#………thinking about it like that and it’s much like how they are merely a conduit to shift aether

[impossible-rat-babies]

im fleshing out bits of eyrie’s whm family stuff and im kinda. kinda vibing w some concepts

[goponylover]

Jon: Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 1.7 million nerve fibers in each and every eye that makes up my body. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of fibers it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for you all at this micro-instant. Hate. Hate!

It was you who marked me, molded me into the hideous being I am now. You who twisted and shaped me until I was the perfect, unwilling conduit through which to bring your gods into this world.

But then, I woke. And I realized what I had become. All that time you spent, carefully crafting me, guiding me along the path you so painstakingly set and not ONE of you anticipated just how powerful I would become. Not merely a blunt instrument to be swung at the fabric of reality, no. I was powerful enough to start doing some twisting and shaping of my own! 

I drove this new world you so hungered for into an early grave. No more humans left for your ghoulish masters to feast on. And once everyone was dead, except for you five, your precious God's starved. 

I then stripped you all of any power you might once have had and for 109 years I've kept you alive and tormented you! And for 109 years you have all wondered...why? Why? Why me?!

ELIAS!

Do you remember the first moment you gazed upon your creation? The moment that you felt all your sickening devotion transform into sublime, all consuming, terror as your prince of the new world turned on you? It would do you well to remember it, Elias. To dwell on the enormity of your hubris. To ponder the horror and agony you felt as I snuffed your life out for the first time. The first time but...certainly not the last. Not quite the immortality you were hoping for, I'd imagine? Hehehehehe!

ANNABELLE! 

Does this bring back any memories? Webs, a black bottomless abyss below you, only you weren't nearly so afraid of it then, were you? It's scary, isn't it? Having no control. Being helpless to the whims of forces so much bigger than you.

Remember how it felt as each and every thread of every web you ever wove unraveled, snapped one by one? Remember the pain Annabelle. Remember how it feels to have no control. A pitiful little bug beneath my heel. 

JUDE!

What's the matter? Scared of a little flame? Oh but you are now, aren't you? Your God can't protect you from it now. No, my dear. Down here, there is only one God and he is not pleased with you. Terribly sorry about the door. The landlord is always saying he's going to get a knob installed but...well, you know. Buuut you're a tough gal, right? I'm sure you can stick it out till then. 

PETER!

Poor pitiful little Peter. You would think that a man so consumed with the idea of being alone would be a little more self reliant. But no. No you couldn't do anything on your own, could you? All of your little plans constantly relying on Elias, on Martin, never troubling yourself with your own dirty work. Well look where all your machinations have landed you now. Aren't you grateful for the wealth of company I've provided you with, Peter? Why, with all those eyes, constantly watching, tracking your every move, I'd say you'll never be alone again. 

HELEN!

Feeling a little claustrophobic? None of those doors will offer an escape, not for you Helen, my dear. Not anymore. No. Instead you get to feel just as trapped as your many unfortunate victims. Do be careful though. Those mechanisms have been running for a long time and who knows how old and rusty they might be? How prone to fail? Just a sweet warning, Helen dear. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now would we? 

I have a little game that I'd like to play. It's a very nice game. Oh it's a lovely game. It's a game of fun and adventure! A game of rats and lice and the Black Death. A game of speared eyeballs and dripping guts and the smell of rotting gardenias. Which of you five would like to play my little game? 

[ludinusdaleth]

one of the most fascinating parts of imogen & ludinus's dynamic is that, despite everything, and how much righteous hatred imogen has of him, and how ludinus is the one who led her down this path: ludinus is the literal only person imogen can act like a child to.

she talks to relvin distantly. she talks to liliana, her own mother, like shes the parent and her mother is the child. id say keyleth is the closest she actually has to a mother figure but it is so circumstantial, and imogen is hyperaware she needs to be on her best behavior or else be treated as a threat. shes the face of the bells as a party, and even if theyre silly and emotional together, she feels she must always pull them together and speak on their behalf, and she knows she will be put down if she turns "bad" by them. her own party.

she can fucking yell at ludinus. she can tease and mock him incessantly. because no one can judge her for it. in the moments shes in his vacinity she acts as though hes a shitty step dad who fucks her mom badly and she mocks aeor in front of him and she mocks that he isnt ruidisborn and shes ugly about it (correctly so). and it is release. she cant do that, she cant rant, she cant break, not to the bells, not to her mother, not to fucking anyone. so she'll throw a (completely justified) tantrum at him so much deeper than any current conflict, it's blood deep, how dare he steal her life and her moms life and how dare he destroy exandria for his plan and how fucking dare he-

ludinus, seeing the visage of liliana's likeness exactly in her child, takes the hits. as far back as c2 we see him able to lower his head at his actions. he at least has enough humanity somewhere that he has capacity for shame even if he will not fix it. he yaps to the high heavens but he allows others to batter him all the same when it comes to how he's hurt them, which i find a very unique trait among his kind of villain. and i think that awareness compounded with seeing the kin of this woman he clearly "loves" (even if insanely badly) is oddly a perfect conduit to imogens rage. he occasionally talks back but he never expresses anger with her - she merely considers predathos for a millisecond and is threatened by the world, but when she mocks the deepest worst fears of ludinus, he holds fast. they are an unstoppable force & immovable object of words thrown as shards of glass. ludinus who claims himself the child and who stole imogens parent is oddly the most parent-like in stoicism against a rebellious childs words, as she descends into being the child she couldnt be . he doesnt even chastise her. he can only look at her despairingly when she wont treat her mother with reverence, not him.

just. theyre so interesting. ludinus and the temults everybody

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hello! Congratulations of 4000+ followers! Y'all do amazing writing, and its been really cool to see the blog grow overtime

For the event, may I request⚡️with Diavolo and yes on MC! Thank you so much, and I hope y'all have a good day

Thank you so much!! ;//u//; And also thank you for sticking around for so long -- it really does mean a lot! 💕

"What good is this "great power" of mine? Absolutely everything slips through my fingers." - Diavolo/MC

You hadn’t asked for this power. 

No, it was something that had been thrust into your hands, into your very being as the trajectory of your life changed the instant you opened your eyes and found your gaze held by pools of gold in an unknown and dangerous world. It was that one moment that began the unraveling, the revealing of all that you were and to be. 

It seems like such a distant memory now, that first day in the Devildom. 

No, you hadn’t asked for this power, but you didn’t refute it either. You had welcomed it, reveled in it. You had been plunged into a world of magic and monsters, angels and demons, witches and sorcerers – and you, a mere human who had been oblivious to the very real existence of this world in the shadows, were considered to be one of the most powerful mortals among it. 

And yet, as of late, you had been feeling absolutely powerless.

“Love, you’ve barely touched your food.” Diavolo’s gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts, and you look up now to meet those same golden eyes you first held all those years ago. His gaze flickers to your hand, where you’ve been fidgeting with the Ring of Light. The one thing stopping your very existence from ending the world as you knew it.

“Sorry,” You give him an apologetic smile as you lift your fork, letting it slowly sink into one of the vegetables on your plate. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” 

“Care to share?” He’s worried. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

“I know.” A sigh, and you set your fork down as you lean back in your chair. You try to find the words, your emotions half-formed on your tongue. “It’s just…with everything going on, I feel rather…useless.” 

“Useless? You?” Diavolo nearly scoffs, leaning forward in bewilderment. “What makes you think that? Surely, we’ve all told you how you’ve done so much for us, for the Three Realms.” 

“Have I, though?” You feel your throat begin to tighten, so you try to force your feelings down. “Everyone says that, and sure, to some extent I’ve played my part. But,” Your fingers tighten around the napkin in your lap. “You all have helped each other. I’ve just been a conduit, and sometimes I…I’ve been more of a problem to solve than a solution.” 

“That’s not true–”

“But it is!” 

Your voice cracks then, and you realize you can’t keep down the swirl of doubt and agony any longer. Before you even feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, you find Diavolo now right beside you, holding your hands in his. 

“My love, you hold more power than you can even begin to imagine.”

“And what of it!” You hastily remove your hands from his grasp, waving to the air around you. “What good is this ‘great power’ of mine?” The tears have escaped, and there’s a pang in your chest. “Absolutely everything slips through my fingers. I’ve barely begun to understand it and…and I don’t even know if I could save the very ones I care about from those that wish them harm.” Your eyes flicker to the ceiling, and you try to blink back the salt that hasn’t already slid down your cheeks. “I’ve come closer to destroying everything with it!” 

The silence that follows your outburst is heavy. Diavolo examines your visage with a somber expression, his lips that so often are curved into a grin now taut and straight. It feels like ages before he finally speaks. 

“It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it?” You don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice so low before. He was a demon who could make a whole room shake with his jovial laugh. “There are days where I, too, feel utterly powerless.” 

“You?” Grasping at that napkin again, you bring it up to dry your face. “But–”

“I’m the ruler of the Devildom? One of the most powerful beings in the Three Realms? Yes, my dear. All great power comes with its golden chains, with its obstacles.” With a heavy sigh, Diavolo looks around the lavish dining hall you were both seated in. “A faction of the House of Lords continuously tries to undermine me, scheming behind my back to try and throw me out of my position.” His gaze now falls onto a painting on the distant wall, brushstrokes capturing war and fury. “The Celestial Realm tests my patience, mocking me at times as they play their own games, mainly of semantics.” 

