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#yes this is from orphans path again
nwqueenwrites · 5 months
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Halsin/OC TAV
(Fixing the horrid canon ending!)
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Sunlight streams into the room as you awaken, instantly warming your skin. During the night, you had fallen asleep curled against Halsin, drawing comfort from his presence after the harrowing battle.
As you stir, Halsin runs a hand gently through your hair. "Good morning, my love," he says softly. "How are you feeling?" You nuzzle against his chest, not yet ready to face the day. Sensing your need for quiet, Halsin simply holds you close for a long moment.
Eventually, duty calls you both.
As you finally rise and dress, Halsin explains his plans for the refugees. "I will take the children and any others who cannot remain here. We will travel far from Baldur's Gate and establish a new grove, a safe haven."
Your heart sinks, knowing this means his departure. But you force a brave smile. "They could have no better guide than you. The children adore you." Halsin takes your hands, regret in his eyes. "I wish we had more time. But the refugees need stability and shelter. I cannot delay the journey." He strokes your cheek. "My heart, you have your own path. Do not feel obligated to accompany me."
Though it pains you, you understand his reasons. "Of course. The children must come first," you reply, blinking back tears. "Just...promise you'll think of me sometimes during your travels."
"Always," Halsin whispers as he pulls you close once more. No matter what the future holds, you will carry the memory of this farewell embrace for the rest of your days.
As Halsin holds you close, neither wants to be the first to let go. You bury your face against his neck, breathing in his earthy scent. This may be the last time you feel the comfort of his arms. Reluctantly, Halsin loosens his embrace. Up close, you see the grief dimming his eyes.
"I confess, now that the time has come, parting from you feels...unnatural," he says raggedly. "My spirit already yearns to have you near again." You cling tighter, wishing you could freeze this moment. Halsin continues, "But I cannot delay the journey. The children have suffered enough instability." He strokes your hair, his voice filled with regret.
"I must not be selfish, no matter how much I..." His words trail off, but you hear the unspoken end of his sentence. No matter how much I need you. Need us. You pull back to meet his anguished gaze. "I understand…" you whisper. "The refugees must come first." You manage a bittersweet smile. "Follow your calling, and...know that you have my whole heart.....Always."
Halsin cups your face with aching tenderness. "And you mine," he replies. "No matter where your destiny leads, I will love you eternally."
Though it pains you, you step back, letting his hands slip from your grasp. His duty is clear, as is yours. With one last lingering look, Halsin turns to gather the refugees, his shoulders heavy with sorrow. Your paths now diverge - but perhaps someday they will cross again. For now, you have only memories to sustain you.
As noon grew near, Halsin finished loading the last supplies onto the wagons, sadly glancing back towards the city one final time. He hopes against hope to see you running to join them after all. But the gates remain empty.
Nearby, the refugee children gather around him in a cheerful swarm, chattering with excitement to begin the journey. Their high spirits lift Halsin's mood slightly. Little Anya tugs at his robe. "Mr. Halsin, is the nice teacher coming with us?" she asks brightly. Halsin's heart sinks. He forces a smile. "I'm afraid they cannot join us just yet, child."
Jorin, an older orphan, pipes up next. "But they're always teaching us and reading stories! They have to come to the new grove too!" The other children murmur in earnest agreement. Halsin swallows down fresh grief, touched by their attachment to you. If only you were here...
From the wagons, some adult refugees call out as well. "Where is your partner? They helped tend the sick ones daily."
"Yes, and boosted morale with songs and tales around the fire!"
Halsin raises a hand, reluctance in his voice as he explains you cannot accompany them now. The children and refugees' crestfallen reaction at your absence mirrors his own feelings. But the journey must commence, even if his heart remains behind.
With a heavy spirit, Halsin climbs onto the lead wagon. As the procession rolls out, he wonders if you glance back from the city walls. Wherever you are, he hopes you understand how deeply you'll be missed.
As they start to depart, Halsin is distracted by the sound of comotion coming from the back of the wagon trail.
Halsin turns to see you standing at the city gates, chest heaving from running. Hope and longing flare within him at your presence, but he swallows it down. You have your own path, and he must not sway you from it.
Before he can speak, you say in a rush, "I know you think I'm better off following my own destiny. But I cannot let you leave without me. My place is at your side." Halsin's stoic resolve nearly cracks at your words. But he hardens his heart once more.
"You do not need to sacrifice your freedom out of obligation. I release you from any commitment to me." You search his eyes, hurt, moving closer to his lead wagon. "So...you do not want me to come? Just say it plainly, and I will let you be." Your chin trembles slightly as you force out the painful offer. At seeing your distress, Halsin can restrain himself no longer. Jumping from the wagon, he crushes you against his chest, emotion flooding through his barriers.
"Forgive me," he whispers fervently. "I only wanted to give you wings to soar, but I was blind. I cannot imagine this journey without you now."
You cling to him just as tightly, shaking with joy and relief. All reservations finally cast aside, Halsin admits what his heart has known all along - that you belong together.
Taking your pack in one hand and your hand in the other, he leads you to sit beside him in the wagon. The future remains uncertain, but Halsin knows that side by side, you will weather whatever storms may come.
As Halsin sweeps you into his embrace, a great cheer erupts from the caravan. You glance over to see the refugees and children looking on delightedly. "Hooray, they're coming after all!" little Anya cries out joyfully. The other children take up the chant, clapping and shouting. The adult refugees are smiling as well. "We're glad you changed your mind!" calls out one man. "The journey wouldn't be the same without you," adds a woman, raising her hand.
You beam back at them, heart swelling with warmth at this acceptance. Halsin takes your face in his hands once more. "They have given us their blessing," he says with a tender smile. "Let us not keep them waiting any longer."
As the procession finally passes through the gates, the refugees and delighted children cheer loudly for you both. Though the road ahead remains uncertain, you know that come what may, you will face it together, surrounded by this community you both care for so deeply. Home is no longer a place, but the bonds you now share.
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cherrygummycandy · 1 year
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Family Outings (and all the victims that come with them).
A Goldilocks and the Three Bears crime family x reader
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(An: First time writing in a while, feels pretty good to be writing again. Not sure what direction I'll push this is, probably some slight romance with Goldi or Baby Bear. Also, above is some cute theatre promotional material of the family movie night! Enjoy!)
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"Eye of newt, tongue of, of... ugh!" You slam the small vial of repitilian eyeballs down on the oak table, leaning back as you place your hand on your forehead, trying to calm yourself down. hurrying over to the bookshelf, you toss hurriedly search, haphazardly tossing book after book behind you in search of the one you needed. A leather-bound journal, with gold fittings lays against a dusty candle-holder. The label reads 'Hellica Mellica; Ancestra Magica'. Grabbing it quickly, you return to your workspace, and plop down. Flipping to the chapter on transmogrification, you read quickly, attempting to remember what ingredient is missing from your brew.
"Tongue of Goldfish, of course!" You exclaim.
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"Move it, you mug!" A blonde haired girl yells, pushing a small bear forward. "I'm tryin' alright? This scents hard to track, n' you don't even know who were supposed ta' be tracking!" The small bear snaps back, the odd necklace around his neck rattling as he whips around to face his sister. Two larger bears trail behind, chuckling at the scene before them. "I know who were supposed to be tracking, Baby. Just not any specifics..." Goldie says, raising her walking stick up above her and smacking it against a tree branch, knocking down a shiny red apple. It lands in her palm, and she bites into it with a grin. "Oh, can you get me one, Goldie?" The bear with a fancy hat asks from behind. "Sure thing, mum." Thwack! A second apple falls.
"Remind me dear, what exactly is your brotha' sniffing out?" The largest of the three bears asks. "Spellbook, Papa. Centuries old one, at that. Guess it belonged to some big witch back in the day." Goldie says. "A-a witch? You mean like the one that put them' kids in that oven?" Baby bear squeaks, before getting prodded forward by Goldie's staff. "Please, Hansel and Gretel killed that witch, didn't ya read the story?" She sighs "Besides, that witch is long dead. We, dear brother, are tracking the scent of her house." Baby tilts his head in confusion. "Wait, how am I tracking a house?" He asks. Goldie shrugs. "I guess she set some sort of enchantment on it, attracts little animals, so she can put em' in her brews." She raises her hands up, hands mimicking claws, an evil grin on her face. Baby shivers, and turns back to facing the path ahead. "Goldie, luv, stop scaring ya' brotha." Papa bear scolds, ruffling her messy curls with a paw. A claw snags, pulling a lock and making her squeak. "Papa!" "Sorry!"
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Eyes narrowed in concentration, you focus on the task at hand. You attempt to steady your hands as you slowly ladle your transmogrification potion into a small vial. After a few moments of slow pouring, the vile is filled. "Yes!". Popping a cork into the top of the vial. "And not a drop spilled." You cheer, giving yourself a small little thumbs up in a nearby mirror. You set down the potion-filled glass, and move to dispose of the unusable leftovers at the bottom of your small, hand-held cauldron. You carry it outside of your cottage, sloshing the disposable material over your herb garden. The herbal paste and eyeballs should make a good fertilizer. Dunking your cauldron in the well, you scrub gently. As you remove the cauldron from the well, you look down at your reflection. You contemplate your image for a moment. You frown. It's you, but don't feel quite like yourself.
