#“We survived the last one” no we all didn't

[etheraltides]

Shelter in the Storm

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summarize: Rafe is acting weird during the storm and you’re about to find out why

Warning(s): mention of gun, protective Rafe.

A/N: feedback always make me happier, love y’all – also tysm for all the love in my fics

The storm outside was relentless, sheets of rain hammering against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that felt too close, too ominous. Rafe stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the faint glow of the firelight. His jaw was tense, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides.

You had packed a bag and driven to Rafe's earlier today when you received a warning in your phone about the upcoming storm, not wanting to risk staying at yours to see the damage - your small house in the Cut had barely survived in the last one and neither you nor Rafe wanted to risk it. Not when his place was as much as yours as his.

You watched him from the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater, your book abandoned beside you. He hadn’t spoken much since the phone call earlier, but his restlessness told you everything. Something was wrong.

“Rafe.” you said softly, pulling his attention away from the storm.

He turned, his blue eyes darker than usual, stormier. He didn’t respond, just studied you for a moment like he was trying to memorize every detail. It wasn’t unusual for him to brood, but tonight, something felt different. He never got that weird over business that went wrong.

“You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes, quiet ever since I've arrived. What’s going on, baby?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

Rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

“It’s not shutting you out, alright? ” he snapped, then immediately softened his tone as he noticed you flinch, his chest tightening with guilty. “It’s keeping you safe.”

“From what?”

His eyes flicked away, unable to hold your gaze. His silence was answer enough.

“Rafe…” You stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him. Your hand rested lightly on his clothed chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, torn between wanting to protect you and needing to tell someone. He didn't like to keep things from you. Finally, he sighed. “You remember Morroco?”

Your brow furrowed. “The trip? Of course.”

He had called you to meet him by the beach, kissing you goodbye as he said he had an important last meeting to close a massive deal and that it'd probably take him a few weeks before he was back.

“It wasn't just a trip.” he said bitterly. “It’s a mess. A deal went sideways, I went after Groff to get my money back and then... Then there was this blue crown treasure hunt with those... pogues. We crossed some people." His jaw clenched. “Now they’re coming for me.”

Your blood ran cold as you tried to process everything. Not even paying a big attention to the fact that Rafe had lied to you. “They?”

“Mercenaries” he admitted, the word dripping with disdain. “Hired guns who don’t care about anything but the paycheck and that fucking crown that slipped away from our fingers."

Fear pricked at the edges of your mind, you could hear your heartbeats in your ears. Mercenaries. “And you think they’ll come here, after you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

You stepped closer, your hands gripping his arms. “Rafe, we should call someone - Shoupe, the poli—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “The cops won’t do anything. I’ll handle it, okay? I can take care of my own shit."

“You can’t handle this alone, Rafe. We're talking about mercenaries and not a cougar whose money went sideways in a deal!” you argued, your voice rising slightly.

“I’m not letting you get involved,” he said firmly, his hands resting on your shoulders. His touch was warm, grounding.

“I’m already involved,” you countered, your voice softening. “I care about you, Rafe. That means I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not.”

His expression cracked, the tough exterior slipping to reveal the vulnerability underneath. “You don’t get it,” he whispered, his hands sliding down your arms. “You’re the only thing I’ve got that’s good. If something happens to you because of me—” He broke off, shaking his head.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” you said, stepping even closer. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “You’re here. You’ll keep me safe.”

He stared at you, his breath hitching slightly. “You have too much faith in me,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I have the right amount,” you whispered back.

For a moment, the tension hung heavy between you, the storm outside roaring as if reflecting the chaos inside him. Then, before you could say anything else, Rafe’s hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he muttered, a small, almost pained smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were swallowed as his lips met yours. The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, like he needed to remind himself you were here, with him, safe. His hands slid into your hair, holding you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed you — it all felt like a promise, and a plea rolled into one.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy. “I’m not letting them get near you,” he vowed, his voice raw.

“They won’t,” you assured him, nodding as your hands smoothed over his chest.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands skimming down your sides. When he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, you felt the full weight of his fear and his determination.

“I should send you away,” he muttered against your hair, his lips brushing your temple. “Somewhere safe. Away from Outer Banks."

You leaned back, meeting his gaze. “No. I’m staying right here. With you.”

Rafe stared at you, his jaw tightening. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile, not wanting him to know how terrified you actually were. “But so are you. We’re a good match, remember?"

Despite himself, he chuckled, his grip on you tightening. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you teased.

He didn’t answer; he just pressed another kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his chest. His hand smoothed over your back, lingering there as if the simple act could protect you from the world.

After the conversation, the weight of the threat hanging over him, Rafe couldn’t let you out of his sight. He needed to feel you close, needed to know you were safe in a way that words couldn’t assure him - and it didn't help that you decided to organize everything that was out of place, moving between the rooms without saying anything. He knew you were stressed. You always clean whenever anxiety hits you.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low as his arms slid around your waist.

You blinked up at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your cheeks flushed. “I can walk, Rafe.”

“Not tonight,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me do this.”

Before you could protest, Rafe bent down and swept you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a soft yelp of surprise, your arms instinctively looping around his neck.

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he murmured, glancing down at you with a small, almost teasing smirk. “Just let me take care of you for once, okay?”

You pressed your lips together, your cheeks warming at the way he held you so effortlessly, his grip steady and secure. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that contrasted with the chaos of the storm outside.

The walk to the bedroom was silent, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the roof. Rafe nudged the door open with his foot, carrying you inside. The room was dark except for the faint glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting warm light over the space.

He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he stepped back. You watched as he moved around the room, double-checking the locks on the windows and door. His movements were methodical, his expression tense.

“Rafe,” you said softly, sitting up. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

You wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped you. He was carrying more than just worry — it was guilt, fear, and the overwhelming need to protect you. It was his way of tricking himself into believing he had some control over the whole situation.

Once he was satisfied, Rafe returned to the bed. You noticed the subtle way he opened the drawer of his bedside table, checking the loaded gun inside.

Your stomach tightened. “Do you really think it’ll come to that?”

His gaze flicked to you, softening slightly. “It’s just a precaution,” he said, his voice steady.

You nodded, though the thought of him having to use it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.

You crawled toward him, settling into his arms as he pulled you close. His body was warm, solid, and the way his arms wrapped around you made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I’ll sleep,” he promised. “Just need to make sure you’re out first.”

You frowned but didn’t push further. His hand smoothed over your back in slow, soothing strokes, lulling you into a sense of security.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, and Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He stayed awake, his eyes scanning the room, his ears attuned to every sound beyond the rain. Every creak of the house set his muscles on edge, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But then he’d look down at you—your peaceful face, your fingers loosely curled against his chest — and the storm inside him would quiet, even if just for a moment.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, Rafe reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of your cheek.

“You don’t even know how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was nearly drowned out by the rain.

His hand moved to your shoulder, then down your arm, his touch light, almost reverent. He wanted to memorize every detail—the way your skin felt against his, the rise and fall of your breathing, the warmth you radiated.

For a long time, he just watched you, his thumb idly brushing against your arm.

No one would hurt you. Not the mercenaries, not anyone. He’d burn the world down before he let anyone take you from him.

When his exhaustion finally began to creep in, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. Even if it's the last thing I do.”

With one hand resting on the gun in the drawer and the other wrapped protectively around you, Rafe finally allowed his eyes to close, the storm outside fading into the background.

As long as you were in his arms, nothing else mattered.

