#tales from the pit

[markrosewater]

“Tales from the Pit” #2720

#Magic The Gathering #MTG #Tales from the Pit #WotCStaff

[pitviperofdoom]

Jongerry prompt: reunion after one thought the other was dead?

Tim wasn’t sure what to make of the guy. 

They met in an awkward almost-collision at the institute’s front door, Tim rearing back in surprise, the other flinching away from the sudden movement. He was lanky, and probably would’ve been tall without the permanent slouch to his spine. His hair was a dull shade of mousy brown, and looked like it had been hacked short with kitchen scissors. His clothes hung loose and ill-fitting on his body. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

Tim took a wild guess. “Here to make a statement?” he asked.

The man grimaced. “Maybe later.”

“I’d make it quick if I were you,” Tim chuckled, holding the door open for him. “Jon was in a good mood before lunch, and those don’t tend to last long.”

Halfway through the door, the man froze. “Who?”

“Jon Sims, the head archivist,” Tim said carefully. “He’s the one who takes statements, so…”

“Oh.” The man’s face was blank. “He’s… that’s… down in the archives, yeah?”

“I can show you how to get there?” Tim offered. Whatever statement this guy had, it must have been rough.

"Sure, thanks," the guy said distractedly.

In spite of the accepted offer, the guy quickly pulled ahead, and Tim found himself trailing behind as the scruffy stranger led the way to the basement stairs. Before long, he was jogging to keep up.

That was why, when the man suddenly stopped at the top of the steps, Tim crashed straight into his back.

"Hey, what did you—"

A hand closed tight around his arm, stopping him from shouldering past. The man had gone still, staring intently down the steps. There was nothing to see except the bottom of the stairs, and the mouth of the hallway that led to the archives.

"Smell that?"

Confused, Tim sniffed. At first all he could smell was dust and old paper, but then, beneath it, as if carried on a draft, came a familiar musty, wet stench.

"Damn worms," He muttered. "We've had a bit of an infestation—dunno if you saw them on your way in—"

"I'm gonna need you to shut up and go back outside," the man interrupted. "Maybe pull the fire alarm on your way out, get everyone out of the building."

"Excuse me?" Tim demanded. The man was already releasing him and moving on, so Tim grabbed him before he could make it two more steps. "Hey, what the hell are you—"

"Listen." The man turned, deftly winching his arm out of Tim’s grip. "I have had a very long day. I was hoping it would end with a long shower, a change of clothes, and a minimum twenty-minute hug from someone who means the world to me. Instead, there's something very nasty down there that I need to deal with. Kindly piss off."

Tim's blood ran cold. "You—you mean Prentiss is—" He stopped. He had a million questions, but maybe just this once they could wait. "My friends are down there."

The man spared a moment to look, if possible, even more exhausted than before. "Great. Fine. Stay close and don't fuck me."

***

Tim's head swam with the gas. His body felt strangely detached as he heaved the fire extinguisher against the wall, again and again until he felt the plasterboard give way. His strange companion drew back as if preparing to do a run-up, and Tim hurled himself into the space and finally broke through.

His first view into the dimly lit storage room was of three familiar faces with varying levels of shock, alarm, and growing relief.

"Hey, guys!" Tim gasped out.

Sasha was already struggling to her feet; Tim was about to go in for a hug when he was roughly shoved out of the way. A gas canister landed on the floor with a heavy thunk as the stranger lurched his way past Tim.

A strangled cry broke the shocked silence, and it took Tim a moment to realize it had come from Jon. His friend was sitting on the floor, propped up against a stack of boxes, one leg wrapped in bloodstained bandages. He stared at the man in blank, silent shock.

The stranger moved as if to lunge, but stopped when Jon held up a shaking hand.

"Wait." Jon's voice broke. He was fumbling something out of his pocket, wincing when the movement jarred his leg. "Wait, just—" 

"Mmhm," the man said in a strangled voice, fidgeting but staying where he was.

Jon finally wrestled his wallet out of his pocket, ripped it open, and pulled out a photo—a Polaroid? His eyes flickered between it and the man standing over him.

The wallet fell to the floor. With a sudden burst of energy, Jon heaved himself upright, and managed to stand for all of a second before his leg gave out and sent him pitching forward. The man caught him before he could fall and yanked him into a hug.

"What the fuck, Gerry," Jon choked out.