For years, you trained, studied, and dedicated your life to the teachings of your mentor, the all powerful witch who lived in the cottage before you. Admittedly, when a small orphan stumbled upon your cottage, she was tempted to eat you. However, she decided you'd be more useful alive, than in her stomach. She wasn't warm, or kind. You cringe, remembering the daily beratings shouted at you from throughout the cottage, as you scrubbed, swept, and polished every part of the estate. Once, you had even tried to copy one of her potions, and she never let you live down the disaster that followed.
"You useless little witch! Ruining my cottage, touching my cauldron!" She had screamed. "You want to explore magic so bad, fine! Be my guest!" From that point on, she not only increased your chores, but had made you help her fulfill her orders. It started small, but occasionally, when she felt cruel, she had made you attempt harder, more dangerous things. These always went horribly wrong, and you found your self-confidence diminishing, day by day. Now that she's gone, you still do the occasional spell, enough to sell and get by, alongside baked goods. Still, you haven't even attempted the hard stuff again. Looking down at your reflection in this well, you see that same child. 'Maybe I am just a useless little witch...' You chuckle sadly. You turn to head back inside, only to be met with the end of a wooden staff pointed mere centimeters from your face. You gasp, but the girl at the other end moves it closer, silently threatening you to remain quiet.
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"Ello' there." A blonde girl stands at the other end of the staff, a smirk on her face. "You live ere'?" She asks, gesturing with her free hand to the cottage behind you.. "Y-yes..." you nod. "Ya' don't look like a witch." A voice comes from behind her. You attempt to peer behind her, leaning to the side a little. You hold in a gasp when you see three large bears looming behind. "I'm not a witch, not really." Goldie looks behind you at the cottage. "Then why do ya' live in a witches cottage?" She asks. "And she's holdin' a cauldron!' The smallest bear adds. "My mentor used to live here, I just sorta... stayed here when she died." You admit. "Oh, the poor dear..." The medium sized bear coos. You're a bit taken aback at this behavior, but smile nervously at the mother bear. "Ugh, not now, Mama!" Goldie waves her free arm, as if scolding the bear. "You got any weapons on ya'?" You shake your head. "Alright then, non-witch. Why not show us into your lovely home, you don't wanna be a rude host, do you?" She roughly grabs your arm, practically dragging you into your own home. Once inside, the smallest bear begins to sniff around, as if hunting for something.
"Um, what's he doing?" You ask, watching as your home is searched by the small bear. Goldie looks over, groaning and rolling her eyes. "Baby, ya' dolt! Stop it, we'll just get em' to tell us where it is. Ya don't need to turn the place over." She turns back to you. "Are you familiar with a book, called-" She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket, glancing over it quickly, before saying "called 'Hellica Mellica: Ancestra Magica'?". You bite your lip, unsure about telling this fierce girl the location of your book. The only real success you've had with magic has come from this book's information, and frankly, you feel like your mentor would curse you from beyond the grave if you just let her beloved book go.
"Uh, sorry, no." You lie, eyes darting to the side. The girl looks unconvinced, and suddenly grabs you by the collar of your frock. "I know you've got it, now, I'm gonna ask ya' a little differently. "Where. Is. The. Book?" She mutters. "Over there, o-on the table." She drops you to the ground, and quickly moves over to the table. She grins as she grabs the spellbook, holding it up. She moves to open it, but finds the cover won't budge. "Wha- what's wrong with it?" She exclaims, beginning to shake the book. "What's wrong then?" The largest bear asks. "It won't open. It's jammed or something." She throws the book on the ground. "Give it ere' lemme take a crack at opening it." The largest bear begins to try and rip the book open. You watch, eyes wide in confusion. The book has never refused to open before, not even when you didn't know anything about magic. You slowly shuffle over, and sit nervously down on the nearby armchair. While you watch the bear and girl struggle, the medium bear approaches you. "You ave' a lovely little home, dear." the bear says. "O-oh, thank you." You respond. After a moment's silence, you turn back to look at her.
"Um, can I ask who you all are? The bear nods. "Oh, sorry for not introducin' ourselves. I'm Mama bear, that's Papa bear," She points a claw at the big bear. "That's Baby bear," She points to the little bear, who is currently raiding your kitchen cabinets, making you frown. "and that's my Goldie." Mama bear puts a paw over her chest, smiling as she stares at the blonde girl, who is now so angry she is chewing on the leather cover of the book, hands scratching and clawing at the binding. You look between her and the bears. In her fit of rage, she makes eye contact with you. "You! You've used this book before, open it up." She chucks the book at your head, before Mama grabs it just before it makes contact. You nod thankfully, and open the book. The family crowds around, peering at the first few pages of information. Just as Goldie moves to snatch it, the book snaps shut again. "What! Ugh, you've done something to it, haven't you!" She screeches. "She prolly' put some kinda spell on it! Using children's blood or something." Baby sneers. "I didn't, my mentor must have done something to it, this has never happened!" Goldie pauses. "Never?" She asks. You nod. "Well, seeing as you're the only one who can open it, I guess you'll be coming with us." She stands and motionsfor you to follow, before stopping and looking back over her shoulder.
"Then everything should be just right."
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darkdrin6 · 3 months
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The listener of the Mother of Night, the savior of the Dark Brotherhood, the murderer of the Emperor.
Yes, it's a crossover again! AU again! The Elder Scrolls again!
Bi Han, who went through a long bloody path from an orphan to an assassin at the head of an entire dark Family.
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We don't really like the default armor of the Dark Brotherhood, so it's been redesigned here. In the end, the Listener can afford to show off)
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flashfuture · 23 days
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Batman Robin and Candles
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(Detective Comics #33, Detective Comics #38)
Thinking about the first days Batman and his serial killer rampage across Gotham (he killed like nine people). About how he vowed to avenge his parent's murder by a random crook by warring on all criminals.
And then how Bruce met a little orphan at a circus and changed his tune to fighting corruption and "never swerving from the path of righteousness". And Batman never killed again.
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(Dark Crisis #7)
And they brought this vow back up. Even Bruce's vow how it helped him as a child. But they didn't explore the implications enough here. That candle represented a promise to justice. What Bruce is saying here is yes the candle was there but the candle itself didn't matter. He was making a promise to Dick Grayson to never sway from the path of the righteous. Batman made a vow to Robin.
The candle was what they physically swore on but every time Bruce looked over at Dick he was and is reminded about his vow to fight corruption and be righteous.
I want someone to ask Batman why he doesn't kill and to tell them he made a promise to his son that he wouldn't. I want a bitter angry debate about a promise Bruce made a child overriding the reality of how terrible the villains are. Of what 'the path of righteousness' means.
Also, it would kind of go crazy for Bruce to look Jason in the eyes and say he was responsible for protecting Jason and he's so so sorry he failed but he has never and will never be responsible for avenging him or anyone else ever again.
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nightingaletrash · 27 days
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I am once again thinking about just how fucked up Kaiba is.
He talks a lot about how he dismantled Kaiba Corp as part of the military industrial complex and turned it into a game company, and that everything he's done has been to spite his step-father's memory, and yet...
He's still after power. A sense of security. His favourite game isn't about having fun anymore, it's about power. Even in a low stakes duel with Joey, he can't surrender that need for security. Out of context, it seems kind of silly, to view card games as this ultimate expression of power, but it actually makes a lot of sense.
The cards that Mokuba sneaks to Kaiba when they're young, particularly the handmade Blue Eyes card, played a big part in solidifying his determination to succeed at all costs. Those cards became a lifeline to him, and they became a way to visualise power when plotting his coup. They come to represent power, and his path to it.
And when Kaiba Corp became a game company, that card game actually did become a huge source of financial power and influence. As a child with a lot of issues regarding security (among other things) due to his being an orphan and Gozaburo's abuse, that power became his security. It's a source of stability and control, things he's not had since his parents died, it gives him an autonomy he's never had, and he's unwilling to part with any of it.
Being the best duelist is both a mark of pride and a symbol of his ultimate control. It proves that his sense of strategy and cunning and intelligence can't be beaten, that he can't be strong armed into defeat. Every game is a battle for power, and he can't stand to lose even a little of it, because if he does, it threatens him with losing control. And he can't abide by that. He won't be left helpless at the hands of others ever again.
It's why he can't stand the fact that he lost in his own tournament; it's the loss of control. He was going to secure his place and ensure that no one could ever beat him again, providing him with the only security blanket that matters, only to lose it again. Add in Yami and Yugi going on about fate and destiny - things that strip away control and autonomy - and of course he's going to react negatively. He doesn't want to feel helpless. He doesn't want his life to be in the hands of anyone but himself. He needs control, or he'll suffer again.
But the problem isn't that Kaiba is a fucked up child looking for security in his favourite card game. It's that he's a fucked up child with a multi-million dollar company that has very real influence over the lives of countless people, and we see multiple times that he's not willing to expend anything that doesn't benefit him personally. When Bakura ends up in a coma, he won't pause the finals to let him be taken to a hospital. When Joey is literally on the brink of death, Mokuba has to go behind his back to call for a rescue helicopter and explicitly tells the gang not to tell him. Multiple people are being hospitalised because of this one guy and Kaiba refuses to remove him from the tournament because if he does, he misses out on the chance to take his Egyptian God Card, aka a new layer to his security blanket.
