#Birthright Pt 1

[aquamonstra]

was rewatching Birthright pt 1 and suddenly became obsessed with Data's corridor painting. I WANT IT.

I managed to track down this Christies listing from 2006 with the MOST GARBAGE PHOTO that makes it look like it's been sitting in a smoker's house for 20 years.

So I took the liberty of downloading it and retouching it to better match it's original condition. Et voila! It's too gorgeous for that awful Christie's photo to be the only memory of it.

I wish I could give credit to the original artist but I don't know who it is, only that it's credited to the "Star Trek art department" whom I definitely have GREAT RESPECT FOR. If anybody knows who is the actual artist behind Data's paintings I would love to know!!!

[spockvarietyhour]

Alien/Civilian shuttle interior, Season 4-7

[sapphosewrites]

TREKTOBER DAY #1: ACADEMIC RIVALS

STARFLEET CYBERNETICS JOURNAL ARCHIVE

"Androids Don't Dream of Electric Sheep: A Case Study in States of Altered Consciousness in a Synthetic Life Form" - J. S. Bashir

"Defining Consciousness: A Refutation of the Possibility of Synthetic Dreams" - B. Maddox

"Possibilities in the Expanding Universe: Moving Past a Limited Definition of Life Forms" - J. S. Bashir

"Data Doesn't Dream: Response to 'Possibilities'" - B. Maddox

"Overruled: Consequences of New Legal Precedent Establising Android Autonomy" - J. S. Bashir (Note: submitted with the additional subtitle, 'This Data Does')

[reignpage]

A Cursed Mercy

Synopsis: in which you realise acts of kindness come with conditions Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: cursing, mentions of murder, not proofread Pt 1, Pt 2

You did not return home. 

Instead, you had brushed yourself off and sought refuge within a humble cave. It’s hollow enough to provide scant shelter you from the night’s murderous intent, but not enough to lay down in. You did not sleep either. How could you when a tempest is raging in your mind?

Through the long, arduous hours, you clung to yourself and watched light seep through the canopy at dawn break, until the ghoulish forest gave way to gentler hues, with birds singing in the distance and the wind rustling the leaves in a soft lullaby. 

Despite the twist and turns of the night, you find a strange solace settling upon you. You are now untethered to that ghastly place and to those dreadful people who find home there. Perhaps, with this newfound freedom, you can start anew, free yourself from your birthright and live on as a different woman. You are not cursed, you are no harbinger of misfortune, and you are no monster. 

That is what you allow yourself to believe until your smile falters just as rain does. Darker thoughts swim in your head as the light shower become fierce flooding.

Your departure, forced and sudden, really did bring about a blessing from the Heavens. Now the village folk can drink to their heart’s content and grow their crops as intended, tending to the sick and young as good neighbours do, whilst you weep into your shaking hands. 

The rain doesn’t pass very quickly. It pummels the forest floor with its might, bruising the ground and creating puddles that flow over until they run into your hide out. The air has gotten colder, and your weary bones cannot take much more of this, especially not with the hunger settling in the pit of your stomach. 

You must find somewhere the rain won’t reach, somewhere you can build a fire and cook a meal. That thought forms easily but the means to achieve to do all those do not. Still, you must try. 

Emerging from the hole, you tremble from the force of the raindrops, nails digging into your forearms as you stumble through the forest, searching through the blur coating your lashes for any shrubbery, any meagre scrap of sustenance. 

Your stomach growls louder. 

Soaked to the bone, you search for anything you can eat to soothe that ache inside. It’s getting harder to move, to even breathe, with the lethargy settling into your soul, but you push on, falling limp against the bark of a tree. 

Movement catches your eye. Something red. It’s difficult to tell with the blurriness of your sight, but you feel its tendrils coaxing you forward, like a pull urging you on. It disappears behind trees and reemerges again in a different direction. You don’t know why you follow or how you have the energy to do so, but you do regardless. 

Closer now, you realise it’s a mist. A familiar looking mist. One you swore you dreamed. And yet it’s there, ebbing and flowing, unbothered by the rain. It swirls into an opening of the mountain wall. You cannot tell how far you’ve journeyed away from the clearing and from your hole, disoriented from the allure of this crimson thing. 

Inside is much bigger than the one you found yourself, embarrassingly so. The water does not reach in, and there’s a warm draught embracing you. Sighing, you smile at the red mist. You don’t know if it has consciousness, if it can tell you are expressing gratitude, although you only now gain the wit to realise that maybe it is not benevolent. Perhaps it has lured you into a trap. 

It's dark inside the cave and you don’t know what lies ahead, but that mist shimmers in the air, pulsing as if to say you must follow. There is nothing to be lost, you suppose. If you leave, you’ll die from the elements or eventually the hunger. No one will mourn you and no one will bury your remains. 

A voice breaks through the stillness, low and languid, it mocks, “You are a curious thing with little to no survival instincts.”

You jolt, head whipping around. The mist has vanished, and the rain is but a distant thrum. There’s no light in the cave and all your bearings has been pulled from under you. You’re starting to breathe deeply, goosebumps rising along your arms. 

“Who’s there?” 

The voice laughs. 

It can’t be. No, it wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. There is simply no conceivable way you met the monster all monsters fear and lived. Oh, but when something slithers against your calf, hard and warm, you know it to be true – you are, once again, in the presence of the King of Curses. That mark on your chest throbs.

“You are a weak thing, so meek and so fragile. How pathetic.” A huff blows past you, stinging your cheeks ever so slightly. 

Stumbling back, you begin to panic. “My Lord, I am so terribly sorry. I did not mean to encroach in your territory once again. Please grant me mercy one last time. This blunder will not happen again.”

He takes a huge inhale, and the hairs on your arms rise. Upon his exhale, you feel fire blow around you. It rushes past with a fury, settling your skin ablaze. Your eyes are shut tightly, body tense as you prepare for the scalding burn, but it does not come. When you open your eyes tentatively, you’re blinking in surprise. 

There is light in the cave. 

Torches you did not know were there have been lit and the cave grows warmer. You are frightened to realise the cave is much bigger than you had once thought – it’s big enough to house the enormous body of the dragon you met the previous night. 

He is lying down, head coming to rest on its forelimbs as he lazily glances at you. Right between you and the ferocious creature is a fire, wood burning under a skewered piece of meat. You hadn’t smelled it in the dark but now it is all you can think about, that charred smoke wafting to your nose and the savoury saltness settling on your tongue. Your stomach growls louder. 

A puff of smoke leaves his nostrils as he shuts his eyes closed. He’s amused. 

You shuffle on your feet, unsure. You’re starving but you dare not make a step closer. You do not know why he is allowing you to live despite his threats or why he’s tolerating your presence in another one of his caves again, and you don’t ask. It is unwise to keep playing with fire simply because you had not been burned the first time. 

“If death by starvation is your goal, then you need not wait much longer.”

Nervous, you stammer, “I’m sorry, my Lord?”

Under those sinewy eyelids, you can tell he has rolled his eyes. For reasons beyond you, it calms that anxiety festering inside just a little. There is no hint of tension in his intimidating body; this dragon before you is as calm as anything, lying on its belly with the light from the torches reflecting off his shiny scales, and his tail swishing back and forth. 

“My slumber was cut short by an irritating rat.” He seems to ignore your question. “If you awake me once more with your unattended hunger, you will pay.”

You frown at being called a rat, but you rush forward anyways, keeping an eye on the creature, wary of his intentions -- you still can’t shake off this feeling that it’s a trap. Still, you blow cool air onto the meat and tear into it, eyes rolling back from the satisfying delight of warm food. It tastes like boar, not that you’ve had much of it in your life, and it’s delicious. The portion is much bigger than you’ve ever seen, and you find just a little shame in finishing it all and so quickly. 

Falling back down with a satisfied hum, you glance up at the dragon through the fire and notice he’s staring at you already. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” His tail swishes once more and that is all the acknowledgment you receive. “If you don’t mind my boldness, my Lord, may I ask why you’ve been so kind to me?”

The ground vibrates from his sleepy growl, clearly irritated he can’t just rest as he so desires. He answers you anyways. “You are my sacrifice, yes?”

How did he know about that?

“I see and hear all that goes on in my forest. I had no interest in whatever measly mortal they offered up; should they die from dehydration is their burden to bear, not mine. But something odd occurred.” His eyes open into slits and an intimidating snarl pierces the air. “The Heavens seemed to have played a cruel joke.”

Unsure, you repeat back, mulling the words, “A cruel joke?”

“What do you know of my kind, mortal?”

There are very few records in the library of dragons. Only a handful of people in the history of humanity had ever encountered such a creature and escaped with their lives. Once in a while, one will fly above, covering the sky with their wings, casting an eclipse. And that sighting will become folklore whispered from person to person, village to village and kingdom to kingdom, until they become watered down into a myth through generations. 

“Nothing, my Lord.”

He hums. “As it should be. For all your curiosities, there are some things best left unknown.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

In a flash, a flurry of red mist fills the air, spiralling with quick pulses until it fills your view. When you blink, it’s gone and so is the dragon. You whip your head around, searching for where it is, afraid he’s grown tired of your voice. This is the trap. He has lulled you into a false sense of security, only to strike when you are at your most trusting. 

You’re being lifted and shoved against the cave wall with a thud. It knocks you breathless. A hand is clutching your throat, calloused and large, it holds you up until your toes are skimming the floor. Frightened, you grip his arm and slap against it.

Standing before you is a man. His torso is bare but chiselled and hardened with muscles meant for dominating and killing. Black lines stretch around his forearms and down his chest. Those very same lines climb up his neck and rest on his face, lips curling into a sneer as crimson eyes meet yours. You know those eyes. 

“Yes,” he drags the word out, “what, indeed, does this have to do with you?”

His hand squeezes your throat, and you gasp, tears blurring your vision. This man is tall, even as your feet no longer touch the ground he towers over you. Body pinning yours, you can only make shallow breaths, desperately stilling your body as to not anger him further. 

“I’m sorry, my Lord! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!”

The King bites the air, just a hairsbreadth away from your nose. “I do not need your apology. I need your cooperation.”

“Yes, yes! Whatever you want, my Lord. Just please spare me!”

Eyes drifting down at the black mark on your chest, he scowls and drops you. Falling to a clumsy heap, you scamper back, watching his back tense and flex with a barely restrained wrath. Somehow, the creature is more nightmarish as a man than as a dragon, especially from below, where he looks even taller and bigger. 

You’re heaving, hands soothing the burn of his touch.

“You will follow me as I journey through the kingdom. You will not say a word to anyone else about my nature. You will not attempt to run. If you do, I will find you and I will kill you. You will be a good little pet. No more. No less.”

Nodding frantically, you find purchase against the wall, pressing yourself there as if you could hide from that malicious glare. With one final, disgusted look at you, he shifts back into a dragon, returning to his lying position and he does not open his eyes. 

