. But the Lord of Flowers herself drew enlightenment from the exchange. It had been within her calculus — something long foreseen. . . . "Know this: if there is to be hope in this world, it will be found kindling within mortals most ordinary."

Acts as a parallel to Kaveh and Al Haitham’s project while they were still in school. Also parallels Al Haitham’s closed off self reliance and Kaveh’s desire to give pieces of himself to others.

Connections to Real Life

The only name given to the Goddess of Flowers is Nabu Malikata. And while the first half of her name can’t really be attributed to Kaveh (Nabu being an ancient Mesopotamian god of literacy, the rational arts, scribes, and wisdom), the second half of her name can. Malikata can be translated to the ideogram of the Middle Persian word for queen, MLKTA. More proof of this is found in the Eternal Oasis, in her name is written as “NABU MLKTA” in the in-game Deshret Script, the same as the ideogram of the Middle Persian word.

Kaveh’s name, as I’ve learned (shout out to my friend Cado, who unintentionally helped me with a lot of this) is a very common Iranian/Persian name for boys. That’s just a fun fact, more specifically, the name came from the Shahnameh, or the Book of Kings. The name Kaveh was used for a character in the tale of Zahak the Serpent King, in which the Zoroastrian gods played major roles. 

The Goddess of Flowers, created something known as Khvarena, which in Genshin is a purifying spirit, but in Zoroastrianism, is a concept of a divine power projected upon and aiding the appointed. While it could be considered grasping at straws, reincarnation or being the vessel of divine power could be considered a form of Khvarena in real life Zoroastrianism.

Now, we have no Goetic name or twisting of a Goetic name for Nabu Malikata, we can also lift from Egyptian mythology considering Deshret’s true name is Amun. The consort of Amun/Amun-Ra is Mut, sky, fertility and matriarch goddess said to be born from the primordial waters of Nu.  This could be the proof of Nabu Malikata’s true name as she has been shown to have connections with Egeria, who wielded the power of the Primordial Sea. And, while not directly from Fontaine does have connections to it as his mother moved there.

As for Mut as a name, it could be twisted in Mathim, an alternate reading of Bathin, a demon said to know the virtues of precious stones and herbs.

Conclusion

Oddly enough I feel like this theory is far more concrete than the one with Al Haitham. With references to Persian mythology, mytho-history, and history in both the Goddess of Flowers and Kaveh, as well as the parallels in their stories, the theory actually feels very water-tight. Perhaps my theory with the most proof to date.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact theory #genshin theory #kaveh #genshin kaveh #goddess of flowers #nabu malikata #should I tag the ship? #i'm tagging the the ship #al haitham #alhaitham #haikaveh #kavetham #it's not really about the ship but i do mention it #so this is just to be safe

[i-am-a-meat-popcicle]

Are you interested in more Fe3h worldbuilding lore because there's so much implicit stuff!! You can look at the character and country name and what they reference, the way the dress, or even what Fe3h is inspired from ( did you know the game take a lot of inspiration from Irish culture )!

For example, did you know that Sothis correspond to the Egyptian goddess Sopdet? She's the personification of the star Sirius, a reference to how Sothis come from space which lead to her being called "Fell Star" by the Agarthans. But more importantly, Sopdet is linked to the annual flooding of the Nile! It join how Sothis flooded Fodlan "In the land of Thinis, where the old gods are said to live, the False God has awakened. Its looming, heteromorphic vessel was resurrected to sink the world to the depths of the ocean. It will bring extinction to all children of men, and salvation to all beasts of the land, sky, and sea. [...] And soon, a flood aptly named Despair will drown this world. [...]" ( from the book "Romance of the World's Perdition" in the Shadow Library of the DLC ). Also, she's the goddess of the fertility brought to the soil by the flooding which tie with how Sothis created the Nabataean, the current humans, magic outside of Dark Magic and the crest. It's implied she created more than that in the book of Seiros ( it says she created all plants and animals ), but we can't take it by words with how the current Nabataeans rewrote the past to found the Church of Seiros to protect their kind.

For more crest lore personally I love this dialog from Linhardt A support with Byleth:

"Well, I don't see how Crests have much use in times of peace. Certainly there are Crests that make you stronger and could be used in engineering. And I suppose Crests that increase magical abilities might help doctors heal injuries... Still, the possibilities seem limited. It's as if Crests were designed to be used only in times of war. Their power meant to bring about death and destruction. I cannot prove what I say is true, but suppose for a moment that it is... The longer this war goes on, the more useful my Crest research becomes. But if the war were to end today, we would go on living, perhaps not using the power of our Crests at all."

( Very sorry for the unwanted ranting! I have no control over myself when it comes Fe3h lore )

Short answer: I'm just a little weirdo that gets hung up about weird details in games, and Fe3h has a lot of weird and interesting details. Long answer [and I might even talk about unrelated stuff too, sorry I don't often have the chance to talk about fe3h]: About fe3h, the game is surprisingly good at giving you just enough information to ask more questions, and then when you start paying more attention you're hit with more moments of "wait a second- what?" "That doesn't seem right." And part of that has to do with the fact that a lot of the time the information that characters give you [or Byleth] is somewhat unreliable, due to them either keeping vital information to them selves, they don't know the whole story, they're trying to manipulate you, or they're outright lying to you.

I remember I had a lot of hang-ups about Dimitri blaming Edelgard for what happened in Duscur because I had a hard time believing that a fourteen year-old would be able to orchestrate the assassination of a foreign nation's king [especially when considering the timeline of events for Edelgard herself]. However, in Dimititri's case his perception of the truth was warped by multiple factors. Such as his severe lack of sleep and rest, possible malnutrition, his abysmal emotional state, implied schizophrenia [or something like it idk I'm not a doctor], and the fact that Edelgard was, indeed, working to kill him and all of his friends for a year. It's not so much that he logically believes it or that Edelgard was responsible for Duscur, it's that he had to fight her anyway, and her involvement with it may as well make her responsible. [still kinda bullshit but it makes sense as to why he's being the way he is]

A better example would have been how Tomas/Solan tries to manipulate Claude into thinking that there was some kind of church conspiracy with information about the immaculate one only for Claude to later stop listening to him after he found out who Solan really was and what he wanted. But that was one of the things that were solved in-story which left me less room to chomp on and obsess over. [not a bad thing- this is good story writing.]

The other reason is that sometimes the writers mess something up but depending on what that is it can be more interesting to find an in-universe reason why something doesn't add up. For instance the whole thing about the Red Canyon. It's implied to be called that because the Nabateans were genocides there. The funky thing there is that Nabatean blood isn't red, it's green. What this can imply is a few things, that Nabateans have red blood in a human form, or there was a mistranslation somewhere between the Nabateans and the humans they worked with, or it was deliberate [which makes more sense now that I think about it]. Basically, it was probably called something along the lines of "bloody canyon" or something due to the tragedy that happened there, but it got changed to red canyon because The saints [or just Rhea/Sieros] wanted to both keep the history a secret, but also wanted memorialize what happened.

The game is filled with little stuff like this that give me so many little brain worms, and that tends to be the start of it. The rest of it comes with me mentally writing fanfic with an oc and I start to go: "Like what are their bathrooms like, how does the plumbing systems work, what tools are available, if magic exists how does it work, does magic still follow the law of conservation of mass, how does magic and using it affect the body, etc."

Like, the implicit stuff and the inspirations are definitely a factor, but it's primarily my little brain going off the rails and asking way too many questions that probably doesn't matter.

#asks #kris rambles #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #worldbuilding #other lore implications #idk #The other thing I didn't talk about is that sometimes I just like to shake my fist at the source material #But that's what I do with borderlands so far; not fe3h as much surprisingly #perks of fe3h being a pure fantasy instead of si-fi #I still do shake my fist at fe3h's worldbulding but that tends to be about stuff we're just not allowed to know #or stuff that the devs didn't want or have time to develop #which I guess is fair; fe3h feels like it was a massive project.

[zyrafowe-sny]

is the cop or am I the one that's really dangerous

Ambrosius says, "Because I love you," and Ballister's (aching, concussed) brain tries to comprehend love without trust, love with reservation, love that takes the twisted words of others over the bone-deep knowledge that comes from a shared life.

"Just promise to think about it, Bal. She's dangerous." Ambrosius retrieves the fallen sword and scroll and shoves them in his hands.

This time Ballister keeps them — putting his sword on his belt on auto-pilot — but that doesn't stop him from running off.