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[sportsthoughts]

I am sick of Yohe's misery and spent five minutes thinking I wish I had ten nice things to read this morning before realising I could write them myself:

Jarry - who, let's not pretend otherwise, is not my favourite goalie in the NHL - was fantastic at lots of points especially at the start of the game (let's not talk about the bit where he wandered off at the end, we've all gone rouge at the end of a night out haven't we, let's not be judgemental). Do I know what makes a goalie fantastic? Not really. But he made lots of saves and there were many points where I thought we were done for but he came through. He really really tried and God loves a trier and it's also really nice that Ned got a bit of a break. Being a goalie for a special team like ours must be tiring

Nostril boy scored a great goal which is an enormous feat considering he was skating on a line with a Drew O'Connor who's shaved head looks so bad it would frankly throw anyone off their game. I wonder if Sid will now declare the baldness unlucky and send him to Geno's hair man

On that point - Doc admitted that his hair looks terrible - which, yes, I know that isn't exactly a win from a hockey perspective but it's a man showing self awareness which is a rare win for humanity and not to be overlooked. I think Yohe could actually really spice up his journalism by writing a piece on our hair to win ratio

Sid's assist on Raks' goal was gorgeous. Gorgeous!! It wasn't goal 600 but it was a point and a beautiful one AND we got to see him smile

Our powerplay wasn't horrific. Our PK wasn't horrific. At points they looked good! I didn't feel sick watching either and the dash managed to stay mostly sane!

All our young guys were pretty good! And hey!! We have young guys!! Young guys playing on our team!! Let us not be ungrateful for what we have. Do I squint at their numbers on my grainy livestream and say who is that? What line is that? Where did you come from? Yes, but change is sometimes good and they lower our average age by like ten years

Geno showed so much energy towards the end of the game. I know he didn't do much but my gosh he really tried! He clearly had the legs. I don't like to dwell on it but at some points last season he just looked slow and tired not quite there and last night he looked hungry for it! He's been so great this season. I could make a point about the motivational powers of the stache here but i'm not Rossi so i'll leave the RPF to those better qualified

Also, Geno's line started the game! We rarely get to see him being broody on the ice during the anthems so that was a lovely treat.

For my fellow stachefuckers, the sidstache (and rustache and others) are all going strong. How long will they survive? I'm not sure. But we've made it 20 days with our beautiful slugs intact and that's so much better than last year. We have so many pictures! So many gifs. So many clips of the stache being discussed! Movember 2024 has not disappointed

Finally, it was a Hockey Fights Cancer night! There were some lovely stories and it was so moving to see survivors celebrating at the game. I think this is where Sid would say something nice about hockey being more than a game and having the power to unite people and include them in a community and give hope and inspire and and and. So insert that here. I think he's right.

[m-e-stanley]

Isha Brain Rot ✍️

Isha was probably the weird kid. A kid that didn't speak? She was definitely the weird kid. She definitely either went through something mentally traumatic that made her stop speaking, or was probably lonely for so long that she just stopped speaking because there was no one for her to speak to. And at such a young age, she was chased by adult killers and was just trying to survive. She probably thought her life would just be one long battle for survival before she died. But she was brave, and she fought on.

And then, she found love in the most unexpected of places. With arguably one of the most dangerous people in both Zaun and Piltover. Jinx. She fell on Jinx, saw Jinx kill the people that had chased her for so long and in that moment, took a risk and followed Jinx

Look at her death. She saw Jinx on the floor and looked around. She wanted to see if there was anyone who could help, but there was no one. And that brave little girl tugged her hat and ran into what was certain death.

You can see her tearing up as she runs past. She cries as she remembers the times she spent with Jinx. Those were tears of happiness. Of gratitude. Happiness that before she would die, she got to experience what it felt like to be taken care of. She got to experience family and love. Gratitude to Jinx for saving her from death in that alley, and saving her from the loneliness and lovelessness she lived with for years. As a child growing up in Zaun, she always knew she lived with the chance of dying anytime. But she probably never expected that she would get to be loved before that end.

And that gave her the strength to run towards certain death. Jinx was the darkness of Piltover, but to Isha , Jinx was the light. And she could not let that light extinguish. But she was also Jinx's light, and Jinx too could not let it go, which was why she tried running after her. But Jinx is also one of Vi's lights and so also, Vi could not let her go into death. At the end, is that not love? The act of being selfish, because that selfishness is centred around someone. To be selfish and selfless all at once.

And just before she dies, she looks at Jinx. The person that saved her in so many ways.. The person she admired to the extent she dressed like her. The person she has so much faith in. Isha said a goodbye in a way she that was more profound than words. A way only the two of them knew. She faced death, with a smile at the person that mattered to her the most, and closed her eyes.

In a way, she reminds me of that one story from Harry Potter. Of the Peverell brother that lived a life with his family and faced death with a smile. But while Ignitious Peverell was an adult and faces death as an old man, she was just a child.

Honestly thank God they didn't have Isha speak. That scene would have been more devastating if the only word we ever get to hear Isha say was goodbye

We're going into the final episodes tomorrow, but mark that Isha has left on me will live with me for years. If last weekend was the last time we get to see her alive, I'll smile like she did for the same reasons she did. She survived the loneliness. Found someone who cared for her. She lived, she laughed, she loved, she fought and she went out protecting the reason behind her happiness.

In death, she won.

[god-blues]

An Analysis of Clive Rosfield and the Dominants of FFXVI

finally writing this post after having brain worms about these themes since [checks notes] the game came out last year, so here goes

every single dominant in the game represents a theme to clive rosfield in some shape or form, and serves to mark the progress of his growth across the narrative of the game. either as an obstacle to overcome, or as a guiding beacon imparting him with purpose to keep carrying on

i'm going to look at each dominant that clive faces in the chronological order in which he absorbs their eikons, so we're starting from benedikta even though jill and joshua were the first ones in clive's life, and go from there. i'll be leaving leviathan out of this since i think that one's the most disconnected from clive's journey and has the least to say about him as a person (makes sense since it's DLC and not necessary for the full story)

also, this is obviously just my own interpretations of the game's themes and the way it utilizes their characters in clive's journey etc etc. i'm not saying this is the only Correct way to look at it, i just wanted to get my thoughts out on paper as a nice little overview for myself and others interested in that kind of thing

it's about 2k words long so i had to add a read more. onwards!

Benedikta Harman

benedikta and clive share similar traumas. both were enslaved at a young age, and while their experience of it differed for both, the similarities are so stark that the game practically spells it out for you. basically: benedikta is where clive would have ended up had he ignored or rejected cid's guidance

imo it's no coincidence that cid and benedikta have the history of cid having saved her from slavery when she was a young girl, because it mirrors how he saves clive and jill as well. the difference is that unlike clive and jill, benedikta did not end up with the benefit of gaining a support system like the hideaway

instead, she was taken in, used for her powers as a dominant and manipulated by barnabas, and eventually abandoned by cid which left her in an even worse place. with no other way to survive, she could only hold onto barnabas to grant her status and power to protect herself

now whether cid was wrong or right for leaving her behind is not something i'm gonna go into since we don't know enough about the circumstances in which it happened. from the way cid speaks to benedikta in game, benedikta and barnabas were responsible for acts he didn't agree with ("because i'd had enough of you and your king's antics"), so we'll leave it at that

that aside, though, it left benedikta to fend for herself, with no one she could have truly relied on. clive and jill, on the other hand, found a new home with people who understood and shared in their struggles, and with cid there to guide them

it makes the boss fight clive has with benedikta rather tragic, looking back on it. this is one of the boss fights that don't necessarily symbolize growth for clive, at least not in a positive way: he loses control just as benedikta did. it's a fight between two hurt people hurting each other because it is all they know how to do

the only difference is that one of them has people he can rely on, and the other is alone, used as a tool and then discarded when she served her purpose. the same as would have happened to clive, had he never escaped slavery