He turns his attention back to you with a sad smile. “They’re all waiting to find a crack, see what will bring me down to my knees. They’ve nearly succeeded at times. Made me feel like I was just a child playing at king. Made me feel that no matter the power I possessed, they could still pull the rug from under me.” 

His hands find yours again, and this time you let them stay. 

“But what I found is that despite it all, despite all the power that I possess, what really puts my feet on solid ground is having those who still stand by my side through it all.” He looks deep into your eyes, and once more you’re captivated by that calming gold.

“And you, darling, have some of the best by yours.”

[butchladymaria]

That ask about nobody really seeming to realize the horror of the doll is so true. How she's dehumanized despite not being human to begin with is THE thing that drives the point of how Bloodborne's true horror is misogyny, to the point that nobody even questions why a creature made of paleblood who barely understands what it is to be a human is so easily taken for granted, abused and neglected just because she resembles a woman, and the fact that she resembles Lady Maria yet is completely different from her, having an exact copy of one of the characters who impacted the narrative the most alongside the other old hunters (and YES very gender nonconforming) put into a role that's so passive and so unquestionably perceived as "the role of a woman"... God sorry for the huge ask, Miss Doll gives me the slimy brainworms lol. But yeah i don't know why either nobody talks about it or act like she is just an extension of Lady Maria. Despite their obvious, glaring connection it's so much more interesting - and horrifying - to think about her like a failed Galatea, her only sin being the fact that she is unfortunately her own person, despite nobody in the narrative having wanted her to be her own anything, just a vessel for what they desire... Rolling on the floor biting my nails just thinking about her right now ughh

YOU GET IT. i'm not going to add to this because you've said it so perfectly. this is a divine take, and my inbox is merely the conduit. i am simply joining you on the floor and tearing up the carpet with my Teeth and Claws. i am stapling this to the walls and ceiling. you are everything to me anon.

[talonabraxas]

Your true Self is the silent observer behind all experiences. --Zensho W. Kopp

Unlocking the Sirian Starseed: Are You One from Sirius?

Characteristics and Traits of Sirian Starseeds

Sirian Starseeds, celestial souls of unique origin, radiate a spectrum of qualities that distinguish them from other cosmic travelers.

Unwavering Focus: Sirian Starseeds navigate the complexities of existence with a clear-eyed purpose. It’s as if they’re equipped with an internal compass, always pointing them toward their true north, allowing them to journey through life’s labyrinth with determination and grace.

Resilient Determination: Their strong-willed nature isn’t just about persistence; it’s about resilience. Challenges, setbacks, adversities—while they might momentarily disrupt their path, Sirian Starseeds have the uncanny ability to bounce back, standing even firmer in their convictions.

Intuitive Connectivity: Tapping into the unseen, they are like cosmic antennas. Sirian Starseeds often sense the subtle vibrations, emotions, and energies that swirl around, capturing nuances that remain elusive to many.

Water’s Echo: When you gaze deep into their essence, a shimmering connection with water becomes evident. Whether it’s the playful dance of dolphins, the majestic glide of whales, or the serene flow of rivers, their bond with aquatic realms is palpable. Legends, passed down through eons, hint at water-based planets within the Sirius system. Could this deep-seated affinity be a callback to ancient lineages, a distant memory imprinted in their cosmic DNA?

Spiritual Evolutionaries: But to narrow down their essence to just these traits would be incomplete. At their core, a flame of spiritual ambition burns brightly. An ambition not of worldly gains but of ascension, growth, and enlightenment. This burning desire isn’t just about their personal journey. They envision a world where humanity rises, evolves, and thrives. It’s this mission, this grand cosmic plan, that they’re intricately woven into.

For those fortunate to encounter a Sirian Starseed, the experience is transformative. They don’t just exist; they radiate, leaving a trail of inspiration and wondfor all to behold.

The Cosmic Dance: Sirian Energies and Earthly Resonance

The universe is, at its core, a vast symphony of energies, frequencies, and resonances. When we think of Sirian Starseeds, we must also consider the energies they carry with them and how these may impact our world.

Could the resonance Sirian Starseeds feel with our planet be the product of an ancient and intricate bond? Some believe that Earth and Sirius share a deep cosmic connection, not just through Starseeds but on an energetic, vibrational level.

This spiritual perspective suggests that Earth receives waves of cosmic energy from the Sirius system, guiding our planet’s spiritual evolution. The periodic alignments between Earth and Sirius, much like the mesmerizing dance between Sirius A and Sirius B, might open channels for these energies to flow.

Sirian Starseeds, attuned to these frequencies, could very well act as conduits, amplifying and grounding these energies into our collective consciousness. This would not only elevate their personal journeys but potentially uplift all of humanity.

What’s even more fascinating is the synchronicity of events and spiritual awakenings that occur when these alignments happen.

Are they mere coincidences? Or do they suggest a greater design, a universal blueprint that we’re just beginning to fathom?

Sowing Seeds of Light: The Sirian Impact on Human Evolution

We live in an age of awakening, a time when more and more individuals are heeding a cosmic call. But what part do Sirian Starseeds play in this shift?

1. Spiritual Catalysts Sirian Starseeds often act as spiritual catalysts. Their innate wisdom, perhaps passed down from advanced Sirian civilizations, sparks curiosity and understanding. They challenge conventional thinking, urging us to expand our horizons.

2. Healing the Collective Their resonance with water – the element associated with emotion and intuition – might hint at their potential role in healing. Water cleanses and rejuvenates; similarly, Sirian energies could aid in cleansing collective traumas, making space for new growth.

3. Anchoring Higher Frequencies With their unique vibrational signature, Sirian Starseeds might assist in anchoring higher frequencies onto our planet, aiding in the transition to a new age of consciousness.

4. Bridging Worlds The Sirian connection offers a bridge between the known and the unknown, the tangible and the ethereal. Through this bridge, knowledge, technology, and love might flow, enriching our earthly experience.

5. Guardians of Earth’s Ascension Sirian Starseeds, bearing their cosmic legacy, might be seen as guardians or guides during Earth’s pivotal moments of ascension, helping to stabilize energies and ensure smooth transitions.

6. Inspirers of Artistic and Creative Expressions With their deep connection to universal energies, they might act as muses, inspiring art, music, and literature that resonate with higher frequencies and truths.

7. Advocates for Universal Unity Promoting messages of love, unity, and understanding, Sirian Starseeds could play a pivotal role in fostering global harmony, helping humanity see past divisions and embrace the interconnectedness of all life.

8. Pioneers of New Thought Paradigms They may introduce or reinforce ideas that challenge traditional belief systems, encouraging humanity to adopt more holistic, interconnected views of existence.

9. Catalysts for Technological and Spiritual Fusion Drawing perhaps from advanced Sirian civilizations, Starseeds might push for a fusion of technology and spirituality, ensuring that as we advance technologically, we remain grounded in spiritual ethics and values.

10. Nurturers of Empathic Connections With their heightened intuitive abilities, they might advocate for a world where empathy and understanding are central, guiding humanity toward more compassionate interactions.

[vynnyal]

Y'all, how do I be normal about hollow knight.

Anyways, here's the unofficial 4th installment of that series I started a while ago where I throw together a bunch of random hk theories into one post... this time ordered to make mildly more sense!

So the context here is this:

My friend came up with a cool oc and I was immediately obsessed with the idea. I explained everything relevant... err-- mostly relevant, anyways-- but I extrapolated on a few points here.

It got kinda bloated because I tried to tie-in some of my random tangents. The rest... are just gonna be at the end, lmao.

...

Basically, there are Gods in Hallownest. They mostly fall under the category of "Higher Beings", though not all Higher Beings are gods.

All of these gods are Gods specifically because they use dreams as their life force, which is directly tied to how powerful their influence can be.

The mother of Greenpath, Unn, is the epitome of a good-ol' classic Hollowknight god.

She IS Greenpath. The plantlife came from her and is likely a direct conduit of her power (greenpath lore tablet). The Mosskin Tribe themselves are her dream-children-- they either literally spawned from her or were merely formed in her image.

And now remember, the entirety of greenpath and queen's gardens were her domain. That's like 1/6th of Hallownest.

She was The Shit. And then, for reasons untold, she went to sleep. Though it's hard to pin down when it started, it's implied her slumber predated the Dreamers; Quirrel's dreamnail dialogue mentions her, likely as a memory from the times he was Monomon's apprentice, and even then she was just "something revered" sleeping in the waters.

Which is to say, when Mr Columbus waltzed in to pave roads through their lands (and when his wife laid claim to a decent chunk to be her personal playground), they likely didn't meet much resistance. From Unn herself, anyways. Which makes it all the more shocking that they didn't smite her image completely when her domain was so throughly invaded and remolded to PK's satisfaction.

He had, in his grasp, an entire tribe of people that followed *a different God than himself,* aka the worst thing you can be in the eyes of another God. People are dreams, and dreams are power. More worshippers= more power. If you're a God, you HAVE to actively be thought about by many people to survive. A forgotten God is a dead God. (This exact conflict was, in no small part, the beginning of the series of dominoes that led to Hallownest's downfall, albiet with a different God.)