(And his newfound friendship with Nimona doesn't stop him from at least considering the words of his oldest friend and the man he can't help but love despite it all.)

He knows she couldn't possibly have orchestrated the assassination. She would have needed a second shapeshifter to pretend to be the Director to fake that confession — or split herself in two somehow — and either option seems both unlikely and altogether a far too complicated plan for little miss "something something we win".

Unless that was all a ruse to throw him off and she's actually a tactical genius.

He thinks of her delight in chaos and destruction. He thinks of how many knights she's injured (killed? modern armor is strong but not invulnerable). He thinks of all the innocent bystanders she put in harm's way. And that girl in the monster in the scroll looks uncannily like the girl he grabbed from atop a stolen motorhorse.

Could Nimona really be Gloreth's monster? Could she have destroyed their city when it was in its infancy? Did she want to burn it to the ground again? Is she capable of sowing (false) distrust to make the Kingdom harder to defend when she makes her big move? Did she identify him as the weak link in the Institute that would bring it all down?

(Maybe he's questioning everything now, but her loneliness seems real. He can believe she wants an ally, someone to talk to, someone to fight with, even if she always just planned on using him.)

Ballister's still lost when he finds himself back at the tower.

Nimona's sleeping so peacefully — especially compared to her earlier nightmares — but he hardens his heart as she wakes.

He wants answers.

She doesn't really give them.

All his darkest doubts spill out.

Ballister never does manage to say the m-word, but his actions speak louder than his tongue ever could. He sees her glowing eyes and hears the sound of his sword leaving its sheath. His own eyes dart between Nimona and his hands, and he can't believe what he was about to do to the frightened girl in front of him.

As Nimona would say, he was brainwashed good.

And apparently he's also an enormous hypocrite. (Maybe he judged Ambrosius a little too harshly for not believing he was innocent. Or maybe they both have much to learn about love and trust and who the monsters really are.)

"I-"

He fully intends to apologize for being small-minded (again), for clinging to a thousand year old story instead of trusting the (possibly thousand year old) teenager actually in front of him, but then there are voices outside before he can even start to find the right words.

He doesn't know how Todd found his hideout — was he followed from the city? — but that doesn't matter. To his relief, Nimona disappears in a shimmer of light and escapes before the knight notices. (Maybe someday they'll meet again and he'll be able to make up for his betrayal, but following her now will just put her in more danger.)

The beating feels like a fitting punishment. He just hopes he can stay conscious long enough that she'll be long gone before they think to continue the search. With any luck, she'll find some peace far away from this cursed kingdom.

But then the world shakes and he sees the birds fly away as shadows loom. And he knows the hurt is too strong and too deep and too old for her to just make a clean break, a fresh start.

It doesn't take long for him to recognize a death march.

He knew she had suicidal thoughts. He knew it and still he questioned her motivations and their friendship and her personhood. He knew it and pressed just the right buttons that would hurt her the most.

Maybe Gloreth's statue will drive the physical blow, but he's the one sticking a sword through Nimona's heart because she's different.

Unless he can get there in time.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, reblogging, or hopping over to AO3 to leave a kudo or comment.

#nimona fanfic #nimona #nimona 2023 #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #suicide #suicidal ideation #my fanfic #cross posted on ao3

[feith-rikya]

All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!

Danya Vetranov & anselm Godwyn & Rudolf the Vile/Danseldolf:

Unfortunately, this is not a canon ship, although it would solve many of the problems within the game. It would be dishonest to deny that Danya ever thought about it. It's a bit of a complicated situation and she's a bit kinky.

Initially, there was Anselm, a charming True Brujah, rich and attractive but also ancient and deeply connected to the Camarilla. This led him down a path opposite to the love of his life, who was ready to fight him to protect his friends. Danya made many attempts to convince him to change his mind, but he downplayed her concerns, considering them typical of a young vampire who didn't know the world. Ultimately, they both fell victim to the demon Ekron, who entwined their story with lies and deceit, leading the coterie to fight against and kill Anselm.

At the moment when Anselm seemed to have lost his mind, Rudolf entered the scene, a grumpy, meticulous and old-fashioned vampire who seemed to care neither for himself nor for others. Rudolf was drawn to Danya's light like a wounded moth and offered himself completely to her, despite her uncertainties and her desire to somehow bring Anselm back to her. (I don't rule out the possibility of a love potion, perhaps prepared by Lilith herself.)

But in the end, Anselm died and Danya accepted the love of the former soldier, starting a stable relationship destined to last. However, Anselm's story was not over yet. Inexplicably, his ghost reappeared, remaining as linked to Danya as he was in life, but in a more tangible form. Initially, coexistence was impossible, with grudges on both sides that threatened to lead to their ruin. However, during a confrontation, the truth emerged. Most of the atrocities attributed to Anselm, such as the extermination of the Ventrue clan, the destruction of the Circus, and the constant harassment, had been orchestrated by the demon Ekron, who had assumed the identity of the Archon. The ravnos had been tricked into killing the man she loved, while the powerful and ancient True Brujah had lost her identity under her nose and threatened Danya and her friends, driving away her one true love .

So, Anselm decided to teach Danya her power, her Temporis, giving her the tools to defeat the demon that had ruined everyone's lives. Rudolf, although not enthusiastic about the time they spent together, accepted the situation for the greater good, knowing that Anselm could not do much in the state he was in.

Anselm became a master to Danya, almost a sire to her, helping her with the discipline and management of the government, ultimately easing her resentment towards her. Feeling deeply guilty for her death, Danya tried in every way to make Anselm's life more pleasant, even doing things that such an ancient vampire considered unusual.

On the other hand, Rudolf still held all of her resentment for her, remembering every insult, every slight, and every blow she had received from the True Brujah during their last fight. The two men managed to reach an agreement only when they were forced to collaborate, while the rest of the time they spent with subtle insults and barbs that Danya had to constantly appease.

There's still a lot to tell about them, but I'll stop here for now. You are welcome to ask additional questions if you are curious.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #vampire #camarilla #ravnos #lasombra #true brujah #vtm art #vtm oc #vtm npc

[helioselene]

HELIOSELENE -> A WRITEBLR REINTRODUCTION;

your hunger bleeds into my skin seeping into my veins as if it's my life force;

psd credit; @cavalierfou

about me;

hi! im molly, 22, she/her. ive been on writeblr for a few years now but i figured its about time i throw myself back into the tumblr writing world !

when im not writing im a student specialising in human rights and global politics

if you ever want to yell about enemies to lovers (the best trope) im always here !!!

my favourite book is the song of achilles; however, im also quite partial to pride and prejudice, the picture of dorian gray and also the seven husbands of evelyn hugo :)

uhh im also a basketballer if that's cool hehe

main wips;

graces to the grave;

wip page (x) | wip tag (x) | pinterest board (x)

 Juliette allowed herself to breathe, to pretend that, even for just a moment, she wasn’t consumed by a legacy born in bloodshed. Victorian London is on the precipice of destruction. As civil war breaks out between the city’s most formidable gangs, Juliette Edevane finds herself with a daring mission: kill the leaders of the Bonellis and secure her position as heir to London’s underworld. But orchestrating the deaths of Ruth and Cassius Granville is not as simple as it may seem. 

Juliette is swept into a world of murder, magic, and marriage - where a wedding between her and a long-time rival may signify the line between success and failure in her mission. Armed with such an alliance, she must navigate the dangerous waters of a London built on the blood of gang rivalries, where betrayal and death hides around every corner. And yet, with her own heart on the line, she must confront where her true allegiances lie: with her gang, with her husband, or with those she once thought to be her greatest enemies.

the further we fall;

wip page (x) | pinterest board (x)

It was at that moment I realised just how much of a tragedy love could be. To have loved without hope or comfort, to be separated by a metaphorical chasm of social class and indignity. Love had only ever caused my slave-born mother to feel great heartache, to reach and yearn for something she would always, and forever, be but a fingertips breadth from.

Icarus is a boy made of fire and brimstone, destined to never live up to his father's legacy. Growing up in the Cretan palace was everything a commoner like him could ever dream of; but night after night he falls asleep listening to the sounds of poor Asterion in the Labyrinth, another son born from cruelty, who screams and hollers for the love of his parents.

When the opportunity to help Ariadne and Theseus to break into the Labyrinth arises, Icarus throws himself headfirst into the task. He vows to be something more, something better, and yet his own traitorous actions threaten to come to light.