The rest of the day passes and when night falls, you do not sleep. You can only think about how the rain had stopped a long time ago and how hours later, you still feel the branding weight of his body against yours. 

Pulsing, the mark on your chest serves as a reminder: you are tethered once more and there is no escape. 

[daenysthedreamer101]

HOTD Masterlist

General Masterlist

~ Daughter of Steel and Bronze (Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong)

This is the story of Princess Daena Targaryen - daughter of the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. What role will she play in the impending doom of House Targaryen?

Follow along as she learns to navigate the complex life of the Red Keep, uncovers treacherous plots, falls victim to dangerous lies, and falls in love with the heir of Harrenhal.

Will she survive the Game of Thrones or perish as so many others did?

Moodboard

Character profile

Daena x Harwin

Prologue

Ch 1 - To King's Landing

Ch 2 - Claiming your birthright

Ch 3 - Dragonstone

Ch 4 - Blood of the Dragon

Ch 5 - Victory

Ch 6 - Gone with the Wind

Ch 7 - Loss of Innocence

Ch 8 - Crossroads

Ch 9 - Child no more

Ch 10 - Signs and Portents

Ch 11 - The comforts of home

Ch 12 - Hidden secrets

Ch 13 - Daughter's anguish

Ch 14 - Total Eclipse of the Heart

Ch 15 - To Mend a Broken Heart

Ch 16 - Succession

Ch 17 - To Become One

To be continued...

Depictions of Daena

Pt 1/ Pt 2 / Pt 3

Pt 4 / Pt 5 / Pt 6

Pt 7 / Pt 8 / Pt 9

Pt 10 / Pt 11

Secondary characters

Lady Amanda Royce

Ladies Joy and Hanna Strong

Lady Rowena Redfort

Rowena's reaction to Rhea's death

Daena's outfits

Pt 1

Pt 2

Headcanons

Daena's style

How Vermithor bonded to Daena

Daena's style during mourning

[daitranscripts]

Dorian Masterpost

Main Quest Cutscenes:

Recruitment: Idiot Countrymen Here Lies the Abyss: Trite Propaganda What Pride Had Wrought: Once This is Done

Prompted Conversations:

In Hushed Whispers: Southern Mages From the Ashes: You Inspire Faith Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: Marvelous Business Post-game - Dalish Origin Dwarf Origin Human Mage Origin Human Non-Mage Origin Qunari Origin - Investigate: Tell Me About Yourself Investigate: Tell Me About the Imperium Investigate: Why Were You In Redcliffe? Investigate: Tell Me About Alexius Investigate: Have You Seen Alexius? - Special: So… You and Iron Bull? Companion Relationships Specialization: Assassin Specialization: Templar

Personal Quest - The Last Resort of Good Men

Pt. 1 - Contact Optional - Your Father Sent a Letter Pt. 2 - The Family Retainer Pt. 3 - That Sort of Day

Approval:

Low Approval: Why Are You Really Here? Low Approval: Travel Arrangements Warm Approval: A Letter Regarding Felix High Approval: Undue Influence

Romance:

Flirt: I Could Watch You All Day Flirt: We Should Talk Flirt: We Should Talk (Romanced) Something More Primal - The Magister’s Birthright: Pt. 1 - About This Amulet of Yours… Pt. 2a - Ponchard de Lieux Pt. 2b - Ponchard de Lieux (Dorian Present) Pt. 3 - In Your Debt - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: After the Ball Ending

Trespasser:

Catching Up With Dorian Prompted Conversation

Deleted Dialogue

Companion Masterpost

[scorpiowhims]

scorpiowhims zodiac sims lookbook pt. 1: aries

featuring my depiction of aries: aria armstrong🍒

description of aries:

"Aries is an active, energetic sign. People with Sun in Aries are direct, straightforward, and uncomplicated. The body comes first with Aries. Sun in Aries people are natural athletes. At the very least, their natural inclination is to use their bodies to get things done. Aries loves to start anything new, and they have trouble sitting still. They are pioneers in whatever they do, and there is a very basic quality of bravery in these people that is unmistakable! Aries generally knows what they want, and they know the quickest route to getting it. Independence is their birthright. Nothing gets them going more than a fresh slate, the promise of a new day, and a brand new start.” (paraphrased quote from cafeastrology.com)

traits: ambitious, self-assured, active

aspiration: bodybuilder

career: athlete

residence: oasis springs

imagery: rams, red, fire, honeysuckle & tiger lily

lifestyle: energetic

this is the start to a concept legacy challenge i’ve been working on; the sims inspired by the signs and the traits for gameplay. feel free to take as inspiration!!

[pen-and-umbra]

Jenova, Minerva, LOVELESS, The Queen and the Gi connection, pt. 2

Part 1 - Jenova, Minerva, LOVELESS, The Queen and the Gi connection, pt. 1

The most astounding lore connection, however, is found elsewhere, concealed within one of the mini-games. At a certain stage, Queen's Blood becomes a fully fledged side quest, and the now-deceased creator of the game, Lidrehl, contacts Cloud to relay an intriguing story behind it.

(“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and in turn, they loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In a blink of an eye, her love turned to hate, her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her subjects perished. Until, that is, a ray of hope appeared – a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people into rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death. Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born. And that... is the story of the Shadowblood Queen. Some call it a parable. A myth. A fairy tale. And I wish it were! But she is as real as you and I! And she is coming. Her resurrection is nigh.”)

“In a blink of an eye, her love turned to hate, her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch”—this passage describes the metamorphosis Sephiroth undergoes during Nibelheim flashback to a tee. The language used to depict the queen's transformation - "in a blink of an eye, her love turned to hate, her compassion to cruelty"— parallels Sephiroth's own shift from heroism to villainy. “Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition” — anything rings a bell?

“This planet is my birthright! [FFVII Remake & Rebirth]”, “What I want, Cloud, is to sail the darkness of the cosmos with this planet as my vessel, just as my mother did long ago. Then one day we'll find a new planet. And on its soil, we'll create a shining future [FFVII AC]”, “My dominion shall reach into infinity” [FFVII Rb], “I am the chosen one. I have been chosen to be the leader/ruler of this Planet [FFVII OG]”. Birthright, dominion, and leadership are all expressions associated with the concept of a ruler or sovereign, much like a king or queen. Similarly, the excerpt stating "her kingdom grew as her subjects perished" signals a conquest and the losses suffered by the queen's people as a consequence.

Lidrehl's story thus appears to be the first case of Jenova infestation, offering a plausible explanation for the origins of the “female” entity known as Jenova. A female ruler of an unnamed people (possibly the Cetra or the Gi) appears to have had an inexplicable change of heart and embarked on a path of destruction. It is conceivable that this entity, possibly the ruler of the Gi, descended on the planet via a meteor (“subjects perished” = perhaps the Gi old world perished as a result of their queen's conquest? This implication is discussed in pt.1) in order to pursue its “boundless ambitions”. This mirrors the plan Sephiroth outlines to Cloud before their confrontation in Advent Children, emphasizing the parallel between the two narratives. “<...> …to sail the darkness of the cosmos with this planet as my vessel <...> Then one day we'll find a new planet. And on its soil, we'll create a shining future”.

On the other hand, the ruler could be Cetran, and whatever caused her to change bore virus-like nature (think of how AC! Sephiroth released Geostigma, which infected people with Jenova's organics). It's somewhat puzzling that the Temple of Ancients makes no mention of their supposed queen when referring to the malicious “celestial adversary”. Then again, it could be reflected in the account of their “enemy” being a shape-shifter who wore the faces of their deceased to spread discord among people.

In fact, the supposed queen may have been killed by this alien entity and wound up dead (as human Sephiroth was after Nibelheim), but the alien entity was impersonating her (again, much like Jenova at various points takes the form of Sephiroth in OG and Remake). Whatever corrupted the queen came with the meteor (the Gi connection again?). Incidentally, the Northern Crater is sitting on the same continent where the Forgotten Capital is located. If there was an alien virus-like substance there, it could have potentially reached the city — a detail that also resonates with Shiva summon lore, as she allegedly froze the impact region to “staunch” the wound.

“An ice-elemental entity and ruler over the world of ice. It is said that she once saved the planet from certain destruction by staunching a great wound with a glacier.” [Loading screen description of Shiva]

Conversely, the ruler of Cetran people could have taken measures to address the disaster, and got infected or killed on site. 

“Until that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch, they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people into rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death”. Given that the Cetra are described as being more attuned to magic and the arcane, it is reasonable to assume the Emerald Witch was indeed a Cetra. Furthermore, the term “emerald” directly alludes to the color of Mako and the Lifestream. When Aerith pacifies the Lifestream at the Temple of Ancients, she effectively becomes a Lifestream whisperer, or a sorceress.

Therefore, it is reasonable to assume the powers the Emerald Witch possessed were likely linked to the ability to manipulate Lifestream energy on a grand scale. Not too dissimilar to what Aerith does in the original ending, huh?

“Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born”—this is highly reminiscent of the Negative Lifestream from Advent Children or the dark essence Kadaj was using to infuse water at the Forgotten Capital. Or even the Geostigma.

Viewed in a broader context, this suggests the passage is referring to the manner in which Jenova's cells spread to infect individuals and animals, potentially reflecting its virulent nature or hinting at the deliberate experiments conducted by ShinRA.

The Shadowblood Queen card bears striking resemblances to the wall depictions of Jenova in the Temple of the Ancients, including hidden eyes, flowing locks, and a hairstyle reminiscent of a meteor shape. The latter, in turn, oddly echoes Rosa's portrayal in LOVELESS, the headpiece in particular.

Conversely, the Emerald Witch card shows similarities to the Goddess Materia statue (the cowl) in Crisis Core, suggesting a possible association with Minerva. The Cetra connection is further solidified by FFVII Remake's ShinRA HQ VR tour. It highlights the traditional Cetra white robe and a cowl when touching upon the subject of harnessing Lifestream's power [through creation of Materia].

As the Planet's avatar, Minerva is an ideal candidate for being a sorceress capable of manipulating the Lifestream. This implies that Minerva may have once been a mortal Cetra, the Emerald Witch. Furthermore, the flower-garland garment on the Emerald Witch card shares surprising similarities to the one Aerith wore while performing her song in the LOVELESS play.

Interestingly, the flowers depicted on the card are of the yellow variety, which provides a nod to the flowers associated with Aerith throughout the franchise. This might hint at Omni!Aerith's new role and mission, drawing a direct parallel between the Emerald Witch card and Aerith's mission.

There's another dead giveaway that connects the Shadowblood Queen and Jenova. As Lidrehl wraps up his story, we are given a glimpse of a robed figure putting their arms threateningly over him. There's no mistake here, as the robe sleeves bear the telltale tears and tatters of “failed clones”. To highlight this, the figure vanishes with distinctive purple/magenta effects similar to those of Jenovaroth and Jenova. 

