#And the only way for them to technically succeed was through death

[summertimemusician]

Sleep Deprived Linked Universe Au concept that I think could be neat, everything is the same but the Chain or a Chain Member (Wild, Sky or otherwise) is like the Sky Children/Moths in Sky Children of the Light. Or where we drop one of the children of light or a moth with the Chain as a substitute for therapy which I really think they could use.

Or secondary Sleep Deprived LoZ/LU Au concept: everything is the same, but either one of the Chain members is like the Vessels in HK, or we straight up drop the Pure Vessel in BOTW when Link/Wild emerges from his 100 year power nap (goodness I wish that were me) after having his brain scrambled like an omelette and they and Link unwittingly imprint on each other and adopt one another as found family, which helps them deal with their respective traumas, bonus points if Wolfie/Twilight/TP Link is also there and unwittingly part of the found family, and if it bleeds over into LU the Chain has to suddenly cope with the fact this eldritch bug being from another world entirely meant to be a vessel for a maddened deity basically adopted one o their own as a sibling. Could also somehow throw Ghost or Hornet in there later on.

I will not elaborate further.

[nellasbookplanet]

In the wake of FCG' fate I've been thinking about death in ttrpgs, and how it kind of exists on three levels:

There’s the gameplay level, where it only makes sense for a combat-heavy, pc-based game to have a tool for resurrection because the characters are going to die a lot and players get attached to them and their plotlines.

Then there’s the narrative level, where you sort of need permanent death on occasion so as not to lose all tension and realism. On this level, sometimes the player will let their character remain dead because they find it more interesting despite there being options of resurrection, or maybe the dice simply won’t allow the resurrection to succeed.

Then, of course, there’s the in-universe level, which is the one that really twists my mind. This is a world where actual resurrection of the actual dead is entirely obtainable, often without any ill effects (I mean, they'll be traumatized, but unless you ask a necromancer to do the resurrection they won’t come back as a zombie or vampire or otherwise wrong). It’s so normal that many adventurers will have gone through it multiple times. Like, imagine actually living in a world where all that keeps you from getting a missing loved one back is the funds to buy a diamond and hire a cleric. As viewers we felt that of course Pike should bring Laudna, a complete stranger, back when asked, but how often does she get this question? How many parents have come and begged her to return their child to them? How many lovers lost but still within reach? When and how does she decide who she saves and who she doesn’t?

From this perspective, I feel like every other adventurer should have the motive/backstory of 'I lost a loved one and am working to obtain the level of power/wealth to get them back'. But of course this is a game, and resurrection is just a game mechanic meant to be practically useful.

Anyway. A story-based actual play kind of has to find a way to balance these three levels. From a narrative perspective letting FCG remain dead makes sense, respects their sacrifice, and ends their arc on a highlight. From a gameplay level it is possible to bring them back but a lot more complicated than a simple revivify. But on an in-universe level, when do you decide if you should let someone remain dead or not? Is the party selfish if they don’t choose to pursue his resurrection the way they did for Laudna? Do they even know, as characters, that it’s technically possible to save someone who's been blown to smithereens? Back in campaign 2, the moment the m9 gained access to higher level resurrection they went to get Molly back (and only failed because his body had been taken back by Lucien). At the end of c1, half the party were in denial about Vax and still looking for ways to save him, because they had always been able to before (and had the game continued longer it wouldn’t have surprised me had they found a way). Deanna was brought back decades after her death (and was kind of fucked up because of it). Bringing someone back could be saving them, showing them just how loved and appreciated they are. Or it could be saving you, forcing someone back from rest and peace into a world that's kept moving without them because you can’t handle the guilt of knowing you let them stay gone when you didn’t have to. How do you know? How would you ever know?

[kiame-sama]

Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.

* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.

~~~~~~~~

The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.

Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.

This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.

"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"

Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.

"Do tell me you are joking, right?"

"No, should I be?"

"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"

"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"

There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.

"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."

Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.

"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."

Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.

"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"

"You know I'm right though!"

"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."

Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.

"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."

Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.

"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"

It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.

"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"

Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.

Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.

[wolfsrainrules]

A Quiet Night AU- A DC/ A Quiet Place fusion thought Long Post

Sooooo I was watching A Quiet Place (which I love deeply, it was such a DIFFERENT handle on horror movies, watching that in a theater was a RIDE) and I am neck deep in DC and had t h o u g h t s. Please keep in mind that I have only fandom knowledge of DC and am playing with the death angels (name of the Quiet Place creatures) make up for this au: 

To Start:

AU is an AOB verse, cause I wanted to play with what a situation like this would do to instincts and packs and I need everyone to do the thing we do with comics where we apply “Comic Book Logic” to why these death angels succeed in invading the Earth. Why the metas and supers didn’t get them out, because this verse would be taking place AFTER the world has been invaded, and the creatures have wiped out QUITE a large chunk of Earth’s population.  Read the VERY LONG ramble about this verse under the cut.

We have Alphas Jay and Cass, Omegas Tim and Dick, Damian is unpresented but approaching the time he would present properly, and he’s an Alpha-to-be. Alfred, Steph and Duke are Betas. 

The Death Angels: For those not in the know, they are large, kind of spider-like in movements, VERY fast, and fully armored. The armor stands up to bullets and knives, and explosions can toss them but don’t seem to do damage. They’re entirely blind, have claws and a mouth full of sharp teeth and their hearing is VERY sharp. Their head opens to expose soft insides that work like a super-ear, tracking sound, and that’s really the only vulnerable spot, and they can’t swim. That’s all canon to their verse. I’m playing with them a little, so that the planet they come from is laced so deeply with kryptonite they’ve adapted to sort of work on supers, as in they can’t use their powers on them. I’m upping that armor to be stronger than standard canon, as we do have metas running around and I want them to really only be vulnerable while hunting and exposing the ear to hunt. 

It means to kill them, you have to get close enough to be heard, to be HUNTED. You have to be clever. Usually with some kind of blade, as most other things (especially guns) are too loud, and even if it works it brings the hundreds of death angels in the area, every single one that heard it, your way and then your fucked. On top of all of that- if they close the plates of armor that shield their ‘ear’ bullets don’t penetrate it, and blades skitter off. You have to get to that soft unshielded ear to take them out. The hearing was picked up real quick by the Bats and they tried to use that.

On technicality, very high pitched feedback sounds can fuck with their hearing, and cause them pain, usually making he plates that cover the ear kind of…lock up? And then they stagger around, can’t track people or what’s around them, and the ‘ear’ stays exposed cause the plates of armor are locked in an open position, even if they’re jerking around like animatronics move trying to make the sound make sense and stop hurting.

I’m messing with that cause I want to make this more difficult lol. If you manage to mess with the main method of hearing, the death angels are evolved to slam the armor plating that covers their ‘ear’ closed, block out the sound, and shift to a low clicking-purr sound that vibrates their body and acts as a makeshift sonar type ability over the kind of echolocation they’d been using, reading the vibrations of it through their legs and basically triangulating prey and obstacles around them and it makes them more dangerous because it’s a response to being hurt and they do NOT appreciate it. 

In canon rain/waterfalls can hide you, if you keep the sound level under the sound of the water. I’m going to keep that, saying the rain hitting the ground hard enough can sort of hide people from that sonar too, if you move carefully. Caves are also a good place to hide- provided the death angels don't get inside. Which means the Bat-Cave is a kind of ‘safe’ space, far enough underground they can speak softly, and the equipment inside is safe to run, so long as they are careful with the clock-entrance. 

I babbled to wintersnight (@iphoenixrising) for a good while about this AU (@north-peach doesn’t like horror, she thinks the protags are all stupid and it drives her nuts so she missed this ramble lol)  but Winter followed my logic and encouraged me to actually post this somewhere lol

Leading into the Next Important Thing: 

Cities are death traps. All that confined space and the noise of it? The death angels came in like moths to a flame. Large groups of moving people trying to evacuate? Too much noise. Death angels stampede in and hit the group like a pack of wolves cornering prey. 

Gotham was one city of many that hit hard and fast. The Bats are good at what they do,  but they’re not omniscient no matter what anyone thinks. It was so fast. 

This verse would be covering the AFTER of the invasion of the death angels, AFTER they’ve swarmed the world, after so many have died. This verse would be the ‘post-apocalypse’ survival AFTER. 

Zeta-tubes are technically usable to get them out, and up to the Watchtower, but the sound of them activating is loud enough to pull the death angels, and the tube gets destroyed in their hunt for the sound. This also works in reverse- if you use them to come back down, the creatures will swarm towards whoever arrived, and the tubes still end up getting destroyed.

Coming back to the AOB concept: 

I love how all of what’s happening opens the chance to play with their instincts and protective territorial instincts. The urge to den down in a defensive position. To patrol their chunk of space, keep their pack alive and safe 

To fight. 

They were all scattered when the invasion happened, so they have to work their way back to the cave by foot, cars are too loud, and their grapleguns make enough sound to also be unusable when firing as well as anchoring down. They can’t open the hidden entrances for vehicles, it’s too loud and opens a way straight in, so they have to find other ways in. If they can get into the manor, the clock would be an option, it opens smooth and quiet, but the trade off is risking any sounds inside the cave traveling up the stairs and getting the location found. 

So most of the Bats running around Gotham are going to sneak into the hidden natural entrances into the cave systems and navigate back to the cave. Defenses and redirects are going to be set up to prevent death angels from getting in.

Which leads to my favorite part of this AU:

How this situation combines with AOB instincts in the Bats specifically. 

How clever the Bats are. 

I want to play with that. Wanna address how smart they are, their instincts going absolutely feral-survival-mode wild in this kind of life-or-death situation, with threats actually actively hunting them, zero chance of reasoning with them.

Wanna address the genetic memory of packs before cities were made being drawn out. Wanna look at how packs actually hunt when those instincts are stirred and it’s life-or-death, how the Bats work together. When an Alpha, Omega or Beta is pushed to the brink, pushed to feral, their pack, their territory all threated, all in actual danger by something that can and will hunt them back. I want to see their senses cranked up and used to track death angels down, hunt and kill them.

How terrifying it probably is to go into rut or heat in this kind of situation. Being hazy and vulnerable, instinct driven, unable to focus well, in a situation like this one. How, once the situation has settled correctly into their psyche and bones, it might change. The mess that is a presentation heat or rut in this kind of hell, because Damian is within the age of when it happens (between 13-16 is average in my head, this AU places Damian at 15 in my head, so he’s due for it). What it does to the pack of the person in heat or rut for them to be so vulnerable while something like this is happening.   

The protective pup-instincts triggered by an unpresented Damian. What the urge to shield the pack, keep it alive and safe, and protect pups might look like when combined with the hero-vigilante instincts in them, and finding pups who survived the invasion, but are abandoned or the last of their packs, with no one and nothing left. What the drive to protect and expand their packs, keep them alive and thriving might look like.

The territorial instincts playing out, in a hunted/hunting situation with- as Winter put it- “The backdrop of Gotham and how many traps they'd set since this is their territory and they know every rusty fire escape, crumbling Bailbondsmen, and gargoyle in this entire city.”

She understood where I was going with it lol. I adore how well they’d know Gotham, and exploring how that knowledge would play out in setting up traps and triggerable distractions for the death angels, to help in hunting and killing them. How it’d be fed by those territorial instincts of their city being invaded, their people killed, and their pack in so much danger. 

On top of all of that, I also like exploring how the pack leader (Omega Bruce) vs pack alpha (Jason) would react in a situation like this, and the give-and-take of compromise and keeping their pack safe in such a situation.

I imagine, when all this starts happening, the Bats are collectively scattered all over Gotham. When it happens, they try fighting first, but the creatures are fast and deadly. They figure out sound being what they use to track quickly, that they need to be quiet, and they’re trying to save who they can but… in a city, always moving, always going, full of crime and all the screams with only so few Bats and everywhere ELSE having the same issues at the same time?

They get forced to retreat and fallback. None of them are sure where the others are, who’s in active danger, they can’t talk to each other over comms, can’t make any sound too loud.

They just have to be dead quiet and make their way to the cave on foot, make jumps that they know they can land silently on buildings, watch for the death angels when they move, being so so very careful. Unable to check in and see if their packmates are alive or not. Bonds blocked on the job, to not distract their pack, and having to KEEP them that way, while headed for the cave, to not distract each other coming home. 

Oracle being in the Clocktower- frantically shutting down the clock so it doesn’t ring over the city and bring the creatures to her, shutting down any alarms or alerts that could be too loud from her equipment. Sending the news all over Gotham any way she can, as silent as she can, on how the creatures work, and how the survivors can use that knowledge to STAY alive. 

Being scared as she watches trackers, and prays, terrified any time they’re still too long that they may be hurt or dying. Praying she doesn’t see the trackers start moving a vehicle speeds, cause it means they’re going to get chased down by creatures OR a creature has grabbed them and soon the alerts for vitals will scream at her. 

Dick shows up at her tower to get her out with Damian on his heels, so they can get her to the cave, because a city destroyed by invasion is not really wheelchair accessible, much less getting all the way over to the cave silently while trying to get through the rubble. 

Now for my favorite boy:

Tim. Tim in this AU has lost his pack bonds while on Brucequest. He hasn’t accepted a place back in the pack, hurt and distrustful of if the others mean it, after having been pushed out of the pack in his eyes, rejected and unwanted. 