He has very real tangible power, and he only extends it to his own benefit. He thinks that defanging Kaiba Corp was enough to make him different from Gozaburo, but it wasn't. He's just as ruthless, just as power-hungry, and just as indifferent to other people's suffering when it suits him. He has to be argued with, or choices have to be made without his knowledge.
And it's just... fucking sad. He has so little self-awareness about what he's become and what Gozaburo has made of him. He's become the very monster he despised, and his only saving grace is that he has people who give enough of a shit to argue back instead of deferring to him as yes men.
If Yugi hadn't confronted him in episode 1, and if Yami hadn't crushed the evil in his heart, then he would never have changed from his absolute worst self. And while Mokuba doesn't often stand up to him, when he does, Kaiba tends to listen. It might shock him - that's a different can of worms - but his decision will be swayed by Mokuba, which is no small feat.
The fact that there are people who will tell him no and stand up to him is the fine line between him and Gozaburo. The question is... does it make enough of a difference to really matter in the end?
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Diaval x gn reader (meeting) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
To y/n everyday was the same. They would wake up, go to work on their farm only stopping to have a small meal before heading back, though recently a group of peasant women had moved near their house. She had first met them at the market. They were buying fabrics when two of them had started to bicker, which in the end led to one of them being shoved into a fruit stand and splattering the product all over. Safe to say they had gotten themselves banned. Feeling a bit of pity towards them, y/n had bought the fabrics they were planning to purchase and had been able to catch up to their wagon and give them the items. In return they had let them come back to their cottage and have some of there home grown vegetables as a thank you. As the weeks went on y/n had continued to bring them fabrics, flour and other things that they had needed from the market. Y/N would even help watch there orphan child Aurora when they had needed a nap or had to do the chores of the house. One day y/n had been on her way home after delivering a few bags of flower to the cottage when a man with messy black hair and scruffy clothing had fallen onto the path in front of them. "Are you alright?" asked y/n concerned for the stranger. "well nothing feels broken so I'm going to assume yes" he says standing up, brushing the dirt off of his black clothing. "I haven't seen you before, Are you new?" y/n questioned, not recognizing the handsome face of the stranger before her. "I've lived here my whole life, I've just stuck to the forest, less people" he answers. "makes sense, do you have a name?" y/n asks. "Diaval, and yours?" Diaval replies "I'm y/n its a pleasure to meet you Diaval" y/n says doing a small curtsy. "The pleasures all mine" he says kissing their hand. "i must get back before dark, I do hope to see you again" y/n says before walking off to their small farm a blush gracing their cheeks from Diaval's gesture.
bonus: "I cant believe you embarrassed me like that" Diaval said to the fae stepping out from the trees "you have been squawking about them for months now I figured you should meet for once" maleficent said "well not like that they probably think I'm a klutz and dont even get me started- CAW" Diaval tried to say but had been returned to his crow form with a swipe of magic "enough of your complaining without my help you never would've have spoke a word to them`" maleficent said before walking back into the forest Diaval following close behind
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shivunin · 5 months
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A Good Fight
(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 2,440 Words | AO3 Link | CW: Mild sexual references/sexual tension)
Summary: Things that annoy Tabris: frivolous conversation and being the butt of a joke. Why, then, can she not get the insufferable Crow out of her mind?
“May I rest my head on your bosom?” the Crow asked somewhere behind Tabris. “I might cry.”
Tabris grimaced, casting a look at Alistair. He echoed her glance, nose wrinkled. It galled her to agree with him, but plainly they were in accord when it came to this.
“You can cry well away from my bosom, I’m certain,” the mage said severely. 
“Reconsidering keeping him around yet?” Alistair asked in a low voice, bending closer. 
Wen pressed her lips together, eyes narrowed, and glanced behind her at the other two. Zevran gazed at Wynne soulfully, one hand pressed to his chest. Wynne was grimacing, staff thumping into the dust of the road as they climbed the hill. 
“Did I tell you I was an orphan?” the former Crow went on, his voice sorrowful. “I never knew my mother.”
“Egad,” Wynne said, disgust as plain in her voice as it was in the lines of her body. “I give up.” 
She sped up, outstripping Zevran and both Wardens. Arianwen watched the mage go, shaking her head, and glanced behind her again. 
Zevran caught her eyes at once and winked. Wen stared back, lips still pressed into a tight line. 
“Maybe I am,” she told Alistair, and turned away again. 
Before them, the harried mage left small clouds of dust above the road. The late afternoon light diffused there, giving the road an odd sort of dreamlike quality. 
“Could still give killing him a shot,” Alistair muttered. 
“What was that? I could not hear you over the sound of all that armor,” Zevran said, abruptly behind them. Arianwen took a large step to the left and carried on. 
“Oh, nothing,” Alistair said. Wen could feel him looking at her, but she ignored the desperate glance. “We, ah…thought your conversation was interesting. That’s all.”
“Ah—so I suppose you also have an opinion about murder, then?” 
There was something under the words. Some sort of…double meaning, hidden undercurrent. Ugh. Wen hated plenty of things, but trying to understand what someone meant when it wasn’t what they actually said ranked highly on the list. 
“Let’s not,” she said. 
“Not what? I am afraid I do not understand you.”
If he started talking about her bosom, she’d just stab him, Wen decided. When she sped up, the assassin matched her. 
“Talk.”
“Pardon? I did not catch what you said.”
“I, ah—wouldn’t push your luck, there,” Alistair said, jogging for several steps until he drew even with the pair of them. “She’s got a short temper.”
“Yes, I had determined as much,” Zevran said. “And how lovely she looks when she is thinking of death.”
Wen stepped directly into his path and stopped moving, forcing the assassin to stop in his tracks or dodge to the side. He chose the former, still smiling broadly, though he stopped only an inch or two away. Arianwen met his eyes squarely, thinking. 
She didn’t think she wanted to kill him. The man was decent enough at what he did. Fighting him had been the best part of fighting any of the Crows. Actually, he’d been her favorite person to fight since they’d left Ostagar. There was something fluid about the way he moved that—well. Fascinated her, actually. She liked watching him. 
No—no, she didn’t want to kill him. What would be the point now? It certainly wasn’t as if she cared that Wynne, of all people, was annoyed. Actually, she should be thanking him. For once, the mage hadn’t been hovering over her shoulder and asking questions. 
“I don’t think so,” she said, to the dust in the air as much as she was speaking to either man, and turned to continue up the hill without any additional elaboration. 
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Zevran said behind her. 
“We aren’t friends, assassin,” Alistair said stiffly, but added in a quieter voice: “Best to avoid prodding at her when she’s already tired.”
“Mmm,” Zevran allowed. Wen gritted her teeth, irritated again, but he went on a moment later. “I shall take your advice very seriously, Warden.” 
Wen glanced behind her one more time, expecting the same cocky grin or perhaps another wink. Instead, she found a flash of something she didn’t expect: 
Exhaustion. Hiding in the corner of his eyes, in the subtle roll of his shoulders.
Ah. That was harder to ignore. 
Wen closed her eyes, willing herself to keep walking. It would be easy. It would be better. He was so annoying; maybe he’d stop talking if he was too tired to manage. 
As soon as she reached the top of the hill, she swung her pack from her shoulder and sat back against a fence. 
Not for him. Obviously not. 
But—maybe it was time for a break. That was all. Redcliffe was almost in sight and they’d probably be busy as soon as they got there. Best they sit and rest now before they no longer had the choice. 
She certainly, pointedly did not breathe easier when the Crow sat to her left with an audible sigh of relief. 
|
“Are you quite certain you are ready for this?” the assassin asked. 
Wen, who’d deposited the last of her armor to the side of the clearing, nodded curtly. She’d have to be a fool to think he had nothing to teach her. Whenever possible, she did try not to be a fool.
“I need to know all I can. Show me, if you want to.”
The outskirts of the Brecilian rose around them, trees already towering higher than she’d ever seen them before. This place was odd and old, breaking the monotony of carefully planted fields and abandoned villages. She didn’t feel like herself here. It was as if she’d slipped off her skin and found it ill-fitting upon its return. Or—perhaps something hung watching in the air here. Something that saw her, that waited and knew. 
She couldn’t say she liked it. 
“If I want to?” Zevran flipped the knife in his hand once, neatly. “And here you have been asking so politely, Warden. How could I say no?”
“You’ve just said it,” Wen replied, taking a slow, smooth step to the side. “Obviously you know how.” 
“Tch,” he began to circle with her—taking her measure, she thought. Some of the glossy humor fell away, baring the steel beneath. “So literal.”
Wen huffed, refusing to be dragged into a conversation. She’d get distracted by talking and then he’d strike. She knew exactly how this worked. 
“First and foremost,” he said, “I have seen you fight. You are very skilled, yes? But you are not careful.”
Wen felt her eyebrows climb. Zevran feinted, she sidestepped, and they resumed pacing each other. 
“Are you suggesting I get thicker armor?” she asked. 
He laughed, a deeper thing than his usual chuckle. Wen narrowed her eyes. 
“You have been spending too much time with Alistair. No—I am suggesting you learn to be quieter,” he said, and moved—it was like his body had become liquid for a moment, flowing so close that she was forced onto her back foot. A blow in the right spot and she was stumbling back, struggling to halt her momentum enough to guard herself. 
To her surprise, he did not press his advantage. He took a step back instead, watching her with an odd look on his face. Wen scowled and rolled her shoulders, loosening the muscles that had gone taut. 
“I’m plenty quiet.”