All little Icarus wanted was his father's approval. But how can a gods-cursed boy like him ever be someone worthy of love?

backburners;

mermaid wip [high fantasy little mermaid x sleeping beauty]

elemental wip [high fantasy political intrigue]

redacted wip [co-written secret work in progress]

other links;

wip page (x)

mutuals page (x)

about me page (x)

asks (x)

find me;

writing twitter (x)

ao3 (x)

welcome to writeblr [as a mod] (x)

the writeblr garden [as a mod] (x)

ask for my discord

tagging;

@seasteading @sourrcandy @veneritia @mortallynuttyqueen @scaevolawrites @wordsbynathan @songbirdii @lasbrumas @moariin @serpentarii

any boosting (especially reblogs) is helpful! thank you so much :)

#IM BACK BABY #wtwcommunity #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr introduction #introduction #writing #spilled ink #writers #writers and poets

[freshthoughts2020]

GOD CREATES GOOD FROM SATAN'S (ATTEMPTED) DESTRUCTION

GOD CREATES GOOD FROM SATAN'S (ATTEMPTED) DESTRUCTION

February 28, 2024

Back with another article involving a lesson from my car accident the other day. Quick recap, got into a little fender bender on the block of my crib and boy was I angry. I was enraged because I thought how much this could’ve been avoided and how inconvenient the timing was (but when is it ever a good time for an accident? lol).

When I collided with the other vehicle, foolishly before I could even Thank God for letting me be alright, I went into cursing up a storm. If you know I’m not super curse man like that, I try to watch my language beloved. Its easier for me to curse when I rap because I feel like curse words enhance the emotion behind the lyrics lol. Even that sound crazy forgive me Christ I might be tripping lmao.

Anyways, I’m bashing the steering wheel, hit the mirror just going bezerk, but an older black woman was the driver of the other vehicle. She got out and consoled me. Got to preaching to me like she was in the pulpit lol, reminding how blessed we are no scars, no injuries, she had nothing negative to say. The worst thing she said was she was running late for work. So we exchanged info and kept it pushing but boy I was defeated but things turned around..

A, THANK GOD FOR INSURANCE

Thank God for insurance boy. This situation could’ve been a thousand times worst without insurance. The only thing wrong was the front bumper on the left side had some unwanted hangtime. You know that’s an easy rack, and that’s a rack I didn’t want to pay for. I’m trying to take trips, reinvest in my business, help people, every rack count beloved and I don’t have time to be spending it on repairing vehicles. But once again God looked out and that headache was resolved.

B. LAST NIGHT TOOK A L BUT TODAY I BOUNCED BACK

Ya boy got into a crispy rental boy. It’s a car I been wanting to drive for a minute too. Often fantasizing myself in it, going for cruises, being suited up, you know regular car fantasies. Now I never thought I would be in this vehicle through this circumstance but here we are. Using something I thought was so “horrible” being turned into an opportunity for me to shine yet again. God is Good.

This is probably the most important thing out this situation. A blessing being spoken over my life. If you don’t know about the power of words, you gon know about it today. Its something my mother always stressed to us, “life and death is in the power of the tongue.” See, Proverbs 18:21 Amplified Bible (AMP) Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it and indulge it will eat its fruit and bear the consequences of their words.

C. BLESSED ASSURANCE

Words are so powerful it even had brother plotting against his own brother to receive a blessing. Jacob and Esau are twin brothers in the biblical narrative found in the Book of Genesis. Their story revolves around the struggle for their father Isaac's blessing. Esau, the older twin, was a skilled hunter and Isaac's favorite, while Jacob was a more cunning and domesticated individual.

The pivotal moment came when Isaac, nearing old age and with failing eyesight, decided to bless Esau, intending to pass on the family's leadership and prosperity to him. However, their mother, Rebekah, favored Jacob and orchestrated a plan for him to receive the blessing instead. She dressed Jacob in Esau's clothes and covered his hands and neck with animal skins to mimic Esau's hairy appearance.

When Jacob approached his father, Isaac was initially suspicious due to the voice difference between Jacob and Esau. However, Jacob convinced Isaac that he was Esau, and Isaac bestowed the blessing upon him. When Esau later discovered this deception, he was furious and sought to kill Jacob. As a result, Jacob fled to his uncle Laban's house.

So you see a blessing of the word means a lot! Today I received word from the woman that she would pray for me (genuinely) and ask that God blesses me with a prosperous and blessed life. I promised to return the same sentiment. When those words are received by God, I know they will touch me spiritually is enlighten my life, allowing me to continue to flourish in God’s magnificent blanket of favor.

Remember this when a trash situation arise. Everything works together for our good. Satan is going to get joy seeing you suffer and will not hesitate to take advantage of your misfortune. But Christ is so good he’s going to take everything that was meant for your downfall and turn it into your uprise. Stand tall loved one, peace!

Follow me on twitter @onlyonejaevonn

visit gettothecorner.com

#life logs #life lessons #jaevonn harris #GOD CREATES GOOD FROM SATAN'S (ATTEMPTED) DESTRUCTION #christianity #words #blessings #jesus #bible #curses #insurance

[themoonking]

possible culprits for the genosha attack. sound off with your thoughts if you want.

master mold - could just be a secret third master mold ai operating on its own. iirc master mold has only ever been controlled by someone else in the original series, but master mold / the sentinels acting on their own long after the sentinal program has been shut down isn't new in a general sense. this would also tie into madelyn / jean's vision of master mold causing untold death and destruction far more than the very quickly resolved conflict in episode one did. the episode one vision also included the "happy nation" song and cable's lines from episode five, meaning that it was clearly more about the destruction of genosha than it was fighting master mold in the desert.

cassandra nova - the "godzilla sentinel" was used in the comics by cassandra nova, and was also used to attack genosha much like it was in episode five. given that charles xavier is not currently on the planet and magneto is / was currently an x-man, cassandra nova might be a way to flip the script without having professor x himself be the villain. good magneto, evil charles-adjacent figure. however, cassandra nova is potentially(?) the villain in the upcoming deadpool & wolverine, and the creatives behind both deadpool and x-men '97 have made it clear they don't want their projects being connected to other projects, so they might steer clear of having the same main villain in two x-men properties at one time. however, it could just be a case of parallel thinking and neither party knew what the other was working on.

apocalypse - in the opening theme, the new scene they chose to include was a reanimation of cable fighting apocalypse over that little cube, and then in the episode itself cable himself appears (with the little cube) and mentions a "he" that's coming. apocalypse wants to tear down the world to remake it in his image, and starting an all-out human / mutant war would achieve that.

magneto??? - to be clear i think this is the least likely possibility, but it's still a possibility, so i felt i should bring it up. it's possible that this was an inside job by magneto to "justifiably" resume his previous method of dealing with human / mutant conflict. this would not be the first time an animated x-men series has depicted magneto setting up and advertizing genosha as a mutant utopia only to orchestrate a horrific attack on his own people in order to kickstart a human / mutant war. however, i don't think this is likely given the way that magneto has been written in x-men '97 thus far. other versions of magneto, sure, but it just doesn't seem in character for this one.

BONUS mystique - there's a somewhat popular theory that val cooper is secretly mystique. i can see the possibility, though i don't think there's much concrete to support it right now. if she is involved in some way, she's likely not working alone, and instead is working with apocalypse or magneto.

#i speak #x men 97

[melishade]

Hello

Megatron vs Predaking round 3. I guess this one will be the most evenly matched of all by papa Megs improved body. It will be interesting to see which one will emerge victorious this time, or maybe they will somehow get along. Hange would probably have a heart attack if she saw Predaking transforming into a dragon.

Previous Episode of the Deity Timeline

Sorry I didn't reply to this. I just had to really think about it.

Because Predaking just has all the smoke with Megatron, and rightfully so. Megatron orchestrated the death of his brethren, Predaking doesn't need to forgive that. But after losing twice to Megatron, well technically one Megatron and one Unicron, Predaking isn't really fighting for revenge at this moment in time. It's part of it, since if Predaking kills Megatron, he will be able to avenge his fallen.

He's actually fighting to protect. Because Predaking knows that Megatron hates humanity and wanted to destroy them in the past. Especially on Earth. Predaking doesn't care about the humans on this world as a whole. He has been educated on the history of this world and has even observed some of the battles the Warriors have partaken in. Predaking believes humanity is destructive and will destroy itself. But he's protecting Hizuru. Predaking, in the span of a few months, has managed to grow fonder of Hizuru, the locals, and even Kenshin. If Megatron is here, then Hizuru is in danger. So he reacts when Taisho tells him the name and hunts Megatron down before tackling him straight into the ground.