Sasha was eyeballing Tim frantically, but all Tim could do was shrug back.

"I'm sorry," the man—Gerry—mumbled, face buried in the side of Jon's neck.

"I thought—she told me that you—" Jon stared blankly over Gerry's shoulder, looking at the others without seeing them. "Where have you been?"

"Couple of hunters picked up our trail in the woods in Pennsylvania," Gerry answered. "We split up. They caught me. Didn't kill me, just… didn't let me leave either. Sorry I didn't contact you right when I escaped, I just—I was afraid I'd get your hopes up and get killed on the way home."

In the silence that followed, Martin let out a strangled "Um."

Jon jumped, and his teary eyes focused back on them. "Oh. Right. Er." He tried to pull back, without much success since Gerry was the only thing keeping him upright. "E-everyone, this is Gerry."

"You just finished telling us he was dead," said Sasha.

"Yes, well." Jon managed a watery smile. "I've been wrong before."

"We had a moment about it."

"Right." Without warning, Gerry reached down and swung Jon up into his arms in a bridal carry, ignoring Jon's squawk of protest. "Let's go. We can talk later—and we will be talking later—"

"Gerry!"

"Seriously, I turn around and you're fighting the Corruption with fire extinguishers, and you're the bloody Archivist."

"Put me down, you absolute—"

"No, you've got holes in your leg." Gerry shouldered past Tim and stepped back into the tunnel, carrying a disgruntled Jon with little apparent effort. "You three coming, or what?"

#the magnus archives #jongerry #gerard keay #tim stoker #jonathan sims #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[thatsaladgal]

My cover redraws of Into the Pit and Somniphobia that I forgot to post here lol

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #digital art #fnaf books #fnaf novels #fnaf art #springtrap #spring bonnie #into the pit #tales from the pizzaplex #tftpp #fazbear frights #moondrop #fnaf moodrop #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendant

[totallylulalutiacreations]

Welp. I did it. I'll probably draw full bodies for them both soon. The Mafia AU has me in a chokehooold thanks to seeing some rather sexy mafia skellies on my feed.

#undertale #undertale au #sans undertale #ravenna art stuff #mafiatale #boss sans #don sans #mafia sans #restauratuer Raven #I actually love this hair style for Raven. #I also love mafia/dark romances anyway #so it wasn't gonna take much for me to fall into the pit. #I feel like Sans as a don would be a bit like Sonny from a Bronx Tale. #but much more lax toward civilians #lula art

[n3wsage]

the ggy fans be crazy

like, you know Oswald right? first novella protagonist that’s book will be turning 5 YEARS OLD this december. also will actually get a game at some point.

and then you have Tony Becker, who’s only existed for a year and a good majority of that fandom doesn’t actually know he exists.

TONY HAS MORE THAN DOUBLE THE FICS OSWALD HAS ON AO3.

#this ain’t a complaint. btw. #it’s just funny #ggy #into the pit #tony becker #oswald fnaf #tony fnaf #tftpp #tales from the pizzaplex #fazbear frights #fnaf

[gffa]

LMAO LEIA DOESN’T EVEN TRY TO HELP HIM SHE JUST MAKES IT WORSE BECAUSE WATCHING HAN FLAP AROUND LIKE A WET SPACE HEN IS THE LITTLE BIT OF LIGHT IN HER DAY I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR

#leia organa #han solo #comics #reading comics: tales from the rancor's pit #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important

[shebrakesforrainbows]

I've mentioned them in tandem before, but I think an Oswald and Tony dynamic has a lot of untapped potential.

Tony, whose father went to prison, and Oswald, whose father was replaced by a murderous man in a yellow rabbit costume. Tony, who believes he's too good for his best friend, and Oswald, who lost his best friend due to a factory closure. Tony, who is obsessed with finding answers to the point of committing petty crimes (theft, breaking and entering, hacking), and Oswald, who generally rolls with the punches and is generally more nonconfrontational. Tony, who finds a friend in Greg/ory over his childhood friend Ellis, and Oswald, who ends up befriending Gabrielle after Ben leaves town.

Both have a tie to the motif of evil rabbits and would provide an interesting foil to one another, granted their stories ever linked.

