#Citadel's First Lady (self)

[evilmcg]

Emeg's official reference sheet! Commissioned this lovely piece of art from @spookyfartduck.

[corallapis]

The Time Lords entered, moving clockwise around the colonnade that marked the perimeter of the room until they found their place and shuffled out onto the floor of the Camber. […] Everyone already knew precisely which part of the amphitheatre they should be standing in. They clustered in the usual groups determined by elaborate equations of seniority, office, family ties, college allegiance and personal acquaintance.

She knew the names of everyone standing around the President: the Magistrate and the other Ministers, the Castellan, the Co-ordinator of the Maxtrix, half a dozen Cardinals and a couple of cowled representatives from the religious orders. Larna found it difficult to believe that now she was a cog in the same intricate clockwork as these people, that she was beginning to acquire titles and duties of her own.

Each generation felt this way, each thought that they would usher in an age of revolution and a better way of doing things. Somehow, somewhere along the way, the dust and cobwebs and routines got into the blood, the desire always cooled. What had been energetic had always become ossified. Worse still, those who retained their fervour into adult life had become tyrants, intent on power whatever the cost.

A phalanx of the Chancellery Watch was practising the drill for the morning. They were in full ceremonial uniform, crimson, striped fur, breastplates and cloaks. They’d formed a neat square, and were marching up and down, boots clacking against the marble floor as regular as the tick of a clock. They’d done these drills for thousands of years — literally in the case of many of the soldiers. Long ago they must have exhausted every creative possibility there. That was the point, wasn’t it? They weren’t thinking, they were doing something that came as naturally and easily to them as breathing.

Gallifrey’s nameless sun rose over the Capitol Dome, as it had done since the first days of the universe. No sunlight penetrated the Dome itself, but the Oldharbour Clock that stood in the Eastern parts of the Capitol marked the occasion by chiming Nine Bells. On the ledge beneath the vast clock face, an intricate mechanical ballet began, as life-sized animated figures emerged from their positions and set about their daily routine. They were gaily painted and beautifully dressed, certainly symbolic of something, although even the few Gallifreyans that had noticed them couldn’t agree what it might be. One of the problems was that the clock had never been built. Not in this timeline, anyway. It was a paradoxical survivor from the Time Wars, probably the only vestige of its parallel Gallifrey still in existence. It had just appeared one day, no one remembered when. The analogue Time Lords that had built the Tower had imbued the clockwork figurines with a degree of sentience and the capacity for self-development. Now, unknown to anyone, the clock people were the most intelligent beings on Gallifrey. Their social interactions were complex, if perfectly regulated, and they had developed a complex framework of philosophy and etiquette to explain their world and their actions. It would be some time yet before they realised that they were just characters on a long forgotten clock face, but the discovery would come. When it did there would be dissension, schism and war. But still they would circle each other in perfect orbits, moving their limbs in perfect arcs.

Life in the Citadel normally ran like clockwork, everything in harmony, the same every day.

The chimes of the Clock Tower rang out over the hexangles of the Eastern side of the Citadel. The Time Lords and Technicians began to emerge from their quarters and glide smoothly to their work and their leisure. Lord Henspring and Lady Genhammer passed each other by the living fountain, three members of the Watch marched past, on their way to lay a wreath at the Monument to Lost Explorers. A small group of students stood around discussing the cultivation of roses and chess endgames. Deep within the Citadel, the TARDISes sat in their cradles, surrounded by humming machinery, as they had done for hundreds of thousands of years.

Nothing had changed, because nothing ever changed on Gallifrey except over geological timescales. Nothing was better, nothing was worse.

— The Infinity Doctors

[echoedcrosshairs]

Anatomically Defective - Echo x Fem Reader

Summary: Pre-Order 66 the boys walk into 79’s to blow steam and you catch Echo’s eye 🩶Smut with a Fluff Plot♥️

Warning: NSFW, Crude Language, PiV, Toy, Echo’s history, drinking, self conscious Echo (esteem issues), 69, oral (f receiving)

word count: 4852

Part Two

"I'm going to talk to her if you don't make up your mind," Crosshair scoffed watching his brother stare longingly at the pretty girl at the counter.

"You're not her type," the bar tender laughed at Crosshair setting down another round of drinks, "I haven't seen her go home with just anyone and you come on very strong," he said walking away chucking more, "Refill, love?" the bartender said tapping your shoulder showing you a blue drink in perfect view of the squad behind him.