Predaking manages to get a few good hits in as they tumble, but Megatron manages to recover from his shock and attack Predaking to gain some distance. Great. Just great! This is exactly what Megatron needed! Primus sake! And Predaking doesn't really talk much during this fight. He's not going to dignify Megatron. Not now. And without his dark energon powers, it is a struggle for Megatron. But...Predaking notices something. Megatron's not attacking. He's only defending. And this is going on for a while, and it's frustrating the Predacon that it forces Predaking to just transform into bipedal mode and demand for Megatron to fight him. Like why are you even here?! What do you even what?! Is it to bring more suffering to those around you?! Is that it?! Just fight back already! And answer for the pain and suffering he caused!

Megatron grimaces and asks a simple question: Is your quarrel with me and only me? Predaking is actually stunned at the question, but...decides yes. Despite his hatred for the Autobots, they did show honor, and Predaking is aware of the sacrifice that Optimus made. His only issue was with Megatron. He was a coward. He fought with no honor, and he would only look out for himself. So Predaking says 'yes', and Predaking witnesses Megatron do something he never expected: he throws down his sword and shield.

"If your quarrel is with me, then let it end with me," Megatron declared, "If it is not, then I will continue to fight."

Megatron is completely aware of the target on his back and the people who want him dead. Being alive can put everyone in proximity to him in danger. Megatron is still remembering the time he spent in Hizuru with Mikasa, and the moments he had with Armin, and his emotions are just conflicting with him. He doesn't want them to get hurt. And Wheeljack and Arcee are on this world. They can provide the assistance the island needs. He has no reason why Predaking is here, but if it ends with him, it ends with him. If not, he did open the comm. link frequency to Optimus so the Prime is aware of what's happening so they can prepare.

Predaking is just conflicted and angry about this. This was wrong. This felt wrong and it made him sick. Predaking transformed back into his beast mode and slammed Megatron into the ground again and again, but...Predaking didn't have it in him to kill him. If Megatron was putting up a fight, he would, but he surrendered. Predaking just left Megatron unconscious and flew back to Hizuru, with Optimus on the other end concerned when Megatron's comm. link went dead.

Predaking returns to Hizuru and finds Taisho still there. The Emperor demanded to know where he went. Predaking confesses and Taisho reprimands him as to why go after a potential ally. That could put them in danger!

"Megatron is no ally! He killed my brethren!" Predaking shouted, and Taisho could hear the pain in Predaking's voice.

Taisho decides to calm down and ask for Predaking's story fully. He didn't want and angry and emotional deity on the loose, or to lose their ace in the hole. And Predaking explains his backstory. How he was created for war, how he was treated as a monster or a mindless beast, how he desired to know more about his ancestors, and his ability to transform, and how he trusted Megatron to create more like him. Only to create a plan to have the enemy kill them to redirect his anger. Megatron manipulated and lied to Predaking, and Predaking felt like such a fool for trusting him. Predaking warns Taisho that he is a bad omen and cannot be trusted at all.

Normally, Taisho would take this as a sign to cut all ties with Paradis completely. Because there was no way that they didn't know about Megatron's track record. But...Taisho brings up what happened when he was here with Mikasa Ackerman. And Predaking is confused. Kenshin brought up that person. What did she have to do with this? Taisho explains that he has seen Megatron's cold demeanor and behavior, but...he was kind to this one human.

And Predaking's in disbelief. Kind?! To a human?! That's absurd! Megatron wanted to destroy humanity! Why would he be kind to a single one?! And Taisho explains what happened during the floating lights and how Megatron comforted Mikasa when she grieved over her mother. And even told her about reincarnation. Megatron talked highly of Mikasa to Taisho.

Now Predaking is like WTF?! There was no way this was possible! Taisho offers Predaking talk to Kenshin because he has spent time with both of them and went out of his way to understand them both. Predaking is just tired at this point and decides to go back to his cave. Taisho does ask if this means that their alliance was over. And Predaking says no.

"May I ask why?" Taisho asked.

"...I have grown fond of this place," Predaking answered, "You humans are...odd, but intriguing. I do appreciate being treated other than a monster. And...you have told me the truth, instead of keeping it hidden from me like many others have. You have my trust, and my loyalty. But that can be easily broken."

Taisho is relieved that Predaking isn't leaving and is surprised that he gained the Predacon's trust. Meanwhile, Predaking is just trying to figure out what the hell is going on! What happened?! Why was Megatron acting so different?! Why was he aligned with the island?! And...who was this 'Mikasa Ackerman' and why did Megatron care about her?

Meanwhile, Wheeljack is laughing at Megatron's injured body as he and Optimus went to go get him. Megatron flips Wheeljack off in response.

(Predaking only cares about Hizuru. That's where his allegiance lies. It's gonna be a bit before Predaking even goes to Paradis and sees the Survey Corps.)

#asks #send me asks #transformers prime #tfp #tfp megatron #predaking #tfp predaking #megatron #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #mikasa ackerman #aot oc #original characters #tfp optimus #optimus prime #attack on prime #ao3 #fanfic #maccadam #macadam #what if tfp predaking was in aop aka the deity timeline #taisho #emperor taisho #taisho oc

[2n2n]

The Hell Of Mirrors arc is getting me sort of confused. If Tsukasa knows about the fact that Yashiro's death is connected to the destruction of all yorishiro, why did he need to ask if she was still alive? After that, he was about to smash her face to the ground without much care? Was it really that he should be nice with girls that what stopped him or the fact that he knows her? He acted harshly with her in contrast to how he acted last chapter?

I don't think Tsukasa is "all there", especially early on in the manga. At the moment, I assume being in the Nowhere space, or holding part of a God that controlled it (the Red House acts very similarly to the Nowhere space), being merged for so long (and how long 'technically' was Tsukasa even IN the Red House, given it operates outside of conventional time?) gives Tsukasa a very disordered sense of reality/time/events. It's quite disorienting for even Nene-chan, every time she meets an Amane in a different context … and it's only happened a small, controlled handful of times.

We see Tsukasa meet Hanako and Nene on the roof, and seeming fairly controlled, being fairly tactful (no tackle-glomping, but tastefully asking Amane if he's happy to see him) … but then, meeting Amane again, during the Mitsuba debacle, Tsukasa acts as if he's not seen him in ages and has to take a second to remember what's going on and what 'recently' happened.

Meeting Amane again at Hell of Mirrors, Tsukasa again doesn't act with the tact he had at their 'first' meeting, none of that gravity and sense of grounding-- it's as if he's just pleasantly seen him recently. Where did this reserved boy with his hands behind his back, who touches Amane very slowly and almost hesitantly, go?

its not as if it's a mistake, or Tsukasa is inconsistent without reason. I don't think he's always actually doing things in 'order' in his own reality.

You could ask "why does Tsukasa do this, but then do this?" or "How does Tsukasa greet Amane so dramatically in such an orchestrated way, on the roof, and then he's sloppy and confused only a day or two after?" Didn't he 'plan' everything? Why is he ever unprepared, if he knows events that will happen? Why is he so chaotic?

I think fandom tends to think of Tsukasa as, an ultimately all-knowing ringleader controlling everything, which ,, in a sense he sortof is-- as Sakura says, despite everything, he is reliable-- but ... I ... think he manages it only through sheer ability to blip around, and he's not consistently having access to his own reason and sensibility.... I don't think he really always chooses to be so out-of-tune and out-of-sync with the present events around him ... especially early on, when few yorishiro are returned to him. I don't really know what the consequences for Tsukasa were, holding some part of the well God inside of him, and, the well God seemingly having its power siphoned into the mysteries ...

Now, we see even living, 12 year old Tsukasa behave with tact and discuss a time-situation wherein Nene will intersect, forwards and backwards. I wonder if, at some point, Nene will meet a Tsukasa who comes BEFORE that Tsukasa, who doesn't understand what's going on, or who is more poorly put together or not so thought out on interacting with her, even though he "just" greeted her quite cordially… or is his displacement issue more recent? Don't know. We'll have to see.

In 4 year old, and 12 year old Tsukasa, he seems more 'coherent'. I really think 'something' scrambled Tsukasa, where he's still himself, and he still holds his values… but he's not quite the way he was. Just can't quite maintain his candor...

