#//writting letters is fun

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 9

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6.5k

Trigger warning; mention of clipping

notes; Hello everyone I hope that you are doing well because I am sooooo tired lol. I just started work and pffiu. Whatever with my life, this chapter as a good background drop on y/n maybe some of you expected it some not. Either way I hope that you will enjoy it because it was so much fun writting it. Well see you soon, don't hesitate to comment and bye bye !

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The days since your last encounter with Azriel passed in a blur of activity. The clinic had demanded all your attention, leaving little room for personal thoughts or reflection. But in the quiet moments—when your hands stilled for just a second or your gaze wandered—it crept back.

You sighed heavily, glancing down at the travel bag you were packing for the trip to the Dawn Court. The preparations were nearly done, though your nerves remained. Traveling with Azriel added a layer of tension you weren’t ready to face, but the anticipation of reuniting with the healers of the other courts eased some of that discomfort.

You allowed yourself a small smile, remembering them—your friends, your mentors, the peers who had shaped your path in ways large and small. Each had left a mark on your journey, offering guidance, laughter, or challenges that helped mold you into the healer you had become. Many of them were like family, and the thought of seeing their familiar faces again brought warmth to your chest.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, breaking you out of your reverie. A group of the clinic’s healers had gathered to see you off, their expressions a mix of fondness and determination.

“You’ve got everything under control, right?” you asked, your tone light but tinged with concern.

One of them, Elira, rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For the hundredth time, we’ve got it. The clinic won’t fall apart while you’re gone.”

Another healer chimed in with a grin. “We’ll follow your instructions to the letter. You deserve a few days to focus on something else for once.”

Their reassurances made you smile, though the lingering worry didn’t completely fade. Still, you trusted them. They were skilled, dedicated, and fully capable of handling whatever came their way.

“Alright,” you said, shouldering your bag. “I’m counting on you all. If anything major comes up, send a message immediately.”

Elira gave a mock salute. “Understood, Commander.”

You laughed softly, exchanging a few more words before stepping outside. The crisp air hit your face, clearing your mind as you took a moment to steady yourself. The trip ahead wasn’t just about the meeting—it was about proving that you could handle the weight of this new role. And, perhaps, figuring out how to navigate the bond with Azriel without letting it overshadow everything else.

Standing at the entrance of Velaris, you adjusted the strap of your travel bag on your shoulder, your gaze scanning the skies. The morning air was crisp, with the faintest warmth of sunlight creeping over the horizon. You were early, as always, but waiting in anticipation left you feeling restless.

A flurry of wings caught your attention, and there he was—Azriel, descending gracefully from the sky. His shadows swirled faintly around him, dispersing as his boots touched the ground. He straightened, meeting your gaze with a polite nod.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, your voice steady despite the awkwardness that lingered between you.

“Morning,” he replied, his tone measured, though there was something in his expression—hesitation, maybe? “We should leave as soon as possible if we don’t want to arrive late.”

You nodded quickly. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Azriel stepped closer, his face calm but all business. “First, we’ll winnow to the border of the Dawn Court. Once we cross it, we’ll fly to the capital.”

The mention of flying made your heart skip a beat. You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before voicing your concern. “Flying... Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want it to be too much for you, carrying me.”

He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes calm but insistent. “It won’t be. Trust me, Y/N.”

His reassurance didn’t completely settle your nerves, but you nodded regardless. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Azriel stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “Ready?”

You placed your hand in his, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through you. His grip was firm yet careful, and before you could dwell on the flutter in your chest, shadows enveloped you. The world spun for a moment, and when it stilled, you were standing at the border of the Dawn Court.

The air here was warmer, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and dew-soaked grass. It was a stark contrast to the cool, crisp air of Velaris. The scenery stretched wide and golden, with rolling hills and distant, gleaming spires that marked the capital’s direction.

Azriel turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Ready for the next part?”

You nodded, but your breath caught slightly when he stepped closer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, one arm beneath your knees and the other across your back, lifting you effortlessly.

The proximity was overwhelming. You could feel the warmth of his chest through his clothing, the steady strength in his arms. Every rational thought seemed to vanish, replaced by the hammering of your heart.

“Hold on,” he instructed, his voice calm but with an undertone of something softer. You looped your arms around his neck hesitantly, trying not to focus on how close you were.

With a powerful beat of his wings, you were airborne. The wind rushed past, cool and invigorating, as the ground fell away beneath you. The sky stretched wide and endless, painted with hues of orange and gold from the rising sun. The land below was breathtaking—patches of farmland, rivers winding like silver ribbons, and forests blanketed in mist.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Azriel glanced down at you briefly, a flicker of something—perhaps a smile—crossing his lips. “It is.”

Despite the tension in your chest, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty around you. For a moment, the awkwardness and your internal conflict faded, replaced by the simple awe of the journey. The world seemed peaceful from up here, a far cry from the responsibilities and burdens that waited below.

The journey to the Dawn Court felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment. As Azriel’s arms held you securely, you tried to focus on the scenery—the rolling hills, dense forests, and shimmering rivers below. But no matter how hard you concentrated, you couldn’t fully tune out the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat against your ear.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been carried like this. Cassian and others had flown you on various occasions, but this time felt different. Perhaps it was because Azriel’s hold was firm yet careful, or because the bond you were trying so hard to ignore pulsed faintly, reminding you of its existence with every beat of his heart. You clenched your jaw and willed yourself to stay focused. This was a professional trip, nothing more.

Azriel didn’t speak, his silence a double-edged sword. It meant you didn’t have to engage in awkward conversation, but it also left you alone with your thoughts—a dangerous thing when you were trying not to acknowledge how close you were. The wind rushed around you, cool and biting, and you leaned slightly into his warmth despite yourself.

Hours passed in that silence, the scenery changing gradually as the Dawn Court came into view. The closer you got, the more the tension in your body grew, not from nerves about the meeting, but from the sheer effort it took to keep your mind from wandering.

Finally, the grand spires of the Dawn Court’s palace appeared on the horizon, their pale stone glowing softly in the golden light of the setting sun. Relief flooded you at the sight, and the moment Azriel landed and released you, it felt as though you were finally able to breathe after holding it in for far too long.

You stepped away from him, smoothing down your clothes and casting a quick glance at the palace ahead. It was every bit as grand as you remembered, and the familiar sight brought a small smile to your lips. For a moment, the tension from the journey eased, replaced by nostalgia for the times you’d spent here in years past.

“Let's go?” Azriel asked, his voice steady but laced with a hint of curiosity as he watched you take in the view.

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair back from your face. “Let’s go. We’re already late as it is.”

The spires of the Dawn Court’s palace gleamed in the evening light, their pale stone catching the last golden rays of the sun. The grandeur of the palace was undeniable, with its wide marble steps leading to intricately carved doors and lush gardens brimming with fragrant blooms. As you and Azriel approached, a familiar figure emerged to greet you.

Your old teacher, Healer Talyen, stood at the top of the steps, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly before softening into a smile. “Y/N,” she called, her voice carrying a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed. “And I presume this is your escort?” Her gaze flicked to Azriel, who inclined his head politely.

“Talyen,” you greeted, your voice light despite the lingering tension from the long journey. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry we’re arriving so late—there were some... delays.”

“No need for apologies,” Talyen assured you, gesturing for you both to ascend the steps. “The important thing is that you’ve arrived safely. Though next time, perhaps a bit more haste.” She gave you a pointed look that was softened by the faint twitch of amusement at her lips.

Two servants stepped forward, bowing slightly before offering to take your belongings. You handed them your travel bag, murmuring a quick thanks, while Azriel only released his pack after a moment of hesitation, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.

“We’ve prepared everything for your stay,” Talyen continued as you reached her. “The High Lord sends his regrets for not greeting you personally, but he’ll see you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll ensure you’re settled.”

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, glancing at Azriel, who remained quiet but vigilant. “This is Azriel, by the way. He’s here to ensure I don’t get into too much trouble.”

“An impossible task, I’m sure,” Talyen quipped, her tone dry but affectionate. Azriel’s lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, though his usual stoic demeanor didn’t falter.

She led you both into the palace, where the grandeur continued—polished floors, high ceilings adorned with delicate murals, and soft lighting that bathed everything in a warm glow. The servants trailed behind, their footsteps barely audible as they carried your things.

Eventually, Talyen paused at a hallway branching off into a quieter wing. She gestured to one of the doors. “Y/N, this will be your room. I hope you find it comfortable.”

You stepped forward, nodding your thanks before turning to Azriel. To your surprise, he moved to follow you inside, but one of the servants stepped forward, her expression polite but firm.

“Sir,” she said, bowing slightly, “your quarters are in the guest wing. Allow me to escort you.”

Azriel’s brows drew together in a brief frown, his confusion clear. “I’d prefer to stay close to the person I’m escorting.”

You touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention. “It’s alright,” you said softly, offering a reassuring smile. “We’ll see each other tomorrow. There’s no need to worry.”

His hazel eyes searched yours for a moment, as though weighing the validity of your reassurance. Finally, he nodded, though the furrow in his brow didn’t completely smooth. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

“I’ll be fine,” you promised, your tone firm but kind. “Get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment longer before allowing the servant to lead him away. You watched him go, his wings shifting slightly as he walked, before turning back to Talyen, who was watching the exchange with a curious gleam in her eyes.

“Still as protective as ever, I see,” she remarked dryly, before pushing open the door to your room. “Come. Let’s get you settled.”

The morning sun poured through the tall windows of your room, bathing the grand space in a warm, golden light. You were seated on one of the cushioned chairs by the small reading nook, going over your notes for the meeting. The room itself was a masterpiece of elegance and comfort. A canopy bed with silken drapes dominated one side, while intricately carved furniture in soft pastels and gold accents filled the rest of the space. The walls were painted in delicate shades of cream and blush, adorned with murals depicting serene landscapes. A fireplace in the corner crackled softly, adding a gentle warmth to the crisp morning air.

The balcony doors stood ajar, letting in a faint breeze that carried the floral scent of the palace gardens. Potted plants lined the corners of the room, their leaves vibrant and full of life, making the space feel alive, almost as if it breathed with you. The familiarity of it all brought a quiet comfort—you had lived here for years during your time at the Dawn Court, and every corner of the room held a memory.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your focus. Setting your notes aside, you stood and opened it to find Azriel standing there, his expression neutral but his gaze curious as he glanced past you into the room.

“You have time?” he asked.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. His sharp eyes scanned the room as he walked in, taking in the sheer grandeur of it all. He turned to you, his brow raising slightly. “Even my room at the House of Wind isn’t this good.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “This was the room I stayed in when I worked here. They always keep it for me when I visit.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on the fireplace, the plush seating, and the gilded detailing on the walls. “It’s... impressive. Feels lived in.”

“It probably does,” you admitted, sitting back down and motioning for him to take a seat. “I spent years here. It’s strange how easily it feels like stepping back into an old life.”

Azriel hummed in response, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he sat in one of the chairs. “So,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “you said each head healer will be here. I assume you’ve worked with all of them before?”

You nodded, rifling through your notes. “Yes. Some trained me, some I’ve trained. Others, I’ve collaborated with on projects. Each court has its unique challenges, but we’ve built a good network over the years.” You went on to explain the specifics—who the healers were, their areas of expertise, and the dynamics between them. Azriel asked a few pointed questions, his sharp mind clearly piecing together the broader implications of what you shared.

When the conversation wrapped up, the two of you left the room and made your way to the meeting hall. The corridors of the palace were grand yet serene, the marble floors reflecting the soft light streaming in from the high arched windows. Your steps echoed faintly as you approached the double doors of the meeting room.

The meeting room was already abuzz with quiet conversation as you and Azriel stepped through the tall doors. The moment your presence was noticed, the chatter paused, and heads turned toward you. A wide smile broke across the face of Veras, the healer from the Winter Court, his imposing figure softened by the warmth in his icy-blue eyes. He stood and crossed the room to greet you, his snow-white braids swinging slightly as he moved.

"Y/N! You haven’t changed a bit," he said, his voice booming with delight. He clasped your hand in both of his, the chill of his skin familiar but oddly comforting. "It’s been far too long."

“Veras,” you replied with a smile, squeezing his hand. “Still as loud as ever, I see. And just as punctual.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I couldn’t miss the chance to see you try to herd this lot again.”

Behind him, a slender figure with sun-kissed skin and a radiant smile approached. Farah, the healer of the Day Court, held out her hands to you. “Y/N, my dear. It’s been years,” she said warmly, her golden hair shimmering like spun sunlight.

“Farah,” you greeted, embracing her briefly. “I’ve missed our talks. I hope you’ve brought more stories to share.”

Farah’s laughter was as bright as her court’s eternal sunshine. “Always.”

Azriel lingered near the doorway, his sharp gaze taking in the room’s dynamics as you moved from one familiar face to the next.

From the Autumn Court, Rordan stood, his fiery-red hair and piercing amber eyes as striking as ever. He was more reserved than the others, but his nod of acknowledgment carried a quiet respect. “Y/N,” he said, his deep voice measured. “Your presence here is a relief. The state of things has been... precarious.”

“It’s good to see you, Rordan,” you replied, your tone equally steady. “We’ll address everything soon.”

As you moved to greet the last person present, Azriel’s attention sharpened. A graceful woman with rich brown skin and hazel eyes that gleamed with intelligence stepped forward. Dressed in elegant light blue robes adorned with intricate ocean patterns, she radiated a quiet strength.