"Thanks, Arthur," you said deliciously eyeing the mysterious drink and the group of men staring at you, "Did that on purpose didn't ya?" you laughed lowly so they couldn't hear.

"The frosty one, Crosshair is kind of an ass but the ladies never shut up about him afterwards, but you might like the half droid, Echo. Nice Trooper, one track mind for duty though," he admitted walking back around the bar, "just thought I'd point them out."

"Their clones?" You asked dumbfounded trying and failing to keep yourself from looking at them one more time before wide mouth gawking at him.

"It surprised me too when I found out, but the it explains why they all got the same brown color."

Actually Echo's eyes are more golden then brown, "Tell me about Echo," you asked looking back at him again before downing the dangerously sweet drink.

"War hero of the citadel rescue and Anaxes, blown up trying to defend the ship, captured, revived then experimented on, rescued and then got right back into the fight... and helped finally defeat Trench. I honestly don't know much more then that, I never met him pre... blown up," he admitted, "I think you'll get along."

"Give him one of these on my behalf," you said swirling the empty glass, "Also, another one if you kindly have the time."

"Echo," Arthur said setting down the glass, "It's from Y/N, but I know you know that because you watched me make both of them."

"Are you serious?" Crosshair said watching Arthur setting the matching drink down in front of Echo, "You're barely human and don't even have a-"

"Percentage wise he is correct about the first part. To think of it, I don't think Echo has had relations since he went-" Tech paused "boom. Is pleasure even plausible given the lack of anatomical parts?"

"I don't want to know," Arthur said excusing himself and walking around the bar, quickly pouring himself a shot and downing it, "Don't eveeen want to know."

"What?" You asked taking a sip of the drink, eyeing him cautiously.

"Nothing... nothing at all."

You roll your eyes at him. He leaves you to go poor drinks for a couple other regulars clients at the other end of the counter. It was so far a peaceful night, to early for the rowdy troopers to show up and but late enough for the regular fun ones to show up. You finished the drink, eyed Echo who was still staring at the drink. Well I don't think he's that interested, he hasn't even had a sip of it. You set the drink on the counter along with a few credits and made your way over to the slowly filling dance floor.

"Block!" You said running into the robot DJ getting groovy on the dance floor, grabbing him one of the girls could, "Mind if I cut in?"

"Hello, Y/N. Are you enjoying tonight's musical selection? I thought the alternating between slow and fast would create an interesting rhythm."

The song switched into a slow one, he reached out coldly and grabbed your hand, "I actually really like it, it's creating a dynamic atmosphere. It is most excellent," you said enjoying the dance, "Although it looks like some people don't understand it."

"As protocol dictates I must ask that I return to my post and adjust according, did you enjoy the dance?" Block asked.

"I did, thank you," you said letting go.

You laughed watching him walk away noticing eyes on your back, you ignored them and sat yourself in the dark corner of the bar furthest from them. You watched the dance floor in anticipation watching everyone enjoy the build up and the fall of music. The erotic dancing then fade into adorning swaying, watching the confused troopers was kind of fun. Arthur put another blue drink in-front of you saying it's on the house and apologized for being turned down. You told him it's okay, the night was young.

Echo watched her slide her empty drink towards the lip of the table and brought his gaze back to the glass. His brother's had a point, what could a girl like that want with a mess like him. Tech's words were cutting into him like a vibro blade, It's true I haven't been with a woman since, it's not that I don't want too... I just don't know if I can and she'd have to be very special to understand. He brought his eyes up noticing you were gone.

"She's with the DJ droid on the dance floor talking about the music selection," Hunter said finding you immediately, "Why didn't you go over there?"

"He's not a man that's why," Crosshair scoffed taking a drink, "Maybe I'll give it a shot," he said putting the glass down trying to stand up before Wrecker pulled him back down.

"Don't even think about it," Wrecker said with a yank.

Hunter was still staring at a silent Echo waiting. They looked to each other often for decisions but he didn't seem to trust him to go after it, "The girl showed interest in you and is over there dancing with a droid. I don't think the rest of us are her type," he said trying to encourage him, nonchalantly pointing at where you and Block were noticeable, "I would if I was you."

Echo watched Block nod at you before retaking his station. He looked at Hunter who gave him a nod. He got up which got him an off handed comment from Crosshair, You can keep her entertained and I can dick her down, which got him a loud thud of a punch from Wrecker. Echo scowled leaving the table, 'Was that a completely necessary comment?' he heard Tech say. Echo searched the booths for your face but the bright blue liquid at the end bar caught his attention.