I think in the Hell of Mirrors Tsukasa literally was not accounting for anyone at all to show up, he was there to simply do a sequence of events, and Mitsuba was being frustrating (but obviously, things will transpire, because 4 year old Tsukasa saw Mitsuba as no. 3). He grabs Nene-chan without even looking at her or thinking about it, he's very "solve the problem" oriented. He suddenly, arbitrarily, remembers an exchange he had with Natsuhiko very recently, when he clambored over Nene-chan and was reprimanded. I think a LOT of things for Tsukasa are like "oh shit, wait!! ahh wait something happened 'recently', actually!" "oh right, someone said this 'yesterday'!" HE'S DOING THE BEST HE CAN, I THINK.... better than probably anyone else could...!!!

Tsukasa asking Nene-chan, "hey, are you alive?" to me, is very disordered. He's asking for some kind of grounding. He seems to be wondering "wait, what part of the timeline am I in? Am I in the right place? What is going on with Nene-chan right now?". When she responds that she's alive, he's pleased, like, "oh, good! then I'm in the right place!" … maybe because he was surprised by her presence (and soon, Amane's!) he got mixed-up.

When we think of how kaii process time, life/death, in an extremely intrinsically 'inhuman' way, I think Tsukasa is the ULTIMATE example of this. There could not be a being with a MORE disordered sense of value and events than a God which performed exchanges using both access to all of time, and human consent/desire. Seeing people sacrifice this or that arbitrarily and value life individually very differently, utterly disparate priorities, would deteriorate your concept of what the purpose of a life is. And of course, the 'order' of time would become meaningless.

I think of Tsukasa as, for all intents and purposes, similar to a person who falls out of time, displaces reality, and fundamentally struggles to parse reality and ground himself. Yet he also has perhaps the most 'complete' and 'workable' understanding of a system everyone else hardly grasps a shred of, being that it's a part of him ... ah, I'm rambling. There are consequences I think to being a human/God fusion being-thing, and one of those is that you don't get to even choose to have conventional relationships or romances... You're a confusing, disordered, mess, you can't act like a human being anymore, you don't think the same. Who would love you? Who would place trust in you? How does anyone build a dynamic with this? How does anyone get to know this? Don't you just seem completely fucking insane? Dangerous? Unpredictable?

Can Nene-chan sympathize with someone so chaotic, if she sees what they're going through....? If they've treated HER confusingly...? If they might forget where they are, forget what you said yesterday, suddenly almost hurt you, arbitrarily forget you're there, are you best off assuming "they don't really care about me"? Is that an accurate way of thinking?

Nene-chan is still trying....

#avvy's JSHK

[rowansparrow]

The Light Between Oceans: Chapter Six

**This series is rated 18+, Minors do NOT interact or you will be blocked**

Summary: Ju’Lah begins to navigate her complex relationship with Maul. Meanwhile, Fives concocts a plan to rescue her. 

Chapter Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of character death, grief, some descriptions of injury. 

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Male!OC, Fives x Female!OC

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Fives and Ju’Lah are the stars of this chapter, sorry Rex/Reader stans. They’ll be back next week! 

Regular updates come every Saturday.

Thank you very much to @djarrex and @witchklng for their various contributions to this work. I couldn’t have done it without either of you.

Sensitive content is tagged #Ro’s Protected Tag. Please block that tag if you are concerned about content.

Reblogs are so appreciated!

She sat in the co-pilot’s seat, her hands folded on her lap in front of her. She eyed her lightsaber, attached to the man’s waist. If she was quick about it, she could summon it to her grip, ignite it, and impale him against the pilot’s seat before they were even out of hyperspace.

Of course, there was the risk that he’d draw his own blade quickly, and block her attack. But she was small. She was quick. She could get around him, get behind him, she could -.

“You could at least pretend like you aren’t plotting to kill me.”

Ju’Lah jumped, whipping her head around to face him. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re a poor liar, child.”

“I gave you my word that I’d come with you willingly.” Ju’Lah answered, keeping her voice calm. “I have no intention of escaping.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll try.” Maul hummed. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

Ju’Lah bared her teeth at Maul in response. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little girl?”

“Don’t try it.” Maul warned, rolling his wrist lazily and pushing Ju’Lah back against her seat with the Force, choking her delicately. “I can just as easily turn this ship around and finish off the last of your little friends. It is by my mercy that they still draw breath.”

He released her, and Ju’Lah gasped, catching her breath again and pinning her ears back against her skull, snarling at Maul. “I will never stop fighting you.” She snapped. “You won’t break me.”

“I have no intention of doing so.” Maul responded, returning his hands to the center console. “Why break what has already been broken?”

Ju’Lah growled. “What do you want to do with me?”

“Train you. I’ve expressed this already.”

“Why’d you kidnap me?”

“I didn’t. You came willingly.”

“Because I had no other choice!” Ju’Lah shouted. “You were killing my family!”

He sighed heavily, tilting his head towards her. “You gravely misunderstand my intentions, child. We have a common enemy. I do not wish to harm you, or your friends. My only desire is to train you. Our combined strength will defeat the Sith, once and for all.”

“I don’t care about the Sith.” Ju’Lah bit back. “Who are they to me? It’s the Imperials who have been hunting me and my family.”

“You naïve little girl,” Maul hissed. “The Sith have their hand in everything. It is them who orchestrated this plot from the very beginning. Destroying the Sith is the only way to unravel the web of deception and destruction that has permeated the galaxy for years.”

He leaned back again. “I meant what I said. No harm will come to you, or to the ones you love. I am here to help you.”

“Help me?” Ju’Lah echoed. “You tried to kill my father!”

“Then he should have stayed out of my way!” Maul roared, the entire ship rocking as he spun on Ju’Lah. She shrunk back, startled, but flashed her teeth anyway as she bristled.

Maul turned his head back towards the viewport. “Secure yourself, we will be landing shortly.”

“Fuck you.”

Maul chuckled. “I was like you, once. You’re filled with anger, girl. I will teach you how to use it.”

“I don’t need your help!” Ju’Lah shouted back. “I don’t need anything from you!”

“You do.” Maul replied calmly. “There is much I can teach you.” He turned fully to face her again, reaching out with one hand and tilting her chin up. “Your father won’t always be there to protect you, little one. The next time a monster like me raids your village and slaughters your people, wouldn’t you like to kill him first?”

Ju’Lah jerked her chin away.

“My brother cut down every man, woman, and child in your village on Gyatta.” Maul replied. “But I showed the people of Dantooine mercy. Remember that.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Ju’Lah said, holding her head high.

Maul didn’t answer, instead landing the shuttle. “We’ve arrived.”

Ju’Lah risked a glance away from him to instead look out the window. It was dark, and yet the entire planet was drenched in a blood-red light, as though the planet itself had been gutted open.

“Where are we?”

“My home world.” Maul answered calmly. “I have prepared a place for us. Come.” He offered his hand to her, and Ju’Lah glared at him until he dropped it. “Very well. Follow me.”

Ju’Lah reluctantly exited the ship, trailing behind Maul as he led her to a small mountain, with a cave carved out of the base.

“This used to be the home of the Nightsisters.” Maul told her. “Though they were eradicated during the age of the Clone War.”

None of this meant anything to Ju’Lah, but she could sense the spirits lingering throughout the planet. She walked on hallowed ground, her fur standing upright in fear as she walked. Unconsciously, she drifted closer to Maul, staying close.

Maul led her into the cave, guiding her down stone steps into what looked to be a ritual chamber. A large stone slab sat in the center of the room, with several pillars around it. Green flame flickered in each of the pillars. Maul paid the room no mind, passing through it and instead leading Ju’Lah through a doorway and down winding catacombs.

Behind him, Ju’Lah counted her steps, trying to memorize each turn they took. Left. Right. Right. Left again. Straight. Left. Straight. Straight. Right.

“Here is your room.” Maul said, stopping in front of a sealed door. “I am across the hall.”

“You’re letting me have a room?” Ju’Lah asked, surprised.

“Did you expect I’d seal you away in the dungeons?”

“Kind of.” Ju’Lah mumbled, pushing the door open. The room looked ordinary, with a bed and a set of drawers, though there was a large tree painted onto the wall. For a moment, it reminded Ju’Lah of the canopies on Gyatta.

“Did you paint that?” She asked Maul.

“You are my apprentice. Not my prisoner.” Maul answered calmly. “I will prepare us a meal.”