“Not quiet enough to be an assassin—and that is what you asked me to teach you, yes?”
Wen pursed her lips. She had asked him. She’d wanted to know how he moved the way he did, but she certainly couldn’t ask him for that. It had been plenty easy to imagine what he’d say in response. 
“Fight me, then,” she said, and dropped her knife. It sank into the soft earth point-down, which meant she’d have to be very thorough when she cleaned and oiled it later. At the moment, she didn’t really care. 
Zevran cocked an eyebrow at her, but stepped back to set his knife aside. 
“Are you quite certain? Surely you would like some sort of explanation first.”
“No,” she told him. “I’m too literal for that.”
Zevran tipped his head back and laughed. 
As soon as his eyes were closed, she struck. It ought to have been a glancing blow, only a soft slap to his shoulder to get his attention. The strike never landed. Instead, he flowed away from her and spun, planting a hand on her back and pushing. Wen was ready for it this time. Her weight shifted hard to her back foot, but she did not waver.  
“Good,” he said from behind her, but when she reached back to grasp his arm Zevran was already gone. 
Arianwen spun slowly, listening. He must have gone up; there was nothing closer than the branches to hide behind. Her heart thudded in her ears, distracting her. Where was he? That rustle in the bushes had the rhythm of a squirrel, the scratching at the bark to her right was certainly a bird, and the crunch in the leaves behind her—
Zevran dropped from above and locked her into his arms before she had a chance to strike back. 
“As I was saying,” he told her. “Not very careful.”
Arianwen tried to kick him to little avail. Zevran laughed into her ear, his mouth briefly brushing against the point of it. An odd tingling sensation spread from that point to her cheeks, burning as it went. What was this? Some sort of poison?
Arianwen planted her feet, gripped his arms where they wrapped around her, and flipped Zevran over her head. His eyes were wide when she straddled his chest, a knife already pressed against the hollow of his throat. She could feel his pulse against her knuckles, could feel his breath whenever his ribs expanded between her thighs, and—what was this? 
“What did you just do?” she snarled. Zevran’s brows lifted. 
“I caught you,” he said. 
“Not that. You—” 
She pressed her lips together all at once, her face hot, and climbed off of him. If there had been some way for Arianwen to scratch the sensation from her skin with bared nails, she would have done it immediately. It lived somewhere deeper than her skin, entirely beyond the reach of fingertips or knives. 
Had he ever touched her skin to skin before? She could not think. 
“Well? Teach me,” she demanded, taking several steps away from him. The distance, such as it was, did not help.
Zevran rose more slowly, dusting himself off. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. It was—speculative. Like he was weighing her against something in his mind. 
“Or was that it?” she asked. 
“No, no—I was merely thinking how best to show you what I mean,” he said. There was some hidden meaning to his words. She could feel it. 
Wen frowned at him, eyes narrowing. What was he actually saying? 
“Let us begin again,” he said, spreading his arms. Wen took a deep breath, wishing away the odd burning at the back of her neck and the tips of her ears. 
“Let’s,” she gritted out, her heart beating curiously fast, and raised her fists.
|
“Are you awake yet?” Zevran murmured. 
“No,” Wen told him, hand skimming over his loose, night-rumpled hair. Zevran grunted and pressed his face more firmly against her bare chest. 
“It should not surprise me when you make jokes,” he said. His lips pressed against the skin over her heart. “And yet…”
“Oh, ha ha,” Wen said, rolling her eyes. “If you’re going to be a pest, you can get off.”
“Oh?” he angled his head until he could look at her, morning light glinting across one golden eye. “Can I?” 
“Andraste’s tits,” she muttered, squirming without any real effort to dislodge him. 
“Yours are finer by far, I assure you,” he informed her solemnly, pressing a kiss to the nearest of them. 
Arianwen rolled her eyes, but threaded her hand through his hair again. Some of the tangles smoothed under her touch, but not enough. He’d still need to comb it when he rose for the day. 
She tried very, very hard to pretend that she couldn’t hear the army moving outside their tent. 
“Zevran,” she began, her voice soft, and he lifted his head to look at her. 
What could she tell him? That there were even odds she would die today? That she was grateful? What more could she possibly tell him now? 
“It will be a very good fight, yes?” he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Your favorite thing.”
Tabris pressed her mouth closed, searching his face for meaning. She found none. There was only the warmth of his eyes, the comfort of his body pressed to hers. The clamor of steel rose beyond their flimsy canvas walls. Time was almost up. It would be a good fight, yes. If there was anything she loved, it was a good fight. 
Arianwen loved Zevran more.
She’d planned to leave him behind, where the fighting was less heavy, but she already knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it. How could she fight through the city, never knowing if he’d been struck by a stray arrow or felled by an ogre? She could not protect him and seek the archdemon both. At least if they were together—at least they would both know. At least neither of them would have to wonder.
Until the end, then, and perhaps whatever came next. At least she knew she wouldn’t be alone. 
“Yes,” she said, passing her fingers through his hair one last time. Her hand fell to a stop at his cheek, thumb tracing the bottom point of his tattoo. 
“You will remember what I taught you, yes?” 
He lifted himself onto an elbow and leaned forward to kiss her. It had been meant as a glancing thing, she thought. It ran deeper than that in the end, desperate hands on shoulders and teeth and tongues and heat. She didn’t want to lose him. She raged at the world, for giving them to each other right on the doorstep of ruin. 
“Always,” Wen told Zevran, and clutched him to her when he would have risen to go. He endured this for several moments longer, his breathing uneven, before he pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved away. 
When she pushed the blankets aside to stand, his was the hand that pulled her to her feet.
(For Zevwarden Week Day 6: Favorite Things and Pet Peeves. Thanks again @zevraholics!)
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jesternene · 11 months
Text
The heart of the Universe
We have encountered extraordinary characters in the Star Trek universe over the last five decades. One of those amazing characters is none other than Dr. Beverly Crusher, the Chief Medical Officer of the Starship Enterprise-D. Not only was she an accomplished doctor and scientist, but she was also a mother. This is where her story showcases just what kind of person Beverly is.
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Let's take a quick trip down memory lane, shall we?
Beverly didn't exactly have the most amazing upbringing. She was orphaned at a young age and was raised by the only family she knew; her Grandmother, Felisa. Beverly mentioned she was an awkward child, often lonely, and didn't have many friends. She survived a cataclysmic disaster on Arvada III before settling down in Caldos with her Grandmother. Beverly found solace in helping others and it gave her a sense of gratification and she decided to take those ambitions to Starfleet to become a Doctor. This is where she meets Jack Crusher, they marry and have a son named Wesley. Her new life with her family was a stark comparison to how she grew up and for Beverly, life couldn't be more perfect… or so she thought.
When Jack died in a Mission accident, Beverly was now a single mom of her 5-year-old son and was determined to make his life the best possible. She continued her career in Medicine and Science, even becoming a Commander. She also made sure Wesley had every opportunity to grow his interest and become who he needed to be. This leads them to Enterprise-D, where Beverly is now the Chief Medical Officer and her son can have hands-on experience with his interests. Though, her complicated relationship with the Captain, didn't deter her from doing what was best for not only Wesley but for herself. However, as Jean-Luc and Beverly grew closer, her relationship with Wesley grew apart.
As Wesley got older, he realized that following in his parent's footsteps and joining Starfleet was not the path he should be on. Wesley joined the Travelers, magical space and time beings, leaving Beverly behind. This was the hardest decision for Beverly because she always wanted to make sure to be there for Wesley and now that he was on a path she didn't fully understand, she was completely out of her element. This wasn't a typical empty nest syndrome, this was complete uncertainty about if she will ever see her son again. And sadly, she never really did…
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Beverly's career and love life (to Jean-Luc Picard) was the only thing she had left in her life. Her family was now gone and all she had was her crew. She loved her crew of the Enterprise and they loved her just the same, but Beverly had a void in her she never thought she could fill. She wanted more children, but because the on-again off-again relationship she had with the Captain was uncertain, she didn't think it would happen. Especially because he made it very clear he didn't want to have a family. Yes, she could have moved on to someone else, but in typical "Beverly" fashion, she put others before herself and loved wholeheartedly and loved Jean-Luc very much to the point that it hurt. I do not believe she could have easily moved on and she wouldn't want a child just out of need. That part of her life was now over and she had to figure out what to do next.
After one last attempt at their relationship, Beverly and Jean-Luc broke up and she left the Enterprise. Even though Beverly was now alone and with only her career at hand, she was surprised to find out she was pregnant. Even though she attempted to tell Jean-Luc the news, she had a hard time getting it to him as he was always in some sort of danger. This is where Beverly's maternal instincts kicked in and she felt she had a second chance at being a mother and she wasn't going to let anyone hurt her child, not even the father. As much as she wanted to be a family with Jean-Luc, she couldn't in good conscience risk her child's life of the uncertainty of being the son of Jean-Luc Picard. It was bad enough that she had to endure the pain of his life being at risk, she couldn't do that to her unborn child. And after losing Wesley, she couldn't risk losing another child.