"On the house. Don't know if he's just self conscious or more of droid then he appears to be, next time I won't try to help."

He watched you pick up the glass and swirling it watching the blue sparkle dance, "The night's young, won't let being turned down effect my night."

Echo watched you take a drink, looking around but didn't seem to notice him before looking down back at the glass. It is effecting you. What am I doing? Echo shook his head, took a breath trying to talk himself into walking up over when he left a shove behind him. 'Go' Crosshair hissed at him before stalking off. Oh, he was just trying to make me. Asshole.

"Sorry about that," Echo said shocking you causing you to shake a little and your drink slipped on you, "Fark I am so sorry," he said reaching and grabbing you some napkins. This is what I was afraid of, idiot, idiot, idiot.

"It's just a dress," you laughed blotting up the tiny spill, "I didn't even see you walk up," you said putting the wet napkins on the counter, "changed your mind?" you asked giving him a side glance looking at the sunken expression on his face before wiping up the counter.

"I just haven't had anyone take an interest in me since," Echo said raising his data port arm and sliding into the stool, "I am actually flattered."

"Really?" You said wide eyeing him, you looked at him closer. Sure he was paler, had a cyber connection relay system around his head but he still was insanely beautiful, everything else was just a bonus, "You're one of the cutest guys who's walked in here for a long time."

"She'd know, spends all of her free time here," Arthur laughed putting a glass infront of Echo.

"Dude... I live next door," you laughed.

"I just like giving you a bad time, keep this up though I might as well put you on the civvie payroll," he laughed walking away, "Don't make me regret this."

Your face flushed red, you put your hand over your check to try to cover it when you looked him equally as red but not bothering to try to hide it. You giggled a little bit removing your hand and putting both of them on the counter instead, "So what's with Frosty's glare?" You said noticing Crosshair looking in your direction.

"Crosshair? That's just his face."

"Not my type," you laughed winking at him making the glare worse.

"Got a thing for droids?" Echo asked nervously.

"What gave it away?" You laughed more thinking it was a joke, noticing the serious and the solemn look on his face observing you, "Oh, that wasn't a joke to you. I'm sorry. No, I don't like guys who think they can get anyone. Anyway he looks like a piece of work and not pleasant to be around."

"He's not," he laughed, it was warm like a planet that had two suns, "But he did shove me over here and in his own way told me to give it a shot. Sorry I saw you with Block and kind of assumed plus," Echo gave a small forced chuckle raising the arm again.

"Block? Maybe if his interface was better, at least I know he's reliable. Arthur wasn't kidding though, I spend a lot of time here so sometimes I give my input on the music when crowd watching especially when he changes it up and they don't seem to like it."

"Wait so you DO have a thing for droids?" He asked wide eyed with a smile this time.

"Guess I'll have to figure what out you are," you smiled into your drink sipping on it, "But that doesn't matter, it's who you are that matters. Nothing else matters, to me at least."

Echo's smile got bigger, maybe someone who actually sees me, "I liked that."

"Sooooo, how's it going," Wrecker asked tapping Hunter for his attention.

"I like her," Hunter said pulling his attention back to the squad, "She's definitely different."

"Excuse me, I'll be back momentarily. I- forgot something on the ship," Tech said drinking the drink and getting up.

"You? Forget something? Funny" Crosshair chuckled eyeing them at the end of bar.

"About you tell me about yourself," you smiled at him.

"Not to much to say that isn't easy information to find, I'm CT-1409, Echo. I was apart of Domino squad-" he started before you cut him off.

"That's not what I meant, how did you get the name Echo? What do you like to do in your free time? Favourite battle droid to fight, normal stuff."

"Normal stuff? Back when I was a shiny, I use to repeat every order given so I became Echo, hated it for the longest time but now I think it is the most perfect name my brothers could have given me."

"Oh," you asked turning your seat towards him.

"I'm the only echo left of Domino squad, last one still standing all of my brothers... gone. Echo of a man... I don't know, it just fits. For fun I use to enjoy reading regulation manuals, that's kind of boring to most people."

"It's... a beautifully poetic name," you said stunned, "as for the manuals, it just proves you've always been smart. People forgot knowledge comes from text just as it does from experience."

"What about you?" He asked.

You told Echo about yourself, his eyes seemed to continuously get more and more golden. He hung on every word you said time to time asking questions. Unlike other guys he seemed genuine and wasn't obviously undressing you with his eyes. Although I wouldn't mind if he did.

"Do you want to dance?" You asked, the liquid courage taking effect.