They’ve been trying to fix that, mending bridges and working hard to prove he not only has a place but is WANTED. Building bridges back out with him. By the time the invasion happens, he’s actually starting to believe them- he’s coming to the manor, interacting, trusting they’ll back him, save him, welcome him.  He’s coming around- but he still hasn’t accepted a pack bond yet. Not again.

Didn’t feel quite ready for it, so he doesn’t have a bond with any of the other Bats. He doesn’t know if they’re alive or dead, can’t sense the bond and know for sure, and they can’t check on HIM like that either. 

The panic of both sides of that equation is REAL. All of them have seen these creatures hunt and kill and destroy. And they don’t know if-

This event, this potential of loss on both sides is what makes Tim realize he is NOT willing to keep going without that bond in place. That he wants to feel them in his head again. He could have died or lost any of them, and never had the chance to be bonded to them as pack again, and-

He can’t do that again. He wants the bonds nestled in his chest, wound around his ribs and heart, thriving and anchored in his head. I may write the scene I have in my head out for Tim coming back to the cave last and just having a breakdown cause everyone is THERE, they’re alive. 

This AU is going to be tagged “Quiet Night AU” on my blog, so keep an eye out for more. 

And if you made it this far into this monster post,  PLEASE feel free to send asks in about this verse, I wanna think about/talk about it and share. My brain is turning over all kinds of snapshots of moments in this verse, and I’d love to hear what yall wanna see from it, what questions or scenes you have in mind. Just address in the Asks that it’s for the Quiet Night AU. Edit: I ended up writing the blurble with Tim making it back to the cave found HERE

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

The brain worm is back with more demigod dbd au (part one for anyone interested). To sum it up, I have a desire for the boys to be born in their respective eras and for them to stay alive to meet the girls.

What I have so far is a cursed Edwin stuck in the fields of punishment - alive but unable to die. Or something similar - he is essentially blessed like the hunters. But without the sickness immunity.

If the blow is killing, the poison deadly - he will die. But the thing is, the butchered spell has a lot of gaps in itself (Simon really didn't do his reading. No worries, he will catch up :)) and the fields of punishment exist to torment the people in it for all eternity - something this boy lacks. The fields fill in the cracks in the spell, and now: Edwin dies and gets reborn. The torment continues by design.

The Hell Years, baby.

(I re-read the PJ and Hades' Sword - fun stuff very PG-13. The descriptions of the tortures are so awful, they are unspeakable. Since I didn't have the time to do more thorough research into the actual mythology - I shall make them incomprehensible as well. (Ineffible even.))

The fields are.. well, fields but also separated by hills. Everything is covered in ash and sounds of terror echo all through them. They are in segments - and Edwin will have to run the gauntlet to find his way out.

The fury-like monster that took him doesn't keep him - it's in question if the main furies - the trio of sisters - are aware of Edwin's presence there but after the first time he dies his soul gets chained to the fields as a whole and all Erinyes view him as a convict.

Edwin gets a restart point, but also an invisible leash that connects him to it. The point changes to the sector of his latest "owner". (All monsters under Hades' employment that work there have a fair shot of winning prisoners if they gamble well enough. Edwin of course joins the roster.)

It's torture time from here, and since my imagination is flagging something mighty, I will go back to why he can't escape easily.

His stasis curse fused with the fields, marking him as a resident, and until one of the original casters releases him from it, the fields themselves would try to hinder his escape. The "prison" guards are excluded in the sense they are not compelled by the fields, they just felt like it (and is technically their job).

On some of his many attempts, he meets people from myths with individual punishments and groups of people lumped together. The worse you were the more detailed your punishment will be. Sysiphus is particularly chatty as long as Edwin comes to push his rock uphill. Melinoë as the goddess of ghosts and terror, guarding one of the more semi-permanent unsanctioned exits, makes more than a few cameos in his struggles.

A fun canon thing is that punishments suck you in - giving you the mindset that if you try one more time you will succeed. It's like a drug, and Edwin had to try so many. Has to keep that number to a minimum - he had to develop some iron-clad will or else he'd get dragged down until someone decides to throw him back into his own ditch.

At long last, some 70 years later, he comes across a familiar face - Simon covered in ash, tear streaks cutting white lines through the grime. Edwin blows his fuse - Melinoë has shown him every last one of his ghosts so many times to the point that's the only way he remembers them - Simon was one of them.

The fields leave their tormented a bit more aware of their status as dead than Hell does so Simon gets a bit of a wake-up call. Ripping a magical book over and over leaves a person with a lot of time to think - no one likes being left alone with their thoughts for so long.

Simon read.

He asks for forgiveness. But he also tells his crush, the boy who has been tormented and torn apart without the reprieve of death and fair trial that he, Simon, son of Hecate, releases Edwin Payne from the bindings of this soil.

And just like that Edwin has a fair shot. The stakes are raised, but the cards are finally sort of in his favor.

He of course escapes, and now we can get to Charles, son of Ares and how he ties into this. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, TBC)

[untitledmemes]

Emily Dickinson Prompts

An assortment of phrases suitable for prompts taken from the poems of Emily Dickinson. Note: I made very few grammatical, technical changes to some of the original sentences to make them fit RP writing. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed. ”

“ If, indeed, I fail, at least to know the worst is sweet. ”

“ If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. ”

“ A wounded deer leaps highest. ”

“ Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect when it began, or if there was a day when it was not. ”

“ What liberty a loosened spirit brings! ”

“ The little toil of love, I thought, was large enough for me. ”

“ I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too? ”

“ Hope is a thing with feathers that perches the soul, and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. ”

“ Delight becomes pictorial when viewed through pain. ”

“ Somewhere in my soul I know I've met the thing before. It just reminded me it was all, and came my way no more. ”

“ Is heaven a physician? They say that he can heal. ”

“ Faith is a fine invention for gentlemen who see. ”

“ I took my power in my hand and went against the world. ”

“ Was it Goliath who was too large, or only I too small? ”

“ Remorse is cureless, the disease not even god can heal.. ”

“ I, many times, had thought peace had come, when peace was far away. ”

“ I said I gained it. That was all. ”

“ Your riches taught me poverty. ”

“ What if I say I shall not wait? ”

“ Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? ”

“ A death blow is a life blow to some who, until they died, did not alive become. ”

“ Triumph may be of several kinds. ”

“ Hope is a sudden glutton. ”

“ Heaven is what I cannot reach! ”

“ A word is dead when it is said, some say. ”

“ God's residence is next to mine; his furniture is love. ”

“ Are friends delight or pain? ”

“ Finite to fail, but infinite to venture. ”

“ It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground. ”

“ The past is such a curious creature. ”

“ Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation and the exponent of breath. ”

“ To lose you is sweeter than to gain all other hearts I knew. ”

“ Poor little heart! Did they forget you? ”

“ We outgrow love like other things. ”

[ravingsockmonkey]

Affluista Mansion - Memories & Mysteries

Malcolm Landgraab had just made it home after visiting Darrel and Johnny. His brother's recounting of his discussion with Jeb was weighing heavily on his mind and distracting him from what he needed to be doing.

The revelation that Anastasia had not discussed the science baby situation with Jeb beforehand made Malcolm both sad and relieved that he had made the effort to introduce him to Gabriel himself.

Malcolm wished Jeb had felt comfortable enough discussing his pain surrounding the child with him- maybe he could have helped both he and Anastasia through it all.

Malcolm had been there for them both whenever Bella had passed - the woman herself had made sure of it by inviting him over the day she knew would be her last. While Anastasia's passing had been sudden and unexpected, Jeb's was not. He only wished he had of known how close it was so he could be there for Jake and Elizabeth.

Finding out that Jake named his firstborn son after him filled his heart with an unexpected pride and joy. Just as Jeb introduced Malcolm to Jake years earlier; Jake introduced him to Malcolm. The little boy looked so cute with his tuxedo and top hat, and he blew kisses to him too!

Mila's giggling snapped him out of his musing, and he happily fed his sweet little girl. She was growing so fast... too fast.

It was Bella and her loving family that made him realize how much he wanted one of his own.

And he succeed in that matter. He had three beautiful children and a loving husband. While Amie was technically his sister's child, he had raised her since she was an infant after her mother's death, and Wolfgang adopted her as soon as they could. By all accounts, his life was perfect.

There was just one small problem.

He was no longer aging. Everyone else was - Bella, Jeb, Anastasia... all gone. At some point Wolfgang would be too. The kids as well.

It had been a stupid idea born from the mind of an 18 year old soaked in his dead mother's ideology. Her loss taught him that all of the money and power in the world meant nothing if it could all be snatched away so easily by death. He decided to circumvent it by way of vampirism. If he was immortal, then there would be no more concerns over an heir or a legacy lost to a dumb accident.

But that life had proved to be lonely. At least until he met her. She ignored his pathetic attempts at evil and instead befriended him, encouraged him to reach out to those who cared about him, and to build up a family of his own. She saw good in him even though he still struggled to see it himself.

She was the reason he drank the potion that restored his humanity. So what happened? Why was he not aging? Was he truly cursed to watch everyone he loved age up and die now that he finally understood the value of life and family?

He re-read the vampire tomes that Vlad had given him years ago over and over again to make sure he had made the drink correctly. Scouring the ex-occult forums turned up nothing either.

Before he left the Charm family home, he quietly asked Darrel if he could speak to Morgyn Ember about the subject. While they may no longer be the Sage of Untamed Magic, they still had vast knowledge that might help uncover what was going on... and more importantly, if there was a way to fix it.

Until then, Malcolm could only do what he knew best... spend the time he had with the people he loved, and try his best to figure out a way to tell Wolfgang.

[eluxcastar]

*slaps my brain* this bad boy can churn out so much angst. Greetings, i arrive with pantalone x male reader : -- reader + a group of agents are sent on a mission. They're ambushed by the enemies (some rebellion group against the fatui) and everyone is killed except the reader. -- reader begs for their life and agrees to join their side and give out info about the fatui (But in their head, reader just comes up with an improvised plan to use this opportunity to lie and double cross the enemies) -- (un)fortunately, one agent survives... and delivers the news that reader has betrayed the fatui... to both Pantalone and Arlecchino. -- Poor banker man has a short breakdown before realizing that the Knave would be sent out to hunt down the traitor. (ouch) -- Perhaps it was just a few crumbs left of his love and trust for you, that convinced him to take over the duty of hunting you down. Perhaps he just wanted to see you one last time. -- He faces the brunt of Arlecchino's mockery and amused pity when he tells her that he's gonna kill you himself. -- Reader thankfully succeeds in escaping the enemy's headquarters. So imagine their panic and surprise when halfway into returning, pantalone pulls up and aims a gun at their head and demands an explanation (congratulations! both of them have trauma now! Reader is now paranoid in every way to never disappoint Pants every again! Pantalone now has paranoia for betrayal!) -- for roughly a month, reader moves out from their shared bedroom and occupies a guest room(fun!)

Super (un)happy (un)fun times with Pantalone ❤️

── ୨୧：pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: an expedition gone wrong as you are attacked by a group of rebels who win only by catching you off guard, they wipe almost your squad out, at least so you thought, and will little other option you decide it's best to choose the humiliating one and get on your knees to grovel and beg for your life like some poor dog

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: masc reader, mentions of blood, injury, death, reader does technically get kidnapped, the root of their problems is a lack of communication fml

୨୧﹑words :: 7.2k

nom nom nom this THIS this has eaten my brain since it was sent to me, this little thought that I wanted to do right away but was in the middle of Capitano and didn't wanna make that anon wait longer than the like two months they already had which was like two months BUT I SAID IN THAT ARLECCHINO POST that it was coming directly after Capitano so now I am LEGALLY obligated to do it (I have literally put off the Pierro request I said I would do since December) (I just want an excuse)

there may not be a post tomorrow because I'm tired and in pain so if that's the case the requests will resume either Monday or Tuesday

I also just liked that this request was like "These events, this order" cause it's so easy hmu anytime this literally ended up my longest post. also this kinda seems like it could even be the predecessor of the events of the previous post if only for a few details which tbh is an interesting thought

Somewhere along the road, you got to the point where you were surrounded by corpses; those used to be your comrades. You stare through bleary eyes at your weapon tossed aside on the ground. If only you could move freely, you could reach it. You might be ok if that was possible, but it's not. You lay surrounded by enemies who kicked at your comrades' feet to finish off whichever of them wasn't already dead. Quickly you have to think, lest you become the next one to get a sword to the back of the neck.

Ignoring a nasty knock to the head and some shallow scrapes, your health is the least of your worries. You have a splitting headache and a bit of trouble focusing. You can make out your weapon enough to reach for it; it's close enough if you're not mistaken, but if you're wrong, you'll likely end up as a red stain in the snow. 

Your hand finds the hilt of your blade as a boot crushes the backs of your knuckles, barely able to cry out when the weight leaves your head. There's a relentless kick to your ribs, wedging a foot under and flicking you onto your back. The tip of a sword finds your throat, sharp like a prick against your skin; the wielder is clearly not worried about making you bleed as you are.

"Do you believe you've achieved something?" You ask, slowly smiling up at the man who looms over you. His foot rests on your stomach just enough that it doesn't hurt, though you suspect it will change quickly. "Killing only grunts, you're so impressive."