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Beverly left her career and her entire life behind to raise and protect her son, Jack. This time was going to be different in Beverly's mind. With Wesley, she gave him the space he needed to grow and didn't hover over him, but she still lost him nonetheless. Since Jack was her second chance, she wanted to be a part of his life in a different way, expose him to many great things and share that experience with him. Though Jean-Luc was not far from her mind, she kept him close by telling Jack stories about him and playing songs that Jean-Luc shared. She made it clear his father was a wonderful man, even if he couldn't be there with them. Beverly would have never exposed Jack to being a fatherless child, but she never could shake the feeling that if the universe knew who Jack's father was, the consequences would be dire.
As we saw in the recent Star Trek: Picard installment, Beverly was right. Beverly could no longer protect Jack from the villainous beings that were now after him, and she had to turn to the only family she knew: The Crew of the Enterprise. Beverly felt she failed in protecting Jack, but after a week of letting the news that he is a father settle, and seeing just the kind of danger Jack was in, Jean-Luc reassured Beverly that it was a testament to her strength, love, and loyalty that kept Jack safe all this time.
Finding out that Jack was special with abilities beyond her comprehension, didn't help in the matter. Losing one son to an unpredictable cosmic journey, but both sons? Beverly was always the hardest on herself and so failure wasn't far from her mind. She had to endure the most difficult challenges while trying to save Jack but the end didn't happen like she expected. Her life had always ended in a heartbreaking manner, losing those she loves and leaving her behind. But instead, Jack was saved, Jean-Luc was saved, the universe was saved… It was a feeling Beverly never had experienced before: relief and gratification.
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Many may think Beverly was wrong in keeping Jack away from Jean-Luc, and many are right. However, when you break down just what Beverly had gone through in her life and just what kind of man Jean-Luc was, it is only a human reaction to fall victim to fear. But it wasn't just fear she had, she had maternal instincts. Like Beverly said:
"As a mother, your whole being is about protecting your child"
She may have done the wrong thing but she did it for the right reasons. As much as we associate Beverly with her fierce determination, dedication, and empathy, we also must showcase the love she has for not only her children but the love of Jean-Luc, her friends, her crew, and her patients. This is what makes Beverly what fans call "The heart of the crew" -- But I want to take it a step further and say she is "The heart of the universe" -- willing to always put herself last, and as a mother, she is willing to sacrifice everything for her children no matter what the consequences that may be. Being a mother has always been Beverly's top priority since the day Wesley was born. It is that protective nature and unconditional love she has for her children that make her such an amazing character. That IS Beverly Crusher.
Beverly may be a flawed character but it is those flaws that fans love about her and understand her the most. We understand her drive, we understand her commitment and we understand that no matter the best intentions, it doesn't always come out the way we want it. Beverly is the fan's character, the most relatable. She has taught us that Love is always the most powerful and most rewarding gift of all.
Happy Mother's Day
J
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ariesbilly · 6 months
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That picture of the cigarette consequences boy makes me think of Billy planning on telling Neil/Hopper that he's dating Steve. Or maybe he knows they've been seen together, so he's outside, sucking down his last Red, head tilted toward the meagre Indiana sun, breathing in crappy cow shit air. Might be his last breath. Might be his last cigarette. Better make the most of existing.
ANON I AM SHAKING YOU!!!
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Ok but the way the two scenarios hit so different… because if it’s hopper we can assume a path where maybe he’s not totally hip to gay people but like he’s not gonna disown billy or anything (Joyce would never allow it) so yes billy is preparing for the worst going into it but ultimately the outcome will be fine
BUT WITH NEIL!!!!
He really is savoring these moments like they’re his last and they very well could be! 😔 billy knows what’s waiting for him inside but he’s still gonna face it head on because he was raised that way and dammit if it didn’t stick.
And then billy stumbling out of the house later just as Steve’s speeding to a stop, car halfway on the lawn, drove straight over across town when he heard what billy was up to from max, heart hammering in his throat expecting to have to break out his bat to get neil off of billy who’s hopefully still alive
But billys there standing in two feet on the steps, face bleeding and on its way to bruising as he takes out his last smoke and lights up, cocksure grin on his face as he blows out smoke and saunters over to Steve and running on pure adrenaline grabs him by the shirt and kisses him right there in front of Neil’s house, knowing he’s never gonna step foot in there again and he’s officially an orphan because that little meeting sealed the deal on ending that particular relationship, neil and billy are both dead to each other, and billy finally feels free
And Steve’s knocked a little breathless there for a moment taking it all in before he snaps back to reality like “this is all very sexy for you and I’m gonna fuck you silly later but I think we should go before your dad comes out with a gun” 😌
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thewertsearch · 11 months
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AG: [..] What was so important that you wanted to go 8ack to sleep again for? EB: my dad was there. [...] AG: Oh, you mean the adult male human who lived in your hive? [...] AG: Haha, I was wondering a8out that. I was like, what the hell is this guy doing in this kid's hive? Where is his lusus? Is he an orphan contending with some sort of meddlesome grownup squatter????????
Vriska was saddled with the worst lusus imaginable - or at least, the worst lusus that wasn't an abomination from the depths of space. Her worldview is built around the belief that her shitty life has made her strong.
How will she feel, I wonder, about a world where where you don't have to fight your way through the Brooding Caverns to earn your right to exist? How will Vriska feel, deep down, about a parent?
EB: the funny thing is, he is not even really my dad. EB: i mean, i was adopted by him, although we are not actually unrelated, i think. EB: he is the son of my grandmother, who isn't really my grandmother… EB: nanna is sort of like my biological mother [...] EB: so i guess, if anything, that makes my dad… EB: my half brother???
I did wonder if Dad was adopted - he really doesn't look like the other Harley-Egberts - but apparently not. I guess he takes after his own father.
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The Telescopic Sassacrusher has found a new wielder, I see.
AG: [...] Continuing on this path and 8ringing Jade into the game I think you will agree is very important! AG: And not just 8ecause she is your friend and you would 8e kind of upset if she died. AG: Again. EB: yes, i think i would be.
I might be wrong, but I'm sensing a bit of an edge to John's words here. He did just watch his sister die, after all. Plus, he was just ripped away from his father - by the very same troll who's being so blasé about his family, although he isn't yet aware of that.
Everyone has a breaking point. How many more trolls can fuck John over before he snaps?
AG: Only when all players have entered with a prototyped kernel does the 8attlefield assume its final form. AG: That form prepares Skaia to grow the new universe you will cre8te.
Your kernels will influence the nature of your universe - presumably the same way they influence everything else.
The trolls filled their kernels with animals, and each of those animals showed up on Earth, either as real creatures or pervasive myths. The kids' kernels included a clown, so I'm suddenly very relieved that their session appears to be a dud.
And all Players need to contribute a kernel to the Battlefield. If they don't, their universe won't represent the collective effort of every Player, and it will be, in a sense, 'incomplete'.
That's my take, anyway. It makes sense, though - Sburb created every Player for this purpose, so they can only create a universe when every Player's purpose is fulfilled.
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kit-williams · 2 months
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There's an odd decrease in the number of orphans in orphanages. It's something that was swept under the rug. No one truly takes note of it given how many of those children are... well.. forgotten by society. It wasn't until one of those human rights and welfare groups started looking into it that more people would learn of this. How orphans would one day just, disappear. They would leave the orphanage to go to school or hang out with friends only to not return.
Investigations would follow and then the truth would come out. Lone or even warbands and chapters of Space Marines were the reason for these disappearing orphans. This wasn't exactly news, there had been reports of Space Marines essentially taking neglected children. Them seemingly targeting orphans was new however. Many wondered what made them so compelled to take in these orphaned and neglected children. Then again, Space Marines as a whole... they tend to be good being don't they? Perhaps they just think they're doing good by taking in the children.
It wasn't as if they were mistreating the children either, if anything they were doing more than what some parents would do for their children. There was some debate if the children should be left with the Space Marines, a few voicing that they should grow up raised by humans. Those were in the minority. Space Marines are largely left to raise the children they took in, though maybe we should be looking into it more...
@wandering-writer-ha this also is in line with your ask
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So first of all I'm avoiding chapter serfs even though I know (LIKE THE IRON HANDS) will take the failed aspirants and turn them into servitors and others will make them into serfs. I'm avoiding that because I want to keep this setting still light. Other point for this they wouldn't steal a child to give to their human for the most part... I won't say that they would never.
But I will agree with the 1st post is while some people are fine with space marines just taking interest and "adopting" children often times its behaviors in the 2nd post that make foster kids move around, which sometimes doesn't help because feral Astartes have wide ranges and have a knack for picking up on vulnerable children.
Hence why I started my AU before the foster care system really took off as Orphanages (more of the less scrupulous types) were willing to let a feral astartes take a child off their hands more often then not a warband or chapter would wander by a known orphanage and wait as sometimes children would come to them wanting to get away.
For the boys they would most likely be turned into Astartes/marinelings for the girls they would stay with the chapter/warband because there was usually an astartes that had bonded with them (Occasionally they were kept around to "trade" to another warband if an astartes bonded with them and it can be a way to get supplies/favors) and eventually those would become known paths all feral chapters/companies/warbands would take in an area because it was a recruitment/bonding ground.
Since the foster system took off feral astartes have had to get creative on "recruitment". Yes kids will still run away to join a warband or company but I do believe that kids will be moved around for their own safety when astartes show too much interest. Now this only happens to children in the system under 15 but sometimes they'll snatch some as old as 18 but generally by 18 years old they have outgrown the attention of the warband/company or have a space marine of their own. Which unironically falls in line with irl foster care stuff.