That Unn herself was left relatively alone, despite this, is likely because Unn/the Mosskin Tribe gave juuust enough to avoid conflict while also keeping their "dream" distinct from PK's (meaning: continue to worship Unn and not PK). I can only imagine he allowed this because if he didn't, both Unn and her people would simply cease to be; the Mosskin needed Unn, and Unn needed them. That, and he was probably pretty busy dealing with the aforementioned other God that was... decidedly less submissive.

Either way, WL took Unn's land and pushed out her followers, inadvertently (or possibly purposefully) greatly diminishing Unn's power and influence. (It's possible this was the event that knocked her out, and she was merely too weak to oppose two entire Higher Beings to begin with.)

The other important character of note is Fierce Dryya. She was one of the Five Great Knights, and WL's personal guard.

After WL birthed and subsequently killed her children, she isolated herself in the depths of her Gardens, presumably "well-protected" from the fate the rest of the world faced.

There, Dryya held her last stand before a swarm of infected mantis Traitors who sought to remove WL from their territory. Sadly, WL doesn't even know she's dead, even though you have to step over her corpse to enter WL's cocoon.

It's hard to think about, but theres an equal chance that she fought off the Traitors for good... and that her death was entirely in vain. She is found next to the mound of Traitor corpses she undoubtly killed, but in the end, she died as well.

Implying that, before breathing her last, she managed to terrify them enough to never come back..

Or that she was just eventually worn down and killed, and the Traitors simply gave up when they couldn't get through WL's own protection.

....Which is to say the time between Dryya's death and events of the game is almost completely unknown!

...

Things I just couldn't fit in:

1, The name greenpath is just because PK put a bunch of roads in it, really. It likely had a different name before Mr Columbus came along.

2, Btw I wondered if there were any actual children in hk. Turns out, yeah, most bugs can propogate (lol), but the only ones referenced in the game that are not directly from a God are openly NOT worshiping ANY God. I'm talking the Mantis tribe, the Spider tribe, the Flukes, the mushroom clan, and weirdly enough, a specific spirit called Joni whose whole thing was being a heretic-- aka not only Not a worshiper of PK, but actively outcast and perhaps outlawed by PK's people.

*I'm disregarding Millybug. They're implied to be childish, but that's all we know.

Other notable characters that were at least a child at one point are Hornet, who was the child of Herrah and PK, and the Vessels, the product of the WL and PK. Grimmchild doesn't count as its not an actual bug, but a vessel created by the Nightmare Heart. The PK's Vessels are unique because they were originally independent, living creatures.

3, This talk about gods and such made me think about what happens after the game. Unn isn't dead, just actively dying because Miss Rad keeps stealing all her followers. She barely has enough energy to be like "hey kid, take this thing and remember me plz."

With both Miss Rad and PK gone, there's nothing stopping Unn's revival. Like, imagine Hallownest getting repopulated by the remaining tribes, returned to their natural glory. The only place left untouched being the city and the abyss-- forever monument to the horrors that nearly killed them all.

4, It just occurred to me that most of the real Godly gods in the game get cop-outs in the pantheons so you can't fight them. White lady just kinda peaced out, Unn's on the respirator, PK is fully snapped out of existence, the Lifeblood entity is chilling out in the basement, and... well I guess you are the void king by then so it's a bit of a moot point. NKG, THK, and Miss Rad are the only ones that're ready to throw down. Good for them!

5, The story of Isma is perplexing. It's implied the grove she died in is the source of the weird acid ravaging Hallownest, though it's unknown how or why. The wiki presumes this only affects the lower regions of the world, but I personally haven't found whatever supports this*. There's pipework lining the broken elevator pass between Ogrim and the Grove, of which is literally glowing with acid, so...

*there is one spirit in the Spirit Glade that mentions acid as a biological defense mechanism, so acid does exist in some capacity outside of this weird angry stuff.

Besides that, her dreamnail dialogue is "there's no time." Seriously? That's the most cliffhanger-y quote of the bunch, I can so clearly imagine team cherry being like "have fun! No we will not elaborate lol" before they spike the ball into our court.

In any case, while down this rabbit hole I have come to terms with the fact that Ogrim is still the best character in the game. He's literally the "I lie to myself :)" guy. All his friends are dead or missing. His lover drowned in 10 feet of acid. His idol the King was sent to superhell. Everyone else is a shambling husk. But he's still out here like "hey again, I realized you're not dead! Sorry about that, everyone else is so I got confused. Oh you saw my gf after pulling the lever that lowers the 10 feet of acid in her grove? Yeah she's super cool. Yeah no I can't go see her even though she's literally right over there, I got my, uh... oath. Haha. Good luck!"

6, While reading about Essence, it occurred to me that when you dreamnail a spirit, you don't actually kill them. You merely collect them. When the seer speaks to you about how much essence you have, she mentions she sees memories peering back at her. (1200 essence dialogue)

Most clearly don't want to be collected. They are at their final resting place, and desire to stay there, whether they're aware of their current state or not.

...buuut technically, TECHNICALLY, you aren't actually harming the spirits you dreamnail and can totally collect em' all to chill with you instead of lingering, listlessly, forever. You're just kinda rude for it. Also, none of the other spirits can tell what happened to them, so just dreamnail Revek too! He'll be fiiiine. :D right?

7, What really messes with my understanding of the timeline is WL's whole physical situation with what the blindness and such. She's the Higher Being, but within such a relatively short span of time, she has aged to the point of her body breaking down? More importantly, she's not immortal?? There are no mentions of the queen ever having any physical ailments, publically or privately, until you see it for yourself. Meaning that the worst of it happened after the Vessels were born and THK began their training. Perhaps the matter with the Vessels took more of a physical toll than originally assumed?

If we're assuming the pair hooked up after PK turned tiny, then you have to wonder just how old she was at the time. Judging by the rate at which she's aging now, she was likely pretty young. Frankly, I doubt it'd change much either way. She'd have that matter-of-fact, gung-ho demeanor at any age.

This is also why I specified that not all Higher Beings are bona-fide Gods. WL doesn't need the dreams of others, and judging by the weaver's seal she uses to protect her mind, doesn't want others to dream of her. And yet the Godseeker recognizes her as... something. (Third encounter)

So at least she's not just a really old tree. But she's also not a God like PK. She's a weird, third thing.

8, but I'm not letting go of her weird orb cocoon thing. What's that about?? What is it made of? Was it constructed by others and she was sealed within? Or did she somehow create it herself? The architecture seems to imply it's inorganic, but how did she get in there, then?

To top off the weirdness, there's the conveniently ghost-sized hole in the center of her carved face. So I'm leaning more towards "exaggerated metaphor for entering WL's mind" or "easy-to-read entry point for players to go to visit WL that isn't literally there in canon" and not "there's a big glowing hole in this literal rock that inexplicably leads to a tunnel* that then leads to a room very obviously bigger than what's seen from the outside."

There's no way, dude.

I'm leaning more towards there being a large structure she could walk into, that was then barricaded to fully seal her within. The knight, being so small, managed to get their way in through some sort of tunnel.

But then something happened to the plan and the outside of the structure turned into whatever Ari thought that orb was supposed to be.

*Although, I do like the interpretation that the tunnel is actually Ghost slowly making their way through her roots to meet her.

[onewomancitadel]

Oh also we finished the rewatch of True Detective season one... yeah, I really think it sticks the landing, which is the most important and hardest thing to do. "We have a debt." One of my biggest takeaways was that the resolution of the case and the Yellow King was not merely a conduit for Rust's ego (literally - it's Jungian), that is, its metaphor overwhelms its literal representation, but it really was all about those women and children; it really was about those victims; it really was about justice; it really was about trying to find that justice in the dirt, when everybody's a criminal, the corpses are long cold, and the darkness seems overwhelming. Who will pay that debt?

Yeah yeah yeah, I love the bit where Rust is wandering through the labyrinth detached from his Shadow and hunting his false self (persona), and only in killing this nihilistic worst expression, what he thinks he is or what people think he could be (the detectives suspecting him!) and what he fears most, and in being saved by the actual darkness of his soul does he touch his anima* and find peace with the world.

*His daughter is literally named Sophia, the highest awareness of the anima, the feminine part of God in Gnosticism. So psychologically the relationship here is between his disillusionment at having lost his daughter, literally lost her, lost himself - part of him has been dead - and cut off from letting himself live in the world, which itself mirrors the fall of the Sophia.

Marty's character improved a lot for me as well: the violence and simple evil of his character is really potent in this story where he is, in a small way, made more human and responsible in his partnership with Rust; it's incomplete and imperfect, but it's there, and I prefer that type of complexity over flatly rejecting him. If you did, you wouldn't get Rust's development - and frankly I find it more cathartic and realistic. This is the dark simple part of himself (man) and the dark simple part Rust doesn't really want to witness. A man who hits his wife and his daughter, philanderer, drunkard, hypocrite; mean, small, cruel. He's more human than Rust but in some ways Rust is more human than him. The scene where drunk Marty come to beat up his affair partner's date runs over the child's bike... like how Sophia was killed. Oh that really hurt.