#i think i wanna call them the snare duo #since snares are what are used to capture rabbits #and both into the pit + ggy are about trying to catch a rabbit-themed character #well mostly #YOU GUYS SEE MY VISION RIGHT??? PLEASEEEEEE #fnaf oswald #tony becker #five nights at freddy’s #tales from the pizzaplex #fazbear frights #jackie's information corner

[mcyt-rarepair-tournament]

Hey guys I know The Pit anniversary was like 5 days ago but would you like to see me try to recreate the colosseum

#Tftsmp #tales from the smp #totsmp #tales of the smp #the pit

[goofynoodles]

Nine weeks till the flat mode for help wanted 2 comes out who’s exited

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #help wanted fnaf #security breach #fazbear frights #into the pit #help wanted 2 #princess quest #tales from the pizzaplex #tiger rock #glitchtrap #the mimic fnaf #fnaf vanessa #vanny

[secretmellowblog]

#a tale of two cities #Les mis #pitting two girlbosses against each other #I really DONT know who would win this #I mean #Enjolras is Justice and the dawn and etc etc #but Madame Defarge is the wind and fire! #enjolras is justice but Madame defarge is Vengeance #and Enjolras DOES come from a wealthy family so you KNOw she’d want him dead #since she wants to kill Every Aristocrat and their descendants #unless he was supernaturally good at convincing her otherwise #(while she’s in the middle of trying to stab him) #it’s really a toss up. #but if they got along they could be unstoppable #ALSO #she could teach him that women CAN be very useful dangerous allies in a rebellion XD #XD #I would say ‘enemies to lovers 2K words’ but they are both pretty homosexual #enjolras #Madame defarge

[markrosewater]

“Tales from the Pit” #2680

#Magic The Gathering #MTG #Tales from the Pit #WotCStaff

[pitviperofdoom]

PITS JONGERRYS LETS GO

Uhhh uMMMMMM URBAN FANTASY JONGERRYS

Things had escalated. With Gerard Keay involved, that meant something inevitably wound up on fire.

The initial blast took out two of Jon’s attackers and threw the rest into confusion. He was already running the second he was free, reaching out blindly until Gerard found his wrist. Without a word, his bodyguard shoved him to the front and sent another fireball into the cultists behind them. The flames, as always when they came from Gerard, burned hot and spread fast. The resulting confusion left their pursuers in disarray, but the spread of the flames cut off their exits as thoroughly as the cultists’ pursuit.

In the end, their only recourse was to flee deeper into the Rayner compound, away from the screams and shouts of their would-be captors.

Jon kept his mouth shut, breathing deeply and evenly as Gerard hurried him along. He was getting used to running, he thought wryly. Less than a year ago he would’ve been gasping and staggering after the first three hallways, but now his breath came easily, and he barely registered the burn in his legs until they finally came to a halt.

A spacious storage closet served as a temporary refuge; the closet itself was dark and unlit, but a small window at Gerard’s eye level provided him with a vantage point. Jon leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

“Lost them for now,” Gerard murmured. “Won’t matter much if we can’t get out of here.”

“Mm.” Jon let out a long, slow breath. “I think it’s safe to say that relations between Elias and the People’s Church have thoroughly broken down.”

“Long time coming, if you ask me. Mum always says Rayner’s lot don’t want anything less than total dominion. So alliances don’t tend to—”

Abruptly he went still and silent, ducking away from the window. Footsteps rushed past outside; a shadow fell over the dim beam of light that leaked through. Jon didn’t dare move. Eventually, after a few heart-pounding seconds, the figure outside moved on and joined the rest of the cultists searching the building.

The silence lasted nearly two full minutes before Jon built up the nerve to speak again. “Gerard?”

A soft sigh emanated from the darkness. “Thought I told you to call me Gerry.”

“I… haven’t forgotten,” Jon replied. “Gerry, then.”

The name felt uncomfortable on his tongue, even with permission. It held meaning, he knew. Gerard—Gerry had thrown it out in an off-hand manner, but Jon didn’t need to be a seer to sense the weight in that request. It wasn’t just a preference; it was an offer of trust, a wall coming down, a privilege that Jon had somehow earned, entirely without meaning to, without offering anything in return.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said.

Gerry’s face hovered into the light again, casting sharp shadows over his features. “Not quite good enough.”

“What?”