He knows you're mocking him; you can tell he knows as he presses his foot down until you grimace from the pain and then some.

Your ribs still hurt, and they'll probably bruise later.

You just aren't thinking about that because you don't want to die.

You don't understand why you're, for some reason, not as willing to die as you promised you would be. When you set out on this mission, you were prepared for the idea that you would be happy to go out in the name of the Tsaritsa, but...it felt much different when faced with the situation.

It would be the end. Never again would you see anything you love in this world. You would never see your lover or your family. You'd never get to train another new squad of rookies and never go home to eat a warm meal, to feel how stupidly soft Pantalone's hair is, or get to kiss him. You already know you won't see your squadmates again, and they wouldn't see you no matter how shameful you become for the sake of your life.

If nothing else, you would escape, and with all hope of saving everyone else long gone, that much is all you could ask for.

Your dignity isn't worth dying for.

"Wait," you speak out, placing your aching hand around the blade of the sword to stop any sudden movements, not fully registering the choice as strange. "If you spare my life, I'll give you information about the Fatui." You're relieved to feel the sword pull away ever so slightly, though the sting doesn't subside.

The man looks sceptical of you, rightfully so, considering your actual plan. "How do I know your information will be worth sparing you?"

"I'm the captain of this team, I'm very useful."

He appears to consider your offer for a moment before abruptly snatching the sword away, running a shallow cut across your palm, making you once again cry out as that poor hand has seen much better treatment. Immediately it blooms with fresh blood that pours down your hand as you roll yourself over to clutch it with your good hand.

Tears prick at your eyes, your vision blurring, no doubt the result of the cold making your wound hurt like hell.

"I'm not convinced you're really so dedicated to living since you seem to be able to run your mouth so much." Now he's taken to mocking you, wearing a smug smirk like he came here to see a fatuu on his knees kissing his boots for a chance at redemption. He wants to watch while his comrades just watch him pull the poor little fatuu's strings. "Get on your knees and beg for it."

In your mind, you know this is what survival demands, but you resist solely because of your stubborn pride, which tells you that it is not something you are willing to do. You tell yourself this is necessary for your plan to work, for Pantalone to not receive the news that you've been killed in an ambush attack on your squad. If you can prevent even just that, you will gladly get down on your knees in the snow to prove a false promise that you will supply information to them, if only to buy time to find an escape plan.

You push yourself onto your knees, crawling a few feet ahead before placing your forehead to the snow and trying to ignore the burning pain in your palm that tells you to move it now. You can't, so you must endure it with a shaky voice.

"Please spare me… I don't want to die. I'll do anything you ask if you spare me, I swear, I'll betray the Fatui, give you any information you want! Please just spare my life."

someone grabs you by your hair, and when you're jerked up to see who it is, a different person from the man who was previously hurting you, this time a woman. You doubt she's eager to let the chance to beat a poor little fatuu slip away, either. How she smiles down at you so tenderly yet so sadistic tells you so. At the very least, you seemed to please her, and what more could you ask for? If even just one wanted to, they would likely spare you.

"He's so eager to please…." She lets go, and her hand travels down to stroke your cheek, making you fight the urge to pull away. "Let's keep him."

Those weren't exactly the words you aspired to hear when you joined the Fatui; you won't complain now that they're saving your life.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission. Many hours of silence proved that to be incorrect. Some time since your team set out, only one fatuu returns to Pantalone's awful habit of pacing like the floor owes him money. Worse still, that fatuu isn't you. It's not exactly a sight you see every day, Pantalone stuck in discontented thought as he stares blankly through everyone he looks at. You're supposed to be working under him. Why is nobody telling him anything? He doubts that it's as simple as not knowing.

Everyone must be aware of the undeniable fact that, right now, your life is in grave danger. The second thing everyone must know is that you will remain in danger for as long as he is not given the route you took when you set out to— 

"Pantalone, a skirmisher from the expedition team has returned." Pantalone startles, his thoughts interrupted as Arlecchino approaches. She is tailed by a slow and trembling man, freshly home and the victim of severe frostbite. Blood still clings to his clothes from the wounds he bears. She brought him so quickly that he didn't even get a chance to have his condition treated. "He says that the news he came back for is important, so I've spared ending his life for desertion. It still doesn't explain why he chose not to die along with the others."

"Is that important?" a part of him is filled with dread as he knows you would never allow yourself or anyone else to turn tail and run away, meaning it does matter. it's a sign that on the other side of all the chaos, he will likely arrive at the site where this man last saw you all to your bloodied corpse. "Where did your Captain go? He was supposed to be leading this team."

"H-He…" clearly hesitant to explain, Pantalone assumes he's about to say you had died in the heat of battle. "He betrayed the Fatui so the enemy would spare him, and agreed to give up important information in exchange for his life."

Something about that strikes him cold. However, he turns searing hot as the worry sets in like dread, and he realises everything will end here. the Knave will be sent to kill the traitor, and in the end, he will never hear your sweet voice again like music to his ears. It was for nothing to have held out hope you were alive because he was right. In the worst way possible, Pantalone was right. As he stands here pacing in worry, you probably don't care. Rather, you are spilling every secret Pantalone has slipped you about the Fatui he wasn't supposed to. Somewhere out there, you're betraying every ounce of trust he ever put in you as you take advantage of whatever you have to save your skin.

if only he could go back and be there, you probably never would've had to do such a thing, but what if this is the Tsaritsa's gift? To know that you would be willing to betray all that the Fatui stand for? that is a cruel way of thinking. He can't force Arlecchino to unhear that, meaning he can't keep it a secret. Pantalone certainly can't stop this information from getting out as he might've liked to. You will be hunted by the Knave to the edges of Teyvat for your crimes.

"Pantalone." he looks up to Arlecchino's stone-cold glare like she knows the deliberations going on in his head as the more significant part of him questions your innocence. "He's a traitor. Don't spare your thoughts on him, just pretend that he died and I'll bring his corpse back and call him a hero."

"No--" At that moment, Pantalone's voice sounds so strained. he thinks he's on the verge of tears even if it doesn't feel like he is. Pantalone speaks without thinking, and he can't tell if it's because he wants you to come home or to ask you why. maybe he just doesn't want you to die, even knowing you probably betrayed them. "No, I'll go. I'll go, and I'll--" he hesitates momentarily, "kill him." 

he can't even believe he just spoke those words out loud. Something about the entire situation is surreal, though he feels like someone has wrenched his heart from his chest and run off with it. That 'someone' would probably be you, off to present it to a new master on a silver platter. you took a piece of him and stole it, and now only an aching lingers. something in that aching longed for you to pay for your actions, but it also demanded an explanation. that part of him wants to hold you down and wring the life out of you with his bare hands so you can feel the pain he wants you to. it wouldn't be enough to let the Knave kill you, no matter if it was slow, drawn-out torture. he wants to see your face as you die, to watch the life drain from your eyes, and see if you hold any remorse as you see the point you've driven him to. 

worry fades away into anger, frustration too, but mostly anger. 

Pantalone is angry about many things, angry at you. He's angry that you made him fear for your safety. He isn't sure he can ever forgive that you had so carelessly become a traitor. He can't forgive that you would even betray him.

"Will you really kill your own loverboy?" He's angered that Arlecchino would say such a thing. The lilt in her voice makes it painfully obvious she isn't extending her greatest sympathies. "I thought menial work was below you."

he opens his mouth to retort but decides not to dignify that with a response.

it's cold out. it would be far too hard for you to survive without help. Pantalone is accompanied only by the skirmisher who returned from your squad with the news of your betrayal, though unbeknownst to him, he is taking his last steps as he has orders to kill the man once he has fulfilled all of his use. he also betrayed the mantra of loyalty, but perhaps he hasn't realised such a thing yet.

he and Pantalone arrive at the remnants of your last squad, the last place where you were seen alive and where enough blood was spilled to dye the snow red. he sees almost the entirety of your team strewn about and abandoned, only one of the attackers amongst them having succumbed to his injuries as he lay face down and lifeless.

this is far enough. he can die amongst his comrades.

"Lord Harbinger, they went in this direction." Though he has already begun to draw a blade, he turns his attention to see what the skirmisher is crouched before, noticing vague impressions left behind. It's been a little over half a day since he returned alone, meaning these would be your last traces. however, no matter how far you've gotten, he should tend to the bodies first. by the time he attempts to follow those tracks, they'll be covered in a new layer of snow. for now, he must deal with this skirmisher who decided that his fleeing was not a disgrace to the Tsaritsa's name.

Pantalone draws the knife he had tucked away out of sight. In the second it takes to turn around, a deep slash is carved into the fatuu's throats. He topples over himself to the ground, where he lands atop his slain comrades, struck by the shock more than anything. 

"Tsk tsk, and to think this was a mere decoration piece." 

Already another day and a half out, he stumbles upon the camp of rebels, as dead as your squad. They are all just as carelessly tossed aside as the last corpses he found, and much like the last group, only one is missing. it seemed to be the same one missing each time as suspiciously, you're nowhere to be found amongst the people you were betraying him for. gone with the wind just as you were the first time you hadn't come home. moreover, this certainly is not their primary base of operations as it lacks any semblance of permanence. It was put together in a hurry to survive the night without succumbing to exhaustion, not for a long-term stay. there's a freshly lit fire still burning by their sides, surrounded by the people who had likely been sitting by it for warmth before their lives were snuffed out by the sole survivor he knew of.

the cherry on top is that the bodies are still barely warm — you're nearby. You can't get far in that amount of time, and the snow gives you away quickly, even with the night falling. you're so close it's as if he can see you already, as the memory of your presence is left behind In the form of footsteps. most noticeably, however…droplets of blood trail beside those footsteps. 

in the place of your footsteps, Pantalone begins to walk along the trail you make for him, following behind you like a dog that chases the scent of blood to find its master amidst danger. stepping directly into the divots left behind is the only way to feasibly track you in the dark, with no source of light yet coming into view. the wind is picking up, however, and as he focuses closely on the direction he walks, he begins to hear the faint sound of life at last. the singular life who managed to escape certain death not once but twice and who will not be so lucky the third time. 

the glow of a lantern appears in the distance.

somewhere out there, the light ahead of Pantalone glows brighter as the distance between you grows shorter, and the silhouette of a man enters his view.

it's you, carrying a lantern you had likely stolen, bloodied bandages crudely wrapped around your hand, dripping bright red into the snow. more than anything, you seem ready to collapse from exhaustion from how slowly you move.

"Is someone there?" You must hear Pantalone as you turn back, hands shaking audible in the clattering of the lantern, a cut across your cheek.

You make eye contact with the gun he points at you. You are trapped in the middle of nowhere with no backup, little food, and barely any water, but you know it's him. if not for the gun, you might not worry, yet something about it sends chills up your spine just from the coldness of his eyes. You're not used to such a gaze on you. It's like steel and raw feelings cloud together into one terrifying man who feels the most profound form of betrayal a person could know. Even in the line of work of the Fatui, this is something different. Not due to circumstance but because he is a Harbinger. some shivers dance across you, spiking goosebumps into your skin, and you feel like you could collapse, but you know that if you do, all will have been for nothing.

"Pantalone--"

"I want to hear a thorough explanation for the things you've done."

You want to provide one, but…but how do you tell him you still betrayed the Tsaritsa's trust in you to die for her cause when the time came? Every lie that spilled from your lips, masked as information you provided, was shared out of self-preservation, not loyalty. That alone was enough to get you hunted and killed, especially in your position. 

Now you stand small and weakened by circumstance before a man burning with rage, only a lantern slowly draining away as the minutes pass. You can't blame him, only able to imagine how he could've possibly heard that you hadn't returned and what it must've looked like to see you gone so many times from places you should've died. Does he think you killed your squad to desert the Fatui? Or was there someone who told him you had betrayed him? Maybe he just decided that for himself upon seeing the very place where you had thrown away your dignity for him thinking you could do it all alone.

"I wanted to see you…" you try to say, throat rough and voice quieter than you'd like. "I didn't want to die so I lied. I was just coming back, everyone else is dead! Everyone was killed, but there was a way…a way that I could live and come home." Without meaning to, you begin to tear up, met with only unwavering disbelief, not of shock but of an unwillingness to believe you aren't a filthy liar. "I didn't want you to hear the news that I had died." You choke the last part out on the verge of breaking down.

"Was it me you lied to or them? How am I supposed to trust you're being honest now when everyone you've come into contact with has died?" You didn't think you'd ever hear such venom in his voice, but more than that, he was hurt more than you could be by his words alone. You just can't think of a way to prove to him you're being honest, not when you're so tired and worn down and working against what is likely an order to kill you for your actions.

How are you supposed to tell a man overcome with grief and emotion that he's wrong? There's no way he'll see reason.

"You can observe the wounds," you say slowly, unsure if he would buy such a story, "they weren't made by a weapon like mine, and you know what I'm like — hopeless with other weapons." 

will he wait that long? you doubt that, but you can make him wait even a moment for you to explain yourself.

"They were a hopeless rebel group who thought of me like a dog. why would I be loyal to them?" 

"You were supposed to be loyal to me!" like a rubber band pulled to its limit, it's as if something snaps, the boiling anger bubbling over. "I thought we were trying to stop lying all the time; I thought we agreed not to run off and try to do things on our own. Maybe only I had agreed to those things because you seem to be fine doing both of them."