“Why? So you can poison me with it?” Ju’Lah spat back.

“What advantage would killing you give me?” Maul sighed. “I suggest you rest. I will fetch you when it is time to eat. Then, we will meditate.”

Ju’Lah frowned, watching as the Zabrak slipped away, walking calmly down the hall with his hands folded behind his back.

She slammed the door shut, immediately scrambling around the room and looking for any alternative escape route. There were no vents, no ducts or tunnels for her to weasel through. The only way in or out of her room was through the main door.

“Shit.” She whispered, sinking down to the floor. She scrabbled around in the nightstand instead, finding sheets of what at first appeared to be flimsi, but then she realized they were finely cut animal hides, and a piece of charcoal. She grunted in disgust, but it was better than nothing. Quickly, she jotted down what she could remember about the way out of the catacombs, and shoved the animal hide under her mattress for safekeeping.

When she finished, she settled herself on the floor, taking a slow breath.

“All-Mother, hear me.” She whispered aloud. “Spirits of my ancestors, guide me.”

She closed her eyes, reaching out through the Force, trying to sense Gol’Chek.

Gol’Chek. Her buir. She’d watched Maul cut off his legs, throw him aside as though he were little more than a paper doll.

She flinched at the memory, instead refocusing on something else.

“Ad’ika.”

Ju’Lah smiled, hearing Gol’Chek’s voice again in her head. She knew this memory. She liked this memory.

“It… it means little one. Or sometimes child, depending on the context.” He said. “So, when combined with a name, it’s a term of endearment. So Lah’ika is… Little Ju’Lah.” He mumbled.

“I like it.” Ju’Lah whispered aloud, remembering her own words. “So, what would they call you, then, in your mother tongue?”

“Vod.” He answered immediately. “It’s what we called one another, my people.”

“What’s it mean?” Ju’Lah breathed.

“Ju’Lah.”

She gasped, her eyes opening abruptly. That wasn’t part of the memory. He hadn’t said her name. Someone was calling out to her.

Her heart began to race, and she closed her eyes, refocusing.

 “Brother. It means brother.”

“And what do the little ones call the older ones, then?” She asked, her heart pounding in her chest. Say my name again.

“You would be my buirkan.” Gol’Chek replied. “My responsibility.” Then, after a moment’s pause: “You are my buirkan, Lah’ika.”

“I like your language.” Ju’Lah replied hurriedly, raising her voice slightly. “Will you teach me more of it?”

“If I can remember it, yes.”

Ju’Lah grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut in focus. She was so close. She could feel someone else, someone watching her.

“JU’LAH!”

Ju’Lah gasped, her eyes flying open, and he was there.

“Buir?”

It was only for a moment, a brief moment where father and daughter could see one another, could hear one another.

“Ju’Lah -.”

Maul opened the door.

~

Fives stomped down the hallway, trying to backtrack to the ships. He got turned around in the winding tunnels of the mines and cursed under his breath.

His cheek was still sore from where Athena had struck him, and in truth, Fives couldn’t say he didn’t have it coming. He rubbed at the flesh for a moment, scoffing under his breath and shaking the feelings off. 

She’s trying to help you. She’s trying to be there for you. 

Fives rubbed the back of his neck, slowing down and glancing over his shoulder. Maybe he should apologize. 

“No.” He said aloud, shaking his head and storming back towards the ships. I don’t want your pity.

“You there!”

I know, I know!” Fives waved his hands in the air, not turning around to face the Mandalorian and instead continuing to walk down the long hallway. “I know I’m probably not supposed to be here, I’m just trying to get back to my ship.”

“Fives,” The Mandalorian called again, running in front of him and stopping him in his tracks. “That’s you, isn’t it? Are you the one they call Fives?” The Mandalorian sounded very young, and very out of breath.

“I am.” Fives began cautiously. “What’re you -.”

“It’s urgent. The warrior, the one without his legs, he’s asking for you. He’s refusing to speak to anyone but you.” The Mandalorian couldn’t be much older than a teenager. “Please, the medics asked me to find you. He won’t calm down. He says it’s about someone named Ju’Lah.”

“Take me to him.” Fives said at once.

He followed the boy down the hallway, winding through the maze of mine tunnels until they reached the medical bay. Fives was led in quickly, and as soon as the doors opened, he could hear Gol’Chek shouting.

“No! NO! Get off me!”

“Easy, hey! Hey, I’m here, I’m right here!” Fives called, pushing past the Mandalorian trying to sedate Gol’Chek and grabbing his hands instead, trying to calm him down. “Gol, it’s me, I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Fives.” Gol’Chek was drenched in sweat, his eyes wide and wild. “I saw her.”

“Who? Ju’Lah?”

“Yes. Yes, I saw her.” He swallowed roughly. “She’s – she’s in a room. A room with a tree in it. It was just for a moment, then he came back in and we got cut off, but – she’s alive, Fives, I saw her.”

“Where?” Fives asked. “How?”

“We have a bond.” Gol’Chek explained. “Through our Attunement, or the Force, whatever the kriff you want to call it.” He grabbed Fives’ arm tightly. “I saw her.”

“Where?” Fives asked again. “How do we find her?”

“I – I don’t know. I just saw the room she was in, I didn’t see much.” Gol’Chek said. “I can try again, but I – I can’t focus for long. I need my legs fixed.” He continued, his nails digging into Fives’ arm. “I need you to be my legs.”

“What?” Fives drew back slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t walk.” Gol’Chek said. “I can’t do anything until I can get prosthetics, and gods know how long it’ll take me to relearn how to walk with them.” He groaned quietly, leaning back and reaching for his legs, flexing his fingers as though he were scratching an itch. “Ju’Lah… she doesn’t have time to wait for me to get back on my feet. You have to go after her for me.”

He looked up at Fives, his eyes shining. “Please. I know you love her as much as I do. You have to go after her. You have to find her. She needs us, and I can’t save her. You can.”

“I – No, no I can’t.” Fives deflated, shaking his head. “Gol’Chek, I couldn’t protect her. I can’t protect anybody. Everyone I touch, everyone I love, they always – they die. I can’t be the one to lose her.”

“There isn’t anyone else.” Gol’Chek begged. “I don’t have legs, Rex has a baby to worry about, Athena’s got Kiran, and Quill -.” Gol’Chek grabbed him again. “You can take Quill with you. The two of you can go together. He’ll help you, it doesn’t have to be just you. You can even take my ship.”

He doesn’t know. “Quill’s dead.”

It was the first time Fives had said the words aloud, and he felt his stomach sink. His throat burned, and he swallowed roughly, repeating himself with some finality. “Quill’s dead.” 

Gol’Chek paused, finally releasing Fives and slumping back against the cot. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Fives shook his head, balling his hands into fists. “I can’t do this, Gol’Chek.” He said softly. “I can’t.”

“I… I understand.” Gol’Chek said quietly. He sounded so defeated, laying back against the cot. “The healers, they were talking about prosthetics. They don’t have much in the way of supplies, but Tech and Echo were in here earlier. They think… they think they can build me legs.” He whispered. “And once I have legs, I can find her. I’ll find her.”

Something clicked in Fives’ mind.

Gol’Chek reached out to Fives, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry about Quill.”

Fives was barely listening, distracted by his own thoughts. “Someone has to know where Maul is.”

“We’ll find them.” Gol’Chek whimpered, hissing between his teeth as the phantom pain in his legs increased. “Kriff, damn, fuck it all, I need legs! I can’t go after her without legs!”

“Easy, Gol’Chek, take it easy.” Fives soothed. “Listen, I think I have an idea, but you’ve got to trust me.”

Gol’Chek looked up at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but he nodded. “Are you going after Ju’Lah?”

“Yes.” Fives promised. “Yes. If my hunch is right, I think I know somebody who knows where Maul is.”

Fives eased Gol’Chek back against the cot. “You rest for now. Focus on getting better as quickly as you can. I’ll find her.” He squeezed Gol’Chek’s shoulders. “I swear on my life, I’ll find her. And once I do, I’ll need your help to go get her. So get better.”

Gol’Chek nodded, determined, and Fives turned quickly, racing out of the room and back down the hallway.

~

“Mama, why is Fives mad?”

“He isn’t mad, sweetheart.” Athena soothed, stroking her hand through Kiran’s hair. “He’s just… he’s very, very sad, and sometimes when someone is really sad, it comes out as mad.”