How miserable/vulnerable a child is would open them up to being lured away from their foster parents/orphanage. Now it always doesn't turn them into marinlings there's also often times an Astarte will bond with a child in a bad situation (whether that bond is genuine or not is up for debate) and more often kids will be removed from those situations by either an Astarte that has taken notice or their bonded one.
I hope this idea wasn't super rambly and actually makes sense
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hahaimnotdeadyet · 7 months
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OMGOMGOMGOMG i saw the love game and that it such a sweet idea!! Id love to ask who you would ship my character, Zenthra, with! Not exactly a tav yet, but one of my DND characters!
She is a lawful evil high elf, with dragon blood, who grew up around the elite. Coming from nothing as an orphan in her kingdom, she was recruited by a not-so-friendly general, as he saw the hunger and lust for blood in her. Soon enough, she began training- meant to simply be a warrior, but eventually she took over almost all the armies as second in command by the time she was young. She still thirsts for approval from the general- but as he’s grown old and is on the verge of dying, she has now taken his title.
The kingdom is now at war with themselves do to the armies bloodshed and disregaurd for collateral damage. Growing older, she has become cold, unloving, and a war machine. She’s known across lands as “The Golden Dragon”, hellbent on destroying everything in the name of her country (even the country itself!)
Extras; She’s bisexual, has awful war PTSD, and cares about her appearances; often decorating her uniform lavishly and wearing jewelry of her kingdoms colors. Trying to see who I could ship her with in BG3 before I make her as a Tav, so i know who to romance! I know this is a lot, so tysm for reading!!
HI HI OXOXOX
OH I feel responsibility skskks 💞 hope it'll work out
As a bisexual I thought she could go pretty well with Karlach or Wyll, but tbh I think that Karlach would irritate her too often. Karlach is more chaotic good, you know. Like good dealing with PTSD, but too different tempers. Tried to avoid spoilers, so used "this" without description what happened 💞
I would say Wyll is your man of choice 💋
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You quickly enough pour into the atmosphere of the camp. Yes, some of you may seem a little more optimistic than others, but PTSD has clearly brought most of you together. A survivor of abuse or a ruling cruel figure - you can safely shake hands with each other.
But nevertheless, there is one person in the camp who tries to believe in his good luck still being alive. Wyll. Yes, at first, you completely disagree with each other. He always tries to follow the right path, the path of justice. When it doesn't involve goblins, obviously. It brings problems. It slows you down and visibly annoys you.
Wyll also talks. He talks and talks and talks all the time, and it starts to piss you off very quickly. First Blade of Frontiers? Rather, the first talker of Frontiers.
You involuntarily purse your lips when he opens his mouth. Empty bravado for empty deeds. Oh, he's instructing a little tiefling, how cute. They will be killed by the first wave of attack.
But it shoots in your head. Gets stuck with an obsessive thought.
The way he knelt down on one knee in front of someone below him in rank, still quite a student. The way he found the words to calm a frightened child with a practice sword which is too heavy for him. At his small age, when your fingers trembled with fatigue, you received only a slap in the face.
So the next time Wyll starts talking, you imperceptibly listen to his speech. Clean, drunk: the libraries of Baldur's Gate left him a lot of baggage.
And even when this happens to him, when no one else can look at him the same way, he still does not lose his temper. And if it used to annoy you to the point of grinding your teeth, now you're almost... Impressed.
After a while, you suddenly realize: his problems did not begin with the appearance of larvae. He has been on the front line for a long time, for many years, all his life, but his speeches have remained just as passionate.
Here it is. Don't get me wrong, you don't need to be saved. And you didn't know you need to be guided, but you do.
Wyll knows what it's like to train until your hands are covered in blood, until you pass out. And he keeps doing it over and over again. Not by force, but by choice. And it makes the same question flutter in your head: "And all this time, could it have been just like that ...?"
He believes in what he does. And somehow you start to believing too. His encouraging smile here and there, and sword in your hands now make sense. Each your spell or trick really means it.
His talkativeness is no more a burden for your. He just talks what he thinks, what he relies on. He tells you about his life, about all wrong decisions he made - and would make again any other way, because he became himself only thanks to them.
Each scar is like a medal for courage and a reminder that he survived, that he won, that he protected people dear to him.
Maybe one day you'll tell him about your scars too. Which led you to victory, or left you at the very bottom.
He learns about your nickname much later. "The Golden Dragon" Wyll shakes his head. The nickname does not cause awe or horror in him, but you feel respect. Yes, your actions speak for themselves, but glory. Glory was earned by sweat and blood, just like his. And it makes him look at you differently.
And much later, when you give in, when you slow down a bit and pay attention to the people around you. When you lend a helping hand just because, because everyone is in one big trouble. Then he looks at you with cunning and clarifies. "The Gold Dragon - because the heart is made of pure gold, right?"
Maybe all this time you really just needed someone to lead your swords in the dance of your life.
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ksfreckles · 1 year
Text
The Beginning
So. This is my take on how Jade and Kit first met and began their story together. There’s still some more to write but I probably won’t have time until the weekend and I’m somewhat proud of myself so here it is. Hope you enjoy it!
-//-
Jade was almost eight when Ballentine came to see her. She was living with a family then, helping them with their own children and house chores. It was the regular work for orphan children, but the truth was that Jade had no talent for it. Although she tried her best, she kept accidentally breaking things, or wandering to the stables where she would use a broom as a sword and copy movements she had seen during the training sessions for the Shining Legion.
Ballantine looked serious and imponent, as they sat in the kitchen and he looked straight into that small girl’s eyes.
“I have an offer”, he said. “But should you accept, you’ll follow my rules. I’ll expect only the best from you”.
She looked at him, wondering why she was already being scolded, but his eyes where gentle, so she just nodded.
“I would like to take you with me. I would train you, when you’re old enough, to become a Knight. I’ve seen you in the stables. You have a gift.”
Jade’s eyes widened open, she could barely believe her ears. To become a Knight? To protect the royals? She nodded again.
“But that would mean giving up everything else. Being a Knight is a full time responsibility and you can’t afford being slack about it”.
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice sounded less adult than she hoped it to, but it was ok. She was up to the task. She had to be.
-//-
The first two years with Ballantine proved to be easier than the life with the Michaels (her former family). Ballantine didn’t ask much of her, and they would have the meals together, while he explained the duties and rights of the knights. She was to keep the house clean, which proved easier with Ballantine than it was before. Maybe it was because it was just the two of them, with no children or babies, or pigs, maybe it was because Jade finally had a clear path ahead of her, but she found herself doing everything with extra care, willing to prove herself worthy of the chance she was granted. She was ten now. Every now and then she would get a glimpse of the twins, Airk and Kit, playing along the streets (like today) or buying things from the street vendors. They were usually with their father, Madmartigan, since Queen Sorsha hardly ever mingled with the commoners. The three of them were constantly touching and laughing, a picture-perfect family, like the one Jade had so many times dreamed of.
She let out a sigh, which turned into squeal when the apple Kit had been juggling rolled over and stopped at Jade’s feet.
“You’ve got my apple.” Kit said. There was no arrogance in her voice, but the playful tone ticked Jade off for some reason. She frowned upon the blue eyes staring at her.
“Well. You dropped it. Not my problem”. She didn’t know why she was being so rude, specially to the princess, but she could feel tears wanting to form in her eyes, and she wasn’t about to let that happen.
Kit arched one eyebrow, obviously shocked by the answer. Then, unexpectedly, she reached out for Jade’s hand, shaking it solemnly.
“I’m Kit. I’ll be your friend.”
Jade frowned again.
“You should really stop doing that.” Kit said, raising her chin in Jade’s direction. “Mother says it will give you wrinkles.” She rolled her eyes.
Jade didn’t answer.
“Well.” Kit said. The tone was friendly, but Jade could tell the confidence was that girl’s biggest gift. “We’re friends now. Don’t you wanna tell me your name?”
“Jade.” Too late she remembered to add. “Your Highness”.
“Meet me by the lake at sundown, Jade”. She winked and ran away, back to her father and brother, leaving a confused Jade to her own thoughts.
-//-
The days with Kit were always an adventure. Jade would wake up with an expectation she couldn’t explain, never knowing whether they would go swimming or sparring with brunches they found in the forest or picnicking in Jade’s house. They talked a lot about their future, when Kit would rule the kingdom, and Jade would be her personal knight, sworn to protect her queen at all costs. Those dreamy days went by too fast, and Jade grew too attached to the princess. Ballantine always made a point in reminding her of her position and that she was not to make too much out of that friendship.
“The princess is volatile, Jade. Her friends never last long.”. He paused, as if he was measuring the next words. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Jade was grateful. But it was the first time in her life she had a friend. A real friend, close to her in age (Kit was almost two years younger), who cared about the same things.
Then, The Night happened.
Jade woke up to somebody climbing up her bed, someone who wasn’t the best at keeping quiet. Instinctively she knew who it was.
“Kit?” she asked, sleep in her voice.
The smaller girl hugged her the tightest she’d ever been held, and then started to cry.
“He’s… H-he’s leaving us, Jade”.
“Who is leaving?” Jade was confused and scared; Kit never cried.
“He’s going to… He needs to protect her, they said. Mother told him not to tell us anything, but I heard it. He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s leaving me.”