Echo stared down at his socket arm, "I'm not sure if-" he said awkwardly.

You grabbed his hand and elbow and dragged him to the dance floor, placing his arm around you and kept his fingers intertwined with yours, "Come on, scared?" you teased.

"Of making a fool out of myself."

You rested your head on his shoulder, "I'm not going to judge you, if anyone says anything they'll will regret it," you could hear his heart rate speed up and it speed up even further when he rested his jaw and cheek on you, "I take it confidence isn't your strong suit?" you whispered.

"Compared to my brothers I am... anatomically defective, more machine then man."

"I think you're more of a man then most of men in here."

Your hand moved tighter around his back and his breath hitched for a second before regulating. What was that about? You remember the padded circle your fingers moved over, Oh, his ports. His hand held yours a little tighter. The sensation was like a small jolt of electricity trying down him, "I don't know what that was," he whispered embarrassed.

You moved your hand again and it happened again, "I think it's cute," you giggled feeling his hand tighten again, "What does it feel like?"

"It feels like electricity... it's... good," he said hoping you wouldn't look up at the red across his face, at least now I know it's still plausible.

"Updateeee?" Wrecker asked watching them another with an ear to ear grin, "He look's happy."

"He does" Crosshair admitted.

Tech walked with a large punch with a project he'd been working on for some time, he looked at where his brothers were staring and found them on the dance floor. He gave a small smile when he caught Echo's eye and quietly walked forward and clipped it to his belt, "you might need it later," he whispered before returning to his squad.

"What was that about?" You asked looking at the large pouch.

"For once I have no idea what he's been tinkering on, but I know this isn't the place to open it."

"Want to go for a walk and see or... we can go back to my place," you suggested bashfully.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he offered picking up his head.

You squeezed his hand, pulling back and smiling at him dragged him to the door, "I'd like the second open."

"What was that?" Hunter asked.

"Given Echo's lack of anatomy, I supply crafted him that anatomy."

"So... you made him a dick?" Wrecker said confused.

"Precisely."

You wrapped both of your arms around Echo's taking about the legend known as Domino squad and who they were and his loathing of Commando Droids and the Techno Union. You guided him into the building of your apartment quietly as you let him ramble about his adventures with Clone Force 99 but he missed his 501st brothers but it was his duty to let them go. You steered both of you up to the higher floor where your residency was.

"It's not much but it's home," getting him to chuckle at all of the manuals on your book shelf, "there's always something to learn" you said dragging him to the couch and turning on the holo.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who enjoys learning," he chuckled sitting. Echo's hand grabbed the pouch off his belt and stared at it, What was so important... It can't be... can it? Echo carefully opened the package so only his eyes could it, his jaw fell agape and he stared it for a moment before quickly closing it and putting it back on his belt.

"And?" You asked watching several emotions and questions play across his face.

"It's an uh... indecent attachment," Echo said staring at the roof for a moment contemplating why Tech made it, how long as he been waiting to give it to him and if this was the wrong time to find out.

"That's actually kind of sweet," Echo heard you say and was shocked bringing his attention back to you plopping yourself gently into his lap, "We don't have to use it if you don't want too or I'm more then happy just sitting here and talking for the rest of the night."

"Cute girl in my lap? I'm happy with either too," the shameless flirt came out before he even realized what he said, he smiled that part of his old self was still there, "Plus I don't know if it even works-"

You moved yourself and straddled him instead place you mouth by his neck see what he'd do. Echo tried to keep his breathing even, It's been forever since a woman's been this close. She obviously doesn't seem to mind, I need to stop minding. Echo opened up his neck in offering, letting his hand move your hips, "You really don't mind do you-" the pressure of your lips on his neck silenced him.

You kissed up his neck and pressed harder into the spots that made his breathing quicken while doing your best to make sure no marks were left, "Not in the slightest," you purred bringing your hands up to the ports on the top of his neck seeing if they had the same effect, "How about you kiss me and we'll see how tonight goes."

Echo smirked a little knowing he was a damn good kisser, he moved his hand to your mouth and pulled you towards him. He took your bottom lip between his putting pressure on them and pulling you closer with his lips. Your hands started tracing around the ports, his breathing got more shallow, "You really seem to like that" you breathed between kisses.

"It's pleasurable," he admitted.

"I thought so," you purred leaning back into him, "take this off," you said running your hand down the front of his uniform.