With a sigh, Gerry let his eyes slide shut. “There’s too many of them. If we make a break for it, they’ll run us down, overwhelm us with sheer numbers.” His eyes opened, focusing on Jon. “You’re fast. A lot faster than you used to be, at least. All you need to get away is a diversion.”

“I don’t like where this is headed—”

“I’ll be fine,” Gerry said calmly, with a roll of his eyes. “And most importantly, you’ll be fine. You’ve got the easy bit. All you have to do is run fast until you’re out. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He reached for the door handle. Jon got there first.

***

Jon’s hand closed around his wrist, tight enough to make his fingers tingle. Gerry jerked back with a surprised hiss, but Jon refused to let go.

“Gerry, stop,” he hissed. “It won’t work.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” It was getting a little harder to keep his voice steady. Sure, his chances were slim, but that was nothing new. Slim chances were his baseline.

“No, listen to me,” Jon gritted out, yanking him away from the door. “It won’t work. There are too many of them and they’re spread out through the building. No matter where, when, or how you try to make a stand, I won’t even make it outside.”

Conviction rang in every word, bringing Gerry up short. He looked back; in the dim light through the door’s small window, he could see the set of Jon’s face.

“Trust me,” Jon pleaded. “I know.”

Gerry’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know? I didn’t see you swooning over a vision.”

“Think of something else,” Jon told him.

“Jon—”

“The longer we take to decide, the more everything shifts,” Jon snapped. “Think of something else.”

“Fine!” Gerry thought quickly. “It’s a straight shot to the east entrance from here—”

“Won’t work,” Jon cut him off. The light from the hallway struck his eyes, setting them aglow. His pupils, no longer light-absorbing black, flashed like a cat’s in the dark. “It’s too narrow—no escape routes. It’ll funnel us straight to them. Try again.”

“South, then. It leads to the warehouse—there’s plenty of places to hide.”

“The mezzanine’s already packed with armed cultists,” said Jon. “It’d be like running into a firing squad.”

“If we go further down—”

“No way out, and… there’s something down here.” Jon squinted and grimaced, free hand flying to his forehead as if in sudden pain. “I can’t—I can’t quite get the shape of it.”

“Then… up…?”

Jon blinked. “Keep going.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, then what?”

Gerry thought for a moment. “Head to the roof, take the fire escape down.”

“Fire escapes aren’t maintained, they won’t hold both of us,” said Jon. “Try again.”

“Not the roof, then. Out one of the windows. I can climb and carry you.”

“You—” Jon blinked, his strange eyes widening. “Huh. So you can.”

“Are we good?” Gerry asked.

“Wait.” Jon’s eyes flickered again, before he squeezed them shut and came back into himself. “Christ. Car park on the west side of the building. There’s a blue sedan with keys on the center console.”

“Okay.” With one last look out into the hallway, Gerry reached for the door handle. There would be time for questions later, and Gerry had many. “Get ready to run.”

***

“Want to tell me what that was about, then?”

Jon’s hands barely shook. It was a bold move, starting an interrogation when Jon was the one applying gauze to a bullet graze Gerry couldn’t reach himself. “Depends on what you want to talk about—”

“Don’t.” Gerry’s voice brooked no argument, barely stuttering even as Jon pressed a disinfectant-soaked pad to the gash over his shoulder blade.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jon insisted. “I’m a seer. You knew that when Elias brought you on. Why are you so disconcerted over watching me see the future?”

“Because you’ve been holding out on me, Sims,” Gerry said mildly. “Holding out on him too, seems like. Does Elias know you can do that? Just peek into the future of your own accord, instead of waiting for it to creep up and pounce?”

Jon sighed.

He didn’t say anything after sighing, but he did continue to patch up Gerry’s wounds. Gerry sat patiently, holding still even as Jon’s ministrations stung his torn and scorched skin. He could be patient. Once Jon was done, he wouldn’t have an excuse to hide behind anymore.

“I’m not stupid,” Jon said. “Or naive, or sheltered. I don’t know why you thought I was when we first met.”

“You’re not my first bodyguarding gig,” Gerry told him. “In my experience, anybody who gets as petulant about being protected as you were is usually naive and a bit stupid. And after that stunt you pulled with Jude Perry, you can forgive me for coming to a reasonable conclusion.”

“That wasn’t stupidity or naivete,” Jon said primly. “That was recklessness. Learn the difference.”

“Jon.”