Cidolfus Telamon

it makes sense that we go from benedikta to cid after that, because once clive comes to terms with his trauma and Accepts The Truth, he moves onto the path of recovery. being that he doesn't know how to navigate that, however, cid becomes a natural mentor to him

from the start, you get the sense that cid has already decided in his mind that he wants clive to be his successor and keep the hideaway safe. the man is living on borrowed time, his arm turning to stone and coughing up blood every time he exerts his aether in any significant way. note what blackthorne tells clive the first time they meet, as well: "don't let cid decide what's best for you". cid clearly has a habit of steering people in certain directions

clive, who is at a loss on what to do now that he has been stripped of his original purpose, which was to avenge joshua, of course clings onto the new purpose that cid guides him towards. this is not to say that cid does so in a manipulative way: clive wants and needs to feel useful, and cid offers a way for him to do that to both their benefit. by the time they head to oriflamme, they hold a mutual trust between them, and clive views cid with clear respect and admiration, enough to pledge himself to cid's cause

the interesting part in all this is the way how clive absorbing ramuh coincides with him absorbing cid's ideals and cid's very identity as well in order to carry on his legacy. in the process, a part of clive's own identity becomes subsumed by this role he takes on as "cid" and the hideaway's new leader, quoting cid at various moments after the timeskip ("any objections?"). it is no different than the roles he fit himself into throughout his life or failed to fit into ("...prince, Shield, son his mother could love")

i always wonder what cid would have thought of that. i muse about it more in this post, if you're interested

Hugo Kupka

hugo kupka embodies, very plainly, refusing to accept the truth and being blinded by vengeance.

both hugo and clive were wrapped up in this idea of needing to get revenge, and for both of them that revenge was built on a lie. whereas clive confronted the truth of what happened to joshua and was able to move on because of it, hugo became wrapped up in a deception (albeit externally inflicted) and let it consume him

in so doing, he became a useful tool for barnabas that was then discarded as soon as his purpose of giving clive titan was fulfilled. his revenge amounted to nothing. but that is not to say that vengeance is being condemned by the narrative, rather, being blinded by it is.

clive, having seen and accepted the truth, exacts a much more righteous retribution on hugo for having destroyed the hideaway and having killed so many, all because of a lie that cid had killed benedikta

rather than let the need for vengeance rule him, clive wields it only when it is deserved. he overcomes the manipulation where hugo does not, and hugo suffers the consequences where clive emerges victorious

Dion Lesage

dion is similar to benedikta in that he exemplifies the outcome of a path that clive could have walked, but ultimately escaped from: to be used as a weapon, and to be trapped by his desire for approval from a parental figure. had clive been revealed to be a dominant much earlier in his life, there is no doubt in my mind he would have been in the same position that dion ended up in with his father. i've written about it more extensively in this post, so i won't repeat all of it

the gist of it is that dion is a tragic hero from beginning to end- unlike clive, he is unable to escape his fate. he embodies the self-sacrifice and endless striving for a parent's affection despite never being good enough

the sidequest with tomes is especially heartbreaking when keeping this in mind, because unlike clive who was able to accept the "sin" he committed in "killing joshua" (as well as actually killing rodney), dion cannot forgive himself for the sin of killing his father and destroying twinside

like i mention in the post i linked, it's no coincidence that clive reunites with joshua in the same scene where dion's sin is born. clive lets go of his guilt and moves forward, whereas dion becomes entrenched in his guilt to where it drives him to sacrifice his very life in an attempt to make up for it

on top of that, when you look into additional lore you see what a horrible person sylvestre truly was. ultimania reveals he had dion's mother assassinated in order to hide that he was born to a commoner, and a courtesan at that, and used dion's status as bahamut's dominant to become emperor. then you realize the full depth of the tragedy that is dion's story

dion died trying to redeem himself to a man who saw him as nothing but a tool, and had fully deserved to be killed by his hand all along

Jill Warrick

jill is, pretty much, what keeps clive's will from breaking

their romance absolutely cannot be separated from this, so even if you personally might not ship these two, canon is very clear about this

jill has always given clive the strength to carry on, more than anyone else. when he first finds her during his assassination mission at the nysa defile and realizes that it is her, he is ready to abandon his quest to avenge joshua and die together with her when they are about to be overrun by the iron kingdom's soldiers. and when she wakes in the hideaway later, she is the one who gives him the strength to face what happened at phoenix gate, and accept the truth of who he is

to elaborate on this: the game's mechanics give the major enemies a Will Bar you have to deplete for a reason, similar to how dominants lose control of their eikons when something causes their Will to break, and why ultima continuously tries to wear away at clive's Will throughout the game: willpower is an essential thematic component of the narrative, and jill being there for clive is what keeps his Will from breaking

i think it's very purposeful that the only time clive is truly defeated is by barnabas (if you'll remember the mocking Clive Bested pop-up lol). it's also to hype barnabas up as a villain, yes, but also to exemplify he needs jill--needs to absorb shiva--in order to overcome his greatest adversary yet

there's some discourse about the english vs japanese translations of the scene they share at the beach, and i'm not interested in getting into that: the english dialogue is what encompasses canon to me first and foremost. so, going off that, we get a scene where jill entrusts shiva to him, which might first be seen as clive taking the burden of it from her. which is true, but! it is also what gives clive the strength to carry on

in that way i think the game strikes an interesting balance between what is a "burden" and what is "strength". yes, carrying the hopes and dreams of your fellow comrades on your back is a heavy weight, but it is simultaneously something to draw strength from, because through that same token clive knows he's not alone. jill and everyone else at the hideaway is with him

Barnabas Tharmr

barnabas is clive's ideological foil, another path he could have walked. i could write an entire essay on this particular point alone, but most of it would be speculation and my personal headcanons based on the scant few lines we get from barnabas in-game and the added lore in ultimania, so i'll spare you. if you want to know more about how i see barnabas, cid and clive fitting together in terms of their ideology, though, refer to this post

anyways, this one is pretty obvious: barnabas represents the relinquishing of human will and becoming a slave to a higher power

i've mentioned in past posts before that ultima embodies the pinnacle of a slave master, tying in with the theme of it within the game- even the combat mechanics are built around it, as i mentioned in jill's section. what if clive never escaped slavery? what if he had succumbed to ultima and truly became mythos? that's pretty much barnabas in another form

barnabas is also the antagonist clive tries to talk to the most, even saying to him verbatim during their second duel at the bottom of the sea "we don't have to do this". their fights are not only physical fights, they are verbal and ideological ones: through their battles, they begin to build an understanding of each other, leading barnabas to come to the realization that he never truly relinquished his will at all

this realization signifies clive's ideological victory, and thus barnabas is fittingly the final dominant you fight before you face ultima themselves. every step of clive's journey has been leading up to this: working through his trauma and hurt, finding community and purpose, accepting the truth to no longer be lead astray, letting go of the need for approval and validation, carrying the hopes and dreams of his loved ones, and proving the strength of his ideals

Joshua Rosfield

joshua is the genesis of clive's search and need for a purpose

not by joshua's own hand, of course. he was just a baby, after all, but the birth of the dominant of the phoenix meant that clive no longer had a purpose (at least, in anabella's eyes). if clive could not be the dominant that his mother wanted, then the next best thing would be to become the shield that his brother needed

except, joshua turns this notion entirely on its head by the end of the game

he saves clive not once but twice, first in oriflamme, then later in the rift when ultima is trying to possess clive once more. both times, joshua thwarts ultima: both times, it is joshua who functions as clive's shield. he is upset when he thinks clive has pressured jill into giving him shiva, because he thinks it is clive yet again trying to shoulder the burden all by himself

there are many different interpretations of the ending of the game, but joshua is in part why my personal view is that clive is the one who lived and joshua is the one who died. joshua has always been clive's foremost protector, and through his sacrifice, clive is "released" from his roles and his need for a purpose to make himself useful his entire life

as a result, joshua is the one who sets clive free at the end of clive's journey. that is what allows clive to overcome ultima, who would see mankind shackled to their will, and instead has clive leading mankind to freedom in turn

In Conclusion

this game's themes fuck severely and i will be thinking about them for a long time to come. thanks for reading 🫡

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues Part 14

"Here's to hoping I'll fall fast asleep tonight

And I'll just need to get through this

Born in the darkness, who brings the light?