You saw the momentary confidence on his face fade but he complied taking it off, exposing pale skin and a thin sunken torso. You grabbed his face and pulled him back to your mouth before letting your hands trace around chest and ports, "You're handsome," you breathed resting your forehead on his staring down at him, "lay down," you said standing up and pushing him down on the couch. He looked at you but laid down his heart pounding. You crawled back onto his lap, moving your mouth down his neck again and then down his chest kissing everywhere while your hands played with his ports causing him to let out a small quiet moan. Your pressed your mouth into his chest mouth and quicken the tracing of your fingers making a silently loader moan escaped him.

The feeling in Echo started building up, every second making it harder to think. He sat up and pulled you up trying to center himself, "How about somewhere a little more comfortable for both of us and something a little more reciprocal?" he suggested nervously. You took his hand and guided him towards the bedroom, "Did you want to try it?" Your eyes flickering down to the pouch. He smiled putting his hand on your strap of your dress, "Wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I use to be quiet talented with mouth."

You took his hand and used it to removed the strap, "Prove it," you said taking the other strap off your self.

He stared you up and down blinking, mouth slightly watering, "Yes, ma'am," he watched you crawl on the bed waiting for him. Maker help me. He crawled on the bed, grabbed and kissed your hand up to your wrist and placed it on the back on his head nuzzling himself between your legs.

You let out a small 'ah' noise once his mouth made contact. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth seeing how wet you were for him already. You looked mildly embarrassed but he love, your fingers finding the ports and stroking them. Echo moaned into you, the warmth of it causing you twitch mildly for him. He ran his tongue up scooping gently into your soaked opening, savoring the sweet bland slick that was because of him. You felt him trail his tongue up to the delicate section of nervous sticking out, he adjusted his lips around it making a little vacuum seal with his mouth and twirling his tongue around it.

"Kark" you moaned your hips tilted into his mouth, pushing him harder against you.

He took his non useful arm around your leg and pulled you closer to him, letting his tongue coast up and down coaxingly. He could feel the electric feeling building up again, he brought his fingers to the the slit of the opening letting you cover his fingers before pushing them inside. He feel your clit engorging, content with himself that you were really attracted to him. He worked his lips up and down while his fingers tried to find the pace and motion you preferred.

"There," the word trembled out your head going further back into the pillow.

You could feel his arm trembling around your leg, you stroke him faster. Maker does this feel good. He took a chance, ever so gently stroking you upward with his teeth, "Echo," you moaned coming undone on his face with the surprising sensation. He pulled you closer to his face, his nose resting on you and his fingers not stopping as you road them through the sensation. You started shaking harder and he started shaking. You felt the moment the surge took him, his mouth came but his fingers went deep as they could, "Mesh'la," he let out shakily his breathing ragged. You cupped his cup cheek staring at him still panting staring at the bliss across his face and his big golden eyes staring at you. He carefully removed his hand still shaking, he licked each of his fingers and his eyes rapidly blicking he left out another small delish moan.

"I am jealous of whatever is going on in that neural connection," you scooted over creating space for him, "join me?"

He moved himself next to you, laying on his back his breathing still ragged, you rolled up and put yourself around his data and interlaced your legs with his. Echo was still reeling, his whole body felt like it was adrift on pleasure cruise, when you brought your hand to his chest he shuttered with a groan escaping. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissed and put it back on his chest covering it with his own. She's so beautiful, his hand tighten around yours and his arm also wrapped you closer.

"Handsome," you mumbled turning more into him, "and so so so talented."

"You're so beautiful," he looked admiring you, "I'm glad you think so. How about another one?" he offered.

"Maker please."

"Do you want to try it?” Echo asked awkwardly looking down at the pouch.

“We can just go see if it works, or I’ll happily keep your face between my legs,” you smiled.

Echo pulled himself up and finished stripping his leg armor and blacks. He watched you examine him, “See something you like?” he said slowly and awkwardly opening the bag.

“I really do think you’re handsome,” you smiled sitting up pulling him back towards you resting your face against his stomach and running your hands down the cold of his legs, “Nothing to be self conscious about or embarrassed about around me,” you said pulling back so he could fiddle with the attachment.

Echo attached two tiny connectors to the ports closes on each side of his lower stomach and one on each thigh, “So figured out what I am yet?” He teased smiling feeling the attachment connect and accepted into his system.

“Well… what do you want to be?” you asked pulling him back onto the bad.

“I’m definitely a happy man,” he kissed you until your head laid against the pillow, “Where I currently want to be however? Definitely in you,” Echo moved onto his elbow, letting his free hand trail down you while he took your pebbled nipple into his mouth letting his fingers drift back inside, “Do you know that you taste good?” He whispered into your ear.