“I just mean—I know how people see me,” Jon went on. “What they usually want from me. It happened back when I was a kid, before my grandmother stopped letting me talk about it. Everyone wants to know something about the future, even if they think they don’t. I’m a useful tool for some, a deepest wish for others. I’ve been hiding what I am since I was a child. And when Elias identified what I was in spite of my best efforts… I thought it best to keep hiding what little I could.”

“Like having control over your own power.” Gerry’s eyes narrowed. “But you work for him. Being a seer is literally what he pays you for.”

“But I don’t know why.” Jon finished fussing over his wounds and stood back. “He pays me a wage plus a bonus for every vision I report to him, but I don’t know what he’s getting out of any of it. He’s looking for something—I know he is. I just don’t know what.”

“If you don’t know what he wants from you, but you don’t trust him enough to ask, then why stay at all?” Gerry asked. “I’ve seen your paycheck, and it’s not that good. Why do you still work for him?”

Jon moved to the sink, where he washed his hands with the methodical care of a surgeon about to walk into an operating theater. Gerry was halfway through putting his shirt back on when Jon finally replied.

“Because I haven’t found a path to quitting that doesn’t end with Elias killing me.”

Gerry froze, his shirt still rucked up over his chest.

“I’d been working for him for about… six months? When I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t comfortable.” Jon returned to the kitchen table and sank back into the chair beside Gerry. “I didn’t think much of peeking ahead, so to speak. Elias just struck me as the sort of boss who would take a resignation personally, and I wanted to know what I’d have to deal with.” He took a deep breath. “Turns out, what I’d have to deal with was Elias coming into my home and beating me to death in a staged burglary gone wrong.”

Gerry gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

“I-I went through as many possible exits as I could think of,” Jon went on. “Moving wouldn’t help. Neither would changing my number, ghosting him, stringing him along to keep him from realizing I was quitting—nothing. If I try to quit, he’ll kill me. And I don’t know why.”

He stopped, steadying himself. “All I can do is just—linger. Be as useless as possible. Try to figure out what he wants from me. I-I keep checking, every now and then. Cycling through possible resignation methods. I’m—” HIs voice caught. “I’m quite sick of watching myself die, as you can imagine.”

“Can’t you use your sight to figure out what he wants?” Gerry asked.

“No, it’s—it’s not that simple, it’s—a question like that is too vague.” Jon paused, looking thoughtful. “Did your mother ever teach you about probability?”

Gerry gave him exactly the look that question deserved.

“Right, didn’t think so. Here—here’s an incredibly simplified demonstration.” Jon reached across the table and snagged a legal pad. “Right, so—imagine you’re trying to pick an outfit for the day. And you have… two pairs of trousers, three shirts, and four pairs of socks. So you start with picking the trousers.” Turning the pad sideways, he started on the left and drew a sideways V, the two branches spread wide, nearly spanning the width of the page. “These two points are your two choices of trousers. From there, you pick a shirt. Both choices of trousers can then go with three possible shirts, making six outcomes in all.” From the end of both branches, he drew three more branching lines. “And from there, you choose socks—so each of these six shirt-trouser combinations have four further possibilities for socks.” He continued drawing until the diagram resembled a sideways skeletal tree with twenty-four branches at the end. “And you can continue this ad nauseum—you’ve got three possible pairs of shoes, five possible hats, two possible pairs of gloves, and so on and so forth.” Before long, the entire page was filled with simplistic tree branches, uneven and crowding each other on the page. “Following me so far?”

“Yes?” Gerry said dubiously.

“This is, once again, an incredibly simplified version of what the future is like,” Jon explained. “It’s not a straight path. There are countless possible outcomes for every single—well. Everything. You make different choices to go down certain paths, and the choices available to you depend on random chance and the choices of the people around you, who are also living in their own tangled probability trees.” He tapped the scribbly mess on the page with his pencil. “When I use my sight of my own accord, that is what I see.”

Gerry stared down at it. “Huh.”

“The trick I pulled in the Rayner compound was… simpler than it could have been,” Jon went on. “It’s easiest to see what’s straight ahead, because that puts me back here—” he tapped at the single point on the left side of the page, from which the rest of the branches originated. “Because I can focus on myself, and my own choices, and the number of possible outcomes are slightly more manageable. The present and immediate future are always the easiest to deal with, because whenever I choose a particular branch, the rest of them… wither away, so to speak, and all the tangled might-have-beens that grew from them disappear. It frees up my attention.”