His words anger you, but you know that denying them will only anger him instead. You have spent the past few days lying to him whether you meant to or not, the past few days have been hell, and yet he has experienced greater suffering in the form of overwhelming grief. for the past few days, Pantalone has believed you were dead, then that you had betrayed him in your most excellent schemes. it was what people told him. it was what the evidence pointed to.

But your body, appearing so small and trembling from how cold you are, wrapped in the now tattered clothes you had departed in, tells a different story. Blood spilled over your collar, the furs of your overcoat matted, your hair tangled, and your skin bruised. The sight brings pity to Pantalone for you, such a pathetic little thing still begging for only his forgiveness, not even your own life.

Pity reasons with the side of him that, even now, holds his love for you close. You are closer to his heart than anything else has ever been. He finally asks what should've been an obvious question that whole time: when did he start believing Arlecchino over you?

With the possibility considered, more questions flood his mind: why were you walking closer to where the Fatui gather most if you were betraying them? What use would you find in killing them if they were your accomplices? there would be far more benefit in allowing them to cart you out to the edge of Snezhnaya then betraying them. even you would know that and which direction you were walking before he caught you — back to where you came from. when your shaking form is back in focus, he realises his gun shakes with the faint clang of metals like the bullet rattles in the chamber.

You are returning to Snezhnaya, he realises, you are coming home.

Slowly, he forces his hand to lower alongside his gun. The tension in his body runs high; he's surprised to hear the gun slip and fall to the ground, landing somewhere in the snow with a dull sound that he ignores. there are more important things. Pantalone moves, forcing his feet to comply with what he wants — you are cold and need a warm coat wrapped around you tightly.

Pantalone freezes in place rather quickly, however. He realises you are shaking violently, and not just from the cold. the look on your face spells sheer terror as if you're a little child face with the big scary monster in the dark. you don't know. Unable to hear his thoughts, you have no idea his intentions. Inching back to put some more distance between the two of you for your safety, your sense of self-preservation acting for you. would you believe a word he says if he tries to reassure you? or would you suspect his habit of using flattery to get the things he wants? either is a reasonable assumption on your part.

There is a silence that spells nothing but decisions for both of you, thoughts running wild with possibilities. It drags on for so long that it feels like an eternity before you move. Both of you impossibly still, too afraid to do anything lest you provoke the other with even the slightest wrong move.

the first to act so happens to be you, lips quivering and eyes watering as they sting with tears you've been holding back far too long. The lantern is lost to the snow. You crash into Pantalone's chest, almost toppling the both of you. You finally break, your emotions overflowing before you get a chance to catch up with them. you're terribly upset and worn down, exhausted, anxious and, most of all, more afraid than ever. Still, you are so happy to finally have a single taste of home back in your arms, even if he's gone stiff as a board, and you're scared he'll toss you aside. just a moment, and you'll be satisfied to have your love end then and there in a single gunshot because of your stupid decisions.

However, as soon as the action registers, your embrace is returned awkwardly at first. you soon both relax enough to hug so tightly you might suffocate before you make it home. you would be more than glad to spend your last moments that way, but thankfully that isn't the case. you will go home safe again tonight.

the guest room is a lonely place, even in your own home, but once your wounds were carefully bandaged and placed in front of the fire to warm up, you had more time to think than you should've. each time Pantalone approaches, even just to offer you warm tea and an extra blanket, you would flinch so violently it was as if he still held a gun to your head. 

you tried so hard to spend the first night back in your shared room, but even with all the warmth and assurance you could ask for, you found yourself on edge. you've spent every night of the past three weeks sleeping in the guest room by yourself. can your relationship ever be repaired? from something like that, you're not sure. you desperately want to believe there is something that can be salvaged, even when you have seldom spoken to each other since your return. The two of you exchange little more than curt greetings before Pantalone leaves to carry on his work. Still unfit for active duty, you remain alone in the silence of your shared home. you thought the silence might make it better and give you time to think, but you know at heart that you would much rather be distracted.

You doubt in this state that you could convince even the ever battle-hungry Tartaglia to agree to spar with you and that plants you firmly in bed, unwilling to get up. If you got on your knees and begged, you might be given some paperwork to complete. You choose to ignore the helping of papers on the desk in the corner of your room, blank if not for your name. you were supposed to write a report of everything that happened during your stint as a rebel. spending several days AWOL isn't something the Fatui looks past, even when it's a Harbinger's lover doing it, though it certainly helps to have that kind of reputation.

In your mind, you've had thousands of interactions with Pantalone where you tell him anything and everything. In her fantasy, you say everything you want him to hear and spill all your thoughts and worries. However, when you come face to face with him, you freeze up and choke on your words until he's gone. Pantalone leaves the house earlier than he used to and doesn't return until later. Maybe he's shutting you out to think, or perhaps he's shutting himself away from you to let your physical wounds heal before thinking of your psychological ones. Clearly, only one of you wants to talk, and Pantalone's sudden turn to pulling away only worsens that.

You want to tell him that, but even that conversation gets stuck to the confines of your mind when you can barely say a quiet good morning to him. 

All at once, it seems you've lost everything. First, your team and now your husband; next will probably be your job, and your life will follow suit if that happens. The Tsaritsa's benevolence must include letting those under even harsh scrutiny for their actions get medical care before they die. Otherwise, you're sure you would've heard something horrible about the verdict on that investigation Arlecchino threatened you with. Supposedly you would receive a letter including the conclusion, though you were warned it may take months to conclude. If a letter arrived, you certainly don't know about it.

You're not entirely sure what possesses you to check Pantalone's office. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach like he may have hidden it or innocently collected it and has yet to read the mail from this morning. Both options have you looking through the mail in search of the letter. Is it even there? Probably not. You simply convinced yourself that is it, and now you must find evidence to prove or disprove that idea.

You sort through the stack of envelopes left aside on his desk. You started with the unopened ones, but, finding nothing, you forced yourself to move on to the letters he had most definitely already read. You can tell by the way the ends have been cleanly sliced with a letter opener.

In no particular order, you restack them as you go, thinking there are too many envelopes for him to memorise their order.

Before you know it, you're staring down at the seal used in official — mostly only important — letters from high-ranking officers of the Fatui. You want to open that letter to be a request from the Jester. You'd also settle for a nag for funding from the Doctor or a written apology from Tartaglia for blowing an exorbitant amount of the Fatui's funding during his stay in Liyue.

However, you know that seal too well; it is used only by the Knave. Harbingers have customised variations of the official seal; some you've memorised more than others, as the differences can be slight.

Forget your words. Your breath catches in your throat as you reach into the opening to pull the neatly folded paper out. Please don't be a verdict. Your mind races with dozens of possibilities. As you read through the words as quickly as possible, the worst of your thoughts seems to be coming true. First, details of the investigation, including the validity of your initial testimony being validated by the evidence. Your men were killed by the blades carried by the enemy. Arlecchino then goes on to discuss the logic of your actions and the order the events took place. She mentions the physical state you were found in and examples of your injuries, noting many couldn't have been self-inflicted. She does not entirely dismiss the idea you may have had help, but you can probably work with that mindset.

Finally, however, she notes that, in all likelihood, your version of events is correct.

Arlecchino won't release the final verdict until she's sure, not one to put half-baked conclusions on official paper, but the fact Pantalone didn't even mention this much to you fills you with a rage you didn't expect. How could he hide the most crucial thing since you returned from you? He knows how much you've been fretting over this, even in the absence of proper conversation between you — the few words you managed around him were to ask about it.

You're unsure if your hands shake from weakness or a new influx of emotion you're not ready to handle. It's tiring being shut out; you're sick of being shut out. Even if you did move to the guest room, you still live in the same damn house. You still share everything but the bed you slept in, so why? Why is Pantalone keeping so much from you? Why did he suddenly stop speaking to you? he was the one going on about you lying, so what about— 

"What are you doing in here?" 

a voice from the doorway catches you so off guard that you jump at the sound, looking up to find Pantalone with a nasty look on his face. Judging by the state of your emotions, you imagine the look you're giving him to be equally rotten, pissed off, maybe. You didn't hear him come in; he must've done so quietly.

"The hell's wrong with you?!" Without meaning to, you raise your voice, half due to frustration and half the fault of that pent-up desire to communicate, spilling over in the heat of your breaking point. This is it. This is all you can take. This is where your patience and ability to keep your emotions in stops. "Three weeks! Three whole weeks I have waited for any sign that maybe, just maybe, I won't have my head sliced off my shoulder, and for—" you glance down at the letter to find the date, knowing Arlecchino marks the date of everything she sends as a precaution, "oh, about four days now— guess who has had an idea of how that investigation into his own husband is going?"

You barely even noticed you had blown a gasket until you were done, stood from the chair Pantalone should be sitting at, hands resting on the table. Your palms hurt; you must've slammed them down at some point, as the sting is dull but still there. More than anything, your breath is laboured, and you might start to cry again if you don't get a hold of yourself. You're so mad it makes you feel dizzy, like you might lose your footing if you're not careful. 

Ah. That's not your anger. The realisation hits you hard as you lose your balance and topple back into Pantalone's chair. You got so tense and behaved carelessly, worsening your health. You're not used to being so fragile.

"Don't get yourself too wound up—" Pantalone made his way to your side at some point— "you'll make it worse."

You don't care if you make it worse. You really don't, but you know that throwing a tantrum is childish and solves nothing but making Pantalone worry for you more. It only pushes him further away from you and helps no one.

But Archons, you're just so irritated, your emotions at an all-time high. You've spent three weeks forcing them into a tiny box they don't fit in. You've spoken to nobody about it, said nothing of the kind of thoughts you had stranded out there alone, the only survivor of your squad. An overwhelming abundance of guilt tells you that you should've died along with them; you were a coward for how you acted following their deaths. You're just a filthy coward, aren't you? Cowards are of no use to anyone, let alone the Tsaritsa. Maybe it would be best if it was declared you weren't fit for duty. Arlecchino should just decide you've tarnished Her Lady's honour.

At last, you understand. You understand why Pantalone has avoided you for three straight weeks — you are not the man he married. You are some imposter of that man who would brave even the strongest foes without an inkling of a thought he might lose. You are a cowardly and pathetic excuse for that man. You bury your face in your hands, rubbing harshly at your face in some attempt to outlet that frustration. It seems so stupid you didn't realise it before. It's terrible to divorce an injured man, so he must be waiting for you to recover enough for him to leave you—

"I'm sorry."

Out of all the anticipated responses, that wasn't high on your list. You bite your lip, waiting to hear what comes next, chewing at it nervously.

"I thought if I kept that from you…" he trails off suddenly like there is more. Maybe he lost the words to say it, or maybe he didn't have very nice things to say in the first place. "I thought it would be easier to focus on your recovery if you weren't aware of how far Arlecchino was delving into your private life. I didn't—" 

When you look up, you see a man with a look in his eyes like a kicked puppy, the visible distress you're in like a kick to his gut. He realises everything he's done to contribute to you ending up this way. You need him, truly, more than anything right now.

"You want to divorce me now, don't you?"

What possessed you to say that is far beyond both of you, but it's not any kind of accusation. It's just a question.

"No?" Still, he seems to think that's absurd; the look on his face is nothing short of pure confusion, like you just said the most ridiculous thing he's heard, and you had. "Why would I— No, I don't want a divorce."

"Then why are you avoiding me so much?" You shrink in your place, making yourself small as you were that night, and it raises the same pity in him that he felt then. "Why won't you talk to me? Why aren't you ever home?"

He is terrified. He is terrified to be close to you, even when he knows you need him.

A voice in his head asks what if you're still tricking him? What if this is only an act to gain his sympathy? He knows it's not, but the feeling, the paranoia, rings so clearly in his head he struggles to see you on the verge of tears. He doesn't want to trust you yet, even though he knows any comrades you had on either side are long dead. Even Arlecchino corroborated your story to some degree; she had yet to confirm the rest. So far, however, you were being liberated of any fault piece by piece. So why? Why does he feel so anxious about allowing you back into his home?

You live there; your entire life is in that house. He has built his everything up here, you by his side. It was hard to imagine that a singular mission gone south could cause this amount of damage. Yet, you are curled up in his chair while he stands beside it, taking your bandaged hand to squeeze it tightly and reassure you. He wants so desperately to believe that you told the truth. The nagging voice in the back of his mind constantly pushes the idea that you lied, trying to convince him your words didn't make sense. Everything makes sense. Arlecchino would not lie about that.

On the other hand, you've got such horrible anxiety, unlike the silly little thoughts you had before. It's not about whether Pantalone likes the flowers you get him or prefers silver jewellery or gold. It is about whether or not he secretly plans to divorce you. Your failure and the worry you caused him weigh heavy on your mind, all boiling down into one conclusion. You have caused him nothing but grief for what? A month now? Probably more than that. Who's to say you weren't a bother to him before the mission? What if you've always been a bother, and this is just his excuse to justify it?

That would explain why he pulled away so suddenly. Maybe it is about the flowers and the jewellery, perhaps he preferred flowers your money couldn't buy. You know he's not that materialistic, but it's the only way you can make sense of it. Maybe, for a Harbinger, you will never be enough. Perhaps he expected you would have taken Tartaglia's place as Eleventh before he got the chance. You were content and happy as a measly Captain under Pantalone's sector and never seemed to strive for more. You thought that would take your time away from him, but you also didn't want more than you needed. Were you meant to strive for more than that? Is that it?