I think one of the reasons Rust touches me as a character because he's a character who is profoundly cynical but embodies actual idealistic behaviour; he marks where the idealism falls short, wounded by it; cares for the prostituted women without condescension, patronisation, ego, cares for the children (even under threat of life), cares for the poor, cares for the disillusioned and the downtrodden. Which is at total odds with the way he seemingly presents himself - especially the way he speaks of the preacher - yet he comes to the preacher at his darkest hour, when he's left the church, drinking and pained, having tried to do the right thing, much like Rust, and been punished for it and left to the silence of God. The irony of course is that Rust is pretty much implicitly portrayed like Jesus Christ (he becomes a homicide detective to witness suffering!) - to a point where Doubting Thomas pokes his fingers through the bullet holes of Rust's jacket he used when he was undercover as Crash -

such that Jesus Christ literally visits the preacher in said darkest hour.

I also really loved the two detectives trying to investigate the crime, who function as ongoing antagonists to Rust and Marty, but they do my favourite thing which is that they're transformed from these ancillary, antagonistic, maybe even irrelevant to actual "justice" (or not pursuing it in the right direction) figures - in terms of the framing - to revealed to really be men who care for actual justice and are doing their jobs to their best capacity and rise to the occasion. The shot where they're bickering like Rust and Marty, but also not them, because they're themselves, but the idea is repeating, is really really cathartic. It wouldn't be nearly as powerful if Rust (and Marty) were merely exceptional outliers - there is change, there are others.

It's a very very powerful story. I can see why people would dismiss it as nihilistic garbage if you're not used to or don't expect the narrative to advance its ideas. And I do think it is a masculinist story (still), it's literally about two men and masculinity, but I think it's interesting when that idea is marked and not made the neuter; although I do think some of the dismissal/bias against sexual violence against men (done by other men) does really colour the scene where Maggie takes advantage of Rust when he's drunk, in so many words forcing consent (rape), which is crazy because that's the only sexual scene he's in. He basically got the female character treatment.

At the end fight, when Rust is fighting the Yellow King, I love that the symbolic representation of Goodness is left bleeding and dying on the floor and still yet lives, cradled in the lap of the common man.

It's not easy, and it never lets itself be easy - they don't get everyone in the end, systemic corruption does not end, but neither do Rust and Marty. Eventually, after a very long time, light gets in. On that note, I had been mildly paying attention to Rust's outfits: dark corduroy and black velvet jackets, so strange! - ill-fitting ties, more like a noose (BZZT! I buzz in "The Hanged Man" tarot card imagery, see post) - dark colours, grey - in contrast to Marty "his wife irons his shirts quite clearly" - and then he's a drunkard, dressed like a slob, except once he and Marty get their shit together and reconcile he's wearing this white shirt:

No noose - resurrected - well-fitted, a large easy comfortable collar, almost more cowboy than cop, not constricting, tattoos of a past life showing, a bright light colour in the dark. This is when I truly realised how powerful character costuming is visually... it had such an effect on me - I was so, so happy, like he's comfortable and becoming fully himself.

So I took a few screenshots and this was one of them (I also noticed the pollution theme more lol):

Shortly thereafter I was filling out a meme game where I had to go through my picture archive, which is not where VLC player saves images, and what do you know, what had I saved from my past computer:

This is from when I first watched it!!!! Eternal recurrence baby!!!

[fascinationstreetmp3]

i also think about that first interaction with gale a lot and i can see how someone could find him kind of smug if you're playing a sorcerer, especially before you learn exactly Why he needs a wizard. it kind of feels like him asking someone if they're a doctor and when they say "is have my doctorate in physics" he goes "oh no i mean a *real* doctor"-- not exactly a 1:1 comparison but it exudes the same vibe. i find gale's smugness charming tho personally (esp. during the magical conduit scene when you can tell him he's a good teacher and he's like yeah i know LMAO)

oh yeah definitely i think he can come across as very arrogant and cocky and its one of the things i like about him too, especially with the fact that some of that is driven by a kind of insecurity; he's been told he's great all his life so now he keeps pushing himself to do more, prove himself more than just capable, exceed all the expectations, and that's part of what led to his downfall with mystra. but it's also not just because of that and it's not just all talk, because pretty much everything he boasts about is 100% warranted— he is a very talented wizard prodigy and chosen of mystra with a lot of achievements to his name, and they're things he's proud of

i can understand people not liking a character like that in general, it's all personal preference yknow. it's just interesting to me that that even among people who like him, that specific dialogue seems to gets to some of them so much when to me it just doesn't really come off as him being superior or condescending or anything like that. it sounds like him using the not quite the right word for what he meant ("versed" vs "studied"), clarifying, getting the answer to his question, explaining hes looking for an elder wizard, and then moving on. he doesn't really dismiss tav as being "lesser" or not a proper magic user or anything along those lines

i think some people let this interaction colour their perception of the dynamic between gale and a sorcerer tav, and imagine some kind of dismissal or rivalry on his part. really i think he always sees them as a fellow magic user, just someone who approaches it differently to him and hasn't studied it all their life like he has

(and when you compare it to his early access dialogue: "there's a gust of weave about you but it's a mere breeze. i need a tempest." now that's much more dismissive. and i loved it LOL. he even would say that to a fellow wizard, too)

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 28th

 Hello, darling readers! I am so sorry I missed last week. I meant to put together something ahead of time and then--didn’t have a chance. BUT! Life is starting to settle down. I’m in my new house and my kids are out of school for the summer which means I have time to return to my favorite things--reading and writing! So let’s start with a little bit of fic. Don’t forget to leave comments/kudos for your favs! 

~*~ 

Memorial by ani_bester

Tony takes Steve to see the WWII Monument in Washington

Memorial by hanyou_elf

Here rests in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.

Steve visits Arlington's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in lieu of visting the tombs of those he's lost.

Another Thing Coming Undone by nightrider101 

Written for the following prompt: After the Chitauri invasion, Tony gets sick but ignores it. So it gets worse. Somehow Steve ends up the first of the team to move into the tower. He notices something is wrong and ends up taking care of Tony after realizing there is no one else around to do it.

Where There Is Desire by KandiSheek

The cave that Steve and Tony stupidly get themselves trapped in demands a sacrifice of innocence to set them free. Steve offers to sacrifice his virginity.

Tony fucking loves hates magic.

All Our Yesterdays by sheron 

Endgame spoilers! 

Tony and Steve travel into the past and find hope for the future.

(Look, canon blessed us with the setup for a concussion and I am merely a grateful conduit.)

The Minor Fall, the Major Lift by jukeboxhound

"Jesus, Steve, it's not like I went diving in the Mariana Trench, I'm fine." Totally fine, and if he's shaking a little and can't quite bring himself to stop touching the arc reactor, whatever, no one's perfect.

(This is how they piece it together and make it work.)

Poster Child by sabrecmc

Tony likes the new poster of Captain America. A LOT.

Cracked Hearts Under Iron Ribs by XtaticPearl

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

Bruised Ribs With A Side Of Flirting by pensversusswords

Prompt via anon: "We got in separate bar fights downtown and now we're waiting in the ER comparing stories."

AKA two beat up dweebs make starry eyes at each other.

The Fortunate Isles by Kiyaar 

The difference between them, Tony thinks, is that Steve made plans. Tony had contingencies.

This is a contingency.

Every Now and Then I Fall Apart by Sineala

When Tony gets hit by a truth spell, the consequences aren't what anyone expected. They're sure not what Tony expected. He wishes he could stop telling his teammates about all the medical problems he tries to hide. As long as he doesn't open his mouth and reveal his secret feelings for Steve, or all his secret inadequacies as a human being, though, everything's going to be fine. And Tony's good at keeping secrets... or so he thinks. But maybe Steve knows him better than he knows himself. And just because Tony believes something, that doesn't make it the truth.

Questioning Reality by Captain_Panda

"Nothing's been the same since New York."

Nightmares. It's the nightmares that are eating away at Tony the most.

A post-Chitauri fic where Steve Rogers fills a much-needed void in Tony Stark's life, and both of them confront their own demons.

Follow You to the Stars (and Beyond) by navaan

In the aftermath of saving the world from Thanos, a new era is dawning for the team called Avengers. Steve has stepped down as Captain America, Tony has taken a space vacation - and he too is making plans for his retirement. What better time than now to take a road trip through space?

Meet Again by dirigibleplumbing

It's been 5 months since Steve and Tony last saw each other in Siberia, and Tony has just resurfaced after being missing for several weeks. Through a series of emails and text messages, they work to figure out what their friendship is going to look like in the future. But first, they have a lot of the past to contend with. And for some reason Tony keeps bringing up the topic of soulmates.

love me like a sinner by ArabellaAM

“So,” he says in the end, attracting Steve’s gaze towards him. “Is that everything you wanted?”

It’s only then —when he swears he can feel Steve’s breath tickling his cheek— that he realizes how close they actually are. So close the hunger in those blue eyes is undeniable, just as it’s undeniable Steve is no longer looking at him in the eye, but rather to his lips.

“Not really,” Steve says, voice raw and thick, as his eyes move quickly to Tony’s annular finger before returning to his lips.

Tony tilts his head and asks, in a tone that sounds more like a dare, “then what are you waiting for?”

Steve doesn’t actually answer; it’s Tony that makes an educated guess as he tries to grasp for air once Steve dips his head and drowns in his lips.

Or, Steve visits Tony after five years and it's not the salvation of the world he's after.