“So it’s difficult to figure out what Elias wants from you because… you don’t know how to find the right branch?”

Jon nodded. “I don’t know how to find the path that leads to him telling me.”

“Do you know what happens if you tell him the truth about your abilities?”

“I looked, once,” Jon replied. “Not for very long. None of the outcomes I could find involved him letting me outside ever again.”

“Fuck,” Gerry breathed out. “You realize you’re taking a huge risk by telling me, right? For all you know, I could take this straight to Bouchard.”

Jon’s eyes flickered again. “I’ve yet to find a branch where you do.” Gerry snorted. “And besides that…”

His scarred hand came to rest over Gerry’s. By some miracle, Gerry managed not to jump.

“We’re in this together,” Jon said. “We’re both stuck, and I’m relying on you just to keep breathing. You’ve been—good. To me. So far. You’re no friend of Elias, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not,” Gerry said firmly.

“Maybe it is a risk,” said Jon. “But I’m just—tired. I’m trapped either way, and the closest I have to company I trust are the infinite possible future versions of myself, who I can only observe and learn from. To tell you the truth, I’ve been getting a bit lonely.”

“Bit sad, that.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them pulling away from the other’s touch. Gerry stared at the hand over his own through half-lidded eyes, wondering what would happen if he turned his over and held Jon’s properly. For a split second he wished he could peek ahead.

“Hey Jon?”

“Yes?”

“What happens if—” He faltered for a moment. “What happens if I’m with you when you try to leave?”

“Hm.” Jon’s eyes flickered for a moment.

Without warning, they flew open wide.

“Jon?” Gerry asked nervously.

“I…” Jon’s throat bobbed. “Sorry, that—that just opened up an entire dimension of branches that I didn’t even—” His eyes flicked from side to side, as if the entire tree of fate was sprouting and growing before him, and he could only take in a few branches at a time.

“Talk to me,” said Gerry.

“There are—a lot more answers to that question than I realized,” Jon said. “Still a lot of ways to die, but—not as immediate. There are more branches ahead, I can’t quite…” He seemed to catch his breath. “I have to think about this. But…” The strange light in his eyes went out, and he turned to look at the Gerry of here and now. “Would you do that? Are you sure?”

Gerry took Jon’s hand and squeezed. The outcome, it turned out, was Jon’s wide eyes locking on his face, and the faintest hint of a blush creeping over Jon’s skin.

“Yes.” He wondered how many paths vanished when he made his choice.

#jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #the magnus archives #tma fic #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[chelseahotel2004]

#yeah im pitting two bad bitches against each other. FIGHT #tales from the underhill #🍎

[randomnameless]

That is racist of Dheginsea. Othering the children who aren’t responsible for their parents choices and demonizing them so they have no place to go, and so those children end up with resentment to the Laguz for the way they’re othered and treat. Not to mention it wouldn’t stop Laguz from willingly being with a Beorc despite the consequences, which further leads to both sides hating the other. Of course the narrative of how both sides wrote history to say they alone are descended from the Zunanma rather than admit both are closely related sub species itself furthers the othering as well, as it means there’s no reason to view the other species as deserving to exist when they’re the Goddess chosen people.

I think Dheginsea at least meant well, but he never truly considered the idea that his actions to preserve his species at the cost of a new species(as that’s what the Branded are) caused the same problems he feared for an even smaller minority.

No pbs anon!

That's why I really really really hate the Tellius situation, it's a "divide by 0" equation where no matter what, some people will be screwed at the end.

And that's the issue!

Of course protecting a minority from being persecuted is an obvious step on a path to protect everyone - but it's the ultimate railroad dilemna where you have to choose who is going to be rolled over.

Sadly I've tried to find the chapter from which the Misaha quotes were ripped off on SF but it's not from the endgame?

It's those lines :

"Misaha: All of the apostles have borne this brand. It is our greatest secret. The senators must never know. Because of this brand, I thought that I had been born of some great sin. It plagued me always. Guilt tore at me every day as I hid my mark from my people, deceiving them constantly about my true nature. Lehran: Oh, child...how can I apologize to you? Misaha: And yet, now that I’ve met you, I understand. There is no shame in my heritage. None at all. I will not live in hiding. I will reveal to the world that I am one of the Branded. They must see there is no shame in who I am."