“Is he sad ‘cos of Quill?”

“Yeah, baby.” Athena murmured. “I think we’re all sad because of Quill.” She brushed some hair from his eyes. “How are you, Kiran? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” Kiran mumbled, looking down at his hands. “I miss home.”

“I know. So do I.” Athena smiled, tilting his chin up. “Remember when you were little, and I came and got you for the very first time?” She prompted gently. “We rode on that big ship together with Quill while we looked for someplace to make a home?”

“Yeah.” Kiran sniffed, nodding. “I ‘member.”

“That was back before we’d gotten your legs fixed, so you couldn’t walk very well on the temporary legs you had.” Athena explained. “You’d trip constantly, so Quill would just carry you around with him in his arms all day long.”

“He’d show me the ship.”

“That’s right.” Athena confirmed. “He’d show you all around the ship, he’d let you sit in his lap while he did repairs, he let you press the buttons on the control panel when we were in hyperspace…” She trailed off, feeling the tears welling up behind her eyes. “Quill loved you very much, Kiran.”

“I know.” Kiran said. “I love him, too.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Athena’s neck, hugging her close. “And I love you.”

Athena smiled, sniffling and hugging him back.

The door to their room flew open, and both of them jumped, Kiran instinctively crying out and clinging to Athena.

Fives was breathless, clearly having ran the whole way there.

“I thought you were sleeping on the ship?” Athena bit out, holding Kiran a little closer. Fives ignored her, shutting the door tightly and coming to sit on the edge of the bed across from her.

“What do you want?” Athena demanded.

Fives swallowed, pitching his voice low.

“I need you to contact Ahsoka Tano.”

~

Tag List: @wild-karrde​ @jesjestraverse​ @theroguesully​ @clonecyaree​ @book-of-baba-fett​ @starwarsmeninhelmets​ @ladykatakuri​ @djarrex​ @literallydontlook​ @bobafettuccini​ @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life​ @a-c-lee​ @chromia7567​ @embarrassedauthornerd​ @itsagrimm​ @gotomarvelgal​ @space-b33​ @moonstrider9904​ @writingbylee​ @witchklng​​

#ro writes #TLBO #The light between oceans

[thewolfisawake]

Alright so I did the prologues (debating one more) but for now, it's intro of the dead that have come back for this month of the haunted. In order...I hope.

Roksana Molchalina. She is the ancestor that is 'mentor' to Artemis. She was an excellent duelist and brawler. She died due to an opponent not abiding by rules of engagement. However as apart of the 'living blood' that's manifested in later Empyreans, she has come to lend her expertise to Artemis, who lacks much of it. Her relation with Artemis is akin to an older sister even if Artemis isn't quite certain on that one. She had chosen Artemis because she felt he needed someone in his corner. Someone that had no expectation of him and to let him be a boy.

Vasily Mechnikov. The man, the myth, the menace himself. He is the ancestor that's supposed to be mentoring Kesil. He is considered a butcher even by other Empyreans because of his brutality and having been considered 'mad' for much of his life. He died at the hands of wife that had become a therian. He and Kesil do not get along because Kesil views Vasily's interference as body snatching since the man doesn't want to ever give it back when he has been allowed out. So Kesil doesn't let him go willingly. Vasily chose Kesil because he has so much power that he lets go wasted and wants Kesil to live up to what he can do.

Jocasta Zerviade. She is Eriskyne's mother. A changeling that had traveled to Scotland in the pursuit of knowledge and got way more than she was bargaining for. She was murdered in her home but unbeknownst to her was that Eriskyne's father, Seòras, had orchestrated her death after her refusal of Eriskyne to be taken to the Seelie. She is where Eriskyne gained their scholarly approach to the world but she was never so intellectually minded that she abandoned the care that comes with connection.

Faolan. The Wolf of the Wastes. She is Balmoral's mother and Sceolan and Nathair's grandmother. A ban-sith that had been a rarity born to her settlement, she had the ambition that came with youth to make a change while upholding the tradition of foreseeing and warning of destruction that threatened the Unseelie. Her technical death is being struck down by a magic array in order to allow Balmoral to escape the Abyss. She had only known Balmoral up to the point of being a young child but could see possibilities of his future self.

Nathan Adler. Aspis' father and Jasper's childhood friend/lover. He and Jasper met when Jasper had snuck into his place in search of food as a children. They had always been close and it was following Jasper on an assignment to Makalani that he eventually decided to stay. Part of this reason was Noelani, the woman that'd later be his wife, and the other was the sense of community he came to love. Aspis had recalled his dad as being immensely laid-back, fitting the place he decided to come home. He is where Aspis developed his habit of taking pictures as he told Aspis that he took pictures of 'those he loves and things he likes.' He is where a lot of Aspis' looks come from. He died when Makalani had been overrun by supposedly infernal creatures.

Noelani Adler. Aspis' mother and Jasper's friend/lover. The last acting chief of Makalani, Noelani had her hands in much of the affairs of the island. She hadn't expected to fall in love with Nathan but she did. And due to the close bond with Jasper, she came to know him well too. She was the one that pushed for the relationship with Jasper and had thought the hurdles were falling with the block on their feelings being dealt with. This was not meant to be as tragedy had struck. Noelani died with the infernal infestation that took the island. Aspis was only eight when he had last seen his parents. He recalled his mother as being very loving but very tough. While she entertained his fancies, she was never keen on Aspis ever leaving the island even if she knew that his curiosity would eventually win out. But that never stopped her from trying as Aspis had seen with his sister, Keahi, whom had been butting heads with their mom about her desire to leave Makalani.

Ioane Kamisarizuki. Noelani's father and Aspis' grandfather. The former chief of Makalani, Ioane had been one more in tune with the supernatural goings on of the island although he himself was not very good at detecting them. Aspis adored his grandfather more than anyone else in his family and was the one person, as most would say, Aspis would do anything he asked. He loved listening to the old man's tales of storied history and that he had learned from hunters or visiting folks from other islands. He died during the infernal incident as he had chosen for Aspis, injured and unknown to him cursed, to be rescued from the island's destruction rather than himself.

#{Wanderlust of the Reposed} #so we finally have our players #we got vamps changelings fae and humans #it's a good mix #and probably some emotional rollercoaster for the muses #as a note: Kai is Aspis' birth name #Aspis is an alias he uses for work so often #he likely introduces himself as it #but obviously his fam would call him 'Kai.'

[blackjackkent]

Broken, battered, bloody and bruised, Caden returns to the pocket plane as Balthazar's body falls lifeless on the floor of the monastery. The solar is there again, hovering at the center of the room, watching him with that deadpan expression.

Caden looks at her with a sort of drained desperation. Everything he does simply seems to unravel the situation further. The idea of it being complete seems farther away than ever.

Another bright flash, another soul summoned into this pocket dimension - and this time, it's one that is absolutely not here willingly.

He stares at her, bewildered at her presence. This is no ghostly shade summoned to report its memories, but a living person - and an enemy at that. How is she here? What has the solar done to make this possible?

A living goddess. Is that what Melissan is trying to do? Among all these madmen vying to be a god by blood - is she hoping to seize the power by force?

Betrayals within betrayals...

The prophecies all speak of the destructive power of those with Bhaal's blood...but none of them accounted for the pure malice of this creature wearing a woman's face, who has orchestrated so much death in the pursuit of a power she has no right to.

The way she casually describes these acts of cold brutality is sickening. Caden already wanted to stop her, but now he wants to destroy her, to a degree that makes him frankly uncomfortable.

They would almost certainly fight here, if the solar didn't prevent it, and it's hard to tell what the upshot would have been, given the strange reality-twisting nature of her presence. But the solar does prevent it, and Caden is left twisting full of fury with nowhere to put it.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 2 #caden of candlekeep #arrrrrgh i'm so close to the end but i really need to crash #more tomorrow or wednesday hopefully to wrap things up :D

[ssaalexblake]

Gat in Fugitive of the Judoon had No idea that 13 didn’t know who she was and that they’d served in the same unit before, that they used to fight together in battles and watch each others’ backs, and she allows 13 to touch her and lets their minds connect and 13, imo, is Awful to Gat in fotj, she finds somebody who will be even more messed up by what happened to Gallifrey and shoves the vista of it into her head, she Shares. Do you recon Gat could smell the ashes from that?