Your deliberations are only working you up more, the opposite of what he warned you not to do. The tears start rolling down your cheeks again, warm and unable to be stopped by simply wiping them away as more only take their place. Maybe Pantalone doesn't want a crybaby for a husband. Then what? You would still be failing him even now.

You hiccup your sobs out for a moment, trying to force yourself to breathe so that you'll calm down. "I want you to tell me why you've been avoiding me and why you keep leaving so early and coming home so late." You quickly wipe your tears once again, the roughness of the bandages binding your hand quite unpleasant against your eyes. "Can we just talk? A-And be honest with each other like we promised we would."

Your pleas do not fall on deaf ears. Pantalone wants to listen to everything you have to say and tell you everything as long as you're willing to be as honest as you say you will be. He has faith you will, even with the voice that tells him you won't. If Pantalone never hears you out, then it doesn't matter how much truth you speak, as nothing will save your marriage from him refusing to believe it. If he wants to mend this as you seem to, he has to do his part. It should've been obvious it would be difficult after the heights of emotions you both experienced in a few days. 

The two of you must work through this eventually, preferably sooner rather than later.

"We'll talk for as long as necessary, my darling, and be as honest as possible with each other." Pantalone takes your other hand and brings it to his hands, warm and soft against your skin — just that much puts you at ease. One of his hands brushes your hair from your face and wipes your cheeks, a gentle, affectionate motion that is not lost on you. 

A man that did not want to be married to you would not be so tender toward you, would he? He would be cruel and taunting in your weakest moments. Pantalone is not sympathetic towards those he does not care about, and his idea of feigning it is vaguely veiled mocking. This is different — it's genuine. You nod in agreement.

"I don't want it to end," your words mumbles as you try to keep yourself together, "I don't want to break up over this."

"We won't," his reassurance comes hastily but is not insincere in the slightest, "we'll work through this. I promise we'll talk about it."

With confidence, you can't say everything you both have to say will be said, but you know that you intend to try to get as much as possible out. If that's all you can manage for a day, then that amount of progress is better than none. It's better than pushing and pulling forever; that is enough for you to know it will be alright.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[youbluegumball-sonofabitch]

I find it endlessly hilarious that all of ultrakill happens in like. one day. Gabriel's countdown until he fucking dies is ONLY 24 hours. Meaning V1 has waltzed through actual hell in probably 15 hours at max.

Like imagine you are Hell, super-organism supreme, and you see this blue gumball son of a bitch stroll in. It starts ripping and tearing, pretty normal machine stuff, you expected this. It's a little late to the party, considering other machines have already delved into the middling layers, but hey its catching up pretty quick! And then its stacked up against V2. You expect V2 to win. It already has seniority in Hell, and, well, it's version 2. Later versions are usually superior to older ones, in your experience. Then it kicks V2's ass and steals its fucking arm.

Alrighty then! This one is going to be very, very entertaining. You like that.

It continues to plow through the layers, prevailing through unwinnable fight after unwinnable fight. It stares down the Corpse King and matches it blow for blow until he, too, is felled. It beholds the power of an angel and then proceeds to wipe the floor with that poor bastard, something you have NEVER seen before.

And it continues in much of the same fashion as it descends. Annihilating everything. It even goes toe to toe with the strongest souls you contain, and bests them as well, in fights that don't last longer than a few minutes. You have to ponder that. It was satisfying to watch. It was entertaining, enjoyable. But those souls had big ambitions. They would have been entertaining, too. And yet, they were over and done with mere moments after they achieved their long-awaited freedom.

The thought makes you feel hollow, empty. That is because you are. That parasite is slowly killing you, draining you of any life you literally hold. And it does it with brutal efficacy, never slowing. It punches hard and it punches deep and it punches fast and it is punching through you. You throw more things at it. More enemies, more projectiles, more mere annoyances. It prevails through unwinnable fight after unwinnable fight. You don't feel fear. You win, technically, either way. It dies and you stave off your impending death in this abandoned world, or it succeeds and you get entertainment.

Does it even know what it is doing?

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 2, Part 1/3 (p. 249-439)

Read the previous post here.

From this point on, these successive Act breakdowns will be spread across multiple posts. Act 1 is easily the shortest Act at 248 pages, so I was able to fit everything in one post. I think I just barely made it under the image limit. Anyway, let's move right along to Act 2.

I didn't discuss Rose's character in the last post, so I think this is a good time to talk about her. She strikes me as a bit of a "gifted kid" that was always ahead of her peers in terms of academics. She's bookish and more educated than her friends, a fact that she flaunts by utilizing her robust vocabulary and making allusions that go over other peoples' heads.

She must love having a dullard like John as a friend. He's too dumb to cotton onto her pretentious, ridiculous metaphors. She can act like a pseud all she wants and he'd never question it. He just sees big words, assumes she's talking about something far beyond his understanding, and laughs it off. To him, she just comes across as very smart, which is precisely the image of herself she wants to cultivate for others. Having someone like that in her close friend group must give her immense validation.

This GameFAQs guide is a great showcase of her big ego. She uses multiple paragraphs full of unnecessary verbiage to deliver a simple introduction. "My introduction will be sparse" my ass! Imagine trying to scour through this while meteors are crashing down all around you. Even though nobody who reads this is going to survive, she still insists on making a big spectacle of things and flexing her skills as a writer.

And yet, she's so secretive of her private writings, refusing to let the reader even look at them. Her persona of being a highbrow intellectual obsessed with psychoanalysis is all a facade, something she uses to conceal her genuine interests (wizards and fantasy).

I guess what I'm trying to say with all this is that even though Rose comes across as garrulous and self-important, she's still a more fleshed out character than John.

I severely dislike these little walk-around segments. Normally I'm a fan of point-and-click adventure games, but this feels so clunky and not fun to move around in. You explore them the first time and have no inclination to do so ever again. I can't even find any worthwhile dialogue clicking on any of the objects. It's a waste of time. I'm glad there's only one other page like this later on before Hussie switches to the "Alterniabound" design.

Rose exposits this fantastical scenario John has found himself in, as well as the impending danger threatening the rest of the world. All he has to say about it is "wow, ok." I can't deal with this kid, man. He must've been lobotomized shortly after birth or something.

He has more of a reaction to Rose seemingly forgetting his birthday than to any of the other crazy shit currently happening. He doesn't even thank her for helping to save his life. This reread is really making me hate John.

John seems to draw the line at following potentially life-threatening commands. Though I somehow think this has more to do with WV having gained control of the command console at this point in the story. Unlike Rose or the reader, WV has a very rude and authoritative way of typing commands that upsets John. I wonder if he'd have less reservations crossing the catwalk if Rose told him to do it.

Here's the beginning of the "Fedorafreak Saga" where this man is shown to survive the cataclysm brought on by Sburb. It's kind of a fun little diversion, but there's no real payoff to it.

"especially ethnic wedding" is another crazy Rose quote. Also this GameFAQs guide continues to be incredibly word-dense and not at all conducive to helping players succeed in this literal life-or-death scenario. Especially when they're on a time limit.

For narrative purposes, it's just info-dumping all the technicalities of the various Sburb mechanics. It really isn't worth reading, in my opinion. The game mechanics might be one of the least interesting parts of Homestuck to me. I don't want to get bogged down reading about how an alchemiter works.

Besides, we saw all these mechanics in action during Act 1; it's unnecessary to read about all of it again. This sort of thing should be reserved for supplemental material, not as a part of the work itself.

Dave be spittin' bars here. I don't think enough acknowledgement is given to Dave's rhymes. I think they're pretty funny. I'd like to hear someone actually rap them over a beat.

Dave continues to make reference to his and Rose's flirting. John is tired of hearing about it.

needleKind might be a contender for the dumbest kind abstratus since knitting needles aren't even sharp. I wonder if Hussie was even aware of that. Probably not or else he wouldn't have included that "filet a sword fish" line.

All the creature entries in the Grimoire are funny, but this one takes the cake. Every sentence here is gold.

This is a nice passage that I like a lot. It seems to relate to Rose's quest to "play the rain" later on in the story. I'll talk more about it when I reach that part, but it was always a part of the story that I wanted to see come to fruition and it burned me that it never did.

However, reading this passage and noting how it actually does foreshadow Rose's reluctance and ultimate failure to play the rain does help ease the sting a little bit. It is thematically relevant to Rose's character for her to put on this grandiose display of competence only to fumble when put on the spot. She's a kid who's way in over her head, something that applies to many of Homestuck's characters.

Unfortunately, it's capped off with the fourth instance of this dumb misattributed quote gag. The Charles Barkley detail is part of another running gag where all the kids are associated with a black celebrity, Charles Barkley in Rose's case. It's weird and I don't get it.

Dave swoops in from nowhere and interrupts Rose's scene to do his intro. Like Rose, he also disobeys the reader's commands, going so far as to slice apart the text box when the joke name is typed in. (Insufferable Prick... now where have I heard that before?)

(Rose's joke name "Flighty Broad" was also based on a line Dave called her before).

Dave's interest in photography and dead things don't manifest nearly as often as his love of rapping and music. He specifically likes obscure bands because he's a hipster doofus. Funnily enough, I don't see as many people call him a hipster as often as they do to other characters like say, Eridan.

Dave never does bleat like a goat by the comic's end, does he?

Dave, despite outwardly acting like an aloof jackass most of the time, really does care about his friends. I think that's part of the reason he's always been my favorite out of the kids.

I love that Clubs Deuce just flails about uselessly when the Midnight Crew are all beating the shit out of each other.

In Dave and Rose's first pesterlog, Rose immediately suggests Dave might be gay because he's been ignoring her. Unlike John, Dave is able to keep up with Rose's repartee and the results are some of the better written pesterlogs in the whole comic.

I love the chemistry between these two so much. Dave is less cerebral than Rose, but he's just as intelligent. He's able to see past her shit and challenge her instead of being awed by her intellect. She in turn also sees right through his own mask of "irony" and tries to poke holes in it.

Their friendship seems the strongest out of the whole group; Dave even mentions that he knows who's messaging him before he checks the Pesterchum window. In previous conversations with John, he acts as though Rose is a nuisance and that she's always bugging him, but here we see them get along very well.

For Rose's part, Dave isn't some sycophant or a dupe who's swayed by her way with words. He's someone she can respect, someone who can match her mentally, and someone who loves typing out over the top metaphors just as much as she does. It's likely refreshing for her to be around someone like that, which is why she's always pursuing him for conversation.

Ah, I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to further gush about these two as I progress through the story. For now, let's keep moving.

Oh don't worry, she'll hold you to that promise.

Rose responds to Dave's earlier interruption with one of her own and we're back to her perspective again. Even meta-textually, they go back and forth with each other.

For an aspiring psychoanalyst, Rose is quick to dismiss the idea that her mother's behavior is motivated by anything except spite. Rose's mom knows her daughter loves wizards, so she buys all this wizard memorabilia in the hopes it'll make her happy. Rose, refusing to believe her mom feels genuine love toward her, twists these gestures into ones of malice and mockery. Teenagers, am I right?

This is similar to how John's dad displays all that harlequin junk in the house to please his son, even though John can't stand any of it. Parents not understanding their children is a classic theme in Homestuck.

Rose acting utterly deranged in response to her mom's sincere, albeit excessive, displays of affection.

Dave's conversation with Jade is void of all the wit and chemistry present in his talk with Rose. Here he strips himself of his sardonic, crude side because he is a dumb teenage boy fawning over the "nice girl" to get in her good graces.

Jade is just... I don't think I can put off talking about her for much longer. Perhaps in the next post I'll explain my gripes with her character.

I'm not sure what to make of Mom Lalonde's "ironic negligence" where she offers Rose her martini. Is she playing into Rose's idea of her as an incompetent mother, or is she just that drunk right now?

I don't think that Mom is the perfect parent, mind you. She does come across as emotionally distant and constantly intoxicated. To compensate for that, she showers Rose with gifts, which isn't exactly a good substitute for proper parenting, well-intentioned as it may be.

Mom isn't perfect, but she's trying. Rose's insistence that she's some kind of spiteful, passive-aggressive mastermind is pure delusion on her part.

Dave trusts Rose enough to tell her that he doesn't like his brother's puppets as much as he lets on. Very interesting for someone who is so hesitant to drop his mask around others.

Also, Rose reveals that she likes his brother's puppet porn websites.

Oh no! Yeah, really selling that distress, John.

He has a bigger negative reaction to being told to eat some cookies than he does to finding out his father had been kidnapped. If I was in Rose's place, I'd be losing my mind.

In this first third of Act 2, it still suffers from the same PS-esque jokes and video game references. John is still aggravatingly dull and his conflict with WV is unfunny and interrupts the pace.

But the stakes are also getting higher, the plot is progressing, and the cast is expanding with two much stronger characters. Overall, I think this is a step up so far.

Read the next post here.