You squirmed under him, his touch and the comment making a physical reaction. Bringing your hand back to his head, “Echo,” you breathed feeling his touch start being rougher and faster. You could feel yourself coating his fingers, he smiled pulling them out and using them to stroke the attachment and his stomach tense, you removed his hand and stroked it yourself. You moved your legs around his and flipped him on his back on the bed the smile turning into a grin, “How about a test run?” You worked it up and down watching parts of his body tense and release.

He tried flipping you but you planted your knees deeper into the bed in defiance, “Why don’t you back up then and put that tasty pussy back in my face?” He said enjoying the sensation but wanted it to be fair. Did I really just say that? After all this time I’m still the same. He watched you slowly turn around putting your legs back his arms and painfully to slow put your self on his mouth. ‘Maker’ he moaned feeling your grip tighten on him. Echo let his tongue slide in and out of you, twirling it around the inner edges of the split before working his mouth back down to your pulsating need for him. He hummed against it the small vibration making you press your self a little further down on his face, he let his hand trail around your body enjoying the sensation of your skin against his. He felt his leg start to lightly drum against the base board of the bed, I guess it’s my turn first this time.

You watched his leg drum and the other one start to quiver, you moved the hand that wasn’t stroking him to a connector on his leg wondering if he could feel both or if his body only registered one at a time. Surprised with your self you picked yourself off of him so you could see his face, he grabbed you and pulled you back down holding you there. Someone’s enjoying himself. You felt the moment he stopped, the orgasm take over. You gently continued to stroke him until his hand gently begged you to stop. You moved yourself back between his legs, you could see the speckling of sweat glistening his body and some of you on the corner of his mouth which took him no time to find and lick up with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes trailed around his body, the pale skin, big eyes, the bigger then normal lips and his jawline and cheeks sculpted like the maker made him himself. For me. His breathing was raspy but you wanted the rise and fall of his chest putting your hand on the his lungs slightly feeling the mechanical system underneath try to catch up.

“Do you think I’m a man?” He asked weakly, looking at your hand knowing what you were feeling.

“I do. One I wouldn’t mind getting to know more whenever your around.”

“I think I’d bore you,” he admitted.

You leaned up kissing across his collar bones, “Rules, regulations, reports, none of that could bore me as long as you were apart of them,” you paused leaning over his neck, “You’re the only man who hasn’t bored me,” you said kissing the base of his neck slightly pulling on it waiting to see if he’d stop you from making a mark but his moan and hand squeezing your hip was the green light, “You are not lesser Echo” you whispered before turning your attention back to his neck.

“I’d bring you with me if I could,” he said picking you up with the handful of hip he hand a grip on moving you back and plunging his cock attachment into you, his hips spreading bucking all of it into you, “No one’s made me feel like this before,” his voice sincere gentle and softly moving you up and down him. He brought the side of his non useful arm to your face nudging you up, watching you nuzzle the arm realizing how different and understanding you were compared to everyone.

Cautiously he moved himself back on top of you resting his forehead against yours, nearly pulling himself all the way out and rushing himself back in, “Is it comfortable?” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell your anatomically defective” you teased, “If it feels good to you, that’s all I care about.”

“I care about you.”

“And I you.”

[voidofcourse8]

ASOIAF Fic Idea #2: Self-Insert into Elinda Massey from TDOTD

Another Fanfic Idea I may or may not write since I have the issue of wanting to write and then my brain freezing after the first couple of chapters or in the middle of the planning process if I decide to actually plan it out!

Elinda of House Massey is a Lady-in-Waiting for Rhaenyra Targaryen from the time period of TDOTD.

She wakes up at 5 years old as Elinda.

She would have two brothers and three sisters.

She is the oldest of all her siblings.

Order of birth: Elinda, Sister 1, Sister 2, Brother 1, and twin siblings Sister 3 and Brother 3

Names will come later

Original Fate: Gouges out eyes and is put into Sea Dragon Tower for ransom

She was forced to watch Rhaenyra be burned and eaten by Sunfyre

Wiki Link Here

Little to no uplift, lots of scheming on how to survive the dance and come out with her eyes and not a captive.

If there is uplift, it would be to build a citadel of the arts where Stondance is located, sanitation improvements, and public education in cooperation with the faith.

Link for stonedance wiki here

Link for house massey wiki here

Citadel of the arts would be built in cooperation with the citadel and would include all sorts of arts along with the history and philosophy.

A finishing school for girls of lower birth would be started as well.