What's more, when relaying the account of Shadowblood Queen, Lidrehl uses a very specific language, used only by Aerith to describe Jenova in the first part of the Remake.

Lidrehl: “That foul thing is the source of this nightmare <...>” Aerith: [before Jenova Dreamweaver battle] “The source. Of everything.”

Lidrehl’s final words are full of grim promise. 

(“Some call it a parable. A myth. A fairy tale. And I wish it were! But she is as real as you and I! And she is coming. Her resurrection is nigh”.)

Her resurrection. Not Sephiroth's. It is Jenova who will come back.

This detail lends more weight to Sephiroth's cryptic speech about his “fragmented mother” in the Temple of Ancients.

(“My fragmented mother, these errant worlds… All shall be one again.”)

From a broader perspective, the purpose of the Reunion remains the same: to bring Jenova's cell bearers together, but this time the meeting will span across timelines to make the “fragmented mother” whole again [as extensively discussed here], thus fulfilling Lidrehl's prophetic statement of Shadowblood's Queen resurrection looming. Additionally, Sephiroth's message about creating infinity/eternity to rule all the creation forever aligns with Jenova's boundless ambition for conquest, as described by Lidrehl: "Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition." In fact, the godhood aspiration that Sephiroth exhibits in the original game can be seen as a reflection of Jenova's/Shadowblood's own limitless ruling ambition.

(“It shall encompass worlds unbound by fate and histories unwritten. <...> My dominion shall reach into infinity”)

In essence, the Queen's Blood game retells an ancient myth about Jenova's origins and supposedly the Cetran victory over it. Lidrehl's story also seems to reveal the original identity of Minerva, suggesting that the Emerald Witch's true identity and arcane knowledge could hold a key to defeating Jenova. Whatever the case may be, Lidrehl was unquestionably killed for this knowledge, as evidenced by the threatening presence which appeared by the end of his speech, and generally we can surmise as much from the card game quest. Based on the earlier discussion, it seems that the LOVELESS play is another aspect, a precursor, or perhaps a (human?) perspective of the same story. Although some details may have been altered or mixed up over time, the similarities remain. As such, Rosa's character prototype may have once been the Queen who became corrupted. Similarly, the character Aerith portrays during her vocal performance might have been inspired by the Emerald Witch, who I believe was the mortal form of Minerva.

Lidrehl's story also seems to point in the direction of Jenova's resurrection, with Jenova being an active, sentient and autonomous agent that has a history of mindjacking other living beings. The account of a fair and kind Queen suddenly and inexplicably becoming corrupted serves as a deliberate parallel and a precursor to Sephiroth's case of a renowned hero drastically turning wicked and cruel. FFVII Rebirth's version of Nibelheim flashback further corroborates this idea, from strongly emphasizing Jenova-esque glitches Sephiroth experiences to outright superimposing Jenova's face over his, thus conveying a sense of possession.

If Jenova was indeed once a Cetran ruler, or more accurately, if it once actually infested a Cetran body like a virus and NOT shapeshifted into one, then this brings a layer of paradoxical irony to ShinRA's early findings. They were not wrong to classify the being as an Ancient. This would also lend more weight to Jenovaroth's ability to bend and control the Whispers, as he would have some of the Ancients' blood in him, much like Omni!Aerith supposedly does with White Whispers. The “choking” and “corroding” of the Lifestream to overpower and command it does evoke the Cetran characteristic relationship with the Planet, albeit twisted in nature.

This also raises intriguing questions about Sephiroth's biological makeup and may offer a clue to defeating Jenovaroth. If the Jenova substance was foreign to the Cetra's ruler own organism, then it is equally foreign to Sephiroth. If the being we know as Jenova is merely an infected Cetra, then Sephiroth was implanted with Cetran cells harboring something else. Therefore, to eradicate the Jenovaroth threat permanently, the party may need to devise a method not only to defeat Jenovaroth in battle, but to “cleanse” the infection, thereby severing the symbiotic/parasitic grip Jenova has on living organisms. This approach echoes how Aerith purged the Geostigma infection in Advent Children.

.......

Screenshots courtesy of Mapocolops comprehensive video on Queen's Blood quest. Other reads:

Jenova, Minerva, LOVELESS, The Queen and the Gi connection, pt. 1

Jenova being awake & Was Sephiroth possessed?

Jenova resurrecting itself across timelines?

👋 @pen-and-umbra

Jul 26, 2024

[allyjoe755]

What I Think Pt. 1

lucien vanserra x reader

Part Two

A/N: ask and ye shall receive. An incomplete angsty-blurb, essentially Lucien has taken his place as heir to the Day Court and so he's betrothed... to you

Word Count: 517

Warnings: there is Lucien slander. And some angst. I'm sorry (not really)

o-o-o

“Not like me.” You breathed out a humorless laugh. “You haven’t sacrificed like I have.”

Lucien shook his head and let out a heartier and less humorous laugh. “So then that’s what this is really about? That you want some accolade for the things that you’ve laid aside for the Day Court? Please, y/n.” He scoffed. “The only person you can blame for that is yourself.”

You wanted to scream, wanted to tell him how he was wrong, how he didn’t understand–

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand.

“You don’t get it,” you whispered as you looked at the ground, your face softening with realization.

“What?”

“You don’t get it,” you said again, louder this time, your face hardening as you finally looked at him. “My entire life has been spent devoted to this court. I would do anything– I have done everything– for these people.” You could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes, yet you continued. “But you don’t get it. You’re not from here. You don’t think the same way we do, you don’t care the same way we do–”

“I do care!” He exclaimed, and you could still see the way his shoulders tightened even with his arms crossed. “I care about this court; do you think I would be here if I didn’t?”

“I don’t think you would be here if it wasn’t convenient for you!” You replied, your voice rising.

“Oh, really? And what is it that you think, y/n?”

You didn’t see him roll his eyes but you could hear it all the same in his voice. You took a step closer to him, your temper rising.

“I think,” you began, “that when you were a young man, you fell desperately in love with a woman who desperately loved you back. I think that was the first time that anyone in your life truly saw you. And I think that when she died, and you fled to the Spring Court, that despite his flaws you still liked being Tamlin’s second in command because it meant he needed you.

“I think that when you found your mate, Elain, you were elated– as anyone would be– but you especially so. Because it meant being with someone who would be desperate for you. And I think that if she hadn’t shown such a strong disinterest, you wouldn’t have begun trying to figure out whose bastard son you were. Because she would have wanted you. She would have needed you.

“I think that if Elain hadn’t rejected the bond altogether, you would have never found your way to the Day Court and claimed your birthright. And I think you only wanted it in the first place because then, finally then, it would mean that there would be people who needed you. There would be people who looked up to you, who depended on you.

“I think, Lucien Vanserra,” you said, voice deathly quiet, “that you want to be needed, and need to be wanted.” You shook your head. “And what an unfortunate circumstance that has landed both of us in.”

[artemistorm]

Master Sword Pt 3: What Wild thinks of the Master Sword

(See Part 1: Master Sword Facts and what Sky thinks of the Master Sword and Part 2: What Time, Warriors, Hyrule, Four, Wind think of the Master Sword)

We see in Memories Part 2 that Wild first drew the Master Sword at age 12 and we know from BotW/AoC lore that he was a child prodigy with the sword and easily drew it. But in BotW when he attempts to draw it, it challenges him and steals his life as a test of strength and it's only when he has enough hearts that he is allowed to actually pull it from the pedestal.

In Spar, he makes a snide comment about how the Master Sword actually can and does hurt her Masters. This is likely a reference to the heart-loss challenge in BotW when you try to draw the Master Sword.

Back in Memories pt 2, the next panel is interesting because Wild is naked. Yes I know that sounds weird, but it's interesting because it makes me think that he has done the Sword Trials. The Sword Trials are BotW DLC monster-fighting challenge where if you complete all the levels, the Master Sword gets powered up to full power. And just like Eventide Island, you have to start from zero, with no clothes, items, or weapons.

In Swords, he is still curious about the Master Sword. Despite his misgivings, he still wants to understand it.

Wild does state, that despite his frustration with it, the Master Sword is right to test its would-be-wielders. Character development!

Overall, Wild has a complicated relationship with the Master Sword. He doesn't love it like Sky does, but he doesn't hate it like Time does. He's upset by it's judgement but he understands it. And as you can see in Broken Master Sword, he's not afraid to use and misuse the Master Sword. After all, it is his birthright.

[4rainynite]

EAH Dorm Rooms Headcanon pt 1

Apple & Raven's Dorm.

One's a princess who's loyal to her destiny, while the other princess is rebellious and fighting for a cause.

Throughout the series we've seen Apple & Raven's room the most since they're the main characters. but let's dive in a little more.

It's obvious that Raven and Apple have different styles as Raven's style would be associated with the gothic subculture and Apple would be associated with the preppy subculture. Apple's main colors are red, white, and gold (and sometimes pink) and her motifs are apples, bows, and pearls. Raven's main colors are purple, black, and grey/silver (and sometimes turquoises) and her motifs are birds/feathers, chains, and scales. Also, their main colors are Ever After High school's color and their alliances purple for the Rebels and red for the Royals.

Mirrors seem to be one of the things that unites the two girls. Think about it, in the Snow White story it was a magic mirror that told the Evil Queen who was the fairest. Throughout the dorm mirrors are shown on both sides (heck, there're tiny mirrors on Raven's slippers). Throughout history mirrors have been used to reflect what we see and who we want to see. And during the book and web series mirrors have been used during important story lines for example: Headmaster Grimm hearing the Evil Queen laugh, Apple using the mirror net to spy on Raven (consent much?), how the Evil Queen spies on others (Ugh, privacy!), mirrorpads, mirrorphones, mirror prison, the booking glass in Dragon Games, etc. Mirrors are important in the EAH world.

From what is stated on Apple's card (under Apple's side) the room she and Raven share is the largest dorm room (in the girls' dorm) reserved for epic tales. Seeing how the Headmaster plays favorites I'm surprise he didn't give this room to Apple first. But maybe he doesn't assign the rooms and as long as the character is from an epic tale: evil, good, or neutral they can have it!

Apple's side: Apple is a Royal both in alliance and birthright. Apple aspires to be the perfect queen and her dorm room reflects it. Honestly, don't tell me this wasn't the bedroom you wanted when you were five-years-old and in your princess phase.

From what I read in the books Apple's furniture consists of: redwood furniture, canopy, gilded chairs and wardrobe. Only the best for a future queen!

Apple lives and breathes the princess lifestyle and not just because she is one, she works hard for it. She's also very studious as she is one of the few students with the top grades so whenever she's not checking herself in the mirror she is studying, reading, or preparing for future school events.

Apple cares deeply about her looks and her magic talking mirror helps her both in fashion and in confidence. I love the irony that Apple spends more time consulting a magic mirror than Raven.