I never really jelled with people saying what Nine did to Rose in their second episode was Good in context to 13′s internalising Her trauma over gallifrey’s destruction, because 9 was trying to share his trauma in a Bad way and it really did mess with Rose’s mind, and it was Entirely selfish of him because it messing with her head was the Point of the whole thing. So while 13′s coping mechanisms sucked, she was very much trying to Avoid hurting the fam and had at least learnt not to try and make the companions feel bad so commiserations can happen. Opening up about trauma is not the same as sharing it around, but 13 does not have the emotional intelligence to grasp this, lbr. 

But like, much like how 13 was (sometimes even visibly) biting her tongue and gritting her teeth to avoid being angry with the fam in s12 since spyfall part 2, she was taking it out on any other available victim to get the aggression out without harming them... Much like how she’d run off in s11 and act all scary to bad guys, except with Much less self control and in front of the fam. She did it to Kane in Orphan 55 (she was treating her terribly Before she found out she was terrible), she is Very scary to the skithra queen in tesla’s night of terror. And imo this is what happens in fugitive of the judoon.

She has Never until this point spoken out loud what has happened to Gallifrey. It’s hard to make things real by saying them. The first time she says it, shows it, she is deliberately trying to disturb Gat, a hyper nationalist and lover of the great empire who conveniently appeared in front of her to torment. Somebody who’d be as disturbed, if not more, than 13 herself. She never, ever, lets the fam know about any of this, and I do believe that part of this Was her trying to protect them from it, having grown from 9. She does not care about protecting Gat, whom she immediately disliked and decided to hurt. 

And Gat goes through all of this, probably not knowing that 13 doesn’t know who she is! it is possible she’s gathered there was memory erasure, but unlikely, so... Gat thinks this is just the doctor being overwhelmingly cruel to her. And Ruth!Doc wasn’t a fan, but she did not show nearly the level of derision towards Gat that 13 did and she had more of a reason to show it. After 13 shows this to Gat, even the other version of the doctor present looks disturbed that she did it. She would not have gone that far! She literally orchestrates Gat’s death and she wouldn’t have done that. 

13 was at rock bottom in fotj. Gat bore the brunt. And it’s so much more interesting that way if you believe (which i do) that the other two members of the division squad in Once, Upon Time are Lee and Gat. What horrors befell them all. 

#dw shit #yes i have lots of gat feelings shut up she's Awful and Terrible and i think she's lots of fun #tfw ur a conscript in a war you hate in an organisation founded upon your abuse and get paired #up with hyper nationalist cheerleader of the month who is ecstatic to be here #and yes i am just assuming it's canon bc like... it makes perfect sense #makes it all better #and is so much more fun and neat that way #dw meta

[aimaiverity]

@chaosgale

Realistically, he’d been a mess.

Days upon days he was left to wander amidst an unhealthy obsession over the realism of the situation. It’d never dawned prior to his time alone. It never clicked just how much a void was left in the utter silence left without a voice. God, he missed it. Its sweet melodious tune that like clockwork always appeared as he was at his lows. Its words were etched in gold and hinted in delight. It was something he vaguely spoke of to Rose, the only person he felt could listen to his stewing insanity. She always pushed him, telling him it was alright and yet he found himself staggering on the words. 

It took time and patience, but reality did slowly dawn.

Chaos, he’d thought himself mad. The idea of slamming his skull into trees to silence the want was kept constant. Its persistence always lingered after he would talk himself out of self-destructive habits. Only because said habits would filter his tone into something of worry and concern. And while that tune was soft on the ears, it was the orchestrated melody of pure admiration that his regular tone of voice created. It didn’t gift that warm embrace his heroic tune did. So he kept the bad to a minimum. Months prior he wanted to go tell him. Tell him about how his heart that beat in raw stoicism was ticking at a new beat. 

Because he was in love.

The first dawning moment of the word all but made him gag. Love? Him? Couldn’t be farther from the truth. But each time they met; each gaze upon softly lit jades, each embrace pulled him further into love’s tender hold. He’d miss him when he was gone. Almost longing for him. It was all so... new. Odd if you must. He’d never experienced such a feat. It was like a battle with himself and he was losing gravely. He wanted nothing more than to tell him everything that was filling his chest. He wanted to express every notion that gnaws at his heart.

But something stopped him each time.

And that was the truth. A truth that lay dormant inside him for years. Something he never fully expressed in words to the other. Something that was always tiptoed around and erased and rewritten many times. He never told him the full truth of his past. He always told him, and the others who asked, that he killed his world. His ears wilted as the words started to return, and the pain of guilt soon followed. People always said it was Mephiles, that he couldn’t be guilty. But he was, as it was his actions of turning his back that led to their deaths. Had he never turned back, had he never walked off... they’d probably have survived and he’d probably be a lot smoother in his transition from anti-love to full-hearted mush nauseous at the simplicity of it all.

Take it slowly, right? That’s what Rose kept yelling at him to do.

His first instinct was to take himself to Spirit’s world. Once there it was a matter of tracking the speedster down, which wouldn’t be considered so difficult if the hedgehog wasn’t constantly on the move. A sigh found itself escaping his lips as he trotted up and down the planet, searching in vain. His search led him nowhere and he pondered giving up on this feeble thought. As he struggled with his own inner voice, he threw his hands over his eyes and paced in complete social isolation.

“Why, why, why do I do this to myself? Why do I cause myself nothing other than complete mental stress?”

#☓ ― ❝нe ѕpeaĸѕ wιтнoυт a voιce.❞ ‹ In character ✯ › #☓ ― ❝ ι'd dιe ғor yoυ тo υnderѕтand мy regreтѕ are carved тo мy ѕĸιn❞ ‹ Fight Plot ✯ › #chaosgale #im c r y

[feith-rikya]

All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!

Danya Vetranov & anselm Godwyn & Rudolf the Vile/Danseldolf:

Unfortunately, this is not a canon ship, although it would solve many of the problems within the game. It would be dishonest to deny that Danya ever thought about it. It's a bit of a complicated situation and she's a bit kinky.

Initially, there was Anselm, a charming True Brujah, rich and attractive but also ancient and deeply connected to the Camarilla. This led him down a path opposite to the love of his life, who was ready to fight him to protect his friends. Danya made many attempts to convince him to change his mind, but he downplayed her concerns, considering them typical of a young vampire who didn't know the world. Ultimately, they both fell victim to the demon Ekron, who entwined their story with lies and deceit, leading the coterie to fight against and kill Anselm.

At the moment when Anselm seemed to have lost his mind, Rudolf entered the scene, a grumpy, meticulous and old-fashioned vampire who seemed to care neither for himself nor for others. Rudolf was drawn to Danya's light like a wounded moth and offered himself completely to her, despite her uncertainties and her desire to somehow bring Anselm back to her. (I don't rule out the possibility of a love potion, perhaps prepared by Lilith herself.)

But in the end, Anselm died and Danya accepted the love of the former soldier, starting a stable relationship destined to last. However, Anselm's story was not over yet. Inexplicably, his ghost reappeared, remaining as linked to Danya as he was in life, but in a more tangible form. Initially, coexistence was impossible, with grudges on both sides that threatened to lead to their ruin. However, during a confrontation, the truth emerged. Most of the atrocities attributed to Anselm, such as the extermination of the Ventrue clan, the destruction of the Circus, and the constant harassment, had been orchestrated by the demon Ekron, who had assumed the identity of the Archon. The ravnos had been tricked into killing the man she loved, while the powerful and ancient True Brujah had lost her identity under her nose and threatened Danya and her friends, driving away her one true love .

So, Anselm decided to teach Danya her power, her Temporis, giving her the tools to defeat the demon that had ruined everyone's lives. Rudolf, although not enthusiastic about the time they spent together, accepted the situation for the greater good, knowing that Anselm could not do much in the state he was in.

Anselm became a master to Danya, almost a sire to her, helping her with the discipline and management of the government, ultimately easing her resentment towards her. Feeling deeply guilty for her death, Danya tried in every way to make Anselm's life more pleasant, even doing things that such an ancient vampire considered unusual.

On the other hand, Rudolf still held all of her resentment for her, remembering every insult, every slight, and every blow she had received from the True Brujah during their last fight. The two men managed to reach an agreement only when they were forced to collaborate, while the rest of the time they spent with subtle insults and barbs that Danya had to constantly appease.

There's still a lot to tell about them, but I'll stop here for now. You are welcome to ask additional questions if you are curious.

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #vampire #ravnos #brujah #lasombra #camarilla #vtm npc #vtm oc #vtm art