[ofmdbigbang]

Title: Bring me home Author: FPwoper Artist: Pogo Beta reader: Bakerbelle, GildeCage, Zuckerbaby_1 Main Characters: Stede, Ed, Izzy Other Characters: Various minor characters mentioned only Main Relationship(s): Stede/Ed/Izzy, Stede/Mary, Ed/Izzy Other Relationship(s): Various minor ships mentioned only Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternative Universe - Modern setting, 5+1 Fic, Friends to Lovers (eventually), Pining, Slow Burn, Character Driven Fic, Arranged Marriage, Breakups, Relationship Troubles, Infidelity (Technically but not emotionally), Stede Bonnet POV, Insecure Stede Bonnet, Oblivious Stede Bonnet, (VERY Oblivious Stede), Stede Bonnet has Anxiety, (Might even be depressed), Emotional Stede Bonnet, Being Outed, Crying, Men Can Cry Too and in this essay I will…, Emotional Angst with a Happy Ending, Ed experimenting with gender for a bit, Stede is struggling through life, Edward Bonnet being Edward Bonnet (through the lens of Stede), The relationship between Mary and Stede is Complicated (TM), First kiss, Alcohol Consumption, The Explicit Rating Only Applies to The Final Chapter, Body Worship, Anal Sex, Safe Sex (almost aggressively so), Includes Art, Our Flag Means Death Big Bang 2024, Podfic Welcome Warnings: N/A Summary:

Izzy's pity party for getting stood up is crashed by Stede and Ed. It's the first time Stede meets Izzy, and it jumpstarts a friendship between the three of them that lasts through several relationships. While both Ed and Izzy are free to find their own way in life and try to find love, Stede is forced to watch from the sidelines as his life is plotted by his father. A story told through break-ups and coffee shop meetings that always end up migrating to a different location. || Or: Five times a relationship falls apart, and one time it succeeds.

Wordcount: 46,875

Bring me home

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

Sea and shadows: the Queens of the abyss

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

A few lore drops in this chapter and a few unanswered questions...

Plus has anyone seen The Exorcist? Hehehe you'll see why.

Chapter 4

 Eons ago...

A few years had gone by and Rozu had grown into a young woman. She had gotten taller and leaner, her muscles becoming toned from years of intense training under her father goons…and she had learnt a few new skills over the years too…powers she kept hidden from her father. On a night when she had been locked away in her tower when she disappointed her father once again, the night had grown cold and she couldn’t keep warm. Her body shaking as she lay curled up in the floor, her heart race as it was trying to pump adrenaline through her veins to warm her body…she breathed heavily, blowing into her frozen hands only to wince as a flame flew from her tongue and scorched her skin.

 

She was shocked by this as she sat up and blew again, another small wave of fire leaving her lips. She then tried to summon a flame in the palms of her hands as she cupped them together and sure enough after a few attempts she succeed, creating a small flickering ember that danced over her skin…she had the power of fire despite it being impossible as she was meant to be a creature of darkness…

 

She would practice this power at night when she was left alone and no one could see her as she danced around her room, creating flames from her finger tips, moving her arms as she created streams of fire, even managing to summon them using her feet when she twirl kicked in the air. It was incredible, it was beautiful and most importantly it was hers, her gift that she would keep hidden away from her father’s influence and corruption…

 

And after much practice she was able to create colour within the flames, blues, greens, purples, colours you couldn’t even imagine off, reminding her of dragons flames…they were the only creatures that were able to create such displays, making her wonder how she was able to…

 

She continued to practice her magic during the day when she wasn’t busy with physical training. And to her credit she was fairly good at it, even if her father insulted her every move and laughed in her face when she tried to show him something new she could do…unfortunately for him she stopped showing off her new technics, one of which was using shadows to change ones physical form, appearing as someone else.

 

It was through this skill that Rozu was finally able to sneak out of the fortress and explore the lands surrounding her father’s kingdom, seeing the world she had longed to be a part of for so many years. She stayed hidden in the shadows, not wishing to draw much attention to herself and expose herself as her shadow illusions were still new and wouldn’t last long.

 

But she could still stay out for a few hours before returning home. She would travel to nearby villages and see all they had to offer and the unique and interesting beings that inhabited it. So many new face, smells and sights filled her mind, wishing more than anything to live amongst them…however being outside of her home also meant that she saw the horrors that her father’s war against the warriors and dragons had created…

 

People suffering from incurable curses or missing appendages from being wounded or simply just cut off…families who were torn apart by death or enslavement…people living on the streets because their wealth and homes had been stolen from them by Lord Yomi and his minions…their lands burnt to the ground or taken for the magicians to build their empire…

 

All this suffering and ruin was horrifying to see, the harsh reality that her father’s cruelty extended so far. She wishes there was a way she could help them but how? But a part of her…somewhere deep within her soul still wanted her father’s approval…still wanted him to love her…so for now she would stay in the shadows as she watched the world continue to pass by…

 

But one day that changed…

 

She was walking along the streets when she saw a group of magicians appear in the centre of town, a nasty look on their face as they started harassing the town’s folk, destroying food stands with their magic, turning people into objects or other creatures or simply killing them…

 

Rozu decides she wants to intervene but is halted when an arrow comes flying out of nowhere and hits one of the magicians straight through the chest knocking him down. The others go on the defence as they search around, trying to see where the arrow came from but another arrow flies through the air and strikes down another magician. Suddenly a group of green cloaked archers wielding bows and short blades descend from the rooftops and attacking the magicians, a massive fight breaking out amongst them.

 

She still needed to do something…but for which side? For the innocent or her father’s people? She pulls the hood of her black cloak over her head and joins the fray, summoning her flames and firing them at the group, hitting both magician and archer, rather trying to disperse the fighting than to harm anyone. She twirled around, summoning a ring of fire that knocked several people back, the magicians looking at her stunned before attacking, using their magic to throw balls of energy at her that she easily blocked.

 

She didn’t see one coming at her however and would’ve been hit if it had not been for a wall of stone to emerge from the ground around her and block the oncoming attack. She freezes when she sees the solid rock surrounding her, slowly lowers and reveals one of the archers looking at her, his arms were raised as his green emerald eyes were glowing, meeting her own golden gaze. Had he saved her? How did he move the earth like that?

 

They kept staring intensely for a moment before the sound of horses and trumpets approaching fills the air, Rozu forms a fireball and slams it into the ground, engulfing her in an inferno to hide her using the shadows to disappear into the darkness.

 

She reappears in an alleyway not too far from the group of magician’s watches as they run away from the group of men dressed as knights who had come to villages rescue, chasing down the remaining magicians and to Rozu’s surprise struck them with weapons glowing with light energy, nullifying the dark figures magic…and stopping them from escaping. This shouldn’t be possible, Rozu’s father had always said that nothing could stop their magic but here there were people that could stop them…

 

She watched as some of the archers removed their hoods and helped the people who were hurt by the magicians, while the leader, the one with the emerald eyes who had saved Rozu revealed his pale face and raven hair, the bangs hanging in his face. He approaches the leader of the knights, “My Lord Thymus am I relieved to see you.”

 

The knight removes his helmet, revealing his hair shaped in a star, the strands black with metallic green tips, silver bangs framing his face, a few of them running along his black hair, his one eye had a scar over it, leaving it permanently closed, and his remaining eye was a rich green. He looks at the leader with a small smile, “I’m glad to have arrived in time. How many are injured?” he follows the raven haired man as he leads him to the victims who were being covered in sheets, to shield the surrounding citizens from seeing the corpses, “At least 7 my lord. Although it would’ve been more if we hadn’t shown up. The bastards are getting bolder, attacking the villages while the warriors are away fighting.” He kicks a dead dark magician, Rozu flinching as she watches.

 

Thymus rests his hand on the archers shoulder, “They have been attacking and conquering villages for a long time Terra. They always go after the weak and those who are unable to defend themselves…but luckily…” he holds up his glowing light sword, “…thanks to my daughter Clarity we have found a way to bind their magic.” He says with a look of pride on his face.

 

Terra grinned and nodded, “So you and the other two lords have convinced her to use her gifts to help us?” Thymus nods with a sigh as he seethes his sword into its scabbard, “Only after Hermos had explained that it was to protect our people and the remaining White dragons, she agreed…however she doesn’t wish to fight with. She believes all life is sacred…even those that would dare to harm others…” he glares at the dead dark magician before shaking his head; Terra rubs the back of his head, “Any news from Lord Critias on locating the Siren?”

 

Thymus sighs and shakes his head, “Unfortunately no. she just seems to disappear into thin air whenever the battle is over. She appears to be working on her own…however…” he gets a far off look on his face. Terra tilting his head, “What is it my lord?” Thymus looks around and takes hold of the archers arm, pulling him aside where no one could hear them, “Rumours have started to spread that during her last appearance 3 white dragons descended from the sky and obliterated the dark armies before disappearing along with the Siren.”

 

Terra’s eyes widen, “What?!” he shouted before Thymus covered his mouth with his hand, “Hush! No one is meant to hear this.” Terra nods as he keeps his mouth shut, the silver tri-coloured hair lord lowers his hand, “It is only a rumour but I have gone to see the eye witnesses, even some of the surviving fighters…all of them say they say 3 white dragons.”

 

“But I thought there were only 2 left.”

 

“It would seem that there is a third, perhaps one of them is a hatchling. Whatever it is going on, we need to keep it quiet. Only those in our inner circles need to know…I suspect a traitor amongst us.” He gets a dark expression on his face as Terra nods, “My lips are sealed my Lord.”

 

“Good. Now on to other mattes, Clarity has been asking about you.” A smirk forming on his face, “Are you sneaking around with my daughter behind my back?” Terra’s eyes widen as he waves his hands around in defence, “N…no my Lord. She is merely a friend!” Thymus laughs and pats his back, “I am glad to hear. Because if I were you I would be worried…”

 

“Wh…why’s that sir?” he swallows the lump in his throat as Thymus grins, “Word travels fast and Critias isn’t as understanding as I am.” Terra goes pale, “Clarity may be our adopted daughter but we love her as if she were our own.” Terra nods as he listens, “I promise you my lord, there is nothing going on between us. We are merely friends.” Thymus nods as he leads the archer back to the group, “Good. Now let’s head back to the others…”

 

Unfortunately for the two of them, Rozu had heard every word…she slowly leaves, heading back home. She had heard something interesting things today, the enemy had weapons to bind her people’s magic and it was created by some mysterious girl named Clarity. The White dragons seemed to have returned if only for a brief moment and the Siren was with him.

 

Despite all this, the only thing she could think of was the green eyed archer she had locked eyes with…the man that had saved her…why had he done that?

 

She needed to think what she would do with all this information and whether or not she would reveal this to her father…

 

Back in the virtual world…and the present…

 

A breeze was blowing over the isolated island where Lillian still lay unconscious, the sand beneath her soaked with her blood. She seemed almost dead if it wasn’t for her fingers that were slightly twitching…a soft whimper leaving her lips as she was lost in a dream…

 

Her eyes slowly opened as she found someone shaking her. She looked up and saw a little boy with white hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes, dressed in a brown tunic and had no shoes on his feet. It looked like he had tiny scales running over his forearms and his ears were pointed. He looked rather sweet as he was gazing at her with concern, he holds out his hand to her which she takes, slowly standing up. She was surprised when she didn’t feel any pain in her mid-section, she looked down and discovered she was wearing a long white dress and her injuries were gone…

 

She looked at the boy as he stared at her before turning and leading her away. She realised she was in the middle a dense forest instead of the beach where she had fought fake Seto. She hears fighting and shouting coming from a nearby clearing, the smell of smoke and blood filling her senses as they reached the open area…her eyes widening as she came face to face with an intense battle between warrior type duel monsters and magic type monsters, corpses and weapons littering the ground…

 

She hears a roar and looks up, her eyes widening when she sees 3 Blue eyes white dragons soaring through the air, sending blasts of bright white energy at the dark magicians…and on top of one of them sat a figure that looked exactly like herself!?

 

The figures hair was turquoise with purple tips, tied up in a messy braid. She was dressed in arm made of silver plating and blue scales, a helmet atop her head made of the same metal, her face exposed. In her right hand she held a mighty 5 pronged trident, mystical symbols engraved in the material it was made of.

 

Lillian watched as the other version of herself moved into a standing position on the dragon, raising her trident in the air, massive dark clouds rolls in and blocks out the sky as lightning strikes the field of battle, one of the bolts hitting the forked weapon in the sea warriors hand, the mystical item absorbing it as it started to glow…the raven haired girl couldn’t move her eyes away as the other her leaps of the dragon and dives to the ground, twirling in mid-air, landing feet first and thrusting her weapon into the ground, sending a massive wave of electrical energy over the battle field, knocking out several dark magicians while leaving the warriors that were fighting them unharmed.