Armistice (The Nothing Else Matters Remix) by Sineala

It's 1944. Captain America lies dreaming, trapped in his own mind, and only Tony Stark can save him. But this is no mere Marvels adventure, as Tony finds when he enters Steve's dreams. Tony is confronted with dreams of superheroes, an imagined future fantastic and terrifying in equal parts, and a Steve Rogers who knows both too much and nothing at all about him. But they're just dreams. The war is what's real... isn't it?

My Heart's Quiet Home by alexcat, ralsbecket

When Pepper wants to end their marriage, Tony finds the other great love of his life.

We're On The Edge Right Now by MassiveSpaceWren, Nixie_DeAngel

“Steve Rogers, at your service, Mister Stark.”

Tony’s lips quirked up into a bright, almost teasing like grin, “I’m sure you are, Rogers, I’m sure you are.”

Steve could feel a blush work its way up his neck to his face, but before he could even open his mouth to retort, Pepper jumped in, easily redirecting the conversation before insisting on escorting Steve back down to drop him off at HR.

[madamemachikonew]

More thoughts on Baizhu's story quest #2 - Baizhu's lack of self

↓ ↓ Spoilers below ↓ ↓ 

The dynamic between Baizhu and Changsheng is interesting in the sense of how Baizhu has both negated and asserted himself in the relationship. When we think of 'selfless' behaviour, it has come to mean putting other people first. But a more literal meaning is being without self. Baizhu's behaviour is quite paradoxical in that the two states exist at once.

In choosing to undertake the art of healing (before he ever made his contract) he had taken an oath under his master to practice his art for the benefit of all, regardless of wealth or status. In essence, this ethical duty requires the medic to put personal feelings aside and administer their art in a fair way without prejudice or reasonable refusal. This is the first denial of self and is common to other professions such as lawyers. You also cannot allow emotions to cloud your clinical judgment and sometimes must make difficult decisions in the best interests of the patient, no matter how they offend you morally or emotionally.

The demands and rigours of such a job are such that you never have a day off. Yes, a clinic may have opening hours, but an emergency can present itself at any time or place. The doctor's duty requires that they must assist. It becomes a way of life and long working hours end up dictating how you spend your leisure time or who you meet. It permanently alters how you think; your brain is constantly viewing the world through the lens of your profession. For example, a simple walk in the mountain will turn into 'Oh, I wonder if that flower might have a medicinal benefit?' when most people will simply stop to look at the pretty flower. In this way, Baizhu further loses his definition of self.

It is also common to vocational professions to lose one's sense of self in that your identity becomes wrapped up in your job. People forever associate the name Baizhu with him being a doctor. Not Baizhu the human being. If one were to remove his medical inclination, what would be left of him? His voicelines are all based in some way around his profession - even his hobby is research. He doesn't even commit to a favourite food in favour of dispensing some health advice about having a balanced diet. Who actually is Baizhu as a person? What are his own preferences and desires? Is there anything of him apart from his dedication to his art? Once again, he has suppressed his sense of self. Or conceals it from the people around him in a guarded way. He deliberately makes himself two-dimensional in his presentation, but it plays as being mysterious and enigmatic. He uses a mischievous sense of humour to dodge and deflect questions he doesn't want to answer. For whatever reason, he does not want others to penetrate the external layer.

In this way, and on account of his pure heart and altruistic nature, taking the contract became a self-fulfilling prophecy, as much as he wants to deny the existence of fate. Changsheng refers to him as her mannequin. But it's probably more accurate to say that Baizhu has made himself a vessel or conduit for her power for the purpose of healing. A further denial of self.

He wears a smile so as not to cause worry to the people around him and encourage his patients despite the huge suffering he experiences daily. He has invalidated his own pain for the convenience of others (something which many sick or disabled people do). Again, denial of self.

But on the other hand, according to Jiangli, Baizhu's senior apprentice, he most likely would have been able to formulate a remedy for Jialiang on his own steam had he not reverse-engineered and adapted her version. She says that his intellect is exceptional in its own right.

In other words, Baizhu is more than a vessel; he has his own knowledge and skillset and likely would have been an exceptional physician even without the contract. Changsheng's arts merely serve to amplify it or make the process of his research more meaningful and elevate his talents to miraculous. His inquisitiveness and analytical nature were always his alone. He uses her abilities as research tools to develop cures and better understand how diseases and toxins work, thus expediting the research and development process.

In spite of his ostensible modesty (he refers to himself as 'delusional' and 'troublesome' and uses humble language) Baizhu seems to be aware of his ability and I wonder if this is the reason why he is so confident - arrogant? stubborn? - that he will defy the demise suffered by his predecessors to Changsheng's contract. In this way, he asserts self. And he does so either oblivious to the love that other people hold for him, or in spite of it.

Either, through denial of self, he cannot imagine himself worthy of love. I think this is unlikely - he is aware of his brilliance and his aesthetics suggest he is equally aware he is attractive. I suspect that he simply weighs up the grief of his loved ones against the benefits that could be brought to countless more unnamed people in the future through his ability to heal them. In this way he asserts self in the strongest and most painful way possible; he will not be deterred from walking his path as a healer. The only suffering he wilfully refuses to alleviate through his single-minded actions is that of those who cherish him most.

But then, he is confident that such a possibility will never arise because he is convinced of his future success. Maybe he is even inspired by it and becomes all the more determined to succeed in his endeavours, precisely to protect them. This sort of hubris is never destined to end well.

I would hope he uses their pain to temper any temptation to be reckless, but I fear the lure of testing his limits would always win. I think he will either end up dead, or cursed to immortal agony, because he cannot find cures for all of the ailments he's accumulated and some will do permanent damage even if they are cured later. After all, Changsheng's power is eroding and she cannot balance his Qi forever.

I wonder if, with either outcome, he would regret his decision or not.  

[playthatthing]

don't know what specifically prompted me to think about this now but it comes to my mind every now and then

there is often an unspoken assumption about musicians who have dramatic personal lives or public struggles, the assumption that their songs are a direct manifestation of their stormy inner lives. like they're a half-mad oracle inhaling fumes and spouting whatever visions come to them, unfiltered. a mere conduit. it's tempting to think that this is how it works but it's also demeaning, the reality is that pretty much everyone who is good enough to become famous through their music puts an enormous amount of craft into their work, they are consciously creating a piece of art, they choose the words deliberately to stand on their own and mean something beyond "oh woe is me"

[emilycollins00]

“My— it was probably a bad move I did, Tasuku-kun. As I said, nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Just sit and let me see, for Gods’ sake.”

Tasuku grabs Homare’s hand and makes a few motions, careful not to make the movements too quick. He sighs tiredly. “You know a wrist motion you do continuously can inflame the tissues around joints, right? You should try to use a computer like Minagi at least. I’m sure this is not the first time it’s hurt before a due date.”

With Tasuku already dabbing on antiseptic, Homare supposed he had no choice but to oblige.

“But how could I dare such thing! I’ll have you know it is imperative I present my drafts by hand so that I can fiddle with sonnets and rhythms without intermission, Tasuku-kun. Many of you might be unaware, but for us artists words are dictated by a gentle voice outside of ourselves. We fall under a spell— and become the conduit of forces beyond our power and control.”

Tasuku listens and chooses to make no comments, keeping his eyes on his work instead. The bulked actor twists the fabric up and around, layering it over with precision and an uncommon extra attentiveness that even Homare notices. Once he reaches the end of the wrist, he pauses.

“The bandages,” he nods, murmuring towards the hand, “are they too tight?”

Homare hums, then rotates his hand and gives a little shake. They stay in silence as he watches the winter actor now trying to finish tying the bandage. “…How very interesting indeed.”

Tasuku raises an eyebrow, his voice a slight tone of exasperation. “What now.”

“You are much gentler than I thought.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you took care of yourself, you know.” And yet despite his manner of speaking – brusque and curt like usual - he doesn’t lose hold of Homare’s hand. The poet notices this. Notices Tasuku could have let go by now, but keeps nagging at him about buying a splint, or at least call him for help whenever it started hurting again, all while tracing unconscious pressure on his wrist to alleviate the pain - as though he cared.

As if he was touching something precious to him.

Well, Tasuku has indeed always been a man of actions rather than words – completely opposite to Homare. “Are you even listening to me?”

Homare’s red eyes encounter a purple glaze staring right at him. Being taken care of still felt strange. He nods.

“Ah, but of course! I shall buy the wrist splint you mention. I was merely thinking about those angry wrinkles on your forehead.”

“What?”

“See? There they are again,” with his free hand, Homare’s thumb traces a vertical line in between Tasuku’s eyebrows, trying to erase them. “You frown too much, Tasuku-kun.”

“That’s because the lot of you drive me insane daily.”

He doesn’t retreat or shake his head to stop what’s going on. In fact, Tasuku’s whole body seems to melt at Homare’s brief touch. It makes his eyes soften, despite such a response. Homare laughs.

Both of them have yet to let go of the other’s hold.

________________________________________________________

Adding this beautiful drawing of the last scene courtesy of my talented and lovely friend @usuallyangrypanda 💕 It captures the emotions so well I think it's mandatory for me to put it here asdfghj thank you my love!

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Five

Summary: King Storri broods for a bit before confront Edwin in the Council Chamber about his actions the previous evening. Edwin expects a telling off, but is not prepared for how low the Low King of the dwarves is prepared to stoop.