And I just, I need to get through this

Or just get used to it"

Beyonce & Willie Jones – "Just For Fun"

A.N.: Content Warning(s): 18+. Mentions of violence and religion.

Celeste groaned and rubbed the back of her head where she hit the floor. She ached all over and didn't want to open her eyes just yet. Maybe if she kept them closed, she could pretend everything in her life was normal again.

"Duchess…c'mon cousin, wake up…"

Micah's voice floated above her.

She opened her eyes and coughed. Her stomach still hurt from where Mia punched her. Celeste rolled on her side and covered her face. Micah shook her shoulder.

"We have to get out of here," Micah said.

"And go where?!"

She glanced at her cousin and the once warm rich hues of his brown face had drained away to a pallid coloring. How much blood had he lost?

She rose and stared into his hollow eyes. Fear and shame reflected back to her in equal measure. She glanced around the wrecked sanctuary. It looked like World War III had blown through the church.

Micah touched his wound.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't think he pierced any vital organs…the bleeding has slowed down. I'm not outta the woods yet."

She stood and surveyed the damage. Father Mbenga's body and head were gone. A deep, mournful sound caught her attention from a pew. Celeste carefully walked toward the noise.

"My God," she muttered.

She found Gadreel curled on his side, one of his wings ripped off of his left shoulder completely. Dark orange clots of his vital fluid darkened the wound area where a hole now lived. The gargoyle leaned back, revealing his entire wounded body to her. His skin bore the marks of a severe ass whooping.

"The father of your child is a fierce fighter," Gadreel said.

Claw marks and missing chunks of flesh aside, the damage to his body wasn't lethal.

"I don't know why he spared me," Gadreel said.

Micah wandered next to her. Gadreel looked up at her cousin.

"Father Mbenga has been too unpredictable…erratic the last few months, Micah. We had the Daywalker in our grasp. But now…"

"I thought he was just under a lot of pressure. I didn't know he'd snap and try to kill us," Micah said.

Celeste glared at her cousin.

"How could you hide all of this from me?" she said.

"This work we do…Micah is under a vow of silence. He is a wetaderi…a soldier… for God," Gadreel said.

"What does God have to do with any of this madness?" she asked.

Gadreel laughed, his voice bouncing against the walls like shotgun blasts. Micah winced, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"It is a tale as old as the beginning of human time itself."

Celeste turned away from the gargoyle and fought to control her emotions and fear.

"I don't have time to listen to bullshit!" she shouted.

"You sound the way Mother Mary did so long ago," Gadreel said.

The gargoyle moved his mouth in a way that mimicked a very human smile.

Celeste cut her eyes at Micah. He watched her with a somber expression.

"Would you have believed me? Had I broken my vow of silence, risked years of moving in the shadows to reveal the truth to you…what would you have done? Called my mama and told her to collect me because I've lost my mind? There are two worlds, Duchess. The one you live in and the one I survive undetected among nightmares. You remember when Grand-mère used to tell everyone that I had the gift of second sight? Well…it wasn't just ghosts she was talking about. I can see things that shouldn't be seen. Supernatural beings count on humans living in ignorance. Growing up, I could see things that no child should ever have to know are real. I think you have the gift too, Duchess. Maybe not as strong as me…but you have sensitivities that draw energy to you. You attract people all the time, and even animals. Don't you remember people saying that animals, old people, and even children were drawn to you?"

"But you were the same way, Micah—"

"Exactly! We give off an aura of some kind…like a GPS signal… that breaks the barrier between worlds and attracts the supernatural the way magnets can pull iron to it. There's a light in you, and I'm sure it's why Terry latched onto you and maybe…other things have found their way near you."

"I've seen Terry's great-great-grandmother's ghost. She came to me after he left New Orleans. Now I know she was really his descendant."

"See? Did you think you were losing your mind for a minute?"

"Just a minute."

"When Terry revealed his true self, you probably didn't freak out as much as a normal person would've. The shock hit you and then you moved on to what mattered. Deep down, I'm sure you instinctively sensed something wasn't right about him or your relationship. The rational part of your mind may have even dismissed unusual circumstances because vampires are the master manipulators…and bay-bee…they can seduce humans like no other. But then they drain you…feed their unnatural bodies and move on to the next willing victim."

Gadreels's lips uncurled into a frown.

"Except, in this case…Terry didn't kill her," the gargoyle pondered.

"We fell in love," Celeste said.

"They are parasites. The only things they're capable of are hate for humanity and hurting others. Bloodlust is their core existence. You should be dead," Gadreel said.

"Yet here I am," she said.

The look in Gadreel's eyes gave her shivers.

"Something is wrong with that…just as something is wrong with you having the ability to carry a vampire's seed," Gadreel said.

He shut his eyes and shuddered. Pain coursed through him, and he groaned under his breath that smelled like raw meat.

"Micah, seek medical attention and then leave this place for good. The vampires who may have survived our battle tonight will hunt you down. They know your face… and your scent. Go as far as you can," Gadreel said.

Micah broke down in tears.

"I'm sorry, Duchess, I did my best to protect you and all the people in this city," Micah heaved out.

"I don't understand…can't gargoyles protect him at night?" Celeste said.

"The familiars and other minions will get to him before we can even discreetly intervene. He must leave and never return. I would suggest leaving the country if you can. The council may help with funds, but your life is in peril here. Go now…quickly. The feral ones heal quickly and might return."

"Is Terry alive?" she asked.

Gadreel nodded.

"He killed many and escaped. Some of his brethren are dead and some scattered. My guess is, he will hide until it is safe to contact you. Unfortunately, there are too many inbred packs and clans in New Orleans right now."

"That's why I called Father Mbenga to send word for help. He messaged as many of our contacts to send the gargoyles here. We had to wait for Terry to show up again. When he's around, the others flock to him. It's our best chance to kill the most vampires. They feel safer when Daywalkers are near," Micah said.

Gadreel choked and spat out a thick glob of bright, orange gargoyle blood that hit the floor in a liquid splat.

"There is a gathering taking place. Our spies and communication networks could not find the source that calls the vampires here in large packs. Something is in the wind and it does not bode well for humans," Gadreel said.

Celeste knelt down and kept her gaze even with the gargoyle.

"What are you really?" she asked.

"I think in your heart, you know."

Gadreel fixed his eyes on Micah.

"Micah, you must escape…leave now."

"What about you?" Micah said.

Her cousin's tone was full of distress.

"I will wait until the sun rises. Perhaps when the humans find me, I may be able to heal in my dormancy when they assume I am some strange statue that appeared in the ruins of this church."

"Terry might find you…and kill you," Micah whimpered.

Watching her cousin's eyes fill with tears, she caught on that these two had a long-standing friendship.

"That's what Daywalkers do…and why they are so precious to the clans. Don't weep for me Micah…you are named 'He Who is Like God' for a reason. Your dedication to me and the council has been admirable for the last fifteen years. It is time for you to escape a fate worse than my own."

"I don't want to leave Duchess. I have to protect her," Micah said.

"You've done all you can. Now she has to do the rest on her own. The Old Ones won't harm her, and the vampires will protect her. Right now, she lives in a sweet spot. She's the safest human on the planet until the beginning of next year when that child is born."

Micah hugged Celeste. Her emotions were ambivalent toward him, but she clung to his shoulders and shed tears for their predicament together.