Though it was never seen in the show Apple did receive a jewelry box similar to Raven's. The jewelry Apple may keep in there are probably pearls, rubies, mini crowns, and apple barrettes since that is what she usually wears.

In the Getting Fairiest line Apple has a nightstand where she places her crown while getting ready for an event or sleeping. It was never shown in the webseries, but we did see Briar's nightstand where she keeps her sunglasses (will show when it's Briar's turn) and them seem to be larger than the toy version.

Apple's Fainting Couch has been seen in a few episodes, sadly we never saw her use it. Which is a bummer because, picture this:

Apple laying on her fainting couch writing in her diary WITH HER GLASSES ON! Suddenly, the door knocks and Apple scrambles to put her glasses in the secret compartment and looking very awkward hiding them. That could've been a running gag, we were robbed of that and seeing Apple in her glasses! Plus, the embroidered apple pillow is so cute!

It wasn't seen during Dragon Games, I'll let it pass since the animators were probably busy and we're human we forget stuff. I also believe that Apple keeps her diary in the storage of the fainting couch.

Seeing how she and Raven have the biggest dorm (in the girls' dorm) of course Apple would have a closet and a dresser to fit all her luxurious clothes. But, sometimes the closet isn't there in some scene. My theory is that since Ever After High School is magical maybe the furniture appears when it is needed, or for example when the student is in the room the windows will appear to bring in some like. Like I said above during the Fainting Couch the animators are busy and the layouts change with each animator.

The vanity was originally Apple's desk which had a bulletin board above it. Again, layout change and the furniture appears when it is needed. I kinda like that Apple has fairy lights seeing how traditional her style is, but see does have a poster of guitar, so she may have a spark to her.

Raven Side: Even before the Rebel movement Raven had a rebellious streak in her. She questioned how her world worked, her story, and herself. Despite Raven's fashion sense matching a traditional fairy tale villain it was her choice to dress that way.

Raven's didn't originally look the way we see it now; Apple (along with Briar) redecorated her side of the dorm to resemble more of an evil queens lair. In the webseries Apple gave Raven an evil throne, an evil crown, and an evil haunted mirror (she may have added the extra mirrors), while in the book Apple put spikes on most of Raven's furniture and gave her a goblin bed sheet set. As nice as Apple was trying to make Raven feel at home, it wasn't right of her to change roommates and go through Raven's things without consent.

One thing that stands out in Raven's room is a white guitar, which gives us the idea that Raven is a music lover. One of my many headcanons is Raven's dad got her into music as a bonding activity between the two and the guitar used to be his before he passed it down to his daughter.

Personally, Raven's is my favorite room design (that we got to see) and if I had the budget, I would remodel my room like hers.

As stated above the room Briar (and Ashlynn) are currently living in the same dorm as Raven's mother (and Cerise's mom). I believe Raven lived in her mother's dorm during freedom year (freshmen year) or will live there her final year, and like many boarding schools/ colleges students don't live in the same room every year.

In the color palette it says imperial gold, but I see black in the color scheme, sure there's 'gold' in the flooring and candlelight, but maybe this was an early idea that the creators had to unite Raven and Apple in a way.

Despite being the future Evil Queen, Raven spends the least amount of time looking at herself in the mirror, gotta love irony. It was also mentioned in the book that Raven tries not to compare herself to Apple since that's what lead to her mother going off-book and vain, so she avoids them.

I believe the wide-eye girl was Brooke, which means besides Maddie and Kitty, she's the only non-Wondelander to see a narrator (lore).

We were able to see the jewelry box when Raven was getting ready for her date in 'Date Night' and an actual was available like Apple's. The jewelry we saw Raven take out of the jewelry box were mainly a silver ring and a chain necklace; so, her jewelry is mainly chains, spikes, and amythest. On the bracelet one of the charms is a potion bottle and Raven does have a potion/ bookcase (can be seen in one of the above images) that I wish we saw in use.

In the getting fairest line Raven has a nightstand where she places her high collars during the night. It wasn't seen in the show, but it's somewhere in her dorm.

We only saw glimpses of Raven's destiny vanity in the webseries. In 'Unfairest of Them All' Raven was heartbroken when Baba Yaga Hut's baby destroyed it., luckily it was rebuilt. The vanity has a built-in keyboard and a brush that looks like or doubles as a microphone. Raven is usually seen with her headphones on, listening to Taylor Quick, playing her guitar, or playing on her keyboard at her vanity. She probably spends more time making music than looking at herself.

Like Apple's diary in her fainting couch I think Raven keeps the books in the vanity's cabinets and reads them when she's alone.

The closet and evil throne (not shown) are only seen in glimpses since furniture appears when it is needed. At first I thought Raven was the only student with a fireplace in her dorm, before we saw 'Epic Winter' on Briar's side of the dorm has a fireplace as well, so I guess each dorm has a fireplace on one side of the room. To keep warm during the cold months and having two fireplaces is a bit much and a fire hazard.

At the beginning of 'Croquet Tastrophe' Apple was first seen in Raven's side of the room for some odd reason. But, wait, Apple has a mug in her hand for some reason. Which made me think Raven owns a coffee machine that she lets Apple use sometimes.

The girls do have a balcony (pretty sure everyone at the school has one) that the girls like to go out to get fresh air during times of stress and peace. In 'Apple's Princess Practice' they have a zipline which I'm pretty sure Briar set up.

Well, that's the first of the dorms, now to the next.

Images can be found here: EAH wiki, Royal&Rebelpedia, and @teatimewithmaddie .

[spockvarietyhour]

[targcrazies]

Moonless, Dark Night Pt. 7

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.6k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

This chapter has spoilers from the actual Fire & Blood storyline

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Sansa’s limbs have gotten heavier in the span of a fortnight. Her face looked unlike anything she could recognise as her own in the mirror. Her eyes were almost all lilac, no hint of her pupils whatsoever. Her beautiful, Targaryen-Aquiline nose had become fat with fluid like her fingers and feet, and her hair fell like rain. She felt so unlike herself that she could not recognise herself in the mirror. She wondered how her husband loved her at all.

Aemond had been spending the last two weeks pondering the aftermath of the battle. His boundless confidence made him insufferable, the certainty of his own survival to himself seemed baffling to Sansa. This was the mistake that Aemond made, repeatedly. Underestimating the Black faction was always a rather stupid move to make. He never seemed to even begin to fathom the fact that Rhaenyra was not only fuelled by her lust for power, but she was geared to navigate toward her birthright, the legitimacy of it was what strengthened the fortitude of her and those in support of her cause. Aemond also remained in denial of Daemon’s prowess, his cunning. Daemon was no simple man, he was not someone who could easily be toppled over like a checked King on a chessboard. Daemon was mighty, not only in his qualities, but also in the web of connections he had built around himself. Aemond was only a boy, not even twenty. Daemon could have sired him and fed him to his dragon thrice before having another son his age.

Sansa had accepted the fate that she was to be widowed, that she was to be the woman with a child in her arms but no support around her. Her child will grow up fatherless, a thought that caused her insides to turn and twist among themselves. Despite having lost her parents young, she felt blessed to have had their love and blessings in her infancy. Unlike Aegon or Aemond, she had no weight of expectation and conniving plotting on her shoulders. She was never made to think of three boys her age as her enemies, she was never made to fret over the aftermath of her uncle’s demise, she had never been required to think of the ways she’d be totalled and torn if the side she opposed ever ascended the throne. She had begun to think, at the weight of all the thoughts that had begun to burden her mind, that she was only a cowardly pacifist. Whilst her allegiance always lied with Rhaenyra, she could never resoundingly proclaim her support. She sequestered herself in a corner of her lavish bedchamber after her nephews passed. She loathsome upbraids were almost always met with a desperate and distressed eye, a face full of despair. 

How many times had he told her that he never intended to kill her? She had evidently lost count. She could not begin to even consider how his “accidental” kinslaying could supersede, in terms of deserved sympathy, what happened with Luke. Luke was a darling boy, so sweet and gentle, yet so fierce and brazen when it came to his loved ones. The eye he took was never even to defend himself, but his older brother. 

Jace would have made a terrific King, that was much known by everyone. He was strong yet tender, strict yet merciful, devoted yet temperate. His strengths lay in his ability to strike the chord and achieve golden mean. His devotion toward his mother and stepfather, his love toward his brothers, and his unconditional forgiveness toward anyone he knew loved him. Sansa loved him, she loved him very much. She loved his pug nose, his brown hair and eyes, the smile that was so reminiscent of her dead brother. 

She had visited the day Viserys was born, not so much a plump and stout child, like his older brother, Aegon. However, his Targaryen descent effortlessly lit up the room. He had his mother’s hair, the slight golden shine in silver.He was a jolly child even as a newborn, his eyes sparkling, as if, in cognizance of his surroundings. He was beautiful, a sight to behold and cherish. Rhaenyra smiled at the child’s face and kissed it so gently. Daemon huddled all the kids around so that they could coo and marvel at the baby. Dragonstone was a happy place then, seven bright children running around, studying, training, and giggling among themselves. All of that was gone now, much of the happiness had managed to get grounded underneath the rubbles of the vanquish caused by this horrid, miserable war. Dance of the Dragons, they called it. Sansa laughed, her dragon had gone someplace she would never reach. Half of her soul had perished, the rest was mustered in some state of sustenance.

The night before Aemond had planned to fly to face Daemon, Sansa rapped gently on the door. They were then situated at some debilitated estate of some great lord. The estate had little to no arrangement for her comfort, and while Aemond insisted she lived with his brother in hiding, at least until she had birthed their child. She refused, knowing that the days she spent with him would be his last. She’d rather suffer with him than live in comfort knowing she was not beside him during his last days.

“Come in, Sansa.” His voice poured with concern and love, and when she opened the door to find him, his head was perked up, his gaze met hers in warmth. “You needn’t seek permission, dearest.”

“Thank you,” she wet her lips with her tongue before closing the door behind her. One of her hands rested on her hip, the other on her belly, as she made her way slowly to her husband. He took her hand in his, kissing the back of it. “How have you been?”

“How have you been, dear wife?” He enquired, “I’ve been thinking of you. Tomorrow shall be a big day and I’d like to come to you after I’ve killed our uncle, covered in the glory of it.”

“How do I stay here, on my own, husband?” She sat beside him, “I’d rather come with you.”

“Don’t be silly, Sansa. I will fly you to where my brother is, he has a number of men tending to his needs and will happily accommodate you.”

“The last time I met him, his mind was preoccupied with the Milk of the Poppy and he cared so little that he felt like a wholly different person.” 

Aemond threw his head back in laughter, “I am sure that regardless of the state of his wretched mind, the King will happily receive you.” He cupped the side of her face with his hand. “I don’t want you to worry about inane matters.”

Sansa kept her hand on his, her grip laced with love, “Don’t you think I’d love being a coddled Lady Princess surrounded by well-mannered ladies? I would love it all, but when I have none of it, there’s little for me to do but worry.” 