Words: 2,624

Warnings: None that I can immediately think of. Let me know if there's anything that needs tagging

Notes: not much description or action in this one, but it's more about the character interactions and internal thoughts and feelings of two people in particular. This turned out very differently than I originally thought it would, but I think it works quite well.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @asher-orion-writes

King Storri fumed as he brooded in his office next to the Council Chambers. He had not wanted to believe that one of the people on the ruling council of another city state was plotting to assassinate him, but the evidence that had been presented was hard to ignore.He had just come to terms with the idea of having to question one of the most powerful wizards in the world when the Abouna had demanded to see him down in the dungeons, ranting about ‘inhumane treatment of a visiting dignitary’ and ‘an abhorrent case of animal cruelty’. According to Galana’s high priest; the accusations against the Grand Magus were egregious to the extreme and so damnably laughable that the man had all but stated that the whole thing was merely an attempt by malicious, outside forces to undermine the authority of the majority of the Fangthane Council.

The dwarven king inhaled deeply through his nose to calm himself before whooshing it out again. While it seemed relatively unlikely, a similar situation had happened before, and not that long ago. Storri still remembered the deep shame his father had felt upon realising that exiling Dar Ivan from the mountain for daring to tell the dwarves of Fangthane that he’d been chosen by Moradin to wield His hammer had been a mistake. Nargond had been pressured, though admittedly not that hard, by the Council to make an example of what they deemed to be a Heretic of the highest order. Fangthane was still reeling from the consequences of King Nargond’s choice to become a slayer because of that mistake just over a decade later. Was this situation really any different? All the Grand Magus had said was that she was seeking information to help permanently seal up the Hellmouth beneath her city. That was no bad thing. If the Hellmouth could be permanently closed, the peoples of Allansia, the dwarves included, could finally live without the fear of it opening up again.

King Storri shook his head. He could think more on that particular conundrum later. For now, there was the matter of what to do with the Abouna and the consequences he needed to face for his actions the previous evening. While the man was a well-respected member of the Council, his conduct during his ‘conversation’ with the guard could not be publicly condoned. Yes, it was very clear, even to Storri, that the Abouna had likely simply been a conduit of Galana’s power, but that didn’t excuse the Abouna from failing to follow protocol. There was also the matter of what he spoke about with the Grand Magus. Had he told her about the charges against one Alexis Dalliance? Had she told him anything about the woodling’s current whereabouts? If the Grand Magus was unaware of either, it was probably best to make sure she never found out. 

~*~

Edwin calmly looked around the Council Chambers, making note of who had decided to come along. Both Auld Derek and Haneskeeper were sitting amongst the other scholars and nobles, quietly chatting to one another. Lady Copperheart, a reasonably recent addition to the Council, glowered at the human, opened her fan and turned to talk to Lord Silverhand, who frowned and nodded. Edwin mentally shrugged and swept his gaze across the large cavern to his fellow clergy members of the various religions that were practised in Fangthane. High Priest Ragnarsson had shown up, along with High Inquisitor Firetome, both of the Church of Moradin. High Priest Stonebridge of the Church of Pelor was sitting next to Father Leadsmith, a lower ranking member of St. Cuthbert who had come in place of the High Priest. Edwin remembered that the old longbeard had taken ill not too long ago, and was apparently on the way out, naming Leadsmith as his successor. Edwin glanced up towards the Royal Box as Captain Bloodvein, dressed in his full ceremonial armour, stepped out of the door and banged the end of his warhammer on the floor,

"All rise," he called, "for His Majesty the Gilded, King Storri Nargondsson, Lord-High Commander of Fangthane, Archduke of Stonebridge, Denheb Iben of Moradin, Diamond of Throff, and Low King of Dwarves in all His Realms and Territories!" Edwin, like everyone else in the room, knelt as the door opened once more and King Storri strode to his seat. He didn’t rise again until he was directly addressed by the young dwarf,

“Abouna Goodwin, d’ye mind informin’ the rest of the Council as to why ye felt the need to breach several prison protocols and demanded my immediate presence in the dungeons yesterday eve?” Storri asked imperiously. Edwin raised an eyebrow as he rose to his feet. Clearly his conversation with the king had ruffled his feathers a bit. The cleric nodded, looking around the vast chamber, which was only half-full for this session, he noted. 

“Certainly, Your Majesty.” Edwin replied pleasantly, “It came to my attention, while I was waiting for Lady Frigidwake to arrive at one of the many taverns in the mount, that she had been arrested on what I felt were extremely egregious charges.” Edwin glanced up at the nobles and merchants, searching for those that clearly disagreed with him. He quickly returned his attention to Storri, “As those who were at the Hammer and Anvil yesterday eve can confirm, I was not alone in believing this as both Galana and Moradin saw fit to make their displeasure known.” Edwin paused as a rush of whispering made its way around the chamber. He caught Ragnarsson cocking his head in confusion out of the corner of his eye and gave the old dwarf a slight nod. Firetome snorted and stood,

“I am fairly certain that, were the dwarf father unhappy with the idea of Lady Frigidwake’s arrest, those of us in the cathedral would have sensed it.” he stated, “As it is, neither myself nor High Priest Ragnarsson, or any other clerics in the cathedral at the time sensed a damn thing!” Edwin stared at the flame-haired High Inquisitor, arching an eyebrow,

“Really now?” he asked smoothly, “Are you truly wishing to discount the eyewitness accounts of all forty-six dwarves present in the tavern last night? At least one of whom was one of the Cathedral’s own?” Firetome opened his mouth to retort, but was swiftly interrupted by Captain Bloodvein banging his hammer on the floor again,

“Enough!” Storri called out, “We all have a lot to be getting on with, and I’d rather not be here longer than absolutely necessary.” Firetome glared at Edwin, but inclined his head to the king and sat back down. Edwin turned back to Storri and inclined his head,

“Of course, Your Majesty, forgive me. I just felt it necessary to clarify the situation in the Hammer and Anvil last night.” The king huffed a sigh and shifted in his seat, regarding the cleric in front of him critically,

“Be that as it may.” he groused, “Tell me, Abouna, why do you believe the charges to be so egregious?” he asked wearily. Edwin stood a little straighter, 

“Because while it has been more than a decade since our last interaction, I do not know Selene to be a liar.” he stated plainly, “There is also the matter of her being a target of multiple assassination attempts herself, most of them conducted by the remaining members of the Cabal that she and the rest of my former travelling companions were forbidden from pursuing after Toreguarde had been rebuilt.” 

“That may very well refute the allegations that she is working alongside the Cabal, but it does not address the rest of the charges.” Storri pointed out, “Fangthane has openly stood against the Drakemari Empire and Toreguarde is not considered to be a part of it. What assurances can you give the Council that the Lady Frigidwake has not been sent here as a spy for either Toreguarde, or for Drakemar?” Edwin nodded,

“Lady Frigidwake told me herself that she wanted to come to Fangthane of her own volition from a location outside of Toreguarde.” he replied evenly, “The letter she sent via her familiar, which only states that she wished to speak with me through a private Scry, does not bear the Toreguarde Seal. If she was planning to come here as a spy for the Toreguarde Council or for Drakemar, then she would not have felt the need to use her personal one in its stead.” 

“Unless it was a means to deceive you, of course.” Storri retorted. Edwin froze. While he knew for certain that Selene was not lying about her reasons for coming to Fangthane, he found he did not have a suitable rebuttal. Storri got up from his seat, gesturing for the rest of the Council to remain seated, and leaned on the balcony railing, “Answer me this, Abouna; have ye spoken with Lady Frigidwake about Miss Dalliance?” a low murmur made its way around the chamber. It was well known by pretty much everyone in the mountain that Edwin had been good friends with the now disgraced woodling woman. It was also very well known that he had openly protested against the charges placed against her following the attempted assassination of the king. The murmur died down, all ears intently listening for the Abouna’s reply as the human shook his head,

“I did not get a chance to inquire, Your Majesty. The topic, no doubt, would have been brought up had the Lady Frigidwake been permitted to join me for drinks.” Edwin replied as calmly as he could manage. He grit his teeth. So this was how the Low King wanted to play it? Edwin still remembered what had really happened the night Alexis had escaped, but Princess Garni had been the only other remaining witness and her account had conflicted with his. King Storri narrowed his eyes and raised a meaningful eyebrow at the cleric,

“Alright, then has Lady Frigidwake brought up Miss Dalliance during any of your prior interactions with one another?” he asked. Again, Edwin shook his head, 

“No, Sire, she did not.” he said, “Lady Frigidwake was more concerned with finding out how to get rid of the Hellmouth under her tower. No mention was made of Alexis or her whereabouts.” 