“Amara,” you said with a warm smile, reaching for her hands. “It’s been far too long.”

“It truly has,” Amara, the healer from the Summer Court, replied. Her voice was calm and soothing, carrying an authority that matched yours. “Though I must admit, I wasn’t sure you’d want to speak to anyone from Summer after all this time.”

You chuckled softly. “That was a lifetime ago. And besides, it’s hard to hold a grudge against someone who’s such a dedicated healer.”

Amara’s lips twitched in amusement. “Dedicated, yes. Though some might say stubborn.”

Azriel lingered by the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. Then, a cheerful voice cut through the pleasant hum of conversation.

“Y/N!”

The exuberant call startled Azriel, and his hand instinctively went to Truth-Teller’s hilt, his shadows coiling protectively.

Azriel, observing from the doorway, was struck by her resemblance to what could only be described as a blend of Tamlin, a dwarf, and an overly excited child.

“Y/N!” she called again, weaving her way through the gathered healers with surprising speed. Her voice was bright, but not overly dramatic. When she reached you, she threw her arms around you in a firm, friendly hug.

“You’ve been avoiding us, haven’t you?” she asked, pulling back to fix you with a mock-stern look.

You laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t say avoiding. Just… busy Lila.”

“Busy, huh? That’s what they all say,” she replied with a knowing grin. “Well, you’re here now, so we’ll take it.”

Her attention flicked briefly to Azriel, who stood quietly near the door, his shadows swirling faintly around him. “And who’s this?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“This is Azriel,” you introduced, gesturing toward him. “Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Lila’s eyes widened slightly, her curiosity piqued. “A spymaster? That’s certainly a first for one of our meetings. Welcome,” she said to Azriel, her tone warm and sincere.

Azriel inclined his head politely, his expression neutral. “Thank you.”

Lila turned back to you, her grin returning. “Well, you’ve brought interesting company this time, Y/N. I hope he’s ready for all the endless discussions.”

“He’s here for the diplomatic part,” you replied with a smirk. “Not the gossips.”

Amara, from the Summer Court, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a soft laugh. “Lila, don’t scare the poor man off before we even start.”

“Who, me?” Lila said, feigning innocence before rolling her eyes dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. For now.”

Amara studied him for a moment before offering a small smile. “I hope the Night Court knows how lucky they are to have her.”

“We do,” Azriel replied smoothly, his shadows curling faintly around him.

As you exchanged pleasantries, Azriel’s sharp ears caught snippets of your conversation. He noted how each healer seemed genuinely pleased to see you, their respect for you clear in their words and body language. It was a side of you he hadn’t fully seen before—a leader among peers, effortlessly commanding attention and admiration.

With that, you moved to your seat at the head of the table, the others following suit. The atmosphere shifted as everyone settled in, their expressions turning serious. The warmth of reunions gave way to the gravity of the matters at hand.

The meeting had officially begun.

The long, oval table in the center of the room surrounded by Prythian’s head healers. Scrolls, notebooks, and maps were spread across its surface, a testament to the immense preparation that had gone into this gathering. You stood at the head of the table, your presence commanding yet approachable, as you guided the room with a steady hand.

“We all know why we’re here,” you began, your tone firm but inviting. “The rising tensions across Prythian demand that we not only adapt but collaborate more closely than ever. This meeting isn’t just about exchanging updates—it’s about finding solutions together.”

Azriel, leaning against the wall near the door, observed the scene intently. Unlike the high lords’ meetings, where every word was a potential weapon, this room felt alive with trust and purpose.

You scanned the faces around the table, meeting each pair of eyes with quiet assurance. “Let’s start with updates from each court,” you said, your quill poised to take notes. “Veras, if you don’t mind going first.”

The Winter Court healer, Veras, nodded and began. “This winter has been particularly harsh, unusually harsh. Hard to say why but we have never in the history of the court been confronted to this type of intense weather. Frostbite cases have increased dramatically, and our healers are stretched thin. Supplies, particularly warming salves, are running low.”

“Veras,” interjected Taylen the dawn healer, his tone thoughtful, “We have been working with Y/N on a modified salve recipe that combines herbs from the Day and Spring Courts. It’s more potent and lasts longer. We’ll ensure the instructions are sent to you, and if you need additional supplies, Y/N should be able to arrange a shipment from the Night Court’s stores.”

Veras smiled warmly, his icy-blue eyes glinting with gratitude. “That would make a world of difference. Thank you.”

You turned your attention to Rordan from the Autumn Court. “Rordan, what’s the situation at the borders?”

Rordan leaned forward, his amber eyes sharp. “Refugees continue to flood into Autumn’s territory, and the strain on our resources is significant. Infections are becoming more common in overcrowded areas. Beron’s influence and desisions are making things hard to deal with, we are short staffed since the war and the epidemic of the last century still lingers on us.”

“I’ve anticipated this,” you said, nodding. “I’ve set up a preliminary exchange network to direct supplies where they’re most needed. Amara from the Summer Court has agreed to prioritize shipments for border regions.”

Amara, seated nearby, nodded in agreement. “That’s correct. We’ll ensure the process runs smoothly.”

Rordan inclined his head. “Thank you. That will help.”

You shifted the focus to Farah of the Day Court. “Farah, any updates on the research you mentioned during our last correspondence?”

Farah smiled brightly, her sun-kissed skin glowing. “We’ve developed a new stamina-boosting salve that’s been highly effective in our soldiers. I’d like to propose expanding our research exchange.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” you replied. “If you could share your findings with the group, we’ll incorporate them into training programs across the courts.”

Farah’s smile widened. “Consider it done.”

You continued to guide the discussion, ensuring that each healer had the opportunity to share their concerns and contribute to the solutions being crafted. When Lila from the Spring Court enthusiastically interjected with an offer to assist with refugee care, you smoothly incorporated her suggestion into the larger plan, balancing her energy with the room’s more reserved members.

Azriel watched as you moved seamlessly through the conversation, posing pointed questions, weighing options, and ensuring that every voice was heard. There was a rhythm to your leadership—a balance of authority and collaboration that drew the best out of everyone at the table.

He sat quietly at the edge of the room, observing the meeting unfold with a mix of fascination and quiet disbelief. The contrast between this gathering of healers and the high lords' meetings was staggering. Where the high lords were often burdened by tension, suspicion, and ego, here, there was trust, cooperation, and a sense of mutual respect that seemed almost surreal.

You led the conversation with ease, seamlessly guiding the flow of ideas and ensuring that everyone had a chance to contribute. Questions were posed with precision, decisions discussed openly, and even disagreements were handled with an air of professionalism and care. Azriel noted the dynamic—it wasn’t that you commanded the room with dominance; rather, you drew the best out of everyone present. It was deeply impressive.

One of the guards from the Winter Court caught Azriel’s eye. The male had also been present at the last high lord meeting, and his expression mirrored Azriel’s thoughts: surprise and admiration at how smoothly everything was running.

Amidst the deliberations, Azriel felt the familiar tug of Rhysand’s presence in his mind. The High Lord’s voice, calm but probing, reached him. How are things going? Are you both all right? How’s the meeting?

Azriel’s eyes flicked briefly toward you before answering. We’re fine. The meeting is... He hesitated, glancing again at the harmony in the room. It’s going better than expected. Almost too well.

Rhysand chuckled in response. Maybe I should have Y/N lead the next high lords’ meeting. Might go smoother.

A faint smile tugged at Azriel’s lips, but it was fleeting. He could feel Rhysand trying to bridge the tension between them again, a faint note of apology threading through their mental link.

Azriel, Rhysand began, his tone softer now. I—

Not now, Azriel cut him off, his tone firm as he closed his mind once more. This isn’t the moment.

The tension lingered, but Azriel pushed it aside, refocusing on the room before him. After a while, you called for a much-needed break, allowing the healers to step away and recharge. Azriel followed you as you moved toward the refreshments, the quiet clinking of glasses punctuating the subdued conversations around the room.

As you poured yourself a drink, he approached, his curiosity finally breaking through his usual restraint. “You seem to know all of them well,” he said, his voice low but tinged with genuine interest. “How did that come about?”

You glanced at him, a small smile forming as you gestured for him to take a drink as well. “It’s a long story,” you replied, leaning lightly against the counter. “But I’ve been in this role for a long time, even if not officially. I kind of always knew that at some point in my life I would take Madja’s place in the night court and I’ve been helping her for centuries with this.”

Azriel waited patiently, sensing that you were gathering your thoughts. Finally, you began to explain.

“The healers from the Dawn Court, Winter Court, and Summer Court trained me when I was younger,” you said. “They were the first courts I visited when I left the Night Court. I was still learning, eager to take in everything I could. They saw potential in me, but they also taught me discipline and perspective.”

Your gaze drifted across the room to the healer from the Spring Court, who was animatedly discussing something with her counterparts. “The healers from the Autumn, Day, and Spring Courts, on the other hand, were trained by me at some point. Lila is the youngest here, but I’ve never seen someone as motivated and talented as her. She’s incredible, really.”

Azriel took a sip of his drink, processing your words. “And the difference between this group and the High Lords?”

You met his gaze, your expression thoughtful. “The difference,” you began slowly, “is that while the High Lords and we both aim to take care of our courts, we’ve accepted that sometimes, you need help from others. And we didn’t inherit these positions. None of us are here because we were ‘meant’ to be. We fought for our places, proved we deserved them.”

Your eyes scanned the room, a quiet pride evident in your voice as you continued. “We come from different backgrounds. Some of us started with nothing; others faced challenges you couldn’t imagine. But we earned our roles. That shared struggle builds trust. It creates a foundation that the high lords—despite their power—sometimes lack.”

Azriel studied you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling over him. There was no arrogance in your tone, no superiority—only honesty and conviction. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the truth in what you’d said.

The meeting had resumed with renewed energy after the break, and the hours slipped by as plans were solidified, discussions wrapped up, and solutions were agreed upon. Azriel, still leaning near the doorway, noted the seamless way you handled even the most challenging topics, your leadership shining through in every word and gesture.

As the meeting reached its conclusion, the grand doors to the hall opened, and a new presence filled the room. All eyes turned toward the High Lord of the Dawn Court himself, Thesan, who entered with a graceful stride and a warm smile.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Thesan said, his golden robes shimmering under the light. “I thought I might take a moment to greet everyone.”

The room murmured its welcome, but Thesan’s attention quickly shifted to you. His smile widened, and without hesitation, he crossed the room to greet you with a hug, his hand lingering briefly on your back as he stepped away.

“Y/N,” he said warmly. “It’s been far too long.”

You smiled, the ease and familiarity in your expression matching his. “It has, Thesan. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to drop in.”

“For you? Always,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with a genuine affection that felt... intimate.

Azriel���s sharp gaze flicked between the two of you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders. He couldn’t name the sensation curling in his chest—it wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the sight of Thesan’s hand resting on your back, his tone so effortlessly warm, made something in Azriel tighten. He gripped the hilt of Truth-Teller at his side, though he didn’t draw it, the cool leather grounding him.

Thesan turned to Azriel then, his expression polite but curious. “Spymaster of the Night Court,” he said, extending a hand. “It’s an honor.”

Azriel shook his hand, his grip firm. “High Lord,” he acknowledged, his voice neutral, though his shadows betrayed the flicker of unease still swirling within him.

Thesan’s attention returned to you. “We’ll talk more later, Y/N. But for now, I’ll leave you all to your work.”

He gave you one last smile before departing, leaving a faint hum of energy in his wake. As Thesan left, his golden robes sweeping elegantly behind him, Azriel’s shadows seemed to grow darker around him. He couldn’t explain the irritation bubbling beneath the surface, but watching Thesan’s easy rapport with you—his hand lingering on your back, the casual way he spoke to you—left an uncomfortable knot in Azriel’s chest. 

The day continued with a final wrap-up of the meeting, logistics being finalized, and farewells exchanged among the healers. Azriel stayed close by, observing quietly as you navigated the post-meeting conversations with ease. 

The group began to disperse, each healer carrying their scrolls and notes with an air of purpose. You turned to Azriel, who had been watching the proceedings with a mix of admiration and curiosity. The weight of the day’s discussions lingered, but there was a certain calm in the room now, a sense of accomplishment.

Before stepping toward your room, you paused and glanced at Azriel. “You’ve never been to the Dawn Court capital, have you?”

Azriel shook his head, his shadows curling faintly around him. “No. My work rarely brings me here.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Well, you’re in for a treat. The last rays of the sun are about to set over the city, and the view is stunning. Afterward, we could take a stroll through the streets. The city comes alive at night, and there are some places worth seeing.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, considering your offer. “Are you sure you have the energy for this? You’ve been running the meeting all day.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Besides, a little fresh air will do us both some good. Meet me at the entrance of the palace in fifteen minutes?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, you headed toward your quarters to freshen up, your mind already wandering to the peaceful streets and glowing lanterns that awaited. The thought of seeing the city you once knew so well, with someone new by your side, felt oddly comforting.

Azriel leaned against the marble column near the entrance of the palace, his shadows swirling faintly around him as he waited for you. The last rays of the sun cast a warm glow over the gilded tiles and intricate carvings of the Dawn Court palace, a serene contrast to the conversation he couldn’t help but overhear.

Two healers, young and seemingly unaware of his presence, were chatting in hushed voices that carried just enough for him to hear.