“You truly do not insist I take you with me to watch as I crumple our uncle to the ground and feed him to Vhagar?”

“I have witnessed no other glories of yours, so this might be my one chance.” She rested her head on his shoulder, “Please, Aemond, this is a request. Vhagar is large, so I shall be comfortable. And given you are determined to decimate our uncle, I believe I will have an escort ready, so it shan’t be a problem.”

He sat quietly in deep ponderance at the proposition. Not only was she making a request, she was challenging his daring. If he truly believed that he’d be able to finish off his uncle, she knew, he’d comply with the said request to instill confidence. In her and in himself. She knew him that much.

He agreed, and her surprise was evident in her eyes. She knew he was easy to prod and convince this way these days, but she hadn’t realised how much. She smiled at him sweetly, kissed him above the eye that was not there, and bade him good night. 

Sleep was the deadly stranger that night. She twisted and turned and so did her child. She’d often rest her hand on her belly and pray to the Mother to grant her a daughter, so that she’d never have to have a boy eager to claim the throne, eager to reign on the disastrous scraps that were to clearly remain following the war. A daughter might desire so as well, yes, but what example was there for her to remain following the precipitated terror that’d engulf every human without a cock? Rhaenyra had lost three of her children to the war, an unborn lost to it before it even sprung to its full rhythm. Was that not frightening enough?  

When her eyes finally tired of their ceaseless wandering, the sun had begun to rise. She chose to pay no heed, turn her back to the source of light and sleep until awoken. She knew Vhagar’s grunts and roars would awaken her, that Aemond would have come to seek her good wishes even if he were to turn back on his word.

The day went by slowly, dreadfully. Aemond ate little, resorting to feeding any beastly, grainy find to Vhagar. Sansa ate as much as she needed and yet she felt sick. The sun was particularly bright that day, the grass golden and the water blue, so blue. Sansa put on a robe and followed her husband outside. He had begun to feed a rabbit whose neck he had shortly before twisted, watching Vhagar roast it in a little spoof of fire before devouring ravenously. Aemond patted the dragon all over, kissing her every once in a while. Sansa often underestimated the bond those two shared. They were similar in nature even, surreptitious and quick to anger. He loved her more than he loved himself. Vhagar had given Aemond the confidence and belief in his own self that formed him into the person that he is. Aegon at times would poke fun, saying that the “old crone of a dragon” was nothing in comparison to his beautiful Sunfyre. Aemond would sneer, not feeling a need to retort. Vhagar was Vhagar, a scrap of history that overtook such a legacy. Sansa often found herself staring at the mighty dragon, enthralled by the magnanimity of it, almost cowering before it at times. 

“Do you not miss Verasys, wife?” Aemond asked, “I can’t even begin to fathom how very protective he’d be of you had he been here. Father used to say the dragon would cover aunt’s belly with his neck whenever she found him.” He smiled at her wistfully, his eyes finally averting from the dragon.

“Verasys was my soul, of course I miss him.” She said quietly, watching Vhagar let out a loud burp as she settled down after the last of her several meals. “You did not let Vhagar hunt today, I suppose to save energy-“

“Why did you release Verasys?” He interrupted, his voice soft, kind, almost sad.

She stared quietly at Vhagar, her nerves steely but her eyes welling, “I did not want to fight Rhaenyra.” 

He nodded quietly, “Have you ever wondered what it’d be like if you had? The war would be over sooner, we’d be in such peace.”

“I’d rather have my child on my own than live and die a traitor.”

“Darling, you speak like one.”

“You kill like one.” She said breathlessly, retreating inside the ruins they called home, exhausted from the back and forth.

“Will you hate me after I kill our uncle today?” He called out to her.

She did not turn, her steps faltered and her heart panged against her chest, “No, I’ve no longer in me to care. Do what you will.” 

“It’s what I have to, wife. I do not relish in the joyous aftermath of spilling blood.”

“Tell that to the people you’ve massacred.” She turned to look at his crouched form, “I will go inside. We should start soon for Harrenhal.”  

———————————

How the sun rained upon the earth! Gentle, light, almost calming. Sansa was wearing a nice-looking gown, for she knew her uncle would be doubly livid if she were to be dressed in tatters. Aemond wore his usual; shiny black leathers with all his straps and saddle.

“Wife, you may choose not to go still. I shall be back before it’s dark.” His confidence befuddled her, yet she was so used to the befuddling she shook her head and walked outside. He helped her upon the dragon and as she touched her scales, she wondered if this would be the last of her hundreds. If Aemond were to die, it’s likely that Vhagar would die with him. Meleys passed alongside Rhaenys, Vermax alongside Jace, Arrax alongside Luke. All of it still stung so much. 

He helped her position between his legs, she apologised for the inconvenience she caused. In her head, those were the last words she was saying to him. She wanted them to be kind, if nothing else. A man aware of his impending demise at least could anticipate it better, she thought. She did not want to be the one to tell him that he was flying to his death, so untimely. It broke her heart. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

Sansa could spot her uncle Daemon when they drew closer. He looked unkempt, scrawnier than ever, and almost exhausted. “That’s the last you’ll see of him, wife. Do so to your heart’s delight.” 

When she finally descended the dragon and met Daemon’s eyes, she found the pupils dilated, his lips agape. “Sansa,” he breathed out, “I was hoping I’d see you, but I wasn’t certain if you’d be able to make it given the… the rumours.” 

“Uncle…” she murmured, her lips quivering as she fought back tears.

“You look so much like Visenya when she was with you. You’re her spitting image.” Daemon looked behind her, at her husband, “I shall speak to my niece in private before we put an end to this.” He extended his hand toward her and she took it. Both their backs were turned to Aemond as they spoke quietly to ensure he couldn’t hear.

“Uncle, you have every reason to flail him. But, I beg you, please make it quick.” Her eyes had begun to spill.

“Forgive me,” he said as he hugged her with his left arm, “Forgive me, Sansa. And, forgive Rhaenyra.”

She cried quietly as his chin rested gently on the top of her head. “I do have something for you, but you must promise to only see it after… after we’re done.” He handed her a scroll, “You mustn’t look at this now. And, don’t reveal its content before this war has ended. Can you promise me that?” 

She nodded vigorously through the tears, placing the scroll inside her cape. “Will you bring me with you, uncle? After this? My child will never have a claim to the throne, I promise-“

“I had initially made arrangements to have the scroll sent to you, or if you make it here, to have you escorted to a place you may find safe. You needn’t worry of that.” The confusion in her eyes caused Daemon to look away, his eyes landing upon her husband. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Vhagar and I flew all around before we saw you here, in your sorry state a few days ago.” He leered, “You were a fool to come alone.”

Daemon’s grip on his niece loosened, his arm still securely placed upon her shoulder, “Were I not alone, you would not have come.”

“Yet you are, and here I am.” Aemond sighed through his wide, obnoxious smirk, “You have lived too long, nuncle.”

“On that much we agree.”

Sansa’s head shot to look at her uncle. He was never one to endure anything even akin to a slight, let alone one made one actively, to the legacy he had carved himself. She noticed that her uncle looked little like himself, such less spirit, vigour, and unbridled rage.

“Uncle, don’t do anything foolish.” She very quietly muttered to him so that only he could catch onto it. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, before gently shoving her to the side, making his way to Caraxes, the only aspect of him that looked like himself.

She walked to her husband, “Good luck, husband.” She muttered, before pulling him down and kissing him. “One last time,” she thought, “It better be good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his own hands hold onto her. When she parted, she looked into his eyes, “I love you, Aemond. I have always loved you, only you. Even when I have despised you so, even when I wished I had it in me to avenge Luke with my own two hands, I loved you. If only I didn’t love you so, I’d not bear the pain I bore for you.”

Aemond stared at her, agape for a moment, “My dear wife, you believe I am to die.” He surmised, “I shall prove you wrong.”

—------------------

The sky had never been set so ablaze. The water had never been diluted so by blood that there was little water left. Sansa had tried to walk away, hastily, when they crashed down. The last thing she remembers making out was Vhagar having bitten into Caraxes’s neck, and Daemon’s figure jumping onto Aemond. The rest of it all is an ominous, smoky blur. It all happened so fast. So unfathomably fast. 

Sansa steadied herself on her feet and walked forward. God’s Eye boiled raw, the heat simmering and bubbling in giant, angry clots of blood. “Uncle?” She called out, “Aemond?” 

Caraxes had begun to slowly crawl to the shore, his body torn to shreds. He gave out a gruntled cry, breathing his last as his eyes gave life away. Sansa walked close to the corpse of the dragon, touching his face as she began to cry. All had been lost. She had lost her husband, her uncle. Their families had lost so many of their dragons that she could not bring herself to count. Their legacy had begun to wither before their eyes and they had little to do than strike more of it off the grids.

Aemond was so young, she thought, barely twenty. He was a dead father to an unborn child, a dead husband to a widow just as young. What was she to do? Where was her place in this world? None of the questions could possibly be answered. She was left alone by a river then reeking of murderous blood. Her child was due in a few weeks and she swore to herself, if she gives birth to a boy, she’ll put it in a basket and let him get taken by the waves of the Narrow Sea.

She had begun to walk all around the shore, looking for someone, anyone, to help her find passage. But the sight must have scared everyone so, not a single human was around. The scroll in her hand was dry as she had shielded it with her life, but she could not stop the water from her hair and face dripping on it. She gave out a shriek in sheer frustration, throwing around her arms in anger.

Just when she thought she’d rather throw herself in the lake and die with her uncle and husband, a shadow as large as night loomed over her, before the shriek of a dragon resounded throughout. The dragon, she noted, was dirty almost. No, the dragon was not dirty, she realised, its hide was just the colour of mud. 

“Sheepstealer…” she quietly murmured to herself as the dragon landed before her. The dragon rested his body on the ground, huffing out and letting his eyes laze.

The girl who hopped off the dragon was small, almost as small as Sansa herself. However, she was scrawny, her eyes the colour of her skin and the fine leathers she’d worn almost a size too big on her. “My lady, I am Nettles. A dragonseed.”

“Nettles?” She let the name roll off her tongues, trying to recollect any memory that could support the person before her.

“Prince Consort Daemon gave me a job before he came here. He wanted me to make sure that I escorted you, on my dragon, to King’s Landing.” 

“I can’t go to King’s Landing.” Sansa yelled out before realising, “The Queen mayn’t forgive my child. I need to go elsewhere.”

Nettles smiled, shaking her head gently and spreading her arms, “Anywhere you feel safe, my lady. I am here to serve you, as per the Prince’s last wish.”

“Dragonstone.” Sansa breathed out, without missing a beat. “Escort me to Dragonstone, please.”

“Has it fallen, my Lady?” Nettles asked quietly, her lips parted in surprise.