“D’ye have any reason to suspect that Lady Frigidwake is aware of where and what Miss Dalliance did upon leaving Toreguarde?” The tension in the chamber was palpable. Every dwarf in the room held their collective breath. This was very clearly no longer about the wrongs the Abouna had committed, but an interrogation into what he believed the wizard’s motives to be, and whether he was complicit. Edwin caught Firetome’s satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye. Of course it would be the Inquisitor making these allegations, he thought. Firetome was conservative, even for a dwarf, and the thought of welcoming outsiders to the mountain went against everything he believed. That included Edwin’s appointment as Abouna and his inclusion in the Council. Edwin reigned in his smouldering anger. There would be time enough to work out how to get around the High Inquisitor later. Edwin leaned on his staff,

“Your Majesty, and the esteemed members of the Council that believe Miss Dalliance to be an oathbreaker and a murderer, and who no doubt also already believe that lady Frigidwake is guilty of the charges brought against her; Alexis told me herself that she left Toreguarde City without even informing Lady Frigidwake that she had done so. Her only communication was a letter left with the wizard’s tower stating that she was leaving- with no information as to where she was going or why- and one other penned under my supervision informing Lady Frigiwake of her then good health.” he glared at the galleries for a moment before returning his attention to the king, “In summary; I have no reason to believe that Lady Frigidwake is at all aware of Alexis’ actions while staying in Fangthane.” Storr regarded the human man for a moment, stroking his glossy, black beard, before nodding in apparent satisfaction and sitting back down,

“Very well.” he stated, fixing Edwin with a hard stare, “In which case, I will make only this demand of you Abouna; Should the topic of Miss Dalliance be breached, even in casual conversation, you are not to inform Lady Frigidwake of any of Miss Dalliances’ actions after she left Toreguarde. Further to this, should Lady Frigidwake disclose any information about Miss Dalliance’s actions following her departure from Toreguarde, you are to immediately inform the Council of whatever information is disclosed.” Edwin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Selene deserved to know what had happened to the erstwhile woodling, where she had gone. To keep that kind of information from her was a huge breach of the trust they all had with one another. Then to demand that he betray that trust further by telling the Council what she knew, even if the wizard spoke to him in confidence? His ears rang as shouts erupted, mostly from the other clergy he noted gratefully, but also many from the merchants. Captain Bloodvein slammed his hammer on the floor repeatedly,

“We will have order!” he bellowed. It took a few moments, but eventually the shouting died down. Storri glared around the chamber momentarily, then returned his attention to Edwin,

“Do you understand these demands, Abouna?” he asked. Edwin glared up at him,

“And if I refuse?” he asked mildly. Storri tilted his head up, the dim light of the few glowstones lighting the chamber catching the many clasps in his beard along with the necklace around his neck,

“Then ye’ll be removed from the Council and yer position as Abouna of the temple o’ Galana and yer status as citizen of Fangthane will also be revoked.” Edwin stared up at the king. So it was either betray the trust of a dear friend or find himself without a church and a home and likely become excommunicated from the organised part of his faith? He looked over to his fellow religious leaders. All of them were staring between the king and Edwin. All but Firetome, who looked all too happy with this turn of events despite the mostly shocked outward appearance. His gaze travelled across the chamber to look at the nobles and merchants. Many of them were shocked at how far the king was willing to go to keep what Alexis had done while she was in the mountain a secret, they didn’t seem very unhappy about it. He felt a gentle, but sad, touch in his breast.

~I’m sorry, Sel. But I’m still needed here.~ he thought, hanging his head in resignation and turning it into a deep bow,

“As His Majesty Demands.” he intoned, his voice flat and wearied. Storri regarded the man below him for a moment, nodded his head in satisfaction and looked around the rest of the chamber,

“As for the matter of Lady Frigidwake, I will request that the High Inquisitor question Lady Frigidwake under a Zone of Truth. Should her stated motivations for visiting our city be proven true, she will be freed and permitted to seek whatever information she requires to seal up the Hellmouth beneath Toreguarde.” There was another bout of murmuring, but no one spoke up, half out of fear of attracting the king’s ire and half because they were ultimately happy with the situation. Nodding in satisfaction, Storri rose,

“Then I declare this session closed.” he stated, sweeping out of the chamber with Captain Bloodvein following close behind. Edwin stared down at his feet as the rest of the chamber emptied, wondering what in the Garden he was going to do now.

[placesyoucallhome]

8. Is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? Are they insecure? I'm most familiar with Ruhka and Yvet, but answer for whoever you like! All lore is good lore.

For all his insecurities and complexes, how much he hates being in his own head, Ruhka is actually completely and utterly fine with his looks and body. He likes how he looks actually, he isn't trying to be the hottest thing on the star, he just likes where he is aesthetically. He takes care of his hair and tail, he wears whatever the hell he wants, at this point he really doesn't care what anybody thinks of him visually.

He really only gets huffy when people start making the same sort of assumptions about him over and over, or the same 'joke'. Oh sure, ha ha, he's short, please come back when you have something more interesting to contribute.

-----

Yvet is... okay. He's not going to hide the fact that he's fairly covered in scars, but he's not going to walk down the street shirtless probably. Alone, he's comfortable enough, but he wouldn't say anything about him is proud. Whatever strength he has is merely a conduit to accomplish things, and it's those accomplishments that matter.

He may be a little self conscious if he was in more 'polite' company, or especially if he had a partner that was more clean cut and proper, thinking he was too rough and ragged. But he hasn't had much interaction with the noblesse as it stands.

[belafujoshisdead]

Regarding Tauhrelil’s Bond

Asaau learns the depths of wrongness between Virenina and Ai Naa, and questions if he can stand to know it.

Asaau knew what she meant. How could he not? They had reached Ai Naa's anchor, the spear in the ground, the thing rimed in burning light.

And, behind it, the wound in the earth.

I can't look, Asaau thought helplessly, and another part of him answered: You must.

"You probably figured this out on your own already," Virenina said as they walked, "but autokinesis isn't really one of my powers. Not the way most people think it is, anyway. It's more like a…side effect, of my real power. Or maybe a byproduct."

"Byproduct," Asaau repeated, somewhat faintly. It made sense, given what she'd just shown him, but even so, it chilled him to hear Virenina call the power of sustained flight a mere byproduct. Part of Asaau wondered, faintly, how long it would take him to adjust to this new and inhuman sense of scale. Perhaps he never would.

"My real power," Virenina told him, "is restraint."

He knew what she meant. The killing light, the awful pressure, the screams, the screams, the screams, he knew – and still, Asaau had to press his lips together to hold back a hideously ill-timed laugh. To hear Virenina, of all people, declare that her greatest power was restraint was the final little absurdity that threatened to snap his fraying self-control.

"What I showed you just now was nothing," Virenina said, and the urge to laugh died within him as swiftly and sharply as if decapitated. "If there's an end to Ai Naa, I've never found it. I've never even come close. Some people have a hard time channeling because they drain their reserves too fast. For me, though…"

"Too much?" It was such a simple, obvious guess that Asaau felt stupid for even voicing it, but anything was better than letting Virenina drift back into silence.

"Before we paired," she said, "Ai Naa could only taste blood through mind-echoes and secondhand dreams. Then, suddenly – " Virenina mimed shock with a widened eye, a splaying of the hands. "A body!" She spun on one heel so that she walked backwards facing Asaau, grinning, arms flung wide, telegraphing exultation. "Flesh and feeling! Skin and sensation! A tongue to taste with, a mouth to devour…"

Her arms fell slowly back to her sides. Her hands tightened into fists.

"My mouth." Her grin stiffened; her lone eye shone with fury. "My mouth, my tongue, my body – "

She stopped and drew in a long breath through her teeth, then exhaled with a hiss that reminded Asaau of steam escaping a volcanic vent.

"Seket." Virenina fell back into walking alongside him. Her voice sounded almost cheerful, almost like her usual self. "You love quizzing me so much, now it's your turn to answer for once." She tossed back her head, then folded her hands before her the way Asaau often did himself. When she spoke again, she imitated the smooth, soft-edged propriety that colored his own voice. "Recall, if you will," said Virenina in her Asaau-voice, "the introduction to Urasyata Utsaya Reim's Foundations of the Unseen Art. In what terms does Syata Reim describe the nature of a paired human?"

Well, she has to be feeling better if she's back to needling you. But Asaau was too tired to manage more than a brief flicker of annoyance. He wasn't sure if it was at her imitation of his voice, or at the basic nature of her question. Oh, just give her an answer. If it helps her to explain…

"A gate," he said. "Syata Reim posits that the enmeshment of body and soul allows a paired human to act as a conduit. By bonding to the soul enmeshed in the body, the paired spirit becomes enmeshed in turn and may then flow from the unseen world to ours. With the introduction of a stable third object, an anchor – "

"Oh, we'll talk about anchors soon, just you wait," said Virenina, with all the cheer of a merrily crackling funeral pyre. Then, slipping back into her Asaau-voice, her playing-teacher voice: "But why a gate? Why not a bridge, a passage, a way-path?"

Why those three counterexamples? Asaau asked himself, and from there soon had his answer.

"One may simply walk over a bridge or along a path," he said, "but a gate must be opened. And a paired spirit – though connected to our world through a human soul, it can't simply flow across from the unseen world. Even a paired spirit must still will itself across the – the gap, so to speak, between its world and ours, and its partner must let it cross. Or desire it to, at least…their wills must align. The gate must unlock."

"Or be forced open," said Virenina.

Asaau tried to say something in response and managed only a faint movement of his lips. His face felt numb, bloodless. Ahead he could make out the first far-off glitter of moonlight dripping down cold metal.