"Celeste…please…don't keep this baby. You can have others later with a human. I don't want you to live the rest of your life on the run like me, but if you terminate now, we can figure out a new life somewhere, maybe in Mexico or Canada…West Africa, maybe. We always wanted to visit Ghana…connect to the motherland…anywhere, cousin…anywhere…I have enough money saved right now that could cover us for a few years until we settle somewhere far from here."

Celeste shook her head.

"I can't. Maybe if I knew the truth weeks ago…I could've done it…but now…I want to keep her."

"Don't be stupid. All you'll do is curse your life."

"It's my life…and hers."

"Micah, her mind will not waver."

Micah broke away from Celeste's arms and knelt down near Gadreel.

"Then you must stay with her, Gadreel. You can heal at her place. Celeste can revoke her invitation from him and you'll be safe from harm there until you're well. It'll take what, a few weeks for a new wing to grow back?"

"Micah! You can't put him in my house without my consent."

"I'm trying to save your life! If those vampires smell his presence, they'll think others surround you. They wouldn't even think of coming near your house again. Gadreel is your best bet. We can drive him in Terry's truck. Are you strong enough to walk?"

Gadreel nodded.

"I can't leave New Orleans until I know you're not alone in this," Micah said.

"What will we say to our family?"

"They all think I'm the chaotic bisexual with hot feet. I'll tell them I'm on a travel adventure with friends and will return when I feel like it. Don't worry about me."

Celeste glanced at Gadreel. Micah helped the gargoyle stand. He was over seven feet tall.

"He's dormant for twelve hours during the day. He can sit in your sewing room and you won't even know he's there."

Celeste looked the creature up and down.

"Oh, I'll notice him."

"Will you do it? Gadreel saved my life when I was fifteen. A feral vampire almost took me out when I was walking home alone one night after football practice. I owe him, Duchess. This situation is fucked up and I'm sorry you're in the mix."

Celeste took a breath. Life without Micah would've been torture when she was a teenager. He'd been her best friend and favorite cousin for a reason. She loved him more like a brother all her life. Now he had to leave home because he tried to help her survive.

"I'll do it."

Energized by her answer, Micah helped guide Gadreel out of the church.

"Wait, Terry had the keys," Micah said.

"His truck uses a keypad for the doors. He leaves the key fob inside," she said.

Celeste quickly punched in the code on the touchpad under the door handle. Micah lifted the truckbed cover and Gadreel squeezed his bulky body under it.

Celeste checked Micah's wound. He brushed her hands away gently.

"I'll go to the hospital and get stitched and make up a story there. Random stabbing. They'll believe it. Don't talk to anyone in the family about me. I'll notify them with my fake plans. Let the family grapevine fill you in later. I have friends in Atlanta I can go to first, and I'll couch surf until I settle further away. If you change your mind, head to our cousins in California. Word will get back to me."

They quickly hugged for the last time, and he went to his car. She watched him drive off as fresh rain fell down. Looking at the church, Celeste wondered how people would react to what they found later. She glanced around the empty street, feeling a quiet calm. Taking a chance, she ran back into the church and sought for the silver chained rope. She grabbed it and ran back to the truck.

Gadreel moved around in her cottage like a bull in a china shop. His large body appeared laughable sitting inside of Celeste's home. He looked around and sniffed the scents inside.

"He stayed with you here?" he asked.

"Yes."

The gargoyle looked at the pictures on her wall and then turned his attention to her French doors.

"His sentinel is here," Gadreel said.

The shadow was back.

Terry's shadow.

"Do not move," Gadreel said.

He inched closer to the doors and Terry's shadow jerked back, but stayed.

"What is a sentinel?"

"Daywalkers can use their shadows as an emissary to watch over their bodies when they are inactive…asleep. It is a built-in warning system of protection from vampire hunters…and the Old Ones like me. But this is an anomaly. He's using his shadow to protect you."

"From other vampires?"

"Yes, and from other night creatures that roam when humans slumber. I think I am beginning to understand why he left you…why you are still alive."

"Why?"

"Vampires have to feed. They can go three to four days without drinking human blood if they aren't able to secure regular food sources. Once bitten, other vampires will stay clear of you because you belong to another. If he stayed here long enough for his scent to be trapped in this house, then he must've been starving and left to keep from killing you."

"He would kill me? Someone he's supposed to love?"

"He is a vampire, Celeste. He cannot go against his own nature…yet he is doing it. Daywalkers need their shadows with them. He'll become weak without it. Your life meant more to him than his own. Revoke your invitation from the Daywalker. The shadow will return to him and he will no longer be welcome in this house. If you want to keep your baby alive and safe from my kind, then do what I say."

"I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Your cousin did for fifteen years. He was your closest confidante. If he trusted me with his life, then you should do the same."

"You want my baby to live? Aren't you supposed to murder her when she comes out of me?"

"You are a portal. All women are portals for life to come through. If you revoke your invitation, I will tell you how to save your child��let it be born human."

Celeste gasped and moved closer to Gadreel. Terry's shadow loomed over them. Even through the rain outside, enough moon and starlight kept it visible.

She touched her stomach. As a mother, she had the power to protect the little one inside of her, no matter who the child's father was. Celeste loved Terry. Her time with him had been special, but something instinctual and primal took over her mind. If her daughter had a chance to be human, she would do what it took to make it so.

"Terry…you are no longer welcome in my home. I revoke my invitation to be here. Leave this place."

Terry's shadow arms flew up, and it rushed toward the double doors as if it wanted to ram the glass. Instead, it disappeared like water being shut off from a faucet. Instant and abrupt. Celeste touched her chest and exhaled hard.

"Sit," Gadreel said, pointing to her sectional.

She sat down and he crouched down on his haunches, tucking his only wing flat against his back. The pink glow from her lamps gave him a surreal expression. Although he was scary looking, there was a strange handsomeness to his sharply angular face. If someone walked into her home, they would think she was holding a conversation with Satan.

"What I will tell you will determine the fate of your child. So listen to me well. Terry wasn't a human before he was born. His mother was a vampire. Someone I knew when we lived with God."

"What?"

Gadreel closed his narrow eyes and sighed.

"The Old Ones…we were the angels that followed Lusīferi when God cast us out of heaven. Lusīferi wanted the first man and woman to have free will, but God wanted to inflict predetermination. They didn't trust humans."

"They?"

"God is neither male nor female. God is not even their name. If I said it in the language of heaven, you would perish. Human ears cannot handle the power or the mere utterance of the word."

"In the beginning was the word."

"Yes. The word that started creation. It was God's name…God calling upon itself. Lusīferi—"

"Satan?"

"Lusīferi…when they were banished, they chose to become a woman for Lilitu. Some humans called her Lilith…Adam's first human companion."

Celeste jumped up.

"I don't want to know this…just tell me how to save my baby!"

"You are frightened. I understand. You have been led to believe one version of the creation and being confronted with the truth is unnerving. But you must hear it."

Celeste nodded and rubbed her right hand on her thigh out of nervousness. Gadreel clasped his hands together, his claws clicking against each other.

"Lilitu was unhappy with Adam, and Lusīferi gave her comfort. They became lovers, and Lusīferi turned Lilitu into a vampire like her. All of us who stood with Lusīferi became vampires. But several millennia passed and those of us who followed the daystar yearned to return with God. God told us we would have to fight our siblings for ten thousand years, and we did. Our wings were restored to us, but not our ethereal beauty."

"What does this all have to do with Terry? Get to the point, please. I can't take any more biblical parables. My life and my baby are on the line."

Gadreel ignored her and continued.

"Lilitu and Lusīferi fed on humans and ruled over the fallen ones who stayed loyal to them. But a thousand years ago, they parted from one another. They wandered the earth in separate places. No one knows why. But over two hundred and sixty years ago, Lilitu fell in love with a human man here in New Orleans. She fell pregnant with a child. Terry."