“I wish I knew.” She confessed, “All I know is that Dragonstone is the only place where the people know me and will keep me safe.” She refused to admit that her brother might be there, not to a Dragonseed. She wanted to give birth to her child and make sure the child got to live.

Nettles helped her up the dragon, ensuring that she was secured well and apologising every second even at the thought of doing something wrongly. Sansa kept quiet mostly, trying not to let her loneliness bubble up in her chest. When the dragon took off, she rested her head on the younger girl’s shoulder. “I’ll sleep for a bit. Awake me when we are close. It’d be better to not get too close to the castle itself. We should stop, preferably behind Dragonmont.” She drifted off to sleep as she finished her sentence, and only awoke in her bed on the island, the scroll secure beside her. 

[mushygreybrainmatter]

Women of Ace Attorney, pt. 1

So, there are a lot of women in Ace Attorney. And there is so much to say about all of them. The biggest chunk of women connected to each other, though, is the Fey Clan. There are five named characters who you actively interact with who have the last name “Fey,” and a few more who share ancestry with the Feys, even if they don’t have the same name or prestige. Moreover, the Fey Clan is notoriously exclusionary to men. Whether or not this is intentional, I don’t recall if that’s made clear, but either way, men don’t typically stick around, and the village is an isolated matriarchal community. This makes the Fey women particularly good subjects for this kind of analysis.

!! SPOILERS FOR THE PHOENIX WRIGHT TRILOGY BELOW THE CUT !!

I’ll be completely honest, I think if I had to choose one character who exemplifies the trauma of being a woman, a mother, a sister, and a daughter better than anyone else in the franchise, I have to choose Morgan Fey. There is a lot we can speculate about her character, but first, I’m going to list a few things we know from canon:

Morgan was the eldest and was, therefore, meant to become the Master of Kurain.

Morgan stepped up to lead Kurain Village in her sister’s absence.

Morgan raised Mia and Maya after Misty disappeared.

Morgan believed her daughter, Pearl, deserved to be the Master because of her abilities.

Morgan has had other children before Pearl (namely Dahlia and Iris Hawthorne).

There are obviously more facts than this, but these are the key points I’ll refer back to.

When we meet Pearl, she is eight (8) years old. Already, Morgan knows that her spiritual powers surpass Maya’s. By this metric, we can assume that Morgan knew Misty was the stronger of the two of them for a very long time. Before this point, every Master had been the eldest daughter, who traditionally held more spiritual power. Thus, this led to Morgan being scorned and looked down upon by the other inhabitants of Kurain Village.

Ever since Morgan was a child, she was told just how much of a failure she was and how she would amount to nothing. Her birthright was stripped from her, and she had it rubbed in her face time and time again.

I think we can agree that this is fucked up and would absolutely ruin some of our self-esteems were we in Morgan’s shoes. However, through all of this, Morgan works diligently to restore her family line to their (at least in her eyes) rightful place as the Main Family. She marries, has twin daughters, realizes neither of them have enough spiritual power to beat out Mia and Maya, divorces, and sends her daughters away (this is a segue into a later post I will make about Dahlia because she is interesting as hell).

Even more than that, after Misty disappears following the DL-6 Incident, Morgan takes the reins in Kurain Village and raises Mia and Maya. We can see from the way Morgan interacts with Pearl that she is strict. We also get this sense from the way Maya reacts when Morgan is brought up in conversation during Reunion, and Turnabout (2-2). A recurring motif in the Ace Attorney games is the idea of being the best or being perfect, whatever that means to any given character, and Morgan is no exception to this. The expectations she places on both Maya and Pearl are evident, and it takes a fairly obvious toll on both of them.

So, we have a woman who has been beaten down for decades, since she was a child, who was stripped of her rightful place in the family and cast aside. She climbs anyway, she raises the entire next generation of Fey women, and they revere her. She works in the shadows to better her own lineage, because she doesn’t want her daughter, Pearl, an incredibly talented medium, to be relegated to a Branch Family when her rightful place is the title of Master.

Morgan sends away her daughters who lack spiritual abilities. Why? Maybe because for Morgan’s whole life, she’s been taught that power is everything. Without spiritual powers, a Fey woman is worth less than dirt. At least, that’s the lesson Morgan took away from everything. So, she strives to put her family back on top, where they belong, and she seeks to destroy everything that stands in her way. In some ways, everything Morgan does is for Pearl.

In some ways, Morgan is a fierce protector, a mother bear. Morgan is a woman who was taught the only way to survive was to use her teeth. So she does.

[chicago-geniza]

Star Trek TNG s06ep16 Birthright pt 1

[vanoincidence]

Not the Right Banshee(s) Pt. 1 || Van, Jade, Max & Tina

TIMING: current. LOCATION: regan's apartment. PARTIES: @highoctanegem @vanoincidence & the terrible twins (max and tina). SUMMARY: jade is dropping van off after work, but what's waiting for both of them comes as a bit of a surprise. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

The apartment probably smelled like her, from the time they all packed mice together. The place probably had one minuscule teeny tiny bit of glass scattered somewhere from the time she exploded a glass of Sprite. There was probably a strand of bleached blonde waiting to be found. Jade doubted Van and Thea were too meticulous with their cleaning. So Jade couldn’t, she just couldn’t get herself to go up to that second floor. Even though Van had asked every night she’d brought her home from work. It would be fine, okay? Everybody who ever went through a gay girl breakup knew how intense everything felt at first. (Not that… they weren’t dating dating) (But…) And sure, her cats and blasting CRJ were the only things injecting dopamine into her system these days. But she’d be bouncing in no time! She was Jade. She did not mope.

She waved Van goodbye, watching her walk up to her apartment, refusing to go until she saw the lights turn on. And then, satisfied with her friend’s safety Jade lowered her face shield. She considered doing a round or two of deliveries and calling it a night. But something flashier caught her attention before she could find her phone: A lonely woman in the corner of the street. She looked a little lost, so of course, Jade had to be kind and helpful, cause maybe she could kickstart her rebound tour if she played her cards right. She lifted her shield again, hoping her eyes still sparkled, and flashed a confident grin. “A little late to be out at night, babe. Can I help you with anything?”

Regan Kavanagh was sloppy. It was the first thing Max learned about her, back when they were training together. She’d been so embarrassed for Regan. It was sad, really — to be activated at such an old age. Regan had been practically geriatric in human terms. Didn’t they only live a few decades? Max had tried to keep this in mind at first, had tried to cut Regan some slack, but… she was so sloppy. She’d proven as much in her childish escape from Saol Eile, and proven it all the more in the mess she’d left behind in this pathetic, human town. An apartment with her name on it, two children living inside. What did she expect to happen? How did she think this would end?

So, Max had been watching the apartment. There was so little room for error here. She was to prove herself, to bring pride to her mother, to prove that she was worthy of the gift Regan Kavanagh had tried to toss aside. The children in the apartment needed to die, but so did anyone else who knew about them. Killing them first could spark panic, lead to problems. It would be sloppy. And Max wasn’t sloppy.

There was a woman. She dropped off one of the apartment’s occupants sometimes. Max had done some digging the first night she saw her. People in this town were fond of social media, and this woman — Jade — was no different. And, like many Wicked’s Rest occupants, Regan Kavanagh was all over the woman’s blog. Fate, she couldn’t believe it. How was Regan this bad at something that should have been her birthright? Wasn’t she humiliated by it? She should thank Max for what she was about to do. She should be so grateful.

Max forced a smile onto her face as Jade approached. She wasn’t particularly good at it, but she’d learned to use her youth as an advantage. No one seemed to suspect young girls of anything. Foolish. “Aye, I’m a bit lost, actually,” Max replied, Irish lilt raising the words. “Maybe you can help me out. Mind if I borrow your phone?” She just needed Jade to get close enough to touch. Then, things could be over quickly. It was kind of her, really, to plan on doing this fast. Usually, Max preferred to play with her food. Maybe she’d ask Tina to incapacitate the two upstairs so they could take it slow with them.

Even if Regan hadn’t visited the apartment often (aside from when bringing mice inside), it still felt weird to live there without her in town. She should’ve gotten used to it by now– the way it felt more like the doctor’s home than her own, despite being void of any trace of her. Van was grateful, at least, that Jade hadn’t stopped taking her home at the very least. After waving her goodbye, she pushed through the door, kicking it to a close behind her. 

“Um…” Her heartbeat picked up a tick and she flexed her fingers against the tote bag she still had pulled over her shoulder. “Are you…” Why had she been sitting in the dark? That was weird, too. “Who are you?” Van frowned, noticing that the woman was wearing shoes indoors. “Hey, that’s not very polite.” 

She’d hated Regan forever. Regan was a bad banshee, and Regan was old, and that was stupid. Max thought so, and so Tina did too. She’d spent so much of their classes rolling her eyes, whispering to her sister and laughing. Both when Regan wasn’t looking and when she was sure that she was. To make matters worse, she’d ended up in some stupid human town in stupid Maine of all places. Didn’t she know that American humans were some of the worst there were?

There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation when she and Max were offered the chance to come to the town. It was another chance to prove just how good she was, to help everyone back home, and to make her mother proud. Tina also wanted Max to be proud of her. Her sister was absolutely perfect, and once she’d forgotten the name of the bone in your little toe and her sister never would (what did it matter that she’d thought there was a special name). So when they’d found the apartment, where mice used to be, she’d been delighted. They could get rid of stupid tiny humans that Regan was apparently fond of, and be on their way. The very fact that Regan had moved the dead mice was unforgivable, and a reason to kill someone in return, and it wasn’t like human lives mattered. Besides, Tina wanted to look at the metatarsal bones in a human’s foot. It seemed like it’d be fun to do.

She’d broken into the apartment while her sister went off to find some lady named after a stone, and she’d ripped one of the pillows on one of the chairs apart when she’d first noticed that the mice weren’t there. Gods, she was going to murder Regan when she got her hands on the traitor. Still, Max was outside somewhere, and Tina sat herself down on one of their chairs, arms crossed, legs crossed, a grin covering her lips when the door opened. It was only one of the stupid tiny humans who borrowed the apartment from Regan, who’d somehow gotten Regan to care about them, like the failure she was.

And this human had the audacity to call her ‘not very polite’. Tina fought away the urge to break her neck right away. It was important to take your time, to have fun. “Van, oh my god!” She put on as falsely cheerful of a tone as she could, Irish lilt incredibly present. “I’ve been wanting to meet you! This is where I say bestie, isn’t it?”

Jade unbuckled her helmet, hanging it on one of the handles. It would be super rude to approach and not show her face. How else would the stranger know Jade was super friendly and super down to have fun? And look, she had to keep saying it, okay? It was the only way it’d start to feel true. And that was the only way she’d eventually move on. She had to move on. (The ring on her left hand signaled otherwise) (But…baby steps). Unfortunately for Jade, upon closer inspection this lost woman looked pretty young, actually, dashing all hopes she had of taking the first step towards getting over Regan. Oh well, too bad. She tried! 