“Yes, she’s the head healer of the Night Court now,” one of them said with a sly laugh. “Do you think she’s going to screw this High Lord too? Maybe Thesan wasn’t enough.”

The other snickered, lowering her voice but not enough. “I heard she even turned him down when he proposed. Can you believe that? The audacity.”

“Right?” the first added. “I mean, she was a total mess when she arrived here. Thesan’s generosity only goes so far, but it seems like she took full advantage of him.”

Azriel’s chest tightened. The male you had spoken about in your story—that had been Thesan. But it wasn’t just that revelation that struck him; it was the way they spoke about you, as though your strength and success were something to diminish.

And then, the second one dropped her voice further, but not enough to escape his sharp hearing. “Do you know why she was a mess? She’s half Illyrian, you know. Heard her wings were clipped before she came here. Left for dead in the snow after... It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

Azriel’s shadows recoiled and then tightened around him like a second skin as he processed what he had just heard. His jaw clenched, and his hand twitched toward Truth-Teller’s hilt, his instincts screaming at him to intervene, to protect, even though the situation had already spiraled into a storm of its own. His eyes flicked to you as you approached, your posture radiating calm authority, though the smirk tugging at your lips told him you were about to unleash a verbal strike that would cut deeper than any blade.

“Was it a miracle?” you asked, your voice carrying an icy undertone that made even Azriel’s shadows still.

The two healers turned toward you, their faces draining of color as recognition hit them. Azriel noticed the way your eyes glinted, not with fury, but with something far more dangerous—control. You weren’t reacting; you were calculating.

The healers exchanged panicked glances, their mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. One of them, a slender female with auburn hair, mustered what little defiance she could and stammered, “We’re not under your command.”

Your smirk widened ever so slightly, a calculated tilt of your head accentuating the sharpness in your gaze. “No,” you said, your voice smooth as silk but no less lethal, “but you are under the command of Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court. A High Lord who values discretion, professionalism, and respect—qualities you seem to lack.”

Azriel noticed the faint twitch in the corner of your mouth as you paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. The two healers visibly shrank under your gaze, their earlier bravado crumbling.

You took a deliberate step closer, your voice dropping into something quieter but far more menacing. “Gossiping about a patient’s private life in the palace, of all places, is not only unprofessional but also disgraceful.”

The auburn-haired healer looked like she might collapse under the weight of your words, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. The other, a taller male, attempted to speak, but his voice cracked before he could form a coherent response.

Without giving them a chance to recover, you added, your smirk returning, “And while you’re correct that you don’t answer to me, I’d be very curious to hear how Thesan might respond if I were to inform him of this little... lapse in judgment.”

Azriel almost laughed at the way the two healers stiffened, their defiance extinguished. Instead, he stepped slightly closer to you, his shadows curling protectively at his feet, silently reinforcing your authority.

Then, with the same sardonic ease, you added, “Considering I fucked Thesan so well, I’m fairly certain he’d follow my orders without hesitation.”

Azriel blinked, taken aback by your brazenness. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face neutral, though his shadows flickered as if sharing in his surprise. The two healers were stunned into silence, their wide-eyed expressions frozen as though they’d been caught in a trap.

You turned sharply on your heel, leaving no room for rebuttal, and said firmly, “Let’s go, Azriel.”

He followed immediately, his steps measured, but his mind raced as he replayed the scene. The ease with which you had dismantled the situation, the confidence laced with just the right amount of menace—it left him both impressed and slightly awed. Yet, beneath it all, he couldn’t shake the ache of what he’d overheard.

As you walked, he caught your profile in the fading light. The smirk had softened into something quieter, almost reflective. Azriel’s own emotions churned, a tangled mix of anger on your behalf and admiration for how you had handled yourself. He didn’t speak, not yet, but the urge to say something—to acknowledge your strength or offer some form of comfort—gnawed at him.

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

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[tsumuus]

first date headcanons | my hero academia

a/n these are just some ideas on how i personally think these characters would ask you out on a date + the actual date. not proofread

characters izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, shoto todoroki

masterlist

izuku midoriya

spend a while preparing before asking you out

seeking advice from friends like uraraka or iida

they would encourage him to just be himself

he'd want the setting in which he does to feel special but not too overwhelming

determined yet still a bit nervous

lowk see him just writting a letter

it would be neat and you can tell how much thought went into it

for the actually dtae

he'd take into account your interests and preferences

super organized

it would be something casual yet fun

like a walk in a park

or visiting a cafe

any kind of place with a relaxed environment in which the two of you could both talk and get to know each other better

like prepare a small picnic at a nearby park

he'd bring homemade sandwiches and snacks

he;d be slightly embarssed but proud of his effort

pick a spot in the park in which you could lay a blanket down and just watch the sunset

he loves to make you smile

and all the little things he does like pick up a dandelion for you to make a wish, tuck your hair behind your ear, or just the sweet words can;t help but make you smile

once the suns set he'd suggest a quick stroll through the city, enjoying the lights and the atmosphere

he'd more at ease by this point

and holds your hand if youre comfy w it

on the walk back he would immediately ask if you guys could hang out again soon

katsuki bakugou

honest and straightforward

doesn;t beat aroudn the bush

he's confident, and if theres any ounce of nervousness in him you wouldn;t be able to tell

but his usual brash demeanor would slightly soften

but he's still direct

he'd do it when youre alone

he'd pull you aside, away from others, to avoid making a scene

makes it clear that he's serious about this

his way of thinking is simple

he likes you and wants to spend time with you, no need to complicate it

would prefer a lowkey setting for the date, rather than flashy activities

like just hanging out in one of your dorms would be enough for him

but he knows you deserve more than that

but he still focuses on just spending time with you

getting to know each other in a relaxed setting

given his competitive nature, maybe go to a small and lowkey bowling alley with a small arcade

preferably one thats not well known and popular

he'd enjoy the challenge in the activities and the chance to see your playful side

don't think he'd let you win, he'd a try hard and will attempt to beat you at everything

throughout the date, he would show subtle protective gestures

like walking on the side of the sidewalk thats closer to the road

ugh what a man

while he may not be the best with words, he would engage in all your conversations with honesty and openness

during quiet moments, where he lets his gaurd down, you get to see a glimpse of his geniune personality

on the way back to the dorms, as he asks to see you again, he'd be less gruff but still determined and direct

hes serious about you

as you say goodbye, he can;t help but linger outside your dorm for a little

his expression soft with a small smile

shoto todoroki

would take him a while to even realize he liked you lol

but when he does

he's calm about it

yet he still takes some time to reflect on his feelings

ensuring that he truly does want to take this next step

he wants to make sure that this is 100% the right move for the both of you

would choose a quiet, private moment to ask you out

he values sincerity and wants to ensure you are comfortable

he'd appraoch you with gentleness that reflects his sincerity

he would be calm and genuine, showing his true intentions

his idea of a perfect first date is simple get elegant

he'd suggest starting the date off with a walk in a garden or park

someplace that would likeley have no distractions that takes away his time with you

after the walk

he'd take you to a charming little tea place

the calm atmosphere allowing for deeper conversations between you both

he wants to learn everything about you that he doesn;t already know

whether thats going on for hours about your favorite books, music, hobbies

he wants to share parts of his life that are meaningful to him ofcourse, but would rather learn about you first

there would be quiet moments throughout your date, but he enjoys those

he seems to enjoy your presence more than anyone elses

if its chilly he'd offer you his scarf or jacket

his actions speaking volumes about his caring nature

he's the best listener

he values your guys connection and is eager to learn more about you

as the day comes to an end and you two walk back to the dorms, your conversations continue

what he has with you is completely new to him

he's never wanted to get to knwo someone more than he has with you

and he expresses this clearly when asking about your availability for future dates

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"DARYL DIXON—MASTERLIST."

Hi! This is my masterlist of all the imagines I wrote here. Thank you so, so much for the love my stories are getting♥ I'll do my best to keep writting good stories for you. — Vi. (They are posted from last to first) Hope you like them!

Series:

"Like there was no tomorrow” Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow. But when you come back into his life, you’re sure you won't fall for him again. However, even against your wishes, he will stay close to you, protecting you from getting hurt or worse, because a life without you is unimaginable. Now, like a roller coaster of emotions, you have to face your confusing feelings in an apocalyptic world, until you finally decide what the hell you expect from life, besides the chance to live one more day.

And when a little girl shows up in your lifes, she may be the path to a safe place you two can finally call home. But, will that be enough to be together? Or will the past be too much to survive the storm?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

One shots:

“What it means to me.” After Daryl separates from you, Sasha and Abraham, he tries to find his way back to the person he considers his home. But, in the midst of his fight to survive, the ring he’s been hiding for a while is taken away, but that ring is more than just a ring: It's the only promise he can make to you, that he will love only you.

"His only one." You are his only one, he told you that the day you got married, that's why you don't mind the neighbors' blatant flirting with your husband, but the third time's the charm, and at that moment, you make clear to her that his ass belongs to you (literally)

"You are." To Daryl, you are different, you are special, you are everything. But when his jealousy over a "prank" from your friend leads to a misunderstanding you can't resolve, and an incident the next day that nearly costs you your life, it causes Daryl to have a huge revelation about his feelings for you.

"Fight or fight." The Dixon brothers know there are only two options when faced with a problem: fight or fight, but maybe that lesson isn't such a bad one for Marley when she tries to defend her friend.

"Until I found you." You always felt lost, adrift, until you found him. Oddly enough, Daryl always felt the same way, until he found you. From the moment you two met until your life together in Alexandria—quite a story.

"One of these days." For you and your husband, trying to find the right time to have a little fun is not always so easy.

"Marley's stickers." After returning from a supply run with stickers for his daughter, Daryl is no longer sure if giving them to Marley was a good idea when he finds his crossbow covered in them, especially when he has to leave again with his group.

"Stay with me." When an old trauma begins to hunt you down again, Merle ends up telling your husband the truth, your deepest secret.

“When you finally came back.” After escaping from the saviors, Daryl and you finally meet again to stay together this time. And there, alone, your husband gives you a letter that perhaps expresses a little of what you mean to him. (light smut)

"On a snowy day." On a snowy day, Daryl's daughter tells him about an interesting conversation between you and Aunt Maggie, but Marley ends up spilling the beans to Carol too about her daddy's worst fear.

"Make you happy." Daryl reminisces about the day you two got married, when you found out you were pregnant, and when Marley was born.

"Like gravity." A recap from when you and Daryl met until he said he loved you.

"Karma butterfly." The actions we take produce their corresponding results, good or bad. And that's what happens with Spencer when he decides to play the bad guy against you and Daryl after you two decide to move in together in a house like the married couple you were before the apocalypse.

"A whole new world." For Daryl, it still feels like living in a whole new world with his daughter by his side, but in the hour that he is left alone with Marley, Daryl proves he is the best dad ever.

"The way to heal a heart." When his heart can’t stand the pain of a loss, you discover why Daryl ignored you all those days. But there, you tell your husband the way his heart can heal.

“Russian roulette.” The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you. (light smut)

"Catching the fox." Jesus only caused problems since you, Daryl and Rick met him during a run, but that doesn’t prevent you all from having a little fun. (Even if you come home empty–handed)

"The truth - Part 1." For the first time in his life, Daryl tells Carol the story of how you two met. "The truth - Part 2." Alone in the place you always loved, Daryl finally tells you the words he always wanted to say to you. But, will he finally be able to propose to you?

"For life." Daryl tells his daughter about the day she was born (And she asks him an awkward question)

"My everything." A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

"Like a roller coaster.” Marriages always have their ups and downs like a roller coaster. Even in the midst of an apocalypse, Daryl and you play a game until the situation gets a little out of control, but in the end, the only thing you two are sure about is that you have each other to keep living.

"The little spoon." During a night of drinking, you let Maggie, Glenn and Carol know that Daryl likes to be the little spoon.

“In your eyes.” The truth can easily be seen in the eyes of the person you love. That night, Daryl saw in your eyes how much you love him. But the next day after Aiden tried to attack you, Daryl knew who was responsible for the cut on your lip without you saying his name.

“Scars i would live with.” Daryl wonders why you don’t touch his back when you two make love.

[violinios]

Dream Sans headcannons!

Some might be not cannon accurate, and it's only my own interpretation of him. Might update sometime. I'll mix angst headcannons with fluffy and some funny ones.

The illusion his aura creates also affects people's smell. Yeah, people's smell. His aura makes other people attracted to him in many ways, and smell is one of them. Each person can feel a different, pleasent smell coming from him, it depends of their personal favorite smell. If their favorite smell is chocolate, they'll feel like Dream smells like chocolate. If someone likes the smells of strawberries, Dream would smell like strawberries to them. The only ones who are actually able to feel his true smell are, obviously, people not affected by his aura. I like to think his aura creates a lot of types of illusions that make people attached to him.

Once he got a (temporary) room for himself, he decorated the ceilling and almost everything he could with star-shaped things. This is because Dream used to sleep with his brother under the stars, looking at the sky at night before going to sleep, and he started to miss this feeling. Of course that sleeping in a bed is way more comfortable than sleeping against a tree, but he still misses his old home. Even if the stars on the ceilling are fake, it stills feels nice and it brings him a feeling of nostalgia. He only wishes he had his brother once again to watch the stars with him...

Dangerous animals become soft around him. Or at least, most of them. Lions, for an example, are pratically kittens when around Dream. Yes, this is also a result of his aura. Wouldn't it be fun if he just came back home to meet his partner with a motherfucking lion following him like a lost puppy?