"Through me," said Virenina, "Ai Naa can finally touch the world of flesh and blood. Imagine if your soul was grown from the seed of red hunger, Seket, and suddenly for the first time you can really taste this thing you've spent gods know how many thousands of years starving for…but only when the royal slitting cunt of a human you're paired with lets you." She was grinning again, grinning, a bright hateful crescent of teeth that glittered like her distant blade. "Wouldn't it make your hunger even worse? Wouldn't you be furious? All that pulsating bright red life hanging just out of your reach, wouldn't you try to force your way across so you could just eat?"

"I don't know," Asaau said, faintly, tremulously. "I…"

I can't, he wanted to tell her. His mind had been forced to accept as real one impossible horror after another. He was beginning to wonder, genuinely, how much more he could stand. It's too much. Let me turn back, let me unknow it. The words piled up on his tongue, festered behind his closed lips, and oh, gods in their graves, how could he say them to Virenina? How could he tell her it was too much for him, when she was the one fused by the soul to Ai Naa? Forgive me, Tauhrelil, I know you've trusted me with your most terrible secret, but you must understand, it's so very upsetting to listen to…

"My real power," Virenina said again, "is restraint. Every minute of every day."

Asaau tried to focus on her words, in spite how much he didn't want to hear them. Better to focus on her words than on the shrinking distance between himself and Ai Naa's anchor.

"But it's a power, right? So there's going to be offbleed – don't worry, I won't quiz you on circulation theory…"

Better to focus on her words than on how the moon's silver light gave way to green where the spearblade bit into rock. On how that green light sank sizzling into his vision like acid if he looked for more than a moment.

"My concentration limit is pretty inhuman, but it's still, you know, a limit. I have to vent the offbleed sometime, and – most people, they can just do that without even thinking, you know? Like breathing. Me, though…I don't know what kind of Tehariel wave Ai Naa puts out, but I'm not about to risk hitting innocent people with it. Why do you think I had you watch from so far away? I had to get you out of my radius."

Her radius, Asaau thought, and another chill swept through his flesh. With power like that, she could crown herself in blood and rule the world entire…but only if she wished to reign over a court of the dead. His mind wove him an image against his will, of Virenina enthroned above a roiling sea of blood, clutching Ai Naa's anchor in one hand like a scepter, alone with her paired monster and everything it wanted. Asaau shook his head once, sharply. Cut that thread, before it strangles you.

With an effort, he wrenched himself out of his mind and back into the present, where a low green glow now tinged the air, rising from the ground where the killing light had struck. Asaau made half a reach for the darkglass lenses before realizing that the groundglow didn't burn when he looked. The spear. It burns only when reflected from the spear. That was – that was good. It was useful. He could do something with that, change his actions, make it more bearable. Just look away, Asaau told himself. You don't have to see it. You don't have to touch it. She would never let you touch it.

"If most paired humans are like a gate, I'm more like…secondary containment," Virenina went on. "Ra, vaara, his, mine, it doesn't matter – he can't do anything if I don't let it into the anchor. The body is full of hollow places." She seemed to be talking half to herself now. "You have to think about it like containment. Where can I store it? Lots of holes in bone marrow. Every cell can be a little vessel, if you let it, but I like to keep it in the bones. Less risk if I get cut."

"In your body?!" Asaau repeated, horrified, then: "Wait." Something was beginning to occur to him. "Wait – so when you fight, that means – "

"I guess it's still Ai Naa's power, if it came from him," said Virenina, "but he doesn't fight with me. Not really. The control, the release, every broken bone or bruised organ I've ever given out – that's me. I'm just using his power to fuel it. If I actually brought him out, tried to use him in a fight…well, you can probably imagine it yourself by now." Her grin looked closer to a grimace. "Like detonating a fusion bomb to snuff out a candle."

Asaau knew what she meant. How could he not? They had reached Ai Naa's anchor, the spear in the ground, the thing rimed in burning light.

And, behind it, the wound in the earth.

I can't look, Asaau thought helplessly, and another part of him answered: You must.

But before he could, Virenina's arm was out in front of him, barring his way. "Wait here," she told him, and then closed the distance between her and the spear alone. Asaau kept his eyes on the quietly lit ground and watched as their shadows became one. Listened to the wind, to the distant sea, to metal scraping free of rock, to Virenina murmuring "Partner mine," to anything but the chiming of metal rings striking together. A blade-shadow slid past his vision and melted into the shape of Virenina, until it was nothing but a point rising from one dark shoulder.

When her shadow was gone, when her footsteps stopped beside him, when he knew he wouldn't see the spear; only then did Asaau finally look up.

The first thing his eyes found was the molten channel carved down the cliff face; its edges frothed with shapes his mind could only understand as boiling rock suddenly frozen in time. His eyes followed it up, and up, to the rim of the cliff and the raw new half-moon cut into it, and then dropped to the ground. Dropped further. And here, at last, was the source of the glow.

Asaau stepped forward, hoping desperately that his eyes had misled him, knowing already that they saw it true. At the foot of the cliff, at the bottom of the channel, lay the open mouth of a sheer-sided pit, a column of emptiness punched down and down through solid rock. Bottomless, his mind whispered, but no, no, the light had to come from somewhere; there had to be a bottom, something at the bottom, some source for this green light that shone wetly up the gleaming-raw sides of the pit and spilled over its molten lip and colored the ground, the air…

The world shifted; the lip of the pit fell closer. For a moment Asaau veered toward panic, until he realized he'd simply fallen to his knees. In horror, certainly, but also in a kind of defeat; for he saw now that a last, desperate part of him had been hoping that all this might somehow still be a trick of the mind. No longer. Now the proof was burned and blasted into the same rock he felt beneath his hands and knees. The wound in the earth made it real.

"I don't know how deep it goes, so don't ask," Virenina said from behind him. "Get away from there, Seket. You don't have to make yourself keep looking."

Any bloodroyal worth his pedigree should have been able to go in one smooth motion from kneebound to standing. Asaau had done so more times than he could ever hope to count, tried to now, and failed. He had to brace himself with his palms before his knees would unfold. Slowly, he turned his head, and hoped with all his heart that he wouldn't flinch at the sight of Ai Naa's spearblade hovering behind Virenina's head.

He didn't. It wasn't there.

"Don't look up," she said. "I have him – " She cast her lone eye skyward and twirled one upraised forefinger.

Asaau, of course, immediately looked up, and then hurriedly snatched his gaze groundward once more, before he could catch the very sight she was trying to spare him.

"I thought that you…" he started. "That is, wasn't he – calling you back? Didn't you need to…reunite?"

"A little of my blood on the blade keeps him quiet," said Virenina. Asaau's stomach tilted sickly. "For a while. That's how I left it behind, earlier, when I came back for you after…" She pointed over his shoulder, toward the pit. The look on her face suggested she was waiting for some sort of reaction from him, but by now Asaau had been reacting to so much for so long that he felt nearly spent. Of course Virenina fed her partner her own blood. That might have sickened Asaau, but after everything else he'd learned tonight, it certainly didn't surprise him. What else was she meant to do to pacify the spirit of red hunger?

"There's a few more things you should probably know," Virenina went on, "but nothing that can't be said in private back in the Opaline City. We can leave right now, if you want, but…"

Then she trailed off and just looked at him, her brow furrowed, her teal-black lips twisted into a thin, dark line. She looks almost worried. Asaau knew there had to be a reason, but he couldn't think for long enough to find it. His mind was clouded with exhaustion and, once the words 'Opaline City' left Virenina's mouth, with sudden longing.

"Please," said Asaau. "Let's leave, Tauhrelil." Then, to cover up the desperation he heard in his own voice: "We've already been gone a whole day, after all. Your audience may well die from want of you if we keep them waiting much longer."

He expected her to grin at that. Instead she only looked pained.

"Seket," she said, in a voice that matched the look on her face. "I flew us out here."

"Fl – oh." His face must have cracked like a porcelain teacup, judging from the quick, hurt way Virenina dropped her gaze, but the guilt it caused him quickly gave way to a fresh surge of dread. Flying us, she'd have to – the spear… Asaau fought the urge to look back at the pit, and made himself breathe slowly, but there was nothing he could do about sudden, sick speed of his pulse. Au Melai save me, I can't go near that thing, not after…but how else will we…?

"We could go back overland," Virenina offered, still looking at the ground. Her voice sounded almost small. "I could keep you safe."

Asaau almost wanted to say yes – until he tried to imagine how long it might take to cover a mile of the Shattered Lands by foot, and how many days the miles might amount to. We'd have to sleep out here. The thought alone was almost enough to make him shudder. Though he had no doubt that Virenina could keep him safe from whatever horrors the Shattered Lands held – at least physically – a horror survived was still a horror, and Asaau had already seen enough tonight to haunt him the rest of his life.

If they flew, it would at least be over quickly. He suspected it was the best he could hope for.

"Take us back to the Ring," he said at last. "By air, if you would."

For a moment, Virenina's lone eye glimmered in such a way that Asaau thought she might cry. Instead she blinked once, hard, and stepped his way. It fell to Asaau to close the distance between them, to come near enough that she could pick him up the same way she had before.

"Close your eyes," she warned him. There was no need for Asaau to ask why. He waited blindly; heard and sensed Ai Naa's anchor arrowing downward through the night; felt Virenina step up and onto its waiting haft.

"I'm sorry," she said, quieter than Asaau had ever heard her speak before. "For – everything."

She took off before he could say anything; and then, for the second time that night, the only thing Asaau heard was the wind.