The Irish accent did something, okay? Her knees went a little weak. Regan didn’t even have a strong accent, but… but. She was in that ‘everything reminds me of her’ stage. (Which now included a broom with a white brush, a chicken wing, and Wednesdays). But that was totally different from moping, cause she did not mope. Back to what mattered, Jade wanted to be super helpful and nice to the young girl. She watched Barbie, she knew all about girl solidarity.  There was less sway on her hips, now that gay thoughts were out of the way. “Yup, totes, hang on,” she reached inside her leather jacket, pulled out her phone, and handed it to the girl without wasting a moment. (And…Oh. Right. She should probably change her lockscreen too, if she was serious about moving on). “I’m Jade, by the way” she grinned, extending her hand, “and I can totally give you a ride if you have somewhere else to go. I was dropping off my friend”. 

Max was all poised to grab the woman by the wrist and end the whole thing right then and there. A solid scream would do it, just one yell. But… she happened to glance down at the phone, to catch sight of the lockscreen and find Regan’s face staring back up at her. The very sight of it filled her with a rage she didn’t quite understand, made treacherous emotions swirl in her stupid chest. Because it wasn’t fair, was it? None of it was bloody fair. 

Regan had no idea how lucky she’d been. In Saol Eile, she’d been treasured. She’d been a tool so often utilized, so much so that Max had often found herself envious in a way she’d never admit to. She was a better banshee than Regan was — a better banshee than Tina, too, though she felt less like bragging over that — and yet Regan had been desirable. A doctor, as if that wasn’t a shameful thing to be. So how was it fair that Regan could come here, to this stupid little town with these stupid little people, and find herself treasured all over again? How was it fair that some woman had Regan as her lockscreen on her phone in a way that was just as telling as it would have been to wear a locket with her photo around her throat? Max had known that Regan was a failure. But to this extent? 

A swift death with a single scream didn’t seem right anymore. Max was angry, though she shouldn’t have been. Max was annoyed, though she was above such things. Max wanted to make this stranger hurt because Max wanted to make Regan hurt, because nothing about any of this was fair. Regan should have to pay for everything she’d done, for betraying a people who had only ever been looking out for her.

The banshee’s smile was sharp, and she turned the phone to face the woman, lockscreen like an accusation. “She’s pretty,” she commented. “Shame she’s such a disappointment, isn’t it?”

“How do you know my name?” Van stared at her, keys dangling between pinched fingers. She’d seen on tik tok how to use them as a weapon, but was it fucked up to use them on another woman? Then again, she had killed two women. She was not the good person she wanted to pretend to be. She was a woman killer, all things considered– though, she hoped this wouldn’t be another. She willed the anxiety to subside, to not create a black hole beneath the girl in the chair that would ultimately swallow her whole. “I only have like, two best friends. Maybe three, or four. I don’t know.” The number was growing, but something told her that this stranger didn’t actually care about that. 

Van flattened her back against the door, sweat dotting the back of her neck as uncertainty made her stomach roll. She quickly grabbed her phone out of her pocket and texted Jade. Somebody is inside of Regan’s apartment. If this were anything like a horror movie, she’d look up from her phone and the girl would be standing in front of her with a knife or something. Van half expected it as she looked up from her home screen. “I um– do you– are you here for Thea? She doesn’t live here anymore.” Maybe this was all being blown out of proportion. Maybe the girl in the chair knew her because Thea actually had brought her over! Or, based on her accent, maybe this was a long lost cousin to Regan who was bringing her the postcards she had asked for! 

“Why wouldn’t I know your name, Van. Van, but not like the car!” Tina’s voice rose to a pitch that she thought her mother would’ve been proud of. Except what mummy dearest would be most proud of would be if she could murder this girl and clean up Regan’s giant mess. Regan had always made messes, and yet back home, people had like, worshiped her. Which made no sense. Not when she’d become a banshee when she was so old and, on top of everything, and been a traitor. Which was why Tina knew she had to murder the little girl in Regan’s mouse-less apartment. 

“Well, you could make that ‘or four’ into an ‘or five’ if you wanted to?” Tina bat her eyelashes before pushing herself up from the chair. “I’m here for you and Thea actually. Special double fun.” She began wandering around the apartment, turning on her heels every so often. “I wanted you both to show me fun together. Pretty please?” Her lips formed a perfect pout (she’d practiced, because apparently humans were easily swayed by this sort of thing). “I just wanted to have fun, and you’re so,” abhorrent, “like, totally gorgeous.” Her stomach turned at that, but she wouldn’t let that get to her. “So I think pretty people can have more fun than ugly people, right? Is that crass of me?”

Jade’s smile turned bittersweet, looking at the lock screen. “She’s my… we were…” Thanks to this stranger, at least she realized now, how weird it was to still have her picture there. And actually, her smile disappeared completely with the follow-up comment. Her gaze flickered to the girl. Rude? But also… familiar. “Um, she’s not a… why would you say that?” Jade didn’t particularly care, at this point. She’d decided to stall, cause the vibes were definitely not great anymore. Was it cause this girly had the nerve to insult her… Regan in a very specific way? Partly, but also, the accent, and the… slow heartbeat. And the fact that she’d been standing there the whole time while she and Van said goodbye. Fine, maybe she did have some of that slayer paranoia (Emilio might be proud).  

Possibly the worst (or best, depending where you looked it from) timing of all time, her phone lit up with a notification, Regan’s face coming to life again. Van. What could Van be texting about so soon after going inside? Did she forget something in Jade’s delivery box? She could see the preview easily, even if the stranger still had her phone. Somebody is inside of Regan… she read. Well, not anymore, technically. She looked up to the second floor. Finishing the equation: The stranger, the accent, the insult, someone inside Regan’s… apartment. And sure, it could all be a giant misunderstanding they could laugh about later, but for now, for Van, she’ll think of worst-case scenarios. “Change of plans!” she said cheerfully, beaming at the stranger. “My friend wants me to stay. We’re getting pizza, watching a movie. So, maybe I’ll call you an Uber or something, yeah? Here let me…” She reached for her phone, attempting to get it back. 

We were… Were what? Max could make some assumptions, of course, the kind that made disgust curl up like a living thing in her stomach. There was something else to it, too, something far uglier. 

For a moment, she remembered being a child. Young enough to remain unactivated, scampering around with Tina and aware of the massive weight of duty on her back even if she’d had no way to comprehend the magnitude of it just yet. She remembered the boy she and her sister used to play with, the way she’d loved him. She and Tina argued once about which of them would marry him someday. It was a childish notion, a foolish one. She should have known better. She still remembered the way it felt when their mother plunged the blade into that boy’s chest, still remembered her first scream bubbling up from her throat and ripping out of her mouth. 

Regan should have known better, too.

The only real shame to all this, Max thought, was that Regan couldn’t be here to witness it. She could have learned something from this, the same way Max and Tina had learned something from that worthless boy’s blood staining the grass. Maybe there was some way to pass along the lesson. Would Regan recognize Jade’s finger if Max brought it back to her? Or would an ear be a better option? 

The phone in Max’s hand lit up, and she glanced down to the notification. Ah. So the child upstairs had met Tina. Max made a mental note to chastise her sister later for not taking the child’s phone first. Tina was lucky that Max already had Jade occupied; otherwise, things could have gotten far messier. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Max held the phone behind her back and out of reach with one hand. With the other, she pulled a long, thin knife from her pocket. “We’re only just starting to have fun, aren’t we? I’d hate for you to miss it. If you’re good, I’ll even take you to see Regan again.” Her eyes flickered down to Jade’s fingers, the sharp smile on her lips widening a little. “Parts of you, at least.”

Van winced at the increased pitch of the girl’s voice. Maybe she didn’t have a great memory, but Van felt like she remembered some things. Specifically girls, especially brunettes. She stared at the stranger, eager to match the face to a name she might have forgotten. Was this Diana’s friend? But then she’d mentioned Thea, and Thea had no idea Diana existed. If this were any less creepy then maybe Van would’ve fallen victim to the way the girl bat her lashes, but if there was one thing about Van, it was that she was perpetually anxious– always thinking that the person in front of her had ulterior motives. “I don’t…” 

She looked down at her phone to see if there was any response from Jade, but there was nothing. Disappointed, she texted again, come back and give me an excuse to leave!!!!  Van hoped that she’d get a reply. “That is kind of rude…” Van blinked at the girl, astonished by the way she didn’t seem to care about the implications of what she was saying. How could somebody be so rude? “I think I’m actually– you know, I’ll let um, I’ll let Thea know you came by? But I have to actually go back to work. My boss told me to come back.” She waved her now locked phone in front of her, reaching for the door knob. “Feel free to like, hang out!” She opened the door, making an attempt to slip through. 

This human was so lame. Not even finishing sentences. Tina wondered which part of her would be best to bring back to Regan. A clavicle was always nice. It would involve a decent bit of work too, which was fun. Not that Tina was here to have fun, but if she just so happened to have fun amidst everything else, that was a more than alright coincidence. 

“Why’s it rude if it’s true?” She batted her eyelashes at this useless waste of a child. She’d been close to a waste of a child, once. Though Tina firmly believed that she’d never been a waste. Her and Max’s mother had to have truly pleased Fate in order to be blessed with daughters, and so the little boy who they both fell in love with, whose freckles practically glowed in the sun, well, he had to die. Tina had nearly given herself a scar on her hand from her brief, stupid attempt to keep from screaming. She wanted to scream, though at first it had been more out of horror before it transformed into something beautiful.

“I don’t like liars.” She pouted. “Liars are awful, and what would Regan think if she knew that someone she loved,” Tina gagged, “was such a big baby of a liar?” Now Van was trying to slip through the door and Tina slammed it shut. “No. Nuh-uh. You’re not leaving. Well, you might, but by the time you leave you won’t be a-waare of it.” Her voice turned sing-song.

Ugh. Was there anything worse than someone absolutely killing the vibe? Well, her being killed, probably. (But it was a tight competition. Neck to neck). Jade sighed, letting the woman hold the phone away from her. Using her height to her advantage was a little rude too. The way she pulled a knife, though? Hot! Objectively speaking. Jade could still appreciate a slay. And right, the math. So this chick totally knew Regan then, but she didn’t exactly sound fond of her. Which was a total red flag. Who wouldn’t be fond of Regan? 

Wait. Was that… a threat to her fingers? As if this couldn’t get any worse. That was definitely a line being crossed. “Nuh-huh. These make people very happy, how about we negotiate different parts… I love banshees, you see. There’s no need for this to be an unpleasant affair…” Jade trailed off, hiding whatever nerves she might be feeling in an easy smile. She wasn’t worried about herself. Pft. If things got worse, she had that iron dagger Regan gave her concealed somewhere. (And actually… had Regan known something like this would happen?). But if she was being threatened with a knife, she didn’t wanna picture the same being done to Van. Van, who easily freaked out. Van, who melted chairs, and opened portals that swallowed people. Well, actually. Maybe that was exactly what they needed. But it wasn’t worth the risk. The longer she stayed chatting with the stranger (she didn’t even give a name, so rude) the chances of Van getting hurt increased.