 

Lillian couldn’t believe what she was seeing, it was incredible. She watches as her other self fights off several magicians with ease, piercing them with her weapon through them or summoning blades of water from thin air and sends them flying through the heads of the dark magicians. It was like watching something out a fantasy movie. She moved with such ferocity and grace…

 

She feels the little boy tugging on her arm and she looks down at him, before she could ask what was going on points upwards at one of the Blue eyes, Lillian’s gaze shifting to the beast…her eyes widening as one of the magicians summons a large spear and throws it at the dragon, piercing its side. The winged monster lets out a roar of pain as it plummets to the ground, crashing to the earth. Several magicians descend upon it, summoning a large net and throwing it over the wounded beast as it still tries to fight. Suddenly the earth started to shaking and cracks forming in dirt, streams of water bursting out of the soil like massive fountains. Lillian looked at her other self, the girl was floating in the air, her whole body glowing as her hair was flowing in different directions, she raises her trident into the air and the streams of water turn to massive tendrils and waves, grabbing the wizards, freezing every single one of them in giants blocks of ice…the turquoise haired girl opens her mouth and lets out a sonic scream, shattering the ice and the magicians that were trapped inside them, obliterating their bodies and killing them…

 

When the last magician is dead the floating girl drops to the ground and runs to the wounded dragon, the other two already at its side, gripping the net between their sharp teeth and ripping it apart, freeing the beast as it letting out soft sounds of distress, dark blue blood seeping from the wound where the spear was deeply embedded in. The sea warrior takes off her helmet and tosses it aside, dropping her trident as she reaches the Blue eyes. She stands before it for a second before gripping the end of the spear and yanks it out, the monster letting out a loud roar. She presses her hands against its snout, stroking it gently to try and calm it down, knowing it was in pain. This works for a moment as it breaths heavily, it’s eyes fixed on the girl.

 

She then moves back to the wound, laying her hands over it and closes her eyes, her body glowing again as a glowing blue energy flows from her hands into the wound, slowly blood starts leaking out of it and the skin stitches itself back together. She steps back; the only thing remaining was a scar as she stops glowing. The dragon looks at her and presses its forehead against hers, making a softly purring sound as if to thank the girl for saving it. A soft smile forms on her face as she wraps her arms around its snout hugging it gently, a tear on running down her cheek.

 

Lillian turns to ask the boy what all this was but he wasn’t there anymore. She looks back up and finds that the battle field had changed to a field of a long grass and wild flowers…in the distance stood a tall figure that was dressed in a long white cloak that was flowing in the breeze…his hair white and his skin pale, a breeze blows over him, lifting the cloak and exposing his bare torso, a scar running down its side…he turns to face Lillian but before she could make out who this was, everything goes white…

 

Lillian gasps as her eyes fly open, she is breathing heavily as she holds her mid-section, finding it wet with her blood. She was feeling weak and limp, the life bleeding out of her…she needed to do something before she dies, panic running through her before her mind wonders to that weird dream she was having…what if it wasn’t just some dream? What if it was a…memory…

 

She gazed down at her stomach, the gears in her head starting to slowly turn…what if the sea warrior she had seen in that dream was her…or her from a past life…no that didn’t sound right. That would be insane…and yet her dream version shared similar abilities to herself…and if that was the case then…she bites her lip as she presses her hand to her stomach, pressing against the bleeding wounds and closed her eyes as she winces. She concentrates hard, reaching for something, not entirely sure what. For a moment nothing happened but she kept trying, growing frustrated as she growls, “Just come on!” she shouts and suddenly a burst of energy flows explodes from her palm engulfs the island…

 

When the light fades the raven haired girl opens her eyes, the agonising pain she’s been enduring since the previous day was completely gone…she felt rejuvenated even. Slowly she sat up and removed her blood soaked medical robe and tosses it aside, slowly taking off all the bandages, a shocked smile forming on her face…each one of her wounds was gone, in its place was just scars…she had done it! But that also meant that her earlier theory about her past life may be true. She shook her head as she stood up, she would figure it out later, right now she needed to get off the island…and probably find some clothes considering her torso was naked and all she had on for a bottom was her shorts…

 

She picked up her ruined robe and tore it up, getting a long piece of fabric and wraps it around her breasts, securing into place. It wasn’t much but it would do for now.

 

She then turned to the ocean and raised her hands, pulling a large ball of water from the sea, slowly shaping it into a long board like shape before closing her fingers and freezing it. Once it was a solid block of ice, she dropped it into the water, letting it float gently on the waves. Before she walked over to her make-shift surfboard, she noticed something shining in the sea. Raising a brow she walked over it to and reached into the grains, her fingers hooking on a silver chain. She slowly pulls the object from the sand, her eyes widening as she sees that it is her Blue eye necklace. She gently lays it in her palm, delicately trying to wipe the grains off it. How did this get here?

 

The last she had seen it was before she was nabbed by Odion. She thought Seto had said that he had taken it back from the rare hunter that used it to taunt him…so how did it get here? She stood up and looked around, sure enough there was no one here other than herself…she slowly put the necklace back around her neck where it belonged, her fingers gently running over the pendent. She would find her family and friends and make sure they got out of this safe.

 

She leap into the air, going a lot higher than a normal person would and landed gracefully on the ice, her tattoos and eyes glowed as she formed a massive wave that pushed the board forward, pushing her forward quickly, putting distance between herself and the island as she heads for main land…

 

Yami did not like this little brat at all. He watched as she clung to his Aibou like a baby monkey clinging to its mother, Yugi telling Rosie about his friends and family, the child listening intently to every word…or in Yami’s opinion pretending to listen. Yugi was too trusting. You don’t just pick up strange children in the middle of the woods and tell them your life story! The short teen had shown the spirit enough horror movies to know that you just don’t do that!

 

But Yugi’s kind heart truly believed the girl had been trapped her here with her mother…even if that made no sense to the pharaoh! Why would ex-executives from Kaiba Corp kidnap some random girl and her mother and dump them in a virtual reality world?! As much as Yami loved Yugi, he couldn’t deal with how naïve the boy was…but he could scream at the top of his lungs and Yugi wouldn’t listen. He really wanted to help this child so Yami would stay quiet and protect his little angel should danger arise…

 

As they walked down the path they reached a cave, Téa voice echoing through it…Yugi heads inside, soon finding they were in a tunnel of ice, at the end was a large wall of ice, and on the other side was Téa duelling a penguin…a penguin…this day could not get any weirder…

 

As for the duel it looked like the girl wasn’t doing too hot…since she was trapped in ice (I hate myself for that line). Yugi sets the girl down and tries to bang on the ice to break through it to get to Téa but he couldn’t…he even tried to tap into the powers he had displayed earlier, but nothing.

 

Yami watches his Aibou struggling and is about to speak up when he notices the shadow at Rosie’s feet moving around and sink into the ice. Narrowing his eyes he turns his attention back to the duel for a second as the tower of ice the duelling penguin (who was Crump from the Big 5) slowly turns black before cracking, the penguin screaming as he plummets into the water, a large black shadowy shark jumps out of the water and attacks the bird, swallowing it whole.

 

Yugi and Téa watch this scene unfold while Yami turns his attention to the little girl, her head slowly turning 180 degrees like an owl, her eyes turning to those of a snake a forked tongue slips past her lips and she hisses at the spirit…Yami’s eyes widening…did she see him?! WHAT IN RA’S NAME WAS THIS THING?!

 

She quickly returned to normal as the ice wall separating Yugi and Téa shatters, the short teen picking up the little girl and rushes to his friends side before Yami gets the chance to warn him about what he saw…

[bylightofdawn]

Seeds Snippet

Okay I'm just so ridiculously happy that Jaster and Jango have gotten to this point I am totally gonna post a snippet. It's TECHNICALLY Sunday so this could totally be WIP Sunday adjacent. XD

Context, Jaster is laid up in a hospital bed after his pretty gnarly injuries from his fight with Tor Vizsla, they were previously discussing Arla and how she'd gotten involved in the whole thing. I am gonna redact certain key story spoilers but mainly it's just them having a real, wholesome conversation and Jango finally works up the guts to confess to Jaster that he doesn't want to be Mand'alor. Something he's been hiding and stewing over pretty much the whole damned fic.

I feel like Jaster's B-tier parenting has definitely upgraded over the fic and I'm willing to give him a solid A-tier parenting gold star at this point. As always, it's super rough, not edited, and since it was written last post-midnight, it is bound to be even more typo-riddled and dramatically incorrect than normal. Those are Gremlin El hours after all.

Surprise flashed across Jango’s face when Jaster said that. A troubled look quickly followed it. “That was stupid of her.”

“I agree; I wish she’d trusted me enough to communicate her plans at the very least. But I also understand why she did it. Death Watch taught her the best way of solving her problems is with violence; it’s going to take a lot of time and effort for her to learn to outgrow those ingrained habits. And while I do understand why she did what she did, I would be lying if I didn’t admit it has shaken my trust in her somewhat.”

Something akin to fear shadowed the teen’s eyes. “Are you going to send her away?” Jango asked, voice going tight.

“No, I think that would only serve to prove all of her fears and concerns about us correct if I were to do that. And I also think it would make her backslide and we don’t want that. Also? I would never do that to you, Jango so don’t worry about that. We’re just going to have to take things slow. But I was serious when I made my offer to assist her in settling into any life she wanted to pursue. I don’t want to see her slip through the cracks.”

Jaster’s lean face wore a weary and tired expression. “I’m afraid of what we will find when we head home and make a more concerted effort to find the Death Watch training base. It’s clear we cannot leave that to lie any further. I suspect there will be too many Arla Fetts we will discover when we start turning over rocks on Concordia.” He looked up at Jango then with a somber look on his face.

“I don’t want your generation or the ones that follow to inherit our war. And I don’t want to see an entire generation of children have their childhoods ripped away because of Tor Vizsla’s insanity and zealotry. I fear the damage has already been done but maybe we can mitigate some of that pain and sorrow going forward.”

Jango nodded seriously and settled back into the chair next to Jaster’s side.

“Speaking of the future, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“What’s on your mind, Jango?”

The boy looked anywhere but directly at Jaster as he visibly battled with coming up with what he wanted to say.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, so I don’t want you to think this is a rash decision. But…I don’t want to be Mand’alor. I know everyone expects me to step up and that you need a proper successor, but I don’t think that’s me.”

Jango’s words confirmed that Jaster had been suspecting for a while if he was being truthful with himself. And at part of him understood just how much pressure it was to place on the shoulders of a young teenager. Still, he knew how much that must have cost Jango to admit.

“I understand and I respect your choice. I never, ever wanted you to think I was expecting you to succeed me. Hells, this isn’t some blood dynasty that needs to be handed down anyway. I’m sorry if you felt pressured or like there was some expectation to do so. I’ll make it clear to everyone as soon as I’m better.”

“But…after everything that’s happened, that’s just going to make people panic more, I think.”

“That’s my problem to deal with, you don’t need to take that pressure on your shoulders. And if people are assuming just because you’re my son that means I’m automatically going to chose you to pick up the mantle when I retire then I’ll have to set some people straight. Yes, things might be in flux and in transition for a while. And I would not be surprised if someone looks at me and thinks I’m a crippled and weak target and I will cross that bridge if it comes to it. I will respect the old traditions and answer any challenger who thinks they can lead our people better than me.”

Fear curdled in Jango’s stomach at the realization that Jaster’s injuries had really left him in a precarious position.

[Redacted story spoilers here] Jaster assured him and reached out to ruffle Jango’s mussy curls affectionately, something the teen only visibly tolerated.

“Now, I want you to get out of this place; I want you to go get some real food, find a shower, brush your damned hair and get some real sleep in a real bed. That’s an order, understand?” He said playfully, but there was a hint of steel in his voice all the same, and Jango recognized the order for what it was.

“Yes, buir.” It was one of the few times when Jango said that word with sincerity, not a hint of exasperation, scorn or irony. Jaster felt something lighten in his chest.

“Good, I’ll see in twelve hours, nothing less.”

And that earned him an exasperated eye-roll from the teenager, which was almost to be expected at this point.

“I love you, kiddo.” Jaster decided to press his luck just a little if only because he didn’t want a day to go by that, his son had any doubt that he loved him. And if that meant saying it out loud more often and being more proactive in demonstrating it, he would do it.

“Yeah, me too.” Jango said a little husky as he climbed to his feet. After hesitating, he leaned down again and gently hugged Jaster one last time before booking it for the door.

[cindydartist]

Why I think BotW fits as a sequel to TAoL

My lovely siblings let me rant Legend of Zelda timeline stuff to them and I figured, might as well post it here. Note: this is my own headcanon, NOT what I think Nintendo or anyone else HAS to follow. I know and recognize that neither BotW nor TotK are part of the official Zelda Timeline.

--

Currently, if I had to pick a spot for it [BotW] in the Canon timeline, I'd put it after The Adventure of Link (second released game) with LU nicknamed 'Hyrule' Link. Two main reasons for that:

1) Ganondorf the Man and Ganon the Beast

The Fallen timeline in which TAoL takes place is the only timeline where pig Ganon is the predominant form of Ganondorf. (Despite all the separate incarnations of Link and Zelda, Ganondorf… is kinda just one guy through all of it who refuses to die properly.)

This is due to him gaining the Triforce of Power AND KEEPING IT by killing the Hero of Time (hence why that timeline branch is referred to as the Fallen Hero or Downfall timeline). Ganondorf's beast form is always shown in the games as an overrun of power and a sacrifice/discarding of the 'human' in him. In the other two timelines, he is beaten in that form effectively immediately after transforming, therefore has no time to lose himself. He continues to keep his gerudo form in further sequels/successors. Not so in the Fallen timeline.

By the time we get to A Link to the Past, Ganondorf has been beast Ganon up to/after the imprisoning war, a last-ditch effort by a bunch of sages after the Hero of Time’s death. Some details are unique to Hyrule Historia book, but the sealing war is a key part of history for ALttP (and its sequels) due to the plot-related presence of those sages’ descendants.