She started sobbing again, and Jade knew. There was only one person whose absence would cause that reaction in Kit. Kit, dad’s favorite. Kit, Madmartigan’s daughter, even more than Sorsha’s. Kit’s world was crumbling down, and all Jade could do was hold her. And so she did.
-//-
Nobody in the realm really knew why, but the next day Madmartigan had left on a quest in Queen Sorsha’s name. Weirdly enough, nobody referred to him as “King”. It was as if even though they were married and equals in power, he was always happy to be just a knight.
From that day on, it was rare for Jade to go through the night without Kit making an appearance. Kit usually cried herself to sleep, and Jade would hold her until her body stopped shaking, hating Sorsha for sending Kit’s father away. Hating Madmartigan for leaving. Hating herself for not knowing the right words to comfort her friend. It was only when Kit’s breathing steadied that Jade would allow herself to sleep too.
Kit was never there when Jade woke up, and Jade imagined it was because she was embarrassed. She felt weak for crying, and Kit would never accept weakness. She wanted to be brave above all things, the bravest. Just like her father.
If Ballantine knew about those night visits, he never said a word. If anything, he softened his speech towards the princess’ behavior, refraining from warning Jade and limiting to remind her of her future. The training would start in two years, when Jade reached 12. She could barely wait.
-//-
Two years flew by, and when Jade’s training started, she and Kit started seeing less of each other. Kit and Airk would take etiquette lessons. Jade would learn how to wrestle. How to use a sword. A bow. Kit and Airk would learn how to entertain the nobles, and how to conduct the kingdom. They would learn about politics, and realms and history. Jade would learn how to protect them. How to protect Kit.
But even she couldn’t protect Kit from her nightmares. All she could do was to hold her friend through them.
In the two years since Madmartigan’s leaving, Kit had become more serious. She would laugh less, and refuse to talk about it. Airk, on the other hand, had taken upon himself to become the life of the kingdom, as his father used to be. He would make jokes, and laugh aloud, and act adorable around kitchen maids. He also let his hair grow longer, when it used to be short. They were only 10, but in Jade’s eyes it was as if they had both aged a million years, in completely opposite ways.
But everything shall pass, and as more and more years went by, Kit’s personality went back to its normal ways. She was older now, reaching 15. To the queen’s despair, that only meant Kit was no longer a child, and would put up a fight at the smallest defiance. Her hair, her clothes, the etiquette classes. Jade.
When the queen questioned their friendship, saying I wasn’t suited for Kit to hang around with a soon-to-be knight (and an orphan), Kit packed a few clothes and showed up at Ballantine’s door, claiming she was moving in with them, and abandoning the crown.
When the queen insisted Kit needed to learn how to dance, she agreed at first – but only if Jade was there too.  Jade hated her for that last part, but was happy in conducting Kit through the ballroom as their instructor ordered.
When Kit insisted in learning how to use a sword, the queen tried to stop her, but she made a very good point in saying they could be attacked some day, and she needed to learn how to defend herself. And she wanted Jade to teach her. And so she convinced Sorsha.
This was something Jade had learned a long time ago: Kit would defy the norms, but never the orders. Everything she did, she did in plain sight. Apart from sneaking into Jade’s room at night, Kit never did anything she was forbidden from doing. And this was the thing Jade admired the most in her: Kit was duty-guided, just as much as herself. Even though she did everything she could to make Sorsha’s life harder, she would still show up to the right classes, and behave as expected during the balls. She would dress pretty and courtesy and dance with nobleman. Kit knew her role and followed it to perfection. She would be queen one day. And Jade would be her knight.
Although five years had gone by and Jade trained every day, there was always something to learn. Ballantine would teach her how to take hits, how to fall in a way she wouldn’t hurt so much. He would teach her how to use her speed against bigger opponents. How to walk without making a sound. How to ride a horse properly.
And she would teach Kit all of that.
With the queen’s permission, Jade started training Kit when Kit reached 16. It was hard at first, because Kit had no discipline, and Jade liked her too much to be as tough as she needed to. Jade was 18 now. In one year she would be old enough to try and join the Shining Legion in Galladoorn, something she had been fantasizing about ever since she heard the news.  
It was on Kit’s 16th birthday. They had a huge party for the twins, and all the kingdom was invited. There was a lot of food and drinks. A happy night.
Jade woke up with the familiar weight by her side and without even opening her eyes she moved to let Kit settle. They were both getting too big for the single bed, but that didn’t matter as much.
“Jade?” Kit’s voice was barely a whisper, but Jade had heard that tone too many times over the past six years not to notice. She opened her eyes, only to find two watery blue stars staring back at her.
“Hey…” she sat, pushing Kit into the tightest of the hugs. This time, Kit didn’t sob. She took a deep breath, and Jade could feel her relaxing.
“Mother told me today. After the party. She’s made a decision. About my future… Husband”.
Jade felt her stomach sinking. She always knew, of course, that Kit would have to get married someday. But there was this idea at the back of her head, an idea born from intertwined fingers and midnight sighs. She shook her head.
“Oh?” she asked. “And who’s the lucky chap?” she knew Kit wanted her to treat this naturally. Acting as if this was the big life-shifting event it was would only make Kit sadder, so she chose the lighter road.
“Graydon Hastur. But I don’t wanna talk about him. Not as long as  I don’t have to”.
Jade nodded and asked with a forged smile:
���Can we sleep then? We have lots of training tomorrow”.
“Even better”. In minutes, Kit was sleeping.
Jade couldn’t close her eyes, her mind set on this Graydon man.
Suddenly, she hated him. She had never laid eyes on him, but she hated him already. What the hell was going on?
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raayllum · 1 year
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This isn’t going to be as coherent as I want it to be because I’m tired and mildly rushing through this (so I may revisit it later) but like, from the bottom of my heart
What the fuck is up with Harrow and the cube’s opposing symbolism?
Because like, Harrow gifts the cube to Callum in hopes of encouraging him. It’s been confirmed that Harrow didn’t totally know or understand what the cube is, but the name Aaravos as a master archmage has been carried down. We know the Orphan Queen started the royal line and had a hand in imprisoning Aaravos according to two sources. All of this symbolism and history indicates the cube will be a positive thing, the way Callum initially hoped it would be: “I just had a feeling this cube thing could help me” (1x04). 
However, these positive associations were pretty smashed to pieces even before S4 came out with this scene in 2x08:
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Because like, yes, the scene is Callum rejecting dark magic, and that the only way he can do magic as a human is through dark magic. That’s the surface level. But if that’s the case in the dream state, why draw this heavy association between the keys and dark magic and the cube? After all earlier in the season, Claudia’s book was the primary ‘tempter’ symbol. It’s Claudia’s book that she offers to him alongside lessons in 2x02; seeing Claudia’s book in an old drawing in 2x07 is what gives Callum the idea in the first place; he uses Claudia’s book to help do the spell. It shows up in the end credits. 
Which is to say: if you wanted it to represent Callum just rejecting dark magic, which is the surface level interpretation / clear intended takeaway of the scene, why not just have it be the dark magic book? Why show Harrow encouraging Callum to reject his own gift?  Especially when at this point, Callum has no reason to think anything negative regarding the cube, and he doesn’t. It’s a parting gift from his father, a source of harmless curiosity. 
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Furthermore, 4x04 shows the key is explicitly tied to Aaravos claiming Callum as a pawn. This is in line with much of the foreshadowing I’ve pointed out before in the cube being repeatedly called a key and a game piece, as well as the continual connection its been displayed to have with Rayla, her entrance with the Star primal glowing only the tip of the iceberg.
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Harrow encourages Callum to reject the dark magic cube because “You are free. You are free from both the past and the future. Fate is a lie. Nothing is written in stone. You are free” and you have Rayla quote this resolve back to him to boot: “Callum, you’re the Destiny Is A Book You Write Yourself guy.” 
The Key is a critical piece in Aaravos’ game with Callum as an extension or tether to it. Ziard was given the ‘gift’ of the staff and died shortly afterwards due to a sun dragon. Viren deciphered the mirror and likewise fell to his death. Both of those are brought together in Callum’s icarus symbolism, of a boy who’s flying too close to the sun - and of a boy who can also die by flying too close to the (Book Five) Ocean. Finding a third, middle path is the crux of the myth and of Callum’s arc with magic so far: not as a dark mage, and not as a powerless human, but as ‘a secret third thing’ in becoming the first human primal mage in centuries. 
The Cube that causes Callum to turn to stone in the intro is a lie. An illusion. Especially when so much of the boys’ relationship with Harrow is also rejecting what he passed down onto them, and striving to be better than he was: to know more, to do more. 
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Basically this is just a rambling way to reaffirm that 1) I think the Cube will have an extremely negative consequence and effect first before having a more positive one unless 2) it is somehow used to save Callum outright (although again, I think that’s somewhat thematically unlikely) and 3) I am very, very happy that we are 100% finding out what it’s intended purpose is next season (with Aaravos also likely being released) because I’ve gnawing holes through my brain about it for long enough already.
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vryfmi · 1 year
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every single l&co character is basically a different taste of "sole survivor" trope
Lucy is the most obvious and most "by the book" example of said trope. it was sheer luck that saved her, and now she's not only heavily traumatised by witnessing death of all her childhood friends in that mill but also suffered from townsfolk's judgemental looks at her. "did she chicken out and left others to die?", "if she helped, would have others make it to the morning?" that's the hardest part in being the last survivor - others will judge you for the fact that you are alive. no wonder Lucy had left her hometown.