Misaha thinks she was born from a "great" sin because of her brand, most likely hearing the stories of Deghinsea about brandeds being "parentless" children and "sins against the goddess".

But why is Lehran apologising here?

Is he apologising because he participated in that lie, or more twisted- Lehran apologises because if Misaha has a brand and cannot pass as a beorc in Begnion, it's because of "him" for not being a beorc? Is Lehran actually apologising for being born a laguz?? For befriending Altina and getting their first kid?

Granted, when Lehran has his breakdown because of chaotic energies before making the decision to erase both Laguz and Beorcs, it goes like this :

Dheginsea: “You, who have lost your birthright?”

Misaha: “And yet, now that I’ve met you, I understand. There is no shame in my heritage. None at all.”

Ashera: “In deference to you, I will place my faith in your kind one last time.”

Altina: “You… are the gentlest soul of them all, my sweet Lehran…”

Lehran: “Why? Why did I lose my power? Why? Why was my tribe stolen? Why, why, why?”

More than 800 years later, Lehran is still "not over with" losing his powers. Lehran who is kind and gentle, but who wants to help - loses his birthright, he cannot fulfill his promise to Ashera anymore - thus cannot help - his descendant is proud to be, well, his descendant - but he cannot help/save her (as if he had the possibility anyways!) because he lost his powers - and Deghinsea who inadvertently (I think Deg had no malicious intent here) reminds him that he is powerless...

Imo, it encapsulates everything - there is nothing wrong about Laguz and Beorc accepting each other, but why the fuck Laguz lose their powers? ?

As for the lie in itself and crossbreeding...

What do you mean by "weren't taught properly"?

That's precisely the point of that lie, the truth, if taught to the world, would be unearable for both Laguz and, to a lesser extent, Beorcs. Like, telling the truth to Laguz? "Don't fuck Beorcs or you will end up losing your abilities forever" ? But for Beorcs it's just "you're free to fuck Laguz, you'll create another being with superpowers and cripple the laguz that way!"

(also, I think it is most likely taught around, there's the joke UST between Elincia and Tibarn, and Bastian cockblocks Tibarn because they remember this tale?)

Yes, each side think they are the ones who descend from the Zunama - instead of learning the truth of how they "both" descend from the Zunama, but if both sides try to return to, idk, Zunama roots and the original "we were both one" myth, well, one side loses all of its powers, while the other get away scot-free.

So, are they that "closely related" as sub-species as they are supposed to be, in one species "dies" when it breeds with the other? We know they are, as they both descend from the same "ancestor/species", but the result of the two breeding says the inverse.

Of course the lie wouldn't stop Laguz and Beorcs who like each other a lot to live together and get kids, but the Branded's sheer existence, regardless of Deghinsea's words and edicts, is something of an anathema to Laguz, as we see with Vika and Miccy's base convo :

Micaiah: You always run away from me… Did I do something to offend you? Vika: No, I’m so sorry. I can’t explain why this happens. I get so jumpy around you. There’s just… something about you. Micaiah: Oh… Vika: Oh, but please don’t be sad! It’s not you. It’s me. I get… confused… sometimes. I really admire you, and then I get a bizarre feeling, and… Micaiah: It’s all right. Sorry to bother you. Vika: …No. Wait. Micaiah: Hm? Vika: I want to overcome this. I don’t like that I feel I must avoid you for some inexplicable reason.

Why Laguz, in general, feel Branded are people "they must avoid"?

Is it because to Laguz, even subconsciously, a branded's existence means one of them "died"? Or in a more metaphysical sense, because Brandeds herald the end of the Laguz race (because if more brandeds are born, it means more laguz "die" ?)

Misaha didn't only want to end injustices and racism against the Branded, she wanted to stop racism in Begnion against Laguz (thus by proxy, against Brandeds).

In conclusion, Deginshea's lie created discriminations against Brandeds, but I think it's more nuanced than a general "to protect one race he put another under the bus".

When Soren goes :

Hate… That I could understand. This was denial. They made me feel like I wasn’t supposed to exist at all. That my simply being alive was an affront to the world.

It's painful to read, because no one should ever think they shouldn't have been born, or their mere existence is "an affront to the world".