“Look, I’m not the type of girl who pulls a knife on a pretty girl without their consent…” Instead of backing away, Jade approached, her eyes fixed on the woman, paying no attention to the knife in front of her. She let it poke against her abdomen, relying a little too heavily on the power of being a captivating speaker while she got a hold of the pommel on her back. “Unless they lack a heartbeat, I guess, then…fair game. Hey! What I’m trying to say here…I really don’t wanna hurt you. Certified banshee lover. Two out of two banshees prefer me. But—” she drew her iron dagger swiftly, and with a precise movement, she pushed it against the woman’s collarbone. Just the right pressure not to stab (she was a woman of her word). It would surely sting like a bitch, though. Jade clawed the back of her neck, keeping her in place. “I really want my phone back, and to check on my friend, pretty please? I don’t want this to go any deeper,” she taunted, with another jab of the blade.   

The fact that this woman even uttered the word banshee was proof enough of the depth of Regan’s failure. For a human to be able to recognize one of them on so few context clues was disgraceful, and Max felt a burning forest fire of anger simmering in her chest. How much had Regan told her? How many secrets had she whispered between bedsheets, betraying her people over and over again with soft touches and quiet declarations? Max hated her more in this moment than she’d ever hated anyone else before. She wanted to take Jade apart piece by piece in retribution, wanted to make sure Regan knew that she’d died in pain and suffering. She was not allowed to have say in whatever punishment Regan was handed by those in charge back in Ireland, but she could punish her with this. She could make sure Regan suffered through the people she’d clearly been foolish enough to allow herself to love. 

(Would Regan feel as Max had all those years ago when her mother’s blade found its home in the throat of a boy she’d been sure she loved? She barely remembered the feeling now, had forced away all the negative emotions associated with it in order to focus instead on the joy of activation, but Regan clearly didn’t possess such skills. For Regan, this would hurt the way Max wanted it to. There was some joy to be found in that.)

Her anger only increased when a blade was pressed against her throat; a blade of iron, if the burn was anything to go by. Had Regan shared this secret, too? Max’s lip curled up in an expression of disgust at the thought. “The dramhaíl you met in this town lost their right to call themselves banshees the moment they began spreading secrets to things like you,” she said lowly, tilting her head back slightly. There was no fear reflected in her eyes. If Max died here, it would only be because Fate willed it to be so. But… something told her she’d be just fine.

Quickly, she plunged the knife in her hand forwards, jerking her head back and away from Jade’s blade in the same fluid motion. She aimed to incapacitate rather than kill; Jade’s insolence and Regan’s affection for her had come together to forfeit any right the woman might have had for a swift death.

The mention of Regan made all of this fall apart. All of her previous thoughts about who this girl was practically blew up in her face. Van stared at the brunette, wide-eyed. What did she know about Regan? Was it really the postcards? Had Regan told her grandma about Van wanting to kick her in the knee? Were these Regan’s sisters? Nieces? Were they mad that she had suggested such a thing? No! Regan wouldn’t be a narc, not like that. She would definitely keep all of that a secret, right? “I’m not a liar. I just don’t think you’re very nice, and I don’t like not-so-nice people.” Van practically hissed out the words as she tried to put space between herself and the brunette. 

She slipped away from the door, stepping towards the table that now had mismatched chairs surrounding it. So much for the new chairs, they’d be destroyed anyway. “Something super bad is going to happen if you don’t leave.” Maybe something would swallow them both up. Would Regan be upset with her for killing a family member? Then again, Van didn’t even know if they actually were family. They didn’t look anything alike. 

Regan must have cared about this child. Tina found herself bristling at the thought. Not that she’d wanted Regan to care about her (that would be bad, to have someone like that care for her). Still, the fact that Regan had found people to care about just made Tina all the angrier, all the more ready to end this child’s life and send evidence of that to Regan. Maybe she’d splurge and get a sparkly ribbon. That would probably surprise Regan, and not in a fun way. “I am nice. Or, well, I can be.” Tina shrugged, “if I’m given enough reason to be.” Which as of right now, she was pretty sure she hadn’t been.

“Something bad will happen if I do leave, though.” Tina pouted. Well, bad for her. Maybe good for this child, though she was fairly sure it was considered bad like, in general. At least that’s what Max and their mother and everyone else back in Saol Eile. “Besides, I want to have fun with you.” She hadn’t said the word banshee, but if she had, then Tina would’ve had half a mind to snap her neck right then and there, even if it would ruin some beautiful bones. “So, you’re totally not getting me out of here, leathcheann. I really wouldn’t push your luck if I were you. Fate has a way of taking things into its own hands.”

The blade pricked against her abs as it went in, and Jade had to swallow the grunt scratching her throat, unwilling to give the stranger the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. (First the threat to her fingers, now going for her abs. It just felt a little homophobic, didn’t it? What did she have against her?). And like, it was hardly the worst way she’d ever been stabbed, but maybe she should save those thoughts and comparisons for when she wasn’t in fight mode, and she could really look at the wound. Which now felt sticky and warm against her shirt. UGH. Another shirt ruined.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” she whined, feeling the strain as she tried taking a full breath. Not too bad, still super annoying. She brandished her own dagger, forced to move past the sting. Alright, Jade had manners, she didn’t want to hurt this lady, like… at all. It felt super unnecessary and wrong to harm banshees after collaborating so vigorously with two of them, but she started it, okay? Surely they would understand if they were here. (But they weren’t here, were they? They choose to leave. She chose to leave) The reminder of their absence was enough to spark fire behind Jade’s eyes, she lunged forward, tackling the stranger to the ground. She was never too good at physical combat but she always did love a good tackle. The few seconds where the opponent tried to grapple with the fact that someone half their size pushed them on their back was a super nice ego boost. This girly wasn’t even like, vampire strong so… all the more fun. Not as fun? The freaking knife, still jabbing inside, cause Jade had to hand it to her, girly had a stubborn grip (babies would be jealous). Jade did not waste those precious seconds taunting her like she would’ve any other time, though. She sank her dagger with brutal strength into the girl's shoulder, pinning her there for a moment. She was not the main problem.     

Jade took full advantage of the adrenaline dump to get back on her feet and dash toward the apartment. Not a care in the world for her abdomen. (She was so gonna regret that. But, later) (What mattered now was Van). What if the intruder was more ruthless than the girl who tried to kill Jade? What if they didn’t enjoy a sassy little convo before getting down to it? There was no scream, that was good no? From either Van or the stranger, who Jade figured was another one of Regan’s extended family coming for a visit. (Also why were they here at all? Did they miss the memo that Regan and Siobhan were going back to Ireland? They were totally missing the welcome-back party). Jade didn’t make past the entrance before the sounds she dreaded to hear reached her ears: Commotion upstairs. Her heart raced against her chest, and her shallow breathing made it harder to calm it down. “VAN!?”

“I don’t think that’s true! Because somebody who is nice wouldn’t be making like, weird threats and stuff!” Van wasn’t exactly sure what this woman’s intentions were now that Regan had been brought into it. Didn’t the brunette know that Regan had left them for Ireland? Why was she here? What sense did that make? The whole postcards thing didn’t make sense either, because Regan was pretty adamant about Van not getting any, and it didn’t make sense to send somebody rude like the girl in front of her with them. Didn’t Regan know her better than that? Van didn’t like mean people! She’d been surrounded by mean people. 

“You are like, super confusing!” Van put some distance between herself and the brunette, eager to find another exit. There wasn’t one, but maybe she could lock herself in a room and then the girl would grow bored, and– 

She heard Jade’s voice from outside, desperate and terrified. It was unlike Jade to sound like either of those things, and Van bristled. Anxiety pulled like threads from her, rationalization collapsing upon itself as she finally understood that this was her in danger. “JADE!” Van echoed the older woman’s worry, throwing herself back towards the door. She grabbed the knob, yanking it open. Behind her, the floor of Regan’s apartment began to melt beneath the girl’s feet, and her own, too. She slipped, desperate to get out. Finally, the door was opened, and she pushed herself through, grabbing onto Jade’s arm as she shot out into the dusk. 

She wished she had a dagger on her. Well, she did have one, but the child was jumping about too much for Tina to potentially waste a good throw. Not right now. She’d find the girl later and take care of it then. She just hoped that Max wouldn’t be too pissed off at her. “Maybe it’s not a threat! Also, maybe threats can be sexy and cool!” Tina shrieked, ensuring that this child would go away with at least the slightest bit of ringing in her ears.

“I’m not confusing.” Okay, another shriek. Just for fun. This trip was mission-based, but if she had some fun hurting humans who mattered to Regan in the meantime, then she got some extra benefit out of it all.

Except then there was another voice and Tina didn’t like that. She didn’t like that one eensy-weensy bit. Jade. That was the name of whoever was on the other side of the door, and that was also the name of the human who covered everything to do with Regan all over the internet. It was revolting. She jumped out quickly after the girl – after both of the humans – before they disappeared and Tina double-timed it down the steps until she was outside. Her face in a deep scowl, she stomped over to Max. “Where the heck did they go? Is fuath liom na idiots sin! We need to go find them and take care of this.”

There was a moment of bliss as her blade slid into the woman’s stomach, and Max’s eyes danced with the joy of it. There were few sensations she enjoyed more than this, save for that which came with the life leaving a person’s body. But there’d be time for that, too, wouldn’t there? She’d cut Jade up into such small bits, make her an unrecognizable collection of fingers and toes and teeth and hair. She’d bring it all back to Ireland in a Ziplock bag, present it to Regan with a smile on her face. Would Regan feel it before the plane landed? Did she love Jade enough to scream for her from across oceans, continents away? Max wanted Regan to feel it. She really did.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that distracted her enough for Jade to get something of an upper hand. The wretched little rat surged forward, slamming into her and knocking her back. Max kept hold of the knife all the while, giving it a vicious twist that was only half involuntary as her back hit the concrete. Then, there was the burning pain of an iron knife in her shoulder, and the weight on top of her vanished as Jade ran into the building. Max let out a scream, shaking the streetlamps and shattering the windows of the nearby buildings. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. By the time Max got back to her feet, Jade and the child had vanished, and Tina was circling around to meet her outside. “You should have killed it,” Max snapped, gripping her bleeding shoulder. “Did you even draw blood? Ugh. It doesn’t matter. Come on. We can’t leave this job unfinished. But, Palatine? I’m killing Jade. You can take the infant. If you think you can handle it.”

Without leaving room to argue, Max grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her forward. They had unfinished business to settle.