Lockwood is... well... how do i put well an orphan. but he's also the last survivor of his parents' idea. yes, he didn't know it till the very end, but he's been unconsciously following and improving upon it. if Celia and Donald were killed because of their discovery, and Jessica died due to her inexperience with ghosts, Lockwood had overcome all of it. he completed his parents' work and neutralized many sources to save even more people.
George, on the other hand, isn't that much of a survivor in the literal sense, unless you look at it from very specific angle. George was eager for knowledge, he was asking questions, was trying to get to bottom of it ever since he worked for fitties. but times and times again he was punished, restrained. where others had given up in their researches, embraced propaganda, George stayed true to himself. yes he was fired, in order to cut him off the access to said knowledge, but he never gave up. also worthy of note: he was the only one who survived looking into bone mirror.
out of team of four Holly was the sole survival. that traumatic experience made her leave agent path but stay in the agency, now working in office of rotwell. Holly has great fear of poltergeists, and that fear isn't gone, on contrary, after events in aickmere's store, it might have gotten worse. she probably blames herself in both cases, too.
Kipps is a miraculous survival of fitties regime. not only he worked so close to them, but constantly was going against inner agency's plans. yet somehow Kipps wasn't all that affected. he quit and wasn't chased after or anything. maybe fitties dismissed him as a threat and just didn't want to waste any resources on him. another point to make is that Kipps lived to his twenties. not many children in that universe make it that far.
Flo however is at most interesting example, because her trauma had broken her. no fantastic overcoming the harshness, no trying to make things work. just compare her livelihood to others: she developed severe claustrophobia (where she barely can stay in doors and have a roof over her head) after what she went through - death of her colleagues and nightmare of protecting herself with improvised weapon till morning. Flo left her agent career for good and cut ties with everything from her life prier the event. she works alone and far from people, barely resembling a person herself. it's tragic really
even skull! last of Bickerstaff's followers who couldn't pass on after what they've discovered during theirs's life time. all of them were obsessed with death, yet, scared of it immensely. mirror had turned those people into restless souls not ready to leave living plane, but only skull, last remaining witness of device's creation, came in terms with death and moved on by himself, without his source being destroyed or thrown into fire oh wait a second
in conclusion why do lucy holly and flo all have same backstory
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makima-s-most-smile · 7 months
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Trigun Maximum 8.3
I am finally done with the volume. And my heart bleeds.
Trimax 8.1
Trimax 8.2
Spin-off: Freed Bird
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Okay, when is this? Is this the path to december? Or when Wolfwood is on the way to Juneora Rock? I mean, he doesn't have Angelina, but then again, she would have been left where the Ark started, so is it now? Then again, he wouldn't take up random work to get to December... So, I'd say that this is either Pre-Trigun Ultimate Wolfie on the way to Knives with the knowledge that he has no home anymore or Pre-Trimax Wolfie under the thumb of Knives. The way he thinks about Lina protecting herself could show his growth as a person.
Is Wolfwood the bird or the human or both? He has no freedom, none at all, the Eye of Michael and his responsibilities bind him down. But then there is a point to be made that Wolfwood is desperately trying to find a place to rest, that he is in constant pain from trying to survive. He gets like the worst out of both worlds. I would have loved for that birdmotive to be present earlier for Wolfwood.
Ahhh… good old peak idiot Wolfwood. 
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A difficult situation. They were right to take a loan, but the father wasn’t very responsible with the money, then, was he? They profited from the ownership of the plant and lived a cushy life. He should have constantly put money away for such a situation. 
It is not only the responsible and fair thing to do ala you wash my back and I wash yours, but also considering the worth of plants, you cannot take even one death of them. I’d say make plants common property, but even that wouldn’t stop people from trying to gain power over them.
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WOLFWOOD! YOU WERE SO GOOD WHEN LINA PROTECTED HERSELF FROM THOSE GUYS! And here you are like: “Nah… congrats. I don’t care.” I partially understand him. Wolfwood grew up in deepest poverty, he would most likely marry Orekano to get that lifestyle (give that money to the orphanage). He may not understand that someone may prefer a life of strife than to be an object in the hands of a weird man.
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Again, the bird motive. Lina is a trapped bird. She doesn’t know how hard the world outside is, she truly doesn’t. She lived a life as an upper class woman. 
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Haha, wrong person to ask.
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Not gonna lie, her saying that she was an orphan and using that as a reason to say that she was dependent on people reads so fucking weird. Everyone is dependent on other people. If Maylene popped out a child and kept it, it would also be completely dependent on her. That’s what children are. In the next few pages we learn that she was adopted like at age 2 max. She had next to her whole life with this family, who took care of her as her own from what we get to see. She does not understand poverty or survival at all. She was at an age where you do not remember things. Sorry, but no girl. I understand that you may felt overly protected and maybe suffocated by your parents, maybe your parents actively stopped you from going out and growing up, but your lack of freedom is totally different than that of an orphan of a struggling orphanage.
Then again, that does not mean that she has to marry Orekano to keep her lifestyle. She has the ability and the freedom to decide for herself. She is a bird breaking out of her cage. It is her decision to make.
Wolfwood sounds pretty judgemental, but he also does not understand what Maylene has to expect of her new husband. For him it looks like a naive girl romanticising freedom from a position of privilege. He also projects onto her, what he doesn’t/didn’t have his whole life. He is the bird that just wants a safe place, but he cannot get it. He cannot imagine giving that up.
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I just realised, Wolfwood said he put bullets into Chapel for the name he gave him. But we see him called Nicholas in the past. It was the Punisher. Wolfwood hates Chapel for making him an assassin, but my brain was too soupy in the last volume.
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Ah, yes. Wolfwood’s old friend. Parentification. How it made him what he is today, the big brother, the caretaker, the protector. So much of Wolfwood can be traced back to this.
I think it is also interesting that we see a kind of neglect/abuse here, that wasn’t done with ill intent or anything. The orphanage was too full, the aunties had too many children to take care of and that led to Wolfwood being forced into that role. He wasn’t parentified by neglectful parents, but by a society that causes too many orphans and that gives not enough money to adequate care for the helpless and innocent. There was no alternative. Should they have left Maylene alone and crying?
From what we know about Wolfwood, he saw the orphanage as a kind of paradise. It was a place where he could be without having to give something. Wolfwood already came to the orphanage with the ideology of having to be useful, to balance out the debt that occurs from him being there. It was so easy for him to become a quiet helper to the aunties that didn't tell his needs. His basic needs were taken care of and for that he had to be thankful. Everything beyond that was to be used to pay off the debt, to give to the other children. 
What did he think then about the bird? Did he want freedom? Or was he okay with how everything is? He was fed, had a place to sleep and was being taken care of, somewhat. Did he ever wish for more?
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It is about Maylene. Did Wolfwood ever wonder or hope to be adopted? Or did he see himself as damaged goods from the start? Maybe he came in as “too old” for an adoption and resigned himself to be the one that makes sure the little ones get adopted?
Little WooWoo is massively cute. I love this style more than Stampede’s. 
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Why is this… wearing a cross… jumpsuit? I hate him already.
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Grati… tude… What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Much, considering Maylene’s reaction. But at least now Wolfwood checks WHY Maylene may prefer survival to a cage.
No, he doesn’t. Wolfwood! Pull your head out of yer arse! Okay… okay… he was just put through the meatgrinder because Maylene declined and fled.
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The only right answer to his incel shit… Why is that icky guy so obsessed with Maylene’s virginity? I push aside the train of thought about priests and naughties, because we know how reality looked since before the Renaissance and I do not believe that such a possessive icky, icky weirdo would even have such information.
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Call him out, Maylene! Oregano’s actions aren’t her responsibility. I wouldn’t say Wolfwood egging him on made it worse, because I don’t think that… I have run out of insults… guy would have believed Wolfwood anyway.
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Wolfwood the protector. The Punisher, then his body and then Maylene.
But… Damn, Wolfwood! I wanna root for you. But you say the vilest things. None of these deaths are on Maylene. They are on Orekano. Do you really believe that she would have a good and comfy life under him? Yes, decisions come with consequences, but fleeing from an abusive situation and the abuser acting out is never on the victim. We know how you came to that mindset, but, buddy, that mindset is massively flawed.
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FUCKING FINALLY!
How did Orekano get even worse? “Hurdur, I would stain my hands on your defiled body…” Dude believes in fucking cooties.
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We know that Wolfwood cares for Maylene. Even if his words are… saying the opposite. He wants her to have a comfy life. He doesn’t want her to struggle like he does. His actions show this. He protected her repeatedly from Orekano, he doesn’t take all the money offered for his funeral service, he gives her as much as he can so she can start somewhere anew. He doesn’t agree with her choice, but he lets her make her own.
And that line from Maylene, I understand much more. Somehow she got into her head that she being adopted is just the family filling some spot with her. That’s sad… And hopefully wrong. But it makes her point of breaking off from that legacy and choosing her own path. She heard Wolfwood’s warning, but she prefers being a free bird struggling to a caged wife.
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Earlier, Wolfwood was sad that she doesn’t remember him. But he did leave a massive impression on her in the form of the bird motive. So much so that she took up carving herself. And Wolfwood is stunned, moved. He mattered. For all the blood on his hands, he had a positive effect on someone's life. And he cannot deal with it. That’s why he puts it down as a lousy carving.
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