He's unaware of how harmless or how dangerous things can actual be for mortal beings. He thinks they're way more fragile than they actually are and can be overprotective without noticing. He's barely affected by deseases that affects normal people and can handle more than mortals would physically be able to handle, but he has no idea if some things are deadly or not, and becomes overly worried about normal things such as a cold. It took him some time to realize a tummy ache won't kill his friend...

He has healing tears. His body heals by his own, and he can use magic to heal other people, but this makes him extremelly tired since it demands a lot of his powers. So when healing others, he has to cry and let his tears fall on the bruises instead of using his powers, but it would take more time to heal serious injuries. They would heal a deep cut in a matter of minutes, at least.

He panics around statues. At his first years of freedom from his imprisonment, he thought that the statues were people going through the same situation he went through more than 400 years, stuck in stone and started to react as a result of trauma, trying to free them in any ways he could, yet failling because they weren't real people stuck in stone. It took him some time to realize that, and he tried to tell himself to act more rational when around statues, but still, he feels uneasy when he's around statues of real people. He tries not to react or to be worried, but he keeps trying not to look at them and avoids being near them.

Everyone compares him to an old men when he texts. He likes to use a lot of emojis and uses those "good morning" gifs non ironically. He writes like he's writting a formal letter, like he used to write to his brother when they were young (even though he writes like a formal letter, his writing is definetly not the best... he's not good at writing at all lol. example below.)

Even though he's still tries to mask his own feelings with a positive and cheerful attitude, his behaviour changed a lot. He's less energetic than he was as a child, a bit more shy due to insecurity and less extroverted than before, but still social. He's a bit closed off when it comes to his own feelings, but knows how to handle social situations well and how to handle with other people's emotions. His adult self is less silly and more serious and mature, but still as gentle as ever. He got rid of his childishness, even before becoming an adult, as a result of feeling guilty for the events that happened in Dreamtale, as if he told himself he doesn't deserve a childhood. He prefers to, instead, give a good childhood to the children around him, the childhood he never had, and is more protective of children than adults (but he won't deny them protection too, he just enjoys being a brother/father figure to the young people)

[vveirdnobdy]

It's Venion. He choose to name him Onion specifically because so people can make fun of him due to how similar their names are.

Also, imagine Cale releasing a song which its lyrics seem like a boy having a one-sided conversation or writting a letter for someone, saying that he did his best, how he's fine and so. And everyone is just like "aww, that's sweet".

Then at the end of the video the screen shows the other party of the conversation... And it's just a tomb that says Mom.

YOUUU

let my boy vent 😌

But also dude imagine the emotional distress as a listener like me? Personally? Watch that i will be ill over it for a week(literally me with any Vocaloid song I deep dive-)

Ooo also imagine a song of just the feeling of being cut out and longing to be a part of. Referencing his relationship with his full family.

Also I talked about Lily being a fan of the music and stuff and I feel like she would really like that song, because she also longs for her family to be whole.

[saints-who-never-existed]

Davechella Week Seven: John Irving

Happy Friday y'all! Jirving playlist be upon ye!

Alpha Swallows - Laura Marling He could fall and shake and weep/ But as holy are my feet and hard with mention/ That dear, they may not speak/ We feel tight when there is tension/And our eyes can make us weak And his heart was full of fire at the man he had become/ And his soul was seldom higher with the falsities of fun/ Could embrace sweet desires in moments as they passed/ But he feared ever more, he saw it didn't last

Rite & Rising - Cullen Vance

Seven Hells - Brown Bird Laws of men lay claim to all those without shame/ Who enlighten themselves with the lies/ That our souls are bound to the deafening sounds/ As the megaphones fill up the skies In bonds of conscience, respiration fails/ Blind suffocation proceeds/ By floodwaters swallowed, the proprium of whales/ Shed these lung spires and breathe

There's No Such Thing as a Jaggy Snake - Biffy Clyro Look up!/ C-c-c-c-c-captain Christ says!/ You think too much about the wrong things/ You sing about the wrong things/ Take extra special care! Simply put you're a fuck up/ C-c-c-c-c-captain Christ says!/ You think too much about the wrong things/ You sing about the wrong things

The Hunger - The Distillers Summertime/ The taste of saint secretes of perfume mist/ Console the mind/ I take it in, the lips of pink, I kiss/ Lonely sky/ The more you take, the more that I give in/ Holy eyes/ I never knew, I know, I know, don't go! Hold on to the memory/ Yeah, it's all you got/ I know you'll be there/ To soak up blood lost/ Blood lost, blood lost

Bless Your Soul - The Bones of J. R. Jones Oh, when all of your ghosts in your dark hollow/ All them move to what's holy in you/ 'Cause you're keeping time, ain't hard if you're blind/ Just tap your feet to your prayers offbeat Oh and bless your soul

The Muse - Laura Marling God's work is planned/ I stand here with a man/ That talked to me so candidly/ More than I'd choose My lips at once are rouged/ I feel again the blues/ Of longing, ever longing, to be/ Confused

White as Diamonds - Alela Diane And some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters/ Just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones/ Some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters/ Just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones I've known mornings white as diamonds/ Silent from a night so cold/ Such a stillness, calm as the owl glides/ Our lives are buried in snow/ Our lives are buried in snow

The Wrote and The Writ - Johnny Flynn I'm being asked to drink the blood of Christ/ And soon I'll eat his flesh/ I'm alone again before the altar/ Shedding all my old regrets The last of which I'll tell you now/ As it flies down the sink/ I never knew a part of you/ You didn't set in ink, in ink The letters that you left behind/ No longer shall I read/ Your blood's between the pages/ And I can't stand to see you bleed And I'll soon forget what was never there/ Your words are ash and dust/ All that's left is the song I've sung/ The breath I've taken and the one I must If you're born with a love for the wrote and the writ/ People of letters, your warning stands clear:/ Pay heed to your heart and not to your wit/ Don't say in a letter what you can't in my ear

The Snow Hare - Julie Fowlis/Karine Polwart The hare, he waits on the highest hill/ But the snow is no more falling/ The hare, he waits on the highest hill Oh, the dark is rising By the rock of the stag, he shelters in from the weather He prays for the veil of snow to come and cover him over

[harpagornis]

MTG Analysis: LGBT and the color pie

So this is something a bit out of left field since its not Pride Month but I felt like writting this so sue me.

MTG has had a long history with LGBT topics and characters, from Xantcha from the early days to an explosion of LGBT characters in recent years. Officially, homophobia doesn’t exist in the Multiverse (I call bull if you’re familiar with older canon) and that’s fine and dandy, not everyone needs bigotry in their escapism.

However, I like to keep things real, and the matter of fact is that the color pie is philosophical. So I though it’d be fun to see how the colours interact and react to LGBT topics.

White

White I think is the easiest to depict as homophobic/transphobic. After all, real world religions and politics have persecuted LGBT individuals, and White is all about marginalising the outgroup, imposing restrictions on community and using faith as means to dictate one’s life. Conversely, White is also likely to be shown as an ally, since it often also fights for the meek and vulnerable.

An interesting way to depict White in this regard is the different double standards it may have. For example, in some real world cultures trans individuals are accepted because they’re seen as a way to enforce gender roles, while non-binary or gay individuals are shunned because they dismantle gender roles. Conversely, homosexuality may be seen as means to reinforce military bonds, which plays in White’s love of community + militarization.

Overall, because White often governs over society and factions I think there’s a real potential for worldbuilding.

Blue

On the surface, Blue can appear as rather accepting since it believes in reason and science. Its philosophy of one being able to do anything one desires to improve oneself also plays well into accepting trans people. I don’t think there’s a coincidence that the two first non-binary planeswalkers are Blue aligned; one even defied fate for crying out loud!

However, Blue’s belief in tabula rasa also means that it doesn’t believe anything is inherent. Therefore, Blue is the most likely to believe in conversion therapy. Worse, given Blue’s factions penchant for amoral science it is the color most likely to dispense “cures” for homosexuality and make straight designer babies.

In conclusion, Blue’s allyship is highly dependent on what it feels self-improvement entails. On a good day, it rallies for LGBT rights. On a bad day, it makes White look reasonable in comparison.

Black

Black, being the colour of individuality and giving the middle finger to societal norms, is most accepting of all letters of LGBT. This comes with a big caveat, however: it is focused on the individual foremost. So if going to a pride parade displays one’s power and charisma, it will do so. If being a closeted bigoted politician provides that, it will be so. Black has no morals or obligations, why should it care if it can be a hypocrite or profit off pride?

A very fairweather ally, but a staunch supporter especially to spite bigotry.

Red

Red is the colour of freedom and self-expression. It has no patience for those tearing others down in the name of society and laws. Naturally, I think it’s a no-brainer that it is the most LGBT positive colour. It loves who it loves and indentifies as it identifies, and unlike Black it has a sense of empathy and a healthy dose of disregard for authorithy in any way shape or form. And its always down to experiment!

That said, I can see some violently homophobic characters being partly-Red aligned, with some other color to provide reasons as to why Red’s normal love of self-expression is restricted.

Green

Green, like White, is a double edged sword. It fundamentally believes in fate, tradition and genetics; on one hand, it can decry such things as “unnatural”, but on the other it can be supportive, especially if it sees such things as “always meant to be”. Unlike Blue, it believes things are inherent, so it is less likely to believe in “cures”. This in particular is why its dichotomy differs from White, as unlike it Green derives its beliefs from philosophical concepts rather than morality.

It’s opinions on trans topics in particular can be pretty interesting: does it see an individual’s body as the natural truth, or the soul? Loreley Writes once wrote a post I can’t find that Green magic could theoretically work with a person’s own identity to modify the flesh; that’d be a cool use of biomancy if made canon.

So in conclusion

I respect WOTC for not wanting to deal with topics that could backfire horribly, but I just can’t help myself!

[yepiiimurders]

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened"

I should say, i was there from very beginning. I'm a murder drones fan since the pilot episode, when it wasn't known, will this show get season 1 or not. So, let's say thank to Liam for giving to this show a shot. Because it could end after the pilot episode.

It was fun. This show made us laugh, made us cry, made us shocked, made us scared.. Not every show can do that. Everyone did the great job. Liam, Glitch, Animators, Scenarists, Voice actors, Fans. And I'm writing them from the big letter, because they are a heros for doing this hard job! Liam writted this story. Glitch made this show happen. Animators gived the best view of it. Scenarists did their best to made this story giving to us emotions. Voice actors gived to characters their voices. Fans made this show popular! Everyone! The artists made arts of it, fanfic-writers writted a great stories of it, editors edited together the greatest moments, songwriters writted a great fan songs. Even just a simple fans of this show made it popular by talking about it to friends, family, even with strangers in the internet! Everyone did the greatest job to not let this fandom die! Everyone did their best and this is our reward. The emotions we got while watching this show. We will never forget it

And since from the last goodbye are left only 22 hours..Let's say thanks to everyone, especially to Liam and Glitch. Let's rewatch all episodes and let's start..THE FINAL COUNTDOWN💥💥

(Sorry, if there's grammar mistakes, but i tried my best)

[theotheradversary]

So.

Heya Ghouls! I figure the best folks to ask would be the Tumblr Ghost fanatics.

"Watcher in the Sky" is about that object that appeared over London during WWII, that they couldn't shoot down. A weird weather phenomena or something more fun.

Does that sound right? Figured that enough time has passed for you guys to tear that album apart. Heh

Edit: oh.. I'm going to start writing and reading again old script, the removed books of the King James edition the removal of which making it less... Insane and fun. Though there's heaps of references to the other old testament(s). If course I can never forget to read the Kabbalah. That's pretty important to the whole concept of this blog.

Not to mention particular sects of Judaism and Christianity. They have some interesting stories/writings in their existing (or last existing) Bibles.

I've been told they keep those original old Bible books/letters /writs locked up in Rome, along with the rest of Solomon's letters, notes and letters. We've only just seen the surface if what he wrote about. Oh well... Unless i get cosy with a Bishop or higher, I'll never know.

Oh. Something that's been bothering me.

Lilith did not rape or get raped by Adam.

The translations of translations turned the equivalent of "seduce" into this ridiculous idea in the current English (even Latin) books. Remember. Being seduced by a woman was considered coercion/"soft rape" of the man back then.

I frikken hate that Lilith stands bastardise this bit. Very very annoying, sexist and completely false. Remember. Lilith was formed by the same clay as Adam. His pure equal. In every way.

Anyways....

Ghosties and ghouls! Hlp plz senpais! I'm really really curious if i got it right

[legobiwan]

Whumptober Salvage: Episode 2

Two days in a row of writing! I just made the deadline on this one, although I can't vouch for its quality.

Today's theme: “I’ll (They’ll) call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Today's author commentary: Not much to say here.

Warnings: I feel like Dimentio is his own warning, but nothing graphic occurs in this one.