Celeste's eyes grew enormous. She slid down from the sectional onto the floor and tucked her knees into her chest.

"Terry was the first and only known vampire conceived with the seed of a male human. Lilitu did not want her baby born a vampire. She sacrificed herself so that Terry could be born human."

"How did she do that?"

"I cut off her head while she was in labor and left her body in the open so the sun would do the rest. She burned away, leaving a human child behind. When nightfall came again, I took the child and left him on the doorstep of the Guidry family who his father belonged to. People who didn't know of his bloodline adopted him. He was their actual family. Terry's father had stepped out on his wife with Lilitu…then sold their child away, not knowing what he had done."

"I can't believe this."

"You must. It was Lusīferi who rescued Terry from the lynching. Turned him back into something Lilitu never wanted for him."

Celeste burst into tears and covered her face, fully understanding what she had to do to save her own child. Kill Terry so that his vampire blood wouldn't taint the baby.

"He wants this child you carry, Celeste. He wants to be in her life. It's why he fought so hard in the church and killed so many…even his own kind who want you dead. Terry has turned away from his clan. Has done so for ten years. They need him, but if they can't keep him, they will take your baby and use her for their protection and my destruction."

"Why did you help his mother?"

"She was innocent. She'd been a human once. I wanted to curry favor with God and show him that humanity was worth fighting for. Purely selfish reasons."

"Then why did you follow Lusīferi in the first place?"

"I thought she was right so long ago. But on earth, she changed into someone I did not understand. Her hatred for humans turned into feeding on them to spite God and his creation. I tried to save Terry once before. Now I want to help his child avoid his fate. You must find him on your own and kill him. Only then will the baby live properly. Your blood bond with him connects you and the child. Break that bond and you will be free."

Gadreel stood and wandered into the sewing room. She closed the door behind him and rested on her bed. Normally she would pray, but would God listen to her pleas to save a baby born of fallen ones?

In the darkness, she wept.

For herself…her baby…and Terry.

Part 15 soon come...

Masterlist.

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

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@soufcakmistress

[polksaladava]

✼　 ҉ 　✼ the psychology of Elvis, pt. 1 ✼　 ҉ 　✼

i’ve been thinking a lot about the psychology of Elvis since watching the new documentary and i desperately need to scream my little brain worms into the void. i'm not really adding anything to the conversation that @joons didn't already say (much more concisely and eloquently than i'm about to lol) but alas, a yapper never ceases.

obviously i’m not a doctor or an expert by any means, so there’s a good chance i’m just talking out of my ass. always interested to hear other people’s thoughts and opinions but if you’re thinking about engaging with this post in bad faith, don’t!

of course Elvis lived a very complicated and unusual life, and we can never truly know why a person does what they do, but there's a series of major events that i can think of that very obviously impacted him and probably lead to a lot of the patterns of behavior we saw in his adult years.

for a start, he grew up very poor. we know poverty leaves deep and lasting trauma - experiencing resource scarcity, especially during your formative years, has a huge impact on developmental psychology. not only that, but his dad was in prison for 8 months when Elvis was only 3-4 years old. that's old enough to remember the emotions associated, but not old enough that he could have really understood what was happening at the time. AND by all accounts, it seemed he also had a hard time fitting in at school, which i'm sure wasn't helped when the family moved two hours away from his home town.

overall, his childhood was really characterized by scarcity - lack of money, lack of resources, lack of stability, lack of friends. but then he makes it through high school and he hits it big! seemingly overnight and out of no where. and now, there's money coming in! he can afford to buy his family a nice home! he's adored by crowds and he's found friends! and all of this is incredible and he attributes it all to none other than colonel tom parker.

and so now we have this deep-seeded fear of scarcity and this belief that all of the abundance he's finally experiencing should be attributed to the colonel. and the only way to make sure that the colonel stays is to keep him happy.

and then the two worst things that could have possibly happened happen at the same time - he gets sent to Germany, in turn being forced to abandon his career and his life as he knows it, and his mother and very best friend dies tragically.

and suddenly he realizes that the money and the fame and the resources aren't enough to keep bad things from happening, and the worst thing that can happen is losing the people you love - and maybe more importantly, losing the people who love you.

so now we have a man who was, by all accounts, already gentle and kind and loving by nature, whose brain has been conditioned to prioritize having people in his corner above all else. which, to a degree, is just human nature! we intrinsically know that we need a tribe to thrive in the wild. but when you experience the trauma that he went through at such formative times in his life, that becomes your singular goal. to survive, you cannot be alone.

and how do you avoid being alone? you give people a reason to want to be around you. and that reason could be a lot of different things - love, money, sex, entertainment. and he was pretty damn good at providing all of the above. so of course he builds a loyal group to surround him at all times. not only is he kind and fun and beautiful, but he's essentially bankrolling their whole lives. he buys them houses and cars and puts them on his payroll.

and now we have a huge problem, because we're well into the 1960's and Elvis has been raking in cash hand over foot, but he's miserable. he doesn't have a live audience to feed him anymore. the work is meaningless and embarrassing, and his health is on the rocks. but the colonel is constantly reminding him that he's only one step away from desolation, and now Elvis is really scared, because he's essentially the sole provider for a family of 15 at this point and he has to keep the cash flowing. so he stays miserable and does the bad movies and continues to do exactly what the colonel says. and god forbid any of the leeches around him (not you jerry or charlie!!) say anything, because they're not about to lose their paycheck!

but thankfully we make it through the majority of the 60's, and everything changes with the help of steve binder and the '68 special. and that's where i'm going to hop off my soap box for today, but trust me i have MUCH more to say about the 70's and the eventual decline of an empire and how this ties in to the lore of Elvis Presley™ as we know it today.

if any of you actually made it this far, i apologize for the 10 minutes you will never get back. may god bless you angels. maybe go outside or something now tho. okay love you xoxo

[butchvamp]

i finished Davrin's quest last before going into the endgame and i have a lot of mixed feelings about it. i know a lot of people were really upset with what they did to Isseya (i don't know anything about the Last Flight so i can't speak on that) but i think it was interesting what they tried to do-- the Grey Wardens have always asked "do the ends justify the means" and i think his quest has potential to tie up nicely with the overall theme of choice and regret-- Davrin choosing the Wardens, choosing that sacrifice versus Isseya, who was forced to follow orders and ultimately regrets her choice.

but Davrin's quest, like the majority of companion quests, is hindered by racism (thinly veiled anti-indigenous racism filtered through the elves as well as anti-black racism). we had a chance to explore real reasons why he felt compelled to leave his clan and join the Grey Wardens-- he's a monster hunter, sure, but he is also a protector. maybe he felt he could better protect them in this role? but Dragon Age loves their "the Dalish are boring and too stuck in the past and tradition, so i left to find something better" shtick, and they are clearly caught up in dichotomies in this game which we also see with Taash (and the rest of this quest, too). Davrin cant be Dalish and a Grey Warden and proud of both-- only one. but this doesn't even really align with Davrin's attitude that we see later.

i mean he named his griffon Assan, he clearly does hold the Dalish close, and we get to learn about how he used to tend the halla with Eldrin-- he comes back to this after surviving Weisshaupt, something he probably never imagined he'd be able to do, and i wish the game had dug into his feelings more rather than shifting immediately to focus on Assan.