Again, Ganon only shows up in beast form in this game and going forward. A secondary factor may be where he was sealed to: Ganondorf keeping the Triforce of Power for a hot minute also keeps the Sacred Realm (where the Triforce previously resided in OoT) transformed into the Dark World (also predominately featured in ALttP)

ALttP’s Link, LU nickname Legend, later has Oracle of Seasons and Oracle of Ages. The goal of hidden antagonists Koume and Kotake is to resurrect Ganon. (This isn't exactly spoiler territory for either gameplay, but heads up I guess?) It succeeds -- partially. The Ganon brought back is mindless - only a force of destruction. Sound familiar??

Importantly, this all adds up to a potential Decomposition of Ganondorf the Man.

While Ganon does regain some strategic thinking in The Legend of Zelda I (Hyrule's first adventure), he remains in pig/beast form. And is killed again. Okay, technically it doesn't state killing, so it could be sealing away. Except. One of the most known things about Zelda II: The Adventure of Link is if you die enough times to get a game over, it states Ganon comes back, implied to be through spilling Link's/Hyrule's blood. Quote from the game’s English instruction manual “The key to Ganon’s return was the blood of Link – the valiant lad who overthrew the King of Evil. Ganon would be revived by sacrificing Link and sprinkling his blood on the ashes of Ganon.”

Revive? Blood ritual?? Ashes??? Sounds awfully like a resurrection ritual ta me.

Thus, with further decomposition of self through death and revival, especially if one counts how many times Hyrule’s predecessor Legend defeated Ganon as killing him, it makes perfect sense to me that a logical conclusion would be BotW Calamity Ganon. (Granted, I have not finished TotK’s history plot yet, so there may be arguments/evidence I am unaware of with how he got that way. Like his existence as Gerudo Ganondorf, but from my current info, that is in the far past, potentially after Skyward Sword. Sue me, I have a working theory the Zonai are evolved Remlits)

On to my SECOND reason:

2) My Own Personal Gratification ✨

The world of Zelda I and Zelda II is frankly post-apocalyptic. Ironically more so than ALttP which is the closest to the ACTUAL apocalyptic events that happened.

Perhaps it is important to note that ALttP explicitly confirms the idea that a previous unnamed hero failed to stop Ganondorf. And that years back IRL there was genuine reason to speculate that that previous hero was Hyrule. Now think about the blood ritual.

With the release of the official timeline, that theory is now only fanon. But the potential is still there. Currently there is no canonical sequel to Hyrule’s story. Legend’s adventures give evidence readable as foreshadowing that this is a timeline where the land itself has clearly degraded. The zora are ruthless enemies that will attack on sight. Natural water is acidic and damages. There are monsters who can take the form of hylians so no-one ever knows quite who is safe to trust.

Link’s/Hyrule’s story is beautiful because he is effectively hope that refuses to give up on a land falling apart. A synergy between selfless bravery and survival. One who sees hardiness in the weakened kingdom’s people and inspires them to try a little harder, be a little kinder, trust a little more.

For all we know, as long as there is a monster or member of the Cult of Ganon, he might be running forever. Will have to carry that risk for the rest of his life. For the sake of Hyrule’s people and future, how he lives as a hero is not enough; he must control how he dies.

 Is it strange to wish that the bountiful green land of BoTW is what his kingdom will eventually be? That, even if not in his lifetime, the Kingdom of Hyrule will continue on and find its feet again?

That’s how I see BotW. Even if Ganon manages to destroy Hyrule, it will always live on through its people. You can never take what was never takeable in the first place.

--

tldr; Pigman signifies Dementia and I want Hyrule!Link to have a happy freaking ending, okay?

[transparenthologramrebel]

Hollyleaf getting off easy in Shattered stars

Ok so a person commented on my fanfic that they thought Hollyleaf was getting off easy from punishment. Its been itching in my brain all day so I’ve decided to talk about it. 

She’s not getting off easy. Not at all and not in any way. Compared to Canon Hollyleaf I feel like SS Hollyleaf suffers a lot more for her actions or at least she is forced to confront what she’s done far more. So lets compare. 

In canon Hollyleaf runs away at the end of Sunrise to the tunnels. She stays there for several seasons while everyone presumes her dead. She does this almost immediately after revealing the secret at the gathering. In fact she leaves the gathering pretty quickly after telling the truth. She gets to see a bit of the fallout from it but its mostly focused on her immediate family. She doesn’t get to see its effects on her clanmates or how it effects Thunderclan. Now to be fair it really doesn’t harm Thunderclan in the long run in the canon cause the Erin’s suck at writing but there are a few scenes we see the fallout from her actions. Such as Breezepelt trying to murder Jayfeather at the moonpool. But by the time she returns in Forgotten warrior its been so long since the gathering not too many cats are bothered by it anymore. They are glad to have her back. There’s no mention of them having any animosity towards her for revealing the secret. Now they do get a little miffed when they figure out/ she reveals that she killed Ashfur. However, that it is quickly squelched by Brambleclaw who says it was self defense. A few cats like Foxleap in canon show a strong dislike for her calling her an odd one, but he is one of the very few. In fact if I remember correctly he’s almost immediately reprimanded by Millie I think? So even then she doesn’t face justice technically for what she’s done. Hollyleaf basically doesn’t face any repercussions for what she’s done, outside of her own self exile. Hell her trying to kill Leafpool with death berries is never even mentioned again outside of the scene itself! Now to be fair her self exile and almost successful suicide attempt are pretty heavy punishments for what she’s done, but she does it to herself. The action of going into the tunnels and disappearing are basically the only ‘punishment’ she ever really faces in canon. That and dying in the Great battle. 

Now let’s compare that to SS Hollyleaf.

Now unlike Canon Hollyleaf, SS Hollyleaf has a power. Not only that but its extremely powerful. So she spends most of Shattered Stars trying to do what she thinks is right and do what she thinks is best for Thunderclan. That includes becoming keeper of the code. In keeping with her similar canon counter part, ss Hollyleaf’s main driving force for her actions are her sense of purpose, her faith in the warrior code , and her own sense of self importance from being in the prophecy. Now like in Canon she finds out about her true heritage and her sense of purpose, self worth and faith in the warrior code is shattered. However instead of flipping out and murdering Ashfur, she does things very differently. She appoints herself keeper of the code, in order to help keep secrets and possible code breaking relationships out of Thunderclan. Through her work she finds out that yes there are such things in Thunderclan and she is able to help stop it. It feeds her ego, purpose and faith. So she continues to try and stop wrong doings. Similar to Dany from Game of Thrones, every time she succeeds she grows more and more determined and more self assured that she’s doing the right things. She’s a ticking time bomb.  By the time she reveals the secret at the gathering she so sure what she’s doing is right! Also she isn’t just the one to reveal the secret she uses her POWER to FORCE every cat she feels has done wrong to reveal what they’ve done! Then everything falls apart. 

Similar to in canon she watches a bit of the aftermath of her revelation and then runs away however there are some important key differences here. The peace between the clans is shattered as Hollyleaf revealed more than just the half kit secret. She also revealed that Ashfur tried to kill them and Brambleclaw was working with Hawkfrost a long time ago who tried to kill Firestar. She watches as the clans are about to rip one another apart for the actions of their clanmates (also Breezepelt tries to rock her shit). Then when she does run away, Sorreltail goes after her and brings her back to the camp. Hollyleaf gets back and SEES just how upset her clanmates are not only at her but the entire situation! Their faith in not only her, but their faith in THEIR ENTIRE CLAN IS DESTROYED. She gets to watch as Ferncloud’s family implodes right in front of her as Ashfur is exiled. She gets to watch as Brambleclaw goes from being well respected warrior to the ‘son of Tigerstar’ once again as he’s forced down from being deputy. She gets to watch as Thunderclan implodes in on itself. AND SHE KNOWS ITS HER FAULT. SHE’S THE ONE WHO HAS DONE THIS, BY USING HER POWER. Her entire life her driving force/purpose has been using her power to uphold the code and use her power for good and be a part of the prophecy. When she finally does, she fucks it up. She fucks it up hard. She destroys everything she loves and everything she’s worked for. Adding onto this she loses not only her position as the Keeper of the code, but also is relived of her warrior duties. Hollyleaf loses everything. Her life purpose, her faith in the prophecy and her own self worth. She also loses her her clanmates faith in her and her family. She’s left with nothing. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but guilt and regret for what she’s done. 

So she tries to run away like in canon, but she fails because of Lionblaze and Jayfeather. And listen yes they saved her because she is their sister, but the three’s relationship is DAMAGED. Its been damaged and they’ve grown distant from each other for quite a bit of SS and its gonna take time to rebuild. 

Anyways, all of this weighs on Hollyleaf and she doesn’t get to run away from it. She has to go home and face it. And let me tell you the guilt she feels is going to EAT AT HER BAD. Like no punishment Firestar could give her could ever compare to guilt, self hatred and self punishment she’s going to give herself. 

Spoilers for Dark winter. 

Because of her actions at the Gathering Onestar refuses to honor the agreement for Thunderclan to share territory for Leaf-bare. Thunderclan ends up facing starvation. Hollyleaf can’t do anything to help, because she’s technically grounded and it’s all her fault that her clanmates are starving. So what does she do? She stops eating. Completely. In her mind she doesn’t deserve to eat, because its her fault Thunderclan is in this position and if she can’t help to hunt to fix the situation then she doesn’t deserve to eat. I won’t go into too much more detail cause you get the point and also spoilers. 

So does Hollyleaf get off easy in SS cause she doesn’t get to run away into the tunnels? HELL NO. She loses her family, friends, her friend’s respect, her entire life purpose and her faith in the one thing that's guided her through her life: The prophecy. She’s forced to face what she has done, not only to her family but to her clanmates as well. Her Dark Winter chapter will focus a lot on her facing the backlash that she’s caused. So while it may seem like she got of easy. She really hasn’t, her punishment has just begun. 

Thank you for listening to my insane rambling lol. 

[chronurgy]

also, 1, 3, 4 for aunrae :>

Ooo thank you again!

What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their Class/Subclass?

Aunrae is a 10/2 conquest paladin/light domain cleric. In game her oath is technically vengeance, but I'm using conquest here because I think it fits her character better.

Like all drow, especially high ranking drow, Aunrae was trained in swordplay from a young age. And it was clear from that young age that this charismatic girl took easily to violence. The Matron Mother quickly picked up on her youngest daughter's talent and realized that the girl would soon have options beyond her station, possibly with the other houses, and sought to bind her to their family. She had her other daughters killed to pave the way for Aunrae to succeed her, but not before forcing Aunrae to swear an oath at a shrine to Lolth, an oath that bound her to destroy their family's enemies. The paladin abilities she received were seen as a blessing from Lolth upon her and their family. She trained for years, drilling day in and day out until she could have sworn the movements were ground into her very bones.

Her first level in cleric came years later, when she first stepped out of the underdark and into the world above. Eilistraee had been sending her dreams for some time, but when she reached the surface she was gifted a level of light cleric to remind her that she would never again need to stand in the darkness, and her oath was changed to redemption. It was to remind her of just how far she'd come, and to encourage her to help others like her who dreamed of the surface and a kinder life still.

After the death of Elinor, oath in tatters, she arrived at the temple of Bhaal and did the only thing she felt she could, the only thing she felt she was good for, the only thing she knew how to do, had trained day in and day out for, and knealt before the altar of her father, her new family, and swore them an oath - an oath to destroy all of their enemies. She rose a conquest paladin once more. Her single level in light cleric never left her though, this one connection to a beautiful and peaceful life, and she clung to this sign that she might not be destined for nothing but darkness in her worst moments (she refused to ever kill anyone carrying an eilistraeean symbol).

When she wakes up on that nautiloid, devoid of all memories, it's the paladin maneuvers ground into her bones that come back to her first. She knows she is built to dominate and destroy. But her first night after the nautiloid, her first night back on the surface, she feels that same bright and loving presence she had felt all those years ago and wakes with a light that will carry her through the underdark, for which she feels both a nostalgia and a dread she does not understand.

She takes most of the rest of her levels in paladin, finding and renewing her grip on her old strengths. The second level she takes (or rather, is gifted) in cleric comes after she kills Isobel. It was an accident - she lost control during a fight just as she had all those years ago when she killed Elinor and her family. Sobbing, miserable, and especially after receiving her monstrous new form, she is convinced that there is no place in this world for someone like her, that she will never escape her terrible fate, and that she is bound only for darkness. It's in this state that she feels that bright, loving presence again who reminds her that no one is forever bound to darkness and that if she needs, she can make her own light. She need never fear being lost in darkness again. It's this reassurance that allows her to reject Bhaal, in the end, and change her oath once more to redemption.

What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest skill? Is this accurate?

She would consider her swordsmanship to be her greatest skill. I wouldn't necessarily say it's her greatest skill, but it's certainly one of her best.

What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

She would call her greatest flaw what she considers her "obsessive need" for love and friendship. Even during her time with the Bhaal cult, she still made friends amazing the cultists, had people she loved and was close to (including Orin). The problem, of course, was that Bhaal wasn't very happy with that, and she tended to black out and murder them. She's wrong about it being her greatest flaw though. This ability to care for people and form connections even against all odds is in many ways one of her greatest strengths.