Whores would start attending the school to improve their skills and desirability.  Eventually they started attending the etiquette classes (as the fee was cheap) that were offered and became more like the Courtesans of Braavos than normal whores.

Elinda hears of this eventually and talks the girls into starting a Courtesans Guild, as she honestly can’t stop prostitution, but she can set up protections in the form of a guild.

As a joke it would be called “The Maidens Guild” by guards and others to make fun of it, but it turns out that the Courtesans Guild liked the name and it’s catchy, so it stuck.

Would include Elinda being one of few people taking Rhaenyra’s training to be heir seriously.

She becomes an unofficial advisor to Nyra.

She convinces Nyra that if her father won’t provide her the education needed, that she needs to seek it out herself, and helps her pick out people to teach her what she needs to know.

Also convinces Nyra to keep her Septa and Ladies-In-Waiting near her at all times, and explains to Nyra that she needs to be beyond reproach.  The ladies-in-waiting and septa will help guard her reputation.

Her septa is from flea bottom, and is well liked there.

Also she convinces her that Daemon is in fact, bad news..

Elinda comes with Nyra on her tour along with Nyra’s other ladies and helps her build alliances.

She can’t stop Aemma from dying or Vizzy T from marrying Alicent.  She tries and fails fantastically.

TDOTD is set up by the death of Prince Aemon, so there’s no stopping it when Rhaenyra is his only living kid with Aemma.

Jaehaerys never intends for Rhaenys to be the heir, it’s a source of strife between Aemon and his father

House worships the seven, descended from the first men; they have a Weirwood tree in their castle.  It’s become more of a garden and is at the heart of the castle.

House words “Ever Moving” from a tumblr that made them

Link here

Book/Show fusion for canon

She would survive the dance, her family does declare team black.

She will marry and her youngest brother survives the war, but not the oldest of her 2 brothers.

Haven’t decided who she would marry though.

[radianceholy]

Owlcatober 2024 - Dance

not only the first one of these that's overtly shippy but also the first one that involves an actual knight commander oc!!!

knight commander magda, drunken master monk / bloodrager legend.

no cws here. just poorly wooing an old lady

Galfrey could look upon the bustle of Drezen with the impartial eye of a ruler, gazing from atop the high walls of Drezen Citadel and observing from afar, but in seeing the end of the War that had consumed her, body, mind, and soul, she could feel a fatigue setting in. A human shouldn't live this long. She'd trained herself too well. Swallowed her doubts, her self-hatred, her fear, and her guilt, granting herself not a moment to dwell on such things. 

–Tired. She was tired. And the more she fought, the more she longed for it to end.

Drezen had become a terrible sight, she was told. Demons in the streets and whispers of conspiracy among the Crusaders, with a cult of personality surrounding the commander and her violent, bloody methods. She grew more powerful, more brutal, and more monstrous by the day, and those who would dissent were dwindling in number. She couldn't believe how bleak things had become, in her absence, to hear of it. The corruption had passed over like a wave, every demon had been chased out of the city, aside from one solitary outlier. Knight Commander Magda, a monster in battle whose violence rivaled the foes they faced, faced her six months later with all of the grace her position would demand. Galfrey didn't have the strength in her to ask about Alushinyrea, or her lengthy disappearance. She felt too bitter, and her lack of faith was rewarded.

All's well that end's well, no?

“...Mm. Nah. Graceful words aren’t for me” Magda didn’t meet Galfrey’s gaze. “I wanted to kill you, but it was just... just more bullshit," she grunted, gesturing awkwardly. "It was supposed to be all mine. My territory, my power, my underlings, my crusade. If you were jealous, or threatened, or somethin’ like that, you were right to be.” Her hands clenched to fists. “...When I got back… when I, y’know… when I learned all about that shit, when the goddess… when she actually came to me…”

…Tonight, her vigil was not as lonely. Silently, Commander had crept behind her. She had senses as keen as ever, and it would be difficult to miss such a lofty shadow settling over her, but she'd become rather light on her feet. There was a quiet timidity to her movement that ill-suited her massive frame.

Magda’s body was a knot of scar tissue muscle, with wild red curls that weren’t so much tamed as it was loosely corralled; tied back just enough that it wouldn’t fall in front of her face, but thick and bushy enough that it still provided a great deal of volume to her already massive figure. She was, by far, one of the tallest humans she’d ever met, and as broad as a barn.

The Knight Commander drew in a sigh, and Galfrey let the silence linger a moment or two. It wasn't a comfortable silence, but it was a familiar one. The silence between today and tomorrow was a peaceful one, this time.