Index: Episode 1

~~~~~~~~~

The tall, lanky man is flanked on either side by two former members of the monster’s army. 

Koopas, they’re called. Short, beaked-faced creatures whose lack of stature is more than made up for by their sheer density of muscle mass, each striation etched into biceps and deltoids in painstaking detail, a contour map of strength writ on a leather-like epidermis. 

Not that they would recall their former allegiances, if she had done her job right. 

She always did her job right.

The sunglasses were a nice touch, though. An uncharacteristic hint of whimsy, but he was never one to look down on a bit of improvisatory fun. It was character development, in his mind. The smallest crack in a stone-walled dam, just enough space for him to wriggle through to some real answers, if he played his cards right.

“My, my, Nassy!” Dimentio floats over to the short, severe woman, coming to hover just over her left shoulder. Nastasia pays him no heed, giving a perfectly symmetrical frown as she scribbles notes on her ever-present clipboard, angular letters carved with an elegant, restrained precision. 

Dimentio peers over her shoulder, pointing to the scene below. “Who is this tattered man who appears as if he has been pulled from the whirling center of a tumultuous cyclone?” As he speaks, the man stumbles forward, tripping on some invisible crack on the surface of Bleck’s smooth, pristine floors. 

He recovers quickly enough, grabbing onto his ash-stained hat with one hand, holding out the other arm for balance as he staggers forward, his momentum hurtling him right into the hard-shelled back of one of the guards.  

“Come on. Move,” the guard orders, neither harsh nor conciliatory. A perfect foot soldier, wholly loyal to the Count and his directives. The Koopa takes the man by the bicep, guiding him towards the tall, dark doors at the end of the corridor. 

Curious.

“I wasn’t aware we were now in the business of taking prisoners,” Dimentio hums, eyeing the dazed, green-clad man who is now trailing the twin set of Koopa guards as if he were a child who mistook strangers as his parents. “My, my," he tuts, "how the Count’s morals have slid since the sham nuptials of the beast and the princess.” A sly smile slants across the jester’s features. “However do you cope, Nassy?”

Nastasia growls, brushing Dimentio away with a sour look, taking a moment to adjust the perfectly-wrapped bun atop her head. “The Count is only doing what is necessary, okay?" she says, waspish. “Restoring order to the universe is his priority.”

A prisoner, then. Leverage? A bit of entertainment while the Count awaited the apotheosis of the Chaos Heart? Poor Nassy wouldn't like any of those options.

Or perhaps was he something more? Whatever the Count’s goals, taking prisoners had never been a part of their standing orders. Either get with the program, or get out, as Nastasia would say.  

“Ah yes, our perfect worlds!” Dimentio exclaims in a half-whisper, waving his arm in a florid motion. “All orchestrated by our dear Count Bleck. Regrettable this lofty goal seems to come at the price of the Count’s high moral standing.”

Nastasia turns her head, shooting him a nasty look. “You’re not one to give opinions on another man’s morals, Dimentio.”

Dimentio gives a toothy smile in response. “Touché.”

Below, the human has fallen further behind his escorts, apparently distracted by some piece of machinery or appliance bolted to the hallway wall. He takes his chin in hand, contemplating the silver grating, somehow finding meaning in the rhythmless alternation of flickering red and green lights.

“Hey!” The guard calls. “Get moving!”

“One second,” the man replies with a sharp edge of impatience. His voice is deeper than Dimentio had imagined, a sonorous thing straddling between tenor and baritone. He absently wonders if the man can sing. 

The man in green bends over to give the mechanism a closer inspection. “You know you’ve got an issue here - “

“Save it for the Count, Mr. L.”

This gives the man pause as he straightens to face the Koopa, his features crinkling in question. 

“Mr….L?”

The Koopa grabs the man’s hat in one swift motion, dangling the item from a long claw. “That’s what it says on your hat, right?” He motions to the green “L” embossed in the center of a white circle. “Your name’s L. Or something like that.”

The man’s jaw works soundlessly around an answer. “I don’t…know…” He runs a hand through a distressed, thick mane of dark hair. “I guess that seems right?”

“You guess,” the Koopa mutters, shoving the hat back into the man’s hands. 

Perhaps he had difficulty remembering his name prior to Nastasia's intervention, if he needed to wear a hat with his initials sewn on. 

“Come on, Nassy, spill the beans. Who is he? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Green who gazes wide-eyed at the world like a kitten beneath an ornamented tree.” There had to be a reason they were keeping him. Not only keeping him, but leading him there.

“Just another loyal soldier to the Count.”

Dimentio wags his finger. “I don’t think so. New grunts don’t get a personal escort, no less an escort leading to an entrance to the Count’s chambers.” Dimentio adopts his best wheedling tone, floating to Nastasia’s other side. “What did he do?” he asks, stretching out the vowel to the point of absurdity.

“You know gossip is not tolerated among the minions,” Nastasia bites, scribbling furiously on her clipboard. Dimentio doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t say a word as he continues to float just behind Nastasia, the pale-white side of his mask a mere breath from her pointed ear. After a long moment, she lets out an aggrieved sigh, smacking her pen against the surface of the clipboard before hugging it to her abdomen.

”He interrupted the wedding.”

“Ah,” Dimentio breathes. “And now the Count seeks a more personal form of retribution for such an offense?” The jester wrinkles his nose. “How deliciously bloodthirsty of him!”

The accusation doesn’t elicit the response he hopes for. Nastasia’s face puckers as if she has sucked on a bag of lemons, but any further information is not forthcoming. Instead, she turns her attention again to the scene below, wordless as she observes the movements of the man, who has somehow eluded the grasp of the two guards yet again, wandering back to the silver mechanism he had been inspecting earlier. 

With a practiced hand, he plucks some kind of wrench from his pocket, rotating a series of bolts and nuts a few degrees to the left and right with meticulous movements, the adjustments seemingly amounting to nothing if not for the immediate change in the flashing lights on the nearby panel. 

“What the hell are you doing?” The taller of the guards grunts, pulling the man roughly by the arm. 

He frowns, an expression whose slanted line creeps towards the very beginnings of a sneer. “You were running a signal line into a conduit that relays contact leads. Rookie mistake,” he scoffs, shaking his head, as he gestures at the tall, shadowy ceiling of the atrium. “No wonder the lighting in here is so terrible.” 

“What?” the guard snaps, his features twisting into a mask of almost comical confusion. “What are you talking about? Don’t - “ He growls, shoving the man away from the now-humming metal apparatus. “Don’t mess with the Count’s things.”

“Then tell this Count of yours to hire better engineers.”

Well, then. He was certainly more fiesty than he looked. With a bit of practice, he might even...

“Given this display,” Dimentio begins, breaking the stony silence between the two minions, feeling out his best path towards further information. “It’s hardly a surprise he interrupted the wedding. Perhaps something to do with substandard chandeliers,” he sighs, holding out his hand to inspect invisible nails hidden by long, black gloves. “Tell me, Nassy, is this charming personality your work or did he come this way?”

Nastasia says nothing, the only hint to her increasing irritation found in the sharpening line running down the side of her jaw. 

Dimentio leans forward, perching his chin on Nastasia's shoulder. “As he seems to be headed towards the same door you and I were not so long ago, am I to assume we will have to contend with these churlish home improvement suggestions on a regular and intimate basis in the near future?” Dimentio gives a long, pleading look. “For me, Nassy. You do know how much I despise surprises." Dimentio throws back his head in melodramatic fashion.

"One day we’re a team of four, and suddenly the wrench falls from the sky like an unexpected meteorite on a flock of dinosaurs. And when the dust settles, we are now five, all camaraderie and trust broken by a new and insufferable interloper. If I am to humor this man in service of the Count’s glorious purpose, at least tell me his true name.”

He receives nothing for his performance, and for a horrible moment, Dimentio almost believes Nastasia will remain stone-faced and unyielding, another one of the Count’s marblesque statues of the dead haunting the inner corridors of his chambers. 

The long sigh she finally gives is as refreshing as a summer breeze. “His name,” she relents, her voice monotone, “is - was - Luigi.” Nastasia pushes her opaque-lensed glasses up her nose, turning to face Dimentio. “Like I said, he interrupted the wedding.”

“Doubtless he wasn’t the only one to object to the abrupt ceremony.”

“No,” Nastasia answers. “But…” she trails off, closing her eyes. “He was the only one who stomped on the Chaos Heart to try and do so.”

Oh. Oh.

Dimentio’s features brighten, his mouth drawing out into an elongated grin. “And he lived?”

Annoyance peppers Nastasia’s response. ”Managed to send half the wedding party through a dimensional gateway. We’ve been hunting down the scattered remains of Bowser’s army for the past three days.”

A logistics problem turned tantalizing opportunity.

”Those you’ve located have pledged allegiance to the Count, I assume?”

Nastasia clicks her pen off, sliding it through the center of her perfectly-coiffed bun. “They got with the program,” she says, curt, gesturing in Luigi’s direction. “And so will he.” 

With no further comment, Nastasia slides one loose lock of fuschia hair behind her ear, the click-click of her heels fading as she disappears down a long, dark corridor. 

Dimentio puts a long finger to his lips, tilting his head in renewed curiosity at the trio below.

”Well, well, well. Luigi.” He rolls the name around on his tongue, tasting each syllable. An idea occurs to him, a test, a bit of a science experiment. Cupping his hand around his mouth purely for theatrics, Dimentio draws on a touch of magic to amplify his voice just above the threshold of audibility. “Oh, Luigi?” he calls downward, drawing out the name in a melismatic sing-song. 

Luigi turns, first confused, then scowling. When no explanation or source is apparent, he shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets with an annoyed huff.

“Ah. So I call your name, but you do not call back. Mr. L, I suppose it is now.” Dimentio chuckles as the two tall doors open with a silent, crisp draft, Luigi and the guards vanishing into Bleck’s gloomy antechambers. 

“Welcome to our little club, my friend,” Dimentio purrs, his thoughts already turned to new sets of intricate, woven plans.

Survived stomping on the Chaos Heart, did you? And now an honored guest of the Count?

 “Yes, my ill-tempered man in green." Dimentio smiles to an imaginary audience. "You and I will have a most fruitful collaboration, indeed.”

[p1nkwitch]

Here me out. 10 for that prompt list and Lonelyeyes.

Sorry it took me this long! Between lonelyeyes week and having to finish the good omens au, i was busy. Anyhow!! Here you go i had a fun writting this.

10.  “you died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract”

Peter was furious, he read the paper in his hand, over and over again, till eventually he crumpled it in his hands and put it inside his pocket. He quickly put on his coat and went to the Magnus Institute at a quick pace. 

The letter had been clear, there was no line that he could use to escape, no loophole. He even called his uncle on the way there, wanting to check just in case, but Nathaniel merely let out a sigh and told him it was in fact a clause that Mordechai had signed up with Jonah Magnus many years ago. It just so happened that no other head of the institute had any need to call upon it till now. James Wright instilled his right to it and now Peter was seemingly stuck. Cursing loudly he hangs up on his uncle telling him to keep it cool.

When he finally arrives at the building, he takes no time at all to make his way to the office of the new head of the place. Elias Bouchard.

Peter had liked James, in fact he had fancied him quite a bit, before his death, the two of them had a bit of a relationship. Which was fine by him, Peter came and went to the sea and back to land to spend some time with James whom he held fond feelings for. Quite…romantic in kind in all honesty.

He flushes just thinking about it. Unfortunately they were still working for opposing forces, therefore they were very prone to fights, so in his last trip, they got into a big one. Things were said. Peter left to simmer on his feelings for the next ten months, expecting to get back to James with a cool head. Unfortunately by the time he did come back he was informed the man was dead and he missed the funeral as well.

It really just…well it shook him quite badly, enough that he refused to go to the institute at all to meet the new head of the place. Telling Nathaniel he was done with it and to find someone else.

That of course didn't seem to work for long, because now he got this stupid bloody letter!

Peter grumbles but he struggles to remember where the office is, he tends to get lost easily in the stupid building and the sensation of being watched made him feel sick, enough that it distracted him too much to properly know his location. Eventually he finds someone from staff who points him to the right direction and so he finds himself in front of James' office.

Rosie tries to stop him but he starts to use the lonely when she picks up her phone and tells him after a few seconds that Elias shall see him. He quickly enters and closes the door behind him.

The man in front of him was sitting behind his desk with a set of glasses that were slightly sliding off his nose, they were red rimmed, which contrasted a lot with his dark gray suit.

“Ah, Mr. Lukas I was not expecting you today, what can I do for you sir?” 

He almost deflates. Elias was at most a couple of years younger than Peter, maybe barely hitting his thirties. He was shorter than him, which he noticed when the man stood up and pointed to the seat in front of him. The feeling of being seen was present so at least the man knew what he was or James picked someone with promise for the spot.

Thinking of James makes his head hurt for a very specific reason.

“What you can do is get rid of this” He takes the crumpled paper from his pocket and slams it on the desk, sliding it towards Elias who picks it up and reads it. His eyebrows raise till eventually he looks up at him with a blank expression.

“This is a bit of a surprise to be honest, but unfortunately…i can't do anything about it. I legally cannot undo the contract”

Peter chest burns.

“You cannot expect me to think its ok for James to pawn me off to you! We aren't in the 18 or early 19 century. We don't arrange arranged marriages anymore!”

Elias makes a sort of motion with his hand. “Maybe not here but its technically not-”

Peter glares at him. “I'm not going to marry you because James lost his mind before he died” He doesn't like looking people in the eyes, it's horrendous, instead Peter stares at the spot between their eyes. This is why he notices how Elias' expression turns pinched and his mouth turns slightly downwards at his outburst.

“Mr.Wright was under all his faculties before his untimely demise Mr.Lukas. A heart attack is a heart attack, not a reason to question his sanity. Albeit its quite the shock that he thought about this. He did mention you to me, as he was training me. I presumed you two were close from the way he spoke of you…very hm, yes fond”

Peter shivers and steps back feeling that horrible sensation of eyes raking over his skin, of being known.

“Knock it off. He did not-”

But Elias nods and walks around the desk to stand in front of him.