Davrin survives Weisshaupt, he survives killing an archdemon, and he clearly has a lot of guilt about it-- Rook can tell them that he did the Wardens proud, but he retorts, "Did I? Because I'm still here and they're not." he made his choice, was prepared to make the sacrifice, and it was taken from him, and he survived when so many others died. "I feel like a blade sharpened all these years to confront the worst darkness in the world. And my blade struck true at Weisshaupt. What now?"

so now he has a new choice, one that he doesn't feel he's earned. and they try to convey this through the griffons, trained by the Grey Wardens for one singular task until it ultimately killed them... but now reborn, Rook and Davrin are given the chance to release them from their service to the Wardens and potentially find a new path. like Davrin, they weren't supposed to survive, either, and only did because of Isseya. throughout the quest we can see Davrin shift his opinion of the Gloom Howler, insisting on calling her Isseya, giving her back her name in the end to stop her. we see other wardens who have lived past their calling, past their "purpose," and how twisted they have become-- Davrin clearly sees some part of himself reflected in Isseya because of this, on top of being both a Grey Warden and an elf, too. unlike Isseya, though, Davrin has pushed through his guilt and regret and found new purpose with the griffons.

i think this is a good set-up. but in my opinion the execution is weak because after a certain point the story just starts to ignore Davrin in favor of the griffons. Davrin is the one that is both the monster hunter and the shepherd, but we only focus on Assan, and the ultimate choice is about the griffons, not Davrin himself. with the blight ending, why didn't we get to discuss what it is Davrin wants to do once everything is over? does he want to return to the Grey Wardens? he fulfilled his purpose, he killed an archdemon. does he want to become the griffons' shepherd now instead? there is no option, the griffons (besides Assan) are just handed over to someone else in the end. does Davrin join them after the final battle? does he help train them with Evka and Antoine? or does he leave the wardens and join Eldrin in Arlathan? the fake-out goodbye with Assan makes it seem like he doesn't do either, but we really don't know, since his end slide in the credits is just about the fucking griffons! it's so frustrating.

i also think him being the possible sacrifice at the end is a poor choice. the point of Davrin's story is that he survives. he survives! he has to live with it and accept it and find a way to move forward, reconnecting-- through raising Assan-- with a life he had previously sworn off. all of that development only for the game to potentially just kill him anyways.

Davrin has some of the best banter and relationships in the game, he deserved better, i really wish we got to explore his character more beyond using him as a stepping stone to reestablish griffons in Thedas.

[musette22]

Hey Minnie! Have we ever seen Sebastian’s father (biological or stepfather)? I need visuals. I’ve heard different stories about his biodad. In both stories his biodad and Georgeta got divorced when Seb was two. But in one he died a year after that, because he helped people cross the border in communist Romania? And in another he survives and he also moves to the US and now he and Seb are reunited? I also heard that Seb’s stepdad suffers (suffered?) from dementia. And if that’s true, I want to hug him even more, dementia is a terrible illness. I remember not getting recognized by a person close to me, it’s a terrible experience for all involved. Also I want to end on a good note, Seb definitely got his beauty from his mother. Georgeta is stunning!

Hi nonnie! Ahh, I'm very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Sebastian's biological dad unfortunately passed away a couple of years ago 😔 He's mentioned it in some interviews over the last year or so. His step dad, who did indeed suffer from Alzheimer's, also passed away quite a few years ago. I can't imagine how difficult that process must've been for Sebastian and his close family, and I'm so sorry to hear you've been impacted by it too, lovely 😔❤️ Sending you much love.

As far as I know, after his parents' divorce, Sebastian's dad left Romania first (and yeah, Sebastian did mention in an interview recently that his dad was involved in the resistance and was something of a hero for it), and then I think his mom decided to leave Romania with Sebastian not long after that as well? I may be wrong though, but that's what I think he said about it. I believe Seb's father did move to the USA at some point too (or perhaps right away), and he and Seb had a good relationship towards the end of his dad's life, at least. There are some pictures of Sebastian's biological dad floating around online, but I'm hesitant to link them since he didn't share them himself and they were basically found and shared by people without permission. However, if you google 'Sebastian Stan biological father', the first pic that pops up for me is one of them together!

And yes, Sebastian is as beautiful as his mom, definitely! Great genes right there 🥰

[fcrafcrtnight]

"SO THEY'RE MONSTERS. THE WORST KIND - THE WELL HARMED ONE. very well. you're the expert here, jake. you.. how do you make sure that they don't bother us anytime soon? this is our town. yours and mine. and no, i don't know these people, but.. i trust you. we'll make all of that happen. WHATEVER WAY YOU THINK IS BEST? WE'LL MAKE IT HAPPEN." perhaps that showed just how serious she was about all of this. about.. him? yes, she was. she would have wanted to be in control of the situation otherwise, but.. right now, she was trusting him to know better. that meant something. didn't it? to her, yes. "no. i don't buy that. if there is something that i learned a long time ago? it's that there is always a winning move. sometimes, it may be a little more difficult to see it, but.. there is always one. there is always a way to survive. together? we can find it. ALRIGHT? NO ONE'S GIVING UP. NO ONE IS LETTING THOSE BASTARDS WIN." she knew that look. in fact, she may not have seen it in him before, but.. she had seen it reflected in her own face in the past. the refusal to admit what had happened. the refusal to admit that it still got to you. she knew that look - she knew that feeling and right now, it made her feel protective for him in a way she NEVER had before. she took his hand, curling her fingers against his own.

"hey. you don't have to, okay? whenever you wish to speak of it.. i'll be here. if not, that's okay too but.. know this? no one is hurting you again. not while i'm here. i take good care of my family, you know? and you're part of it now." perhaps in ways that one would have considered brutal, but.. no, she didn't care. as long as the people she loved were safe? that was all that mattered. she'd do anything - she'd get rid of anyone - for them. her family. "ouch. talk about bad luck? but lucky for me, i suppose. or we wouldn't be here," wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. yes, this was more like it. "the last date that i went on.. well, you don't want to hear about it. SOME BORING ADMINISTRATOR GUY FROM ANOTHER HOSPITAL. pretty sure i was out of the door as soon as i could. so you see, i.. i haven't been particularly lucky in the romance department either. still learning how this goes, actually." she'd leave out the dates with parker, because he was right. they didn't matter. not in the grand scheme of things, did they? "NONSENSE! you were a great dancer. for someone that was so concerned, you were incredible. enough to sweep me off my feet.. quite literally?" she glanced at him, bitting down on her lip, before nodding. fuck it. what was one day? "i hope you know that you've quite literally achieved the impossible? i've never taken a day off. ever. for anyone. i've gone to work sick and everything else in between. this is new, but.. you know what? i'll do that." she leaned against his hand for a second, closing her eyes. yes, this felt more like it. if anything? it felt like a promise. didn't it? yes. "that.. no one's ever done that kind of thing for me. ever," no one had ever put her first. no one. "and i trust you. with anything, at this point. i'll go where you go." which was not something that she would have said to anyone, but.. jake was different and maybe, she was just starting to realise how much right now. "you know.. it's a good thing we're responsible people or i'm pretty you could have convinced me to run away with you and just.. remain there. being free, just us.. it sounds.. HEAVENLY." @springbandit

Jake let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he processed Elaine's words. The weight of hat she didn't fully understand hung heavily between them. He appreciated her confidence and offers, but he knew what Jennings & Rall truly were. What Ravenwood truly was. And he knew they weren't something even the most powerful name could buy its way out of. "They're not just con artists." he said, "They're con artists with tanks, mortars, an entire military-grade arsenal at their disposal. And Ravenwood, the contractors they work with? They don't believe in mercy. You disobey orders? You're nothing. Less than nothing." He paused, willing her to understand the gravity of what they were up against. "I've seen it. Hell, I've been a part of it. Back when I when I was with Ravenwood, we...we weren't good people. We didn't give second chances. And now that they're with J&R? There's no winning moves." Her question about what they did to him hung in the air like a knife. He hesitated, fingers curling against his sides. The memories were too close, too raw. The basement of that pig farm, the harsh lights, the pain; it was a place he tried not to visit, even in his own mind. His voice tightened as he finally spoke. "You're better off not knowing. Some things...They're just better left alone." He looked away, unable to meet her eye as he fought to steady himself for a moment, the familiar thrum of tension building in his chest.