Tibarn puts it this way, talking about "an old song" :

It is said that the goddesses forbid laguz and beorc to procreate. If a couple breaks the taboo, the punishment is dealt to the laguz parent. She or he loses the power of the laguz and becomes something that does not belong to either species.

Deghinsea created the "taboo" and the decree, but he wasn't the one who created the "punishment".

Heck, the punishment is the reason why the "taboo" was created, to reduce the number of "punished" people, but also, and maybe, to find a reason why those "punishments" are given?

The sitation becomes unbearable : we have people who are shunned hated and at times even killed for "existing", and we have people who "die"/lose their abilities/are "punished" automatically when the first people mentionned start to exist (iirc Almedha lost her powers when she became pregnant).

For what it's worth, per Nasir, both Beorcs and Laguz came to accept the concept of Deginshea's decree :

Nasir: Even so, the taboo was broken several times over the next few decades. Usually no child was conceived, but when there was, it was swiftly covered up. The parents soon learned what it meant to bear a child who possessed both laguz and beorc blood. After they learned of the consequences, none of these parents ever rejected the edict forbidding it.

Of course comes the obvious question of did anyone even thought about asking a Branded their opinion on that decree ? Miccy is part of that conversation too, and reacts when "honor killings" of brandeds are mentionned.

But afaik, we don't have Miccy's pov about that edict - after this conversation - and the game sure as hell doesn't want her to talk to Lehran (all of his convos are reserved for Sanaki!) - whose fault is it that Lehran lost his powers, thus direct line to the goddess, thus will to live? Hers because she was born (or her ancestor's)? His, for loving Altina? Whose fault is it that Brandeds are shunned? Deghinsea, who made that decree, or Laguz in general who can sense what they are and see through them the extinction of their race, or an unfair "punishment" from whoever ?

As always, with complicated questions, Ike is nowhere to be seen, but even without Ike, what would be the best solution?

Of course, stop persecuting and denying the existence of Brandeds would be a good start.

And then?

When Laguz and Beorcs will argue againt about something stupid, reject coexistence because, to Beorcs, Laguz are beings that "stop existing" as soon as they shag? And to Laguz, who will feel cosmically "cheated" because they are the only ones who receive "punishment" from miscegenation, to the point of thinking maybe Beorcs are really the superior race?

It's why Lehran's tale is so sad, he wanted coexistence but was punished for it by his very own world - why did he lose his powers?

What kind of solution can be found in a world that pushes for equality between races, but also reveals when they coexist, only one race is "punished"?

That's why I mentioned the divide by 0 equation -

The Tellius equation has no solutions.

#anon #replies #tellius stuff #i wanted to reply earlier but I had rl stuff to deal with lol #and this is a heavy subject to I wanted to check SF first! #I think it's still different in archanea bcs manaketes degenerate naturally #it's still stupid but #they're not punished for the 'sin' of living with someone different #that's why this Tellius aspect is imo one of the worst things to have come out from the FE series #of course neither ike or even stefan hear the laguz part of the tale #would they change their pov? I don't think so because it's still brandeds who are persecuted for existing #would they reveal the truth and say the goddesses never thought about it it's just that laguz are inferiors to beorcs? thus start a new war #idk #I think the writers wrote themselves in a pit with this #Gareth even says Deg regretted his lie and wanted to have revealed the truth #but what about his earlier misgivings? are they just shat upon? #wouldn't that lead laguz to hate the brandeds even more? #would almedha have wanted to discover the world if she knew the truth? #wouldn't dragon 55 and 58 want to raze Daein if they learnt their King/Prince made their princess 'lose her abilities'? #wait i'm suddenly wondering #if Almedha has a kid with a rando red dragon would that kid post soren be a laguz or a branded or something else? #a beorc? #Fe tellius

[gffa]

#DO NOT CROSS SHATTERPOINT LINEAGE #I WOULD SHIT MYSELF IF I TRIED TO STAND IN THEIR WAY AND SAW THIS COMING RIGHT AT ME

#mace windu #depa billaba #comics #reading comics: tales from the rancor pit #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important

[jeremicheal]

This user's favorite Fazbear Frights story is "Into The Pit"

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fazbear frights #into the pit #spring bonnie #userboxes #userbox #my posts #gonna make more of these for the rest of the fazbear frights stories since they're a big interest of mine :3 #probably will do tales from the pizzaplex too!