“He did, I was very curious about what sort of person he would talk so fondly of, you know? Ah it was a pity when i found out you were quitting your place as the representative of your family, i wanted to meet you. Albeit of course also not under this circumstances”

Peter feels a mix between shame and…and he is not sure. Especially as Elias' hands landed on his coat's lapel, he was fixing up his lapels and letting his hands linger for a bit. Making his skin crawl and his face burn. Elias is handsome. He will give him that, he also has sharp eyes, the same color as James too, a very cool shade of gray.

Still-!

“Listen, I'm not the sort of person you get to know, that's not how I work, but even less so…I don't do arranged marriages! Why would James even think this is a good idea to begin with at all?!” Elias tilts his head and says he doesn't know.

“But it's not such a bad thing isn't it?”

Peter gapes at him.

“What?”

Elias smirks at him, his lip slightly lifting upwards, it was both very nice on his face but also very insufferable.

“Take it as an opportunity, besides i talked to Nathaniel on the phone and he was mentioning something about you perhaps soon having to find a wife, since you were now no longer doing business with the Institute” Peter didn't know-

His face burns in shame about this little bastard knowing so much about him and yet Peter had nothing on him. “He wouldn't-”

A tap on the chest makes him look down at Elias. What a…handsome devil.

“But he would, now as I said, you can call this a blessing in disguise. Arranged as it is, we can make this work. You still travel, and leave for most of the year as you Lukas tend to do. I'm busy and I don't have time to dwell too much in relationships, they all bring me headaches. So…a transaction if you may. A marriage in name but its more of a…collaboration if you will?”

Swallowing a bit he asks carefully what that would entail. Elias smirk gets more wicked and there is something on the way he does it that just tickles the back of his brain. There is something so very…familiar in the motion.

“Well, for one, I do not like your replacement, I can tell you that right now. Conrad is a prick” Peter can't help but snort and smile just a bit, a hint really.

“Yes, that tracks”

Elias' eyes flutter and Peter has to look elsewhere, he is handsome, so what? Peter is still placed in a binding contract between entities and a marriage that he never asked for.

“Still what else? I want to win something out of this whole farce”

Elias walks around him like a predator measuring up with their prey, it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Well, I only want some time to talk, perhaps dinner if you may. It is a marriage, perhaps not conventional or legal yet, but one made by our predecessors and bound by our entities. Quite the thing isn't it? As for you, well, what is more lonely than this? A marriage with no love?”

It is true, but that's not…

What fuels his loneliness is not the complete lack of something, but an absence. Peter is lonely because there is something to miss. An empty relationship as miserable of an affair as that is, doesn't feed his patron at all, because its not making him lonely, just miserable. Fun for a watcher not for Forsaken.

“I'm afraid you are going to need something else to sell it out to me, Mr.Bouchard. That's not how it works for me”

“Oh? And how is that then? Aren't you sad about what happened to Mr. Wright? Isn't it lonely enough to be married to someone else than the person you actually…cared about?” He was sure he was going to say love, in that case Peter would have just sent Elias to the lonely. Clenching his fists he tells him through clenched teeth to watch it.

Elias' eyes narrow and his expression turns wicked.

“Why? Isn't it the truth? Mr.Wright was fond of you but i'm sure he got over it quickly when you left him”

Peter stares and then grabs him by the tie, gripping it tightly as Elias smiles at him. “Grinning little freak, shut up”

“Perhaps that was what did it, you wore down his heart” Peter face twitches and Elias eyes seem to drink it all in. 

“I am going to get rid of this little contract, after all who cares if you are dead right?”

The beholder laughs and grips his wrist tightly with a hand as he leans so close to his face Peter has to step back, yet Elias follows.

“Do that, and I will shove so many memories of other people's lives and their thoughts about you that you will turn into a blubbering mess Peter dear, don't test me. Im being kind darling”

The niggling sensation on the back of his brain intensifies, the tone, the posture, the bossiness.

The eyes.

“Well, its a good thing i dont give a shit about James, he was a douchebag and he had a horrible sense of fashion too, you on the other hand have a nicer look” Elias face turns outraged for a second too long, his eyebrows twitching in consternation. Peter grips him by the jaw. “What the fuck James?!”

His expression turns blank and then resigned before going to be amused. “I suppose I gave my hand away too early, huh? Hello Peter” Oh he is going to kill him for sure. “Oh sod off, you won't”

“Stop messing with my head!”

“Stop making it so easy darling. Put some more effort into shielding those thoughts. Now, about that marriage-”

Peter headbuts him. “You fuck-” Elias is grabbing his forehead, his expression turned into that of outrage. “What is your blood problem-”

“My problem?! You died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract!!! What the hell is wrong with you! What- How are you alive, what is this? What the bloody hell is going on!”

Things devolve for a while, mostly into Elias explaining while looking sour that he was in fact Jonah Magnus, that he swaps bodies, that he changed his and when Peter did not come to meet his new body he had to find a way to drag him back. He was going to wait till there was a founding party, but Nathaniel did in fact talk about making Peter find a wife soon and Elias…

Oh Elias was possessive. Peter could see it in the way he described his plan and the way he grabbed onto him as they sat on the small loveseat in his office. The way his hands touched him and his lips curved up in smirks that had him flush.

“So I invoked the right to pass you along, honestly Mordechai and I were really drunk when we made that clause back then. Neither of us were actually thinking clearly, it was a wild weekend. What can I say? When you mix your vices and bring in your friends..”

“Ugh, can we not- I dont want to know how you fucked my grandfather. That's just gross”

“Pity”

He glares as a warning so Elias lifts his hands in surrender.

“So…”

Peter holds his face in defeat. “I'm not marrying you. Not now”

There is a long pause, Peter knows what his words mean, the implications. Elias probably can see it too, is likely smirking like the Cheshire cat. 

“Now?”

“Just- just shut up would you? Just…” Peter doesn't want to marry, not now, not like this, let alone not when he is processing a lot of information that he is trying to be cool with in such a short amount of time. “Let me think”

“Be my guest”

Like this he just tries to sort his thoughts and what he found out and eventually he reckons, the best course of action is to keep going as they were. For now at least. “I'm going to continue to work, and drop by to…talk about business”

Elias' expression is guarded, Peter rubs his own jaw deep in thought, the cons about this whole thing are growing, are exponential, this whole thing is wrong and will have dire consequences for him.

Yet the pros….

Well Peter was a gambler at heart. What's life without a bit of spice? Without a bit of a spark to make things interesting? Elias, James, Jonah or whatever he wants to call himself is his spark of chaos. Painful as it is to admit it.

“Dinner? Your place or mine”

He can see the momentary surprise at the acceptance. Soon it flickers into smugness, but Peter brushes it off. 

“Oh? Is that so-”

“Well yes, I haven't gone out with Elias Bouchard yet, perhaps i don't like him, perhaps you are…boring, or perhaps you are interesting enough to keep around. Maybe to even stay over at my flat”

Elias' face is wild. “Maybe i find you boring instead”

Yet Peter shakes his head in fond exasperation. “If you did, you wouldn't have basically trapped both of us into an arranged marriage under the suspicion that I would soon find a wife. So, dinner this friday? Your treat this time since you basically almost made my blood pressure burst”

The chuckle is a mockery, but it suits Elias and its…he has a lovely voice. Charming and low and makes something twist on his gut.

“I can live with that. For now we can be engaged, that at least will keep your family off your back, isn't that great?”

Lord.

“You are so horrible” Elias' hand touches his cheek.

“I am and yet here you are?” 

Here is indeed. Peter tilts his head to brush his lips against his palm, he can see pink on his cheeks for the first time and he really is starting to like the idea of figuring Elias out. He seems more expressive than James. With a hum he leans downwards and kisses him.

Its different but also familiar. He feels arms wrap around his neck and when the kiss deepens a bit too much, Peter retreats and starts to drift into the lonely to meditate a bit about this whole thing.

“Asshole”

Peter laughs this time at the pout on Elias' lips when he begins to slip away from his grasp. “Pot and kettle you utter insane bastard. I'm going to try and process the whole 200 year old dandy thing, now, see you on friday Mr.Bouchard”

Peter is almost gone when he hears him say goodbye.

“-Mr.Lukas, its a pleasure to meet my new fiance”

Peter's face burns all of a sudden as Elias gets the last word in before laughing at him.

Horrible man! 

Yet���it does serve him well.

Enough that in a few years he will propose to him properly this time, with rings and a silly post it note to seal the deal. Curse him for being charming and a bastard, he is weak to such things.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Graphology interpretation for Vlad the Impaler

Disclaimer: If you're not very into pseudo-science and investigation techniques, consider this exercise just as something to have fun :)

The main search for this exercise comes from this letter, that includes his famous signature of "Vladislaus Dragulya".

Letters considered for this exercise: M, I, E, L, S, C, D, T, A, G, P

M (interpersonal relationships): With the wider first arch -a.k.a the first line- we find a proud person in need for recognizement. The Sharp traces show a shy but easily irritable personality. The over arched and unchained letter talks about the need for self-protection and dificulties to adapting.

I (atention and presition): With a soft, high pressure, indicates idealism, intuition, reverié tendences and objectivity to get those ideals to reality. The straight letter shows a fast, dynamic mind, tendence to isolation, independence and a strong will.

E (interaction with the context): Bold and written in diagonal shows rancour, lack of trust and arrogance.

L (intelect): The multiple crooks in this letter show a rebel spirit, cleverness, the search for protection (by themselves and others) and a tendence to masochism. A very high letter indicates idealism.

S (mind): A small twirl -the one below the cursive s- talks about honesty and a good disposition for a familiar environment.If the twirl is also very angled, indicates posesivity and greed -not material but in knowledge -.

C (affection): With a lot of angle at the moment of writting, indicates posesivity -again, lol -, rancor and the need for exclusivity from their beloved ones -baby needs a hug -. The clear, simplified letter talks about selfishness, roughness and overwhelming emotions.

D (creativity and hidden nature): Without a final trace it indicates shyness and a need for spirituality. A crushed oval talks about sharp cleverness but also, submission -to whom? -. And being written pressed to the left side show a methodical inteligence, lack of trust in others, melancholy and the constant supress of suffering.

T (will and vitality): A straight line with a curvy base talks about a firm hand to other but without unnecesary roughness, and the high cross talks about a serious and rebel personality that has ruling skills. It also shows a balance between what's earned and what is wanted, or if is wiser to step back or impose.

A (honesty): A closed circle talks about self reflexion and analysis, along with prudence and a very introvert speech. A crushed letter talks about a sensation of stress and exhaustion, and a very wide angle below talks about the need to protect themselves, rancor and issues to comunicate their true thoughts.

G (desire... yup, *that* desire): A small oval or circle talks about a person who's shy to express their needs and desires. An elongated angle refers to a high need for pleasure and lust, and the added angle indicates fear to disgusting intimate experiences -Vladut my boy are u okay? -a resentment for their own needs and anxiety.

P (material needs): Starting the letter with an obvious angle is an indicative for skills in comercial and material activities, and the typographic style shows a good educated mind, intelligence and good mental exercise.

[quill-and-whetstone]

The 4th Wall of Antagonism

When does villainy stop being fun?

One of the things I picked up from my dad early on was the art of teasing, and that the most fundamental part of it was stopping short of the line where fun for all involved gave way to genuine frustration. Writing any good antagonist–be they villain, lancer, or antihero–draws heavily on that same skill set. Whether the audience is meant to sympathize with an antagonist or not they always need to be engaged with them in order to stay engaged with the story they’re involved in. On a metatextual level, the audience has to like the villain.

I can think of so many villains who were low key my favorite part of the story they were in. Darth Vader, Maleficent, Hexxus, Agent Smith, and the Wicked Witch of the West all come to mind for starters. But I can also think of plenty that were just the opposite: antagonists who bothered me so much that they brought the whole story down a full letter grade, if I even finished it. Folks like Joffrey Baratheon, or My Lady of Unenjoyable Villainy herself, Dolores Umbridge.

There’s a line where a character stops being fun to hate and just starts ruining the experience. Where the audience just disengages with the media because that jerk is back again. Given that the line is deeply personal and extremely subjective we’ll never find a concrete place to draw it, but I can suggest a few factors to consider to help keep your antagonists on the right side...

Style & Charisma

Everyone knows this is what makes evil cool and sexy. It could be a big personality, a top-notch aesthetic, or the dulcet tones of Tim Curry making you feel a certain kind of way about pollution somehow. If your antagonist has that je ne sais quoi, they can get away with so much and have your audience stay on board. This is why Jared Leto’s iteration of the Joker bombed while Heath Ledger’s (rest his soul) is an all timer. It’s like Barney Stinson’s “Hot / Crazy Scale” writ thespian. In order for them to be so wretched, they also need to be so rad.

Necessity

How well does your antagonist serve as a foil to the protags, and how essential / beneficial are they to the narrative? The more an antagonistic force shapes the protags into who we’re rooting for, the better we’ll feel about them. Conversely, if they feel like they could be removed from the story without much consequence or even push the story in a direction we don’t enjoy, we’re primed not to tolerate as much annoyance out of them and every time they bother us it will feel like a bigger deal.

Expectations

Antagonists in YA novels, Hallmark movies, and shoujo anime are three extremely different animals. Knowing the tone and conventions of the genre you’re working in, and communicating those clearly, is a form of expectation management. While pushing the bounds of genre conventions and getting experimental can lead to interesting places, audiences showing up to engage with certain genres are bringing certain expectations with them. They’re communicating what they are going to enjoy, tolerate, or have the stomach for just as much as you the writer are telling them what’s on offer by categorizing the work. Use that!

Dynamic Shelf Life