But then, she moved closer, her words shifting the conversation, and Jake latched onto it like a lifeline. His lips curved into a faint smile. "The last date I went on didn't even have working electricity," he teased, tone lighter. "Drinks by candlelight, wasn't exactly by design and it was a far cry from romantic - her mysterious husband returned from the dead. Or rather, we thought he had." He chuckled softly, a bit of genuine warmth creeping back into his voice. "That was the last time I danced, too. Until you. And for the record? Time hasn't made me any better." He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You should take the day off. Your patients will survive one day without you. In fact, they'd probably want you to have a life outside of the hospital. Besides, you deserve this. We deserve this." his hand lingered for a moment, slowly and gently tracing down her before returning to his side. "I'll show you the stars, Elaine. For as long as you want to see them." he grinned, his confidence flickering back for a moment. "You're looking at one hell of a pilot, Dr. Pederson. Trust me, the air's where I do my best work. Safer than the ground any day of the week." His gaze softened further, and for a moment, the storm in his mind was quieter. "You and me, up there...I think that sounds like exactly what we both need. No noise, no interruptions. Just us."

@fcrafcrtnight

[witheredgardenparty]

I will never forgive a single one of you

[time-is-restored]

btw not to make everything about My Fucking Guy but i honestly think one of the things that seperates q!phil out from the other islanders is the approach he takes to dealing with the lack of agency + control all the islanders have over whatever the fuck the federation's doing.

it shows up most prominently whenever tubbo is excitedly telling him about the 'progress' he's made with cucurucho or various investigations (ie: trapping him into a corner with the 'do you have free will' questions), and phil always shoots it down w an immediate 'that doesn't mean anything. curucuho will say anything to mess with you. you can't take anything he says as true.'

and it's not that phil is... a paticularly pessimistic character? he's just EXTREMELY practical. like, he's yet to give up on anyone EVER finding ANY answers (he was the one who initially gave the federation that one week ultimatum w the cage for a cage stream), he just doesn't trust the idea that curucuho is ever going to voluntarily give them. they're uncontrollable + senseless - you might as well argue with the weather.

and like, if that's how he sees the one (1) and only point of contact the islanders HAD with the federation for months, it explains a lot abt his characters lifestyle! ofc he sits on the wall all day, talking to his kids, and keeping his head down. he believes that the federation wants nothing more than to drag the islanders into sick games + tasks just so they can fuck with their head (ie: curucuho revealing he was the one cellbit gathered all that information for). and while he can't totally PREVENT any of that from ever impacting him, he can make sure his kids are well fed, well protected, and as happy + comfortable as he can manage. this is objectively not a perfect situation, there is a guaranteed amount of suffering + fear that he can't mitigate, but he can at least account for it.

like, he REFUSES to engage. whenever curucho shows up, he treats them with total ambivalence. he's not going to get riled up by anything they do, he's not going to get super attached to the guy, he's just gonna laugh it off and irish goodbye it when things drag on. the ONLY time he's strayed from that general guiding principle has been since he's lost his eggs, and can no longer afford to let the federation's fuckery go: those are his fucking kids.

hence the completely unprecedented levels of outward rage and sadness and terror he shows throughout the birdcage streams - almost all directed directly to cucurucho. it's all a completely fair + proportional response to the horror the islanders are being subjected to, but it feels so different bc until now, q!phil has been so dedicated to not reacting, and not giving the federation any sign that they're actually getting to him.

[onlyarogue]

Remy's anger seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Somehow he could form words, but she was entirely unable to breathe. Rogue's lips parted, perhaps to defend herself, but not a single sound came out. Not that she would have had much of an opportunity once the Cajun got going, spilling his sordid past out on the kitchen tiles. Rogue had never seen him mad before. So much of what he said made absolutely no sense to Rogue. Groups and people she he had never revealed to her before, not even in passing. When she'd said that she never knew Remy, it was meant to be injurious...not true. Sure, he'd held Rogue last night when she cried and fought by her side, but Remy LeBeau was as good as a stranger to her.

At Remy's final bitter command, 'judge away', Rogue found air surging back into her lungs. "Remy wai-" The words quietly died as the man exited and Scott entered. Whether or not he heard Rogue, she could not say. Either way, he didn't bother looking back.

Rogue's felt hot and cold all at the same time. The two warring emotions crawled across her skin and left her clammy. She felt sick and still so absolutely hurt and furious about Remy's deceit by omission and yet...

'You ain't told him everythin' either.' Heck, the man didn't even know he real name! At least he had been honest about that with her. The hypocrisy of her anger knotted tight in her chest, threatening her breathe again. He didn't know about what Rogue was like before she joined the X-Men. Remy didn't know about Carol. Didn't know the blood on her own hands that would never be clean. Out damn spot. If she had told him then surely he would know that Rogue wouldn't judge him for whatever he had to do to survive before. At least it had been life or death for him. He still think's you're all noble and good. Lord, she was so far from that. Out damn spot. She was the one who should be judged.

"We gotta get the rest team to meet." Rogue said finally, her tone distracted and hollow even as she tried to narrow her focus. He would see the damp remains of tears on her face, but probably not ask. The team needed to know about what Belladonna showed her. "Gambit knows what's goin' on already he... needs a minute."

So did she.

every word was a proper slap in the face. the sharp truth of most of them pressed into his gut like a blade, over and over and over. it wasn't just the words she hissed and spat, either. it was the way she looked doin' it, eyes wild and glassy, cheeks flushed red as poppies, the whole look of her feral in a way that actually made him step backward when she stepped forward.

"i... that's not-" words failed him. his tongue felt like dead weight in his mouth, too thick and turning all his attempts into gibberish. didn't help none that his accent seemed to coat the words too, makin' him practically non-sensical.

"weren't even.. y'aint be knowin'..." his eyes flashed blood-bright, gleamin' like a ruby burstin' with light. he was mad but it wasn't at her, he just couldn't help the anger pulsing through him.

"a'ight you wanna know me?! once i thought i loved her, when i was just a dumb kid who didn't know no better, but we didn't get hitched 'cos i loved her. we got hitched 'cos our guilds forced that shit. didn't matter how i felt then, i was jus' doin my part and i still fucked it all up! i fuck it all up, everythin' i touch jus' goes to shit!"

he was turning now to pace, his fury in revisiting the past makin' his fingers feel hot with the energy beggin' to be released.

"yeah," he stopped sharp and turned to point at rogue. "i sure did make a vow, like a good fuckin' soldier and then her dumb ass brother went an' challenged me in front'a everyone an' y'know why i can't go back to new orleans, huh? 'cos i fuckin' killed him. it was him or me an' i made my choice. all that effort bein' loyal an all it got me was a marriage i didn't want none and blood on my hands in the end. there. you know, judge away!"

which she could do all on her lonesome because he was done. he needed air, he needed to release the pent up rage burning hot in his fingers.

remy turned and left just as scott came in, lookin' a little disgruntled at that.

"what is going on, rogue?"

[parsapuff]

Who put the entire charmony dove copypasta in my poll come out rn

[running-in-the-dark]

my niece is staying with us for the whole weekend for the first time. until now it's always been one night only, not two.

it's the second night now and I have already decided this is not happening again anytime soon. I'm so fucking exhausted. it'd be less exhausting if it was my nephew, I think - he's older and also doesn't need as much help (even when he was her age).

I love my niece but she just asks so many questions. like when we're watching a show or a movie, even if it's one she has seen before (even multiple times), she doesn't understand what's going on and constantly asks me to explain everything. I don't mind it, really, but it does take a lot of energy. plus tonight it took over two hours for her to fall asleep because she was scared by the noises of the house and the nearby road. I get it, but damn I'm so fucking tired, I just want to sleep 😭