Put succinctly: don’t let the act get stale. This is the big one for me, personally. Almost all of the antagonists I can’t stand have a common thread: aside from being smirkingly unpleasant, they’re one-note and just can’t seem to be challenged in any meaningful way until the narrative decides it’s done with them. Umbridge is the absolute prime example of this, she doesn’t do anything particularly interesting aside from “be increasingly petty and awful” and no one seems to be able to set her back or really outmaneuver her until her sudden and extremely precipitous fall from grace at the end of the book.

Antagonists need more than one string on their harp. They need variety, and some sort of give-and-take with the protagonists. If you find yourself running through essentially the same narrative beats with how the protags and the antags interact over and over, that’s a huge sign that you need to shake up the status quo or rework some plot somehow. Keep in mind the length of the story, and the antagonists’ thematic throughlines. They’ll suggest an endpoint to aim for—whether that’s change or a narrative exit—and help ensure your villains don’t overstay their welcome.

Setup & Payoff

Finally and simply, a satisfying end can buy back a lot when an antagonist might have otherwise overstepped into a frustrating space. I, for instance, wouldn’t find Gaston any fun if the ending of Beauty and the Beast saw him just sort of… take the L when Beast told him to get out that last time and skulk off back to town. Fatally own-goaling is what brings fitting closure to his story: his vanity and pride were always in his way, were always the traits stopping him from getting what he wanted, and since he wouldn’t change the stakes escalated until those traits became his literal downfall. In many cases, I don’t think I’d enjoy a braggadocious and socially bulletproof personification of the patriarchy as an antagonist! In this one, it’s satisfying to me because the ending spins his whole shtick together into a meaningful narrative and the core message is that he was ultimately self defeating and loathsome. Contrast with Joffrey Baratheon, at least the show’s version, who remains a vicious idiot untouched by his various and sundry acts of what seemingly should have been political suicide until someone kills him for barely related reasons.

———————

Again, I know that the overwhelming majority of what I’ve said here is subjective and that there’s no ironclad formula for villainous perfection. Like with teasing there’s no amount of analysis that will take you all the way there, you just need to develop a feel for it. But along the way, or in situations where you find yourself stuck or sense things not jiving, I hope this can serve to lay out the different dials you can turn to help your antagonists do their best at doing their worst.

[3gglady]

sometimes you say things that really make me want to keep you in a big empty white room where i expose you to different stimuli to see how you'd react. perhaps i would bring you to a room where i'd place different items around to gauge your creativity and how your mind works. or maybe i would hook you up to various machines and have you perform simple tasks. you just feel like someone i would have a lot of fun testing various experiments on. why are you reading ao3 on a nintendo 3DS of all things?

This message was so threatening to me. Thank you.

Why I use my DS for my daily fanfic reading:

- clear big letters

- can scroll with my ds pen or the little track they have

- small and can fit in my pocket

- has a ‘3D’ option that makes the browser wonky

- can close the DS dramatically when I got embarrassed at fluffy writting

- can switch between Ao3 and Fire emblem easily

It’s the best way to read Ao3. I write my fics on my phone but I read them on the old 3DS. Sometimes on my 3DS XL if I’m feeling like a bigger screen.

[joyboyish]

luffy bday hcs!

luffy started his journey on his 17th birthday, and saobadoby happends some time before his 18th birthday. its not clear how long it is but fans think luffys journey was around 4-6 months, so he never celebrated his birthday w them, so he didnt think they knew it anyways.. he usually forgets his birthday and they (assumably) didnt know so he didnt think much of it

so the day comes, and low and behold... luffy forgot.

ace told the strawhats when luffys birthday was during their time in alabasta though, and nami made a point to put it on the calendar in the girls dorm, since luffy only ever comes inside so robin will tell him and chopper a bedtime story (usopp and robin alternate)

about a month before his birthday, nami started her mission.

luffy does so much for them without even realizing, he deserves a good birthday!!

granted for as many issues hes solved hes probably started 3 more

she told everyone in advance to start getting gifts, as well as party decorations, so everytime they stopped at an island they could keep an eye out for him.

she puts sanji incharge of the food (obviously) and he decides to make the biggest cake possible, tons of different meat, ramen, onigiri, oden.. whatever you can name, he probably made it.

chopper and usopp were in charge of decorations. they got a piñata, streamers, balloons, etc... they wanted it to look as cool as possible

zoro was incharge of drinks, nami said he was allowed to bring as much sake as he wanted, as long as he got equally as much drinks that luffy likes

so when the day comes, the sunny is rested at an island usopp takes him around all day showing him around and have him trying new foods etc... he was having so much fun!!!

when the sun starts to set, usopp tells luffy that they should probably head back

luffy opens the door to the kitchen and then...

"SUPRISE!!"

it takes a while for luffy to register what happened, and he cant for the life of him figure out whats happening, so he pulls usopps arm and takes him aside to ask

"usopppp!!!" he whispers (fairly loudly at that) "what are we celebrating!! is it your birthday?"

at first usopp laughs... then he realizes he was serious...

after nami hit his head a few times they start to celebrate

zoro got luffy a card (lazy ass) he cares so much for luffy and his crew mates and doesnt know how to say it, so the card is fine. luffy doesnt mind either, he loves it in fact. the front was plain and just said happy birthday, but the inside... oh the inside. zoro and chopper drew the whole crew, its messy and doesnt look good at all, theres spilled ink everywhere despite it being drawn in crayon, and a small note at the bottom that says "thank you for being my best friend" he denies writting it but it still makes luffy ugly cry

nami decides to take 300,000 berries off his debt to her.. he was incredibly thankful. she also lets him pick which needle to follow next on her log pose

usopp got him some food and decorations for his beetles collection!!! he made tiny pieces of furniture for the beetles. luffy thinks its so funny

sanji made him food. but he promised to make all of his faves for the rest of the week

chopper gets luffy some new sandals and he even found a rare beetle on the island.

robin gets luffy books that give fun facts about beetles and frogs! she reads it to him bc he cant sit still since hes so excited 😭, when she gets to a fun fact he didnt know he grabs onto her and shakes her a bit, then runs to tell zoro

franky made a mini robot for his beetles to ride, and its literally the funniest thing ever

brook composes a new song about luffy called "the pirate king" :')

jinbei gave him a gift ace gave him a while ago, it was something minor like a letter, jinbei tells him that luffy would take care of it better than he would and luffy frames it in the kitchen

after that luffy says he to have a sleepover with everyone, they usually only have one sleepover a week but they made an exception

in the past luffy never enjoyed his bday, it was just another day to him after all.. but if all of his birthdays were going to be like this from now on? maybe its worth it

[blood-darkened-moon]

What is your view about the characterisation of the overall Ashford family? I think they are Scots in origin, since the majority of them are red-rehaired, and likely they made their fortune on the British Empire. I have the impression that all of them had Ph.D. and were scientist, which is a rarity among European nobility.

Omg, what have you gotten me into? Don’t get me wrong, doing all the research was fun, but there is so much stuff I cloud write about here, so much stuff. Every time I thought I could see an end, new points popped up, and I had to keep it going. This is long. I hope you don’t mind. Anyway, I tried to limit this answer to speculations and useful information without drifting too much into headcanon territory.

Surname

The surname Ashford was first found in Cornwall and Devon in southern England. Later a branch of the family migrated eastward to Kent, where a town with the name Ashford can be found. There are seven places in total with the name Ashford in the UK. The surname Ashford originates from a place called Ayshford, which was located in Cornwall. Many Cornish surnames appear to be topographic surnames, which were given to people who resided near physical features such as hills, streams, churches, or types of trees. They are also characterized by a multitude of spelling variations. “Ashford” was also derived from the Old English words aesc and ford which meant a ford where ash trees grew.

Surnames became common during medieval times. English people were formerly known only by a single name. During medieval times the spelling of surnames was rarely consistent. Names were recorded as they sounded rather than adhering to any specific spelling rules. It wasn’t unusual that the same person was referred to with different spellings of their surname. Spelling variations of Ashford include Aishford, Ayshford, Aysford, Asford, Asseford, and many more.

Peerage

In the UK, five peerages or peerage divisions co-exist, the Peerage of England (titles created by the kings and queens of England before the Acts of Union in 1707), the Peerage of Scotland (titles created by the kings and queens of Scotland before 1707), the Peerage of Great Britain (titles created for the Kingdom of Great Britain between 1707 and 1801), the Peerage of Ireland (titles created for the Kingdom of Ireland before the Acts of Union in 1801, and some titles created later) and the Peerage of the United Kingdom (most titles created since 1801 to the present).

The peerages in the United Kingdom include both hereditary and lifetime peers. The latter ones form now the majority. The titles comprised in the peer system are duke/duchess, marquess/marchioness, earl/countess, viscount/viscountess, and baron/baroness, with duke being the highest and baron the lowest rank. Peers can hold more than one hereditary title by virtue of different peerages.

The title earl is equivalent to count. The difference is that “earl” is only used for counts in the UK, while “count” is used for the same rank in other countries. A female form of earl does not exist. Thus, “countess” is used as a word for both a female count and a female earl.

Peerages are created by the British monarch by either writs of summons or letters patents. The Government in the United Kingdom makes recommendations concerning who should be elevated to the peerage after external vetting by the House of Lords Appointments Commission. The initiative to award a peerage, baronetcy, or knighthood today comes from the British Prime Minister.

Typically, the title is only inherited by the direct male line and is lost if the peer has no sons. In certain peerages in the peerage of Scotland and in exceptional cases, the titles can be transferred to daughters if there isn’t a male offspring available. Other descendants can be specified in the letters patent by a special remainder. Letters patents are not absolute; they may be amended or revoked by an Act of Parliament.

Family members of British peers aren’t peers themselves. They count as commoners until they receive a title, for example, through inheritance. Though, the children have courtesy titles. The eldest son of an earl, for example, receives the courtesy title viscount, and daughters receive the title lady.

English, Irish, or British (but not Scottish) peerage can only be inherited by a legitimate born child (parents are married at the time of its birth) and not legitimated by a later marriage.

Only 18 (2.2%) of 758 hereditary peers by succession were female as of 1992. A female peer, in their own right, keeps her title after marriage. Her husband does not receive a title by marrying her. If he has a higher-ranking title, she bears both titles. The higher-ranking one is mentioned first. Her title is inherited by her eldest son or daughter if she doesn’t have sons.

Notes:

Veronica was a countess. I haven’t found cases of women receiving titles on their own during the 19th century and a few 100 years prior. (I’m not saying they don’t exist, but I haven’t found anything similar.) I only found cases of women inheriting existing titles due to the absence of male children.

Veronica’s female descendants can probably inherit the title if they don't have brothers.

Alfred and Alexia weren’t born legitimate since Alexander wasn’t married. Alfred shouldn’t have inherited the title. Maybe Alexander requested a change in the letters patent, or Alexander married the surrogate mother and got a divorce after the twins were born, or this rule doesn’t exist in the RE universe.

Harman addresses Alfred and the other Ashfords incorrectly in his letters. He wrote Sir Alfred and used Sir for the others too. Sir is used for the gentry. The correct way to address Alfred is My Lord or Dear Lord Alfred. Only in the file Butler's Letter, he addresses Alexander correctly as Lord Alexander.

Timeline for reference (calculation can be found here):

Minimum estimation/Maximum estimation [Time as the head of the Ashford family] official and unofficial estimated dates

Alexia: January 1971 – December 1998 Age: 27 Alfred: January 1971 – December 1998 [1983 – 1998] Age: 27 Alexander: 1938/1943 – (March/April 1983) or December 1998 [1968 – 1983] Age: 40/45 or 55/60 Edward: 1910/1915 – July 1968 [1958/63 – 1968] Age: 53/58 Arthur: 1875/1885 – 1958/63 [1910/1925 – 1958/63] Age: 73/88 Thomas: 1875/1885 – 1910/1925 [1900/1905 – 1910/1925] Age: 35/40 Stanley: 1840/1855 – 1900/1905 [1875/1885 – 1900/1905] Age: 50/65 Veronica: 1805/1825 – 1875/1885 [1830/1850 – 1875/1885] Age: 60/80

Veronica

As I already said in the Veronica post, I dislike the background information from DC about her because it makes no sense and raises more questions than it answers. Therefore, I will ignore the part about her being a child prodigy (let’s say Leon made this up too). As for the rest, that’s ok, and I tried to integrate it. However, good looks and charming people with your manner of speaking won’t give you titles. I tried to find out what Veronica possibly could have done to receive hers without much success. Well, human nature never changes, so I guess the answer is the same as it would be today: lots of money and powerful friends in high positions. Money is always the best option to bend existing rules. Now have some, hopefully historically less inaccurate, speculations: Women during the Victorian Era and before didn’t have many options for what to do in their lives. They were mostly limited to being a housewife and mother, plus a few other career choices that would never explain Veronica’s success. Apparently, Veronica got her title in her mid-20 or so. She was definitely young, judging by the portrait. Starting at the bottom is unlikely since it would consume too much time. She must have had a lucky start. I assume she was born into a wealthy family, probably of commoners, since she is considered the founder of the Ashford family. If she was born into a noble family, even a low-ranking one, I assume, they would be at least worth mentioning. And based on the origin of the name, I think her side of the family originated from England rather than Scotland. Maybe her father profited from industrialization or had a trading business. Trading with the colonies or sovereign Asian countries was lucrative back then.

Veronica was probably the only (living) child of her parents. Because of that, they were either unusually supportive, or they died early (when Veronica was about 16-18). I prefer the second possibility. It would also offer a way to escape her fate. Veronica must have been highly intelligent and received a good education. However, not to the extent DC described. Why should her parents send her to a university (assuming this is even possible) when she’s just going to become some rich dude’s wife and a mother? Realistically this would be what her parents expected of her during that time. With her parents gone, she was free to do what she wanted. Inheriting her family’s fortune and her father’s company is a good starting point and a plausible way to make even more money. Maybe she had innovative ideas, took the right risks, and was able to multiply the profit immensely within a few years. Meanwhile, she used her economic power to make friends in high positions and gain more political influence.

Linguistic skills are certainly helpful for manipulating people and in the trading business. She could have been one of those people who could sell you sand in the desert. And when you make your money by trading with other countries, speaking the local languages is an advantage. It makes you more independent since you don’t need an interpreter, and direct interactions could make trading easier. (It is possible that she spoke other languages as a ten-year-old child, but only a few and probably not that fluent.)

I don’t think Veronica was a scientist, nor that she graduated from a university. Before she became a countess, she must have put a lot of work into her business and building relationships. There was no time to study. And afterward, why should she go back to learning? She was successful without a degree. There is no reason to get one. Plus, her position, especially since she was a woman, must have been very fragile. “Friends” wouldn’t have hesitated to backstab her if she would have shown any signs of weakness. She must have been ready to defend her position and do what was necessary. What I can see, however, is that after she retired, Veronica became a hobby scientist and attended lectures at a university. According to DC, she was interested in mathematics and biology. Owning a trading business would be an easy way to get her hands on exotic plants and animals from around the world. It is also possible that she invested a good amount of money into a university. And maybe she was rewarded with an honorary title for her commitment.

Personality-wise, Veronica must have been very ambitious, even hungry for power. I also think she was manipulative and ruthless since otherwise, she wouldn’t stand a chance in a world that could turn against her in a second. Thus, Alexia and Veronica seem to have similar personalities, which makes sense.

It looks like her husband took her family name. Unusual, but it is possible that he wanted to upgrade his status. Therefore, I think she married after becoming a countess, and her husband stood below her. He could have been a wealthy commoner like her or a younger son from a lower-ranking noble family. Maybe he even was a scientist and from Scotland. Her son had red hair. It is likely that it came from his side of the family. I know she must have carried the gene too, but her hair was either natural brown or blond and dyed brown for the portrait. Henna became popular in Europe only in the late 19th century. But people used an extract of onion skin or chestnut leaves to dye their hair brown before that.

Stanley, Thomas and Arthur

I don’t have much to say about them. There is no information given except that they exist. They all seemed to be successful in what they were doing, but they did not achieve anything outstanding. Stanley and Thomas were the eldest sons. I think it was expected of them to continue the family business. Though times change, and I don’t know how long it went on. Maybe they sold it at one point and invested in something else, or at the latest, WW1 put an end to it. As with Veronica, I think it is more likely that they were businessmen rather than scientists. Stanley had enough time to visit and graduate from a university. I’m not so sure about Thomas. I think he began his studies, but if he finished them is another question. He was young when his father died, in his early 20s. Stanley wasn’t that old at the time of death. Maybe he was sick, or it was an accident. I assume Thomas had other more important duties for the time being and suspended his studies for a while or later decided he was doing well without a degree. And we shouldn’t forget he died relatively young. Based on my reconstructed timeline, his death (between 1910 and 1925) may be somehow related to WW1 (1914-1918). Though I don’t think he was a soldier nor that he died on the battlefield. In case he had a family, maybe they died along with him.

As for Arthur, as the younger twin, becoming the head of the family was probably unexpected. He was in his late 30s and must have already established his own career. Without many obligations regarding his family’s business, he was free to choose a job to his liking so he could have been a graduate scientist. It appeared to be ok for him that his son became a virologist. As a scientist himself, he may have had a better understanding of Edward’s passion.

Edward and Alexander

Edward was apparently a very passionate scientist. He even went to Africa for research when he was already in his 50s instead of settling into a desk job. It appears a bit weird to me that Edward was the most notable member of the Ashford family after Veronica. Besides the foundation of Umbrella and possible academic awards, he hasn’t achieved anything we know. Ok, the foundation of Umbrella was a huge success, but Edward died in the same year and pretty much had nothing from it.

I already wrote several things about Alexander. Right now, I can’t think of anything new. So I will just link the other posts here. Alexander’s personality Alexander’s relationship with Edward Alfred and Alexia’s backstory and how Alexander treated them

Ashford family – General notes

It is possible, even likely, that Veronica, Stanley, and Arthur had more children than the ones we know of since the family tree in the game only considered the family members that inherited the title. Other potential children were either female or younger male children or older male children who died at one point.

Rockfort Island belonged to the Ashford family before Umbrella started the construction of its facilities in the early 90s. The island is small and located in the South Pacific. It has no strategic value and probably no precious resources, and without a plane, it is hard to reach from the UK. I doubt that Veronica, Stanley, or Thomas acquired it. There is nothing they can do with a tiny piece of land at the other end of the world. Most likely, either Edward or Arthur, in his later years, purchased it somehow.

Forget what I said about Rockfort Island. @midori-laboratories (thank you again) has pointed out that this island could have been a coaling station for refueling HMS ships. Before the Panama Canal was opened in 1914, the routes around Cape Horn and through the Strait of Magellan were the shortest navigable waterways from Europe to the west coast of the American continent. An island as a place for refueling and stocking up supplies nearby would have been a valuable possession. So it was probably indeed Veronica who purchased Rockfort Island. I still think the Ashfords (we know of) didn’t live there or visited the island frequently before planes became publicly available. Therefore, Arthur or Edward would still be the first family members who could have spent more time in this place.

Research degrees, such as Doctor of Science and other higher doctorates, first appeared in the UK in the late 19th century. The Ph.D., like it is today, was introduced in 1917. Therefore, the first Ashford, who could have an actual Ph.D., is Edward.

Alfred and Alexia – Veronica Project

Ok, the whole cloning plot wasn’t thought through very well at the time, but I want to offer a reasonable explanation anyway. It’s almost ironic that the scientific progress in the last decades helped to make some sense of it.

I always doubted that Alfred and Alexia were monozygotic twins because they were genetically obviously different. I want to point out that Alexander never claimed this was the case. He just wrote twins. Of course, seeing them as monozygotic twins is one way to interpret the situation, but not the only one and certainly not the one that makes the most sense. I think Alfred was rather an early-stage experiment/prototype that never should have made it into the final stages or some kind of backup plan.

First, it is almost impossible that Alexia was the only Veronica clone Alexander had prepared. In scientific experiments, you never do things just once, and they work immediately. Creating a Veronica clone is a multi-step process. If you want to avoid going back to zero, if something goes wrong in the end, you prepare yourself. There are many things that could go wrong: the clone dies while it is still in a cellular stage, the surrogate mother has a miscarriage, the clone dies during or shortly after birth, the clone is sickly because of genetic defects, and so on. Alexander probably had at least 5 to 10 Veronica clones ready to go. Alexia was only one of them. And who says Alexia was the first one? She was the first successful one but maybe the second or third attempt. Who knows? Now, this does not only apply to the final product. Alexander would have needed lots of pretests and methods testing. He may have produced dozens and dozens of Veronica clones and “clone precursors” ranging from laboratory waste over ok, but not what he was looking for to suitable but unfinished clones.

Also, the more I’ve read about cloning, the less likely it appears to me that Alfred and Alexia were true Veronica clones. For cloning, you need an intact cell with a complete genome and an egg cell from a surrogate mother. The nucleus of the egg cell is removed, and the other cell is inserted. Then you need an electrical impulse to start the cell division. The latter part is partially described by Alexander. My problem is the first step: finding an intact cell with a complete genome in a mummified corpse. As I already said in another post, I doubt DNA can persevere well under these conditions. Maybe it is possible, but I think it is very, very unlikely.

There is another way to “clone” something. I got my inspiration from the cloning attempts of mammoths. One approach involves taking DNA from Asian elephants, cutting out genes, and replacing them with other genes to make the resulting animal more mammoth-like. Alexander could have used a similar approach. This would not only solve the problem described above, but it would also even tie the loose ends of the cloning plot together. After extracting as much DNA from Veronica’s corpse as possible, Alexander could have used his or Edward’s DNA as a base. Edward, who was still alive when the project started, would have been the better choice. He is more closely related to Veronica, and maybe scientific interests, virology specifically, have a genetic component. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if Alexander used his DNA, considering his slightly creepy attitude toward his ancestor. These clone hybrids are the closest thing to having children with Veronica he could get. In any case, everything Alexander had to do now would be cut out and replace the respective genes to create a Veronica/Edward (or Alexander) clone hybrid. The genetic difference between humans is less than 1%. Alexander doesn’t have to replace that many genes. And maybe the resulting hybrids were even more Veronica than Edward (or Alexander). DNA shearing must have existed in the RE universe in the 60s because this is how Alexander inserted the intelligence genes, right?

Alfred and Alexia being hybrids instead of true clones would explain the different hair colors. Veronica had brown hair, the twins had blonde hair. Veronica could have dyed hers brown, which is possible. But maybe the blond hair color originated from Alexander’s or Edward’s (if he was blond) DNA. The hybrid theory could also explain why Alfred is male. If the base DNA is taken from Alexander or Edward, the first attempts would only produce male clone hybrids. Alexander was so fascinated by Veronica. I think he wanted the final result to be as close as possible to her, which means a female clone would be preferable. So Alexander must have exchanged the Y for another X chromosome somehow. Although, keeping some male clones just in case the procedure doesn’t work as intended or causes problems would make sense. A male Veronica clone hybrid is still better than nothing. And he can use less valuable clones for testing purposes. Alexia having the intelligence gene while Alfred doesn’t can also be explained this way. I assume the insertion of this gene is the last step of gene editing. If Alexander had planned to use the male clones only as a backup or for testing, then that’s a step he may have skipped for (most of) them. After the gene editing, he can proceed as described above.

Anyway, I assume Alfred is the result of a flawed experimental setup. Alexander didn’t pay enough attention at one point, switched the storage vessel, and ended up with Alexia and Alfred in the same vessel, which led to using them both instead of only Alexia. It would even add an additional layer to Alexander seeing Alfred as a failure. This explanation works with one single mistake without hinging on an arrangement of spontaneous mutations, coincidences, and whatnot.

Overall, if Alexander already had access to modern or futuristic techniques (from our world) in the 1960s, then I honestly think the cloning plot isn’t even that farfetched. Of course, it’s still science fiction.

Notes:

CRISPR gene editing, which is most commonly used, was first published in 2012. The researchers Emmanuelle Charpentier and Jennifer Doudna, who work on this method, were awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 2020. There are similar methods, but they were also published after RE Code: Veronica came out.

Chromosome replacement therapy is a more recent approach to treating genetic diseases. The defective chromosome is removed and replaced with a healthy one. Y chromosomes can be replaced with X chromosomes with this technique.

Alfred and Alexia – General notes

I think Alfred didn’t study anything science-related, even if he may have been interested in it. No matter what he would achieve, Alexia would have towered over him with her achievements. Alfred never envied his sister’s intelligence, but constantly being compared to her must be tiresome. I think he either studied business administration or maybe history. At least medieval torture methods and war-related history fascinated him. He even brought an ultra-rare Wehrmacht tank.

Despite his fascination with war and the military, I doubt Alfred ever joined the British Army. He was in charge of the Antarctic base, Rockfort Island, and studied. When should he have done this? And then we have his mental state. No sane person would give this man a loaded gun, ever. It is possible that he tried and was declined, though. I think he got some training on Rockford Island along with the UBCS soldiers, at least he can fly a Harrier jet. Alfred must have brought the medals he wears on his uniform.

In the portrait puzzle, Alexia is called the true master of the family. I think this was Alfred’s personal addition to show his devotion to her. Since the title is only inherited by the male line, Alfred is the true hire. It doesn’t matter if he or Alexia was born first. Alexia could only become a countess if Alfred died. Harman never mentions her, either. And Alexia looks a bit older in her portrait than Alfred in his. Alfred, dressed as his sister, probably modeled for the painting.

It is strange that Alfred took control of the Antarctic base after Alexander disappeared and Alexia allegedly died. He was 12. But otherwise, Umbrella would have discovered Alexander and Alexia. It seems that Umbrella has lost interest in the facility after the incident with Alexia. So, it could be part of a deal. Alfred can have it, probably unofficially, until he turns 18, and in return, they build on Rockfort Island.

I don’t know what Alexia did to fake her death, but I assume it was something big, like an explosion or a massive fire that destroyed all or most of the labs. That’s the only way people wouldn’t get suspicious if they couldn’t find her body. Also, Alexia got rid of her research results this way. I think many researchers died during this incident too.