“...Wanted to thank you, y’know.” Her voice was gruff and gravely, like the smoldering ruins left behind by a house fire.

“You know that’s not what I’d expect to hear. I was full prepared to apologize for what I'd put you through, in my jealous need for control.”

“...Heh. I know.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “...I wanted to snap your neck, a little, when you stripped my title.”

Galfrey’s head tilted, looking up at the enormous woman at her side. So casual a confession. If she were here with a proper procession, it would be a dangerous affair to navigate, but between the two of them, the candor seemed to put her at ease. “You’re far from the first to curse my name,” she replied, as though absorbing such blows were as natural as breathing.

“Yeah– yeah, I know.” She had changed, but there were still signs. Her nails grew thick and sharp, and they looked more like claws. Her horns had grown brittle, and when she’d attempted to headbutt a Glabrezu, they cracked, leaving behind broken stumps, but they hadn't exactly fallen out, either. There was a scar where her tail had been, and Galfrey knew only because that woman wore very little while leading the charge into battle. She had no idea if it was the trauma of rejecting her mythic power, or a self-inflicted wound.

She'd gotten herself hurt often enough. Reckless. Often enough, drunk. But sober-minded in meetings, and reasonable enough to let her advisors make the decisions when it really mattered. That’s why the Fifth Crusade didn’t crumble without its commander, even if Galfrey felt nothing but bitterness over having forced it to do so. The two of them stared out into the streets. Too many words needed to be said, and the world only seemed to narrow. Soon, there would be nothing left but a march to Threshold. “...It was a betrayal. If this is some gesture at diplomacy, you needn't bother.”

Galfrey nodded diplomatically, though she couldn’t bring herself to look Magda in the eyes, either. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Commander.”

“Like hell I don’t.” She all but growled. “...I was sick for two weeks. Irabeth handled all the marching orders, kept everything running… hid what was going on, through the fevers, the weird visions, throwin’ up everything I ate or drank…” She shook her head. “...So the rank and file wouldn't know what I was goin' through. When the abyss was leavin’ my body, I thought I was gonna die.”

Galfrey closed her eyes. “...They expect too much of you. You were a mortal woman. You fulfilled your duties to my satisfaction, and I will not let you think otherwise.”

Magda heaved a great breath. “...Same goes for you, y’know.”

Galfrey looked up at her. Her jaw was set, eyes hard. She’d spoken those words with a bitter conviction, with enough force to tear through whatever resistance she could put up. Her bare heart, and Galfrey’s. “A hundred years of… this. This, by the gods. Galfrey - my Queen, I mean - how’d you survive it?”

“...By killing myself in smaller ways, I suppose. I could remember my duty, and my responsibilities. I could put them over any other petty concern.”

“Petty concerns… so all those bits of you, they're each a petty concern?”

A sad smile played at her lips. “One woman, against an entire nation, every land beyond it, and the enormity of the abyss…” She shook her head. “...Of course they were. Of course I am.”

Magda cleared her throat. By the time she’d turned to her, she realized the enormous woman was now facing her, hand outstretched, with a rather solemn expression on her face.

“What’s this, now…?”

“...Training.”

She scoffed, casting a skeptical look. “Is it, now?”

“...Ye- yeah. Learnin’ to control my movements again, rather than letting loose like that. Slow, deliberate.”

“And you’d practice that with the Queen of Mendev? The stakes are much higher than you anticipate.”

“Mm. Strip my title if I step on your toes.”

“That’s not…” She sighed, taking her hand. “I’d rather you didn’t joke about such things.” Her enormous fingers, her terrible calluses and scars. The two of them looked worlds apart, beside one another. Magda’s other hand rested on her waist. Galfrey didn’t have anything to say about that.

It was a slow step. Amateurish, and without ballroom music to accompany it. It reminded Galfrey of social affairs when she was just a girl, without the pressure of performance weighing down upon her. Such an achingly long time ago��

“I’ve never danced before,” Magda admitted, disarmingly vulnerable.

“And you’ve taken the lead, already?”

“Ain’t that just the story of my life…”

A warm silence hung in the air between them.

“...You think anyone from the streets can see us?”

“Doubtful.”

“Then… you’ll train with me, again?”

She sighed. “...Calling it ‘training’ won’t fool me. You want to spend more time with me.”

“Hah… it was worth a shot, y’know.”

Galfrey smiled, despite herself. “Well… when you bring this war to a close, you will have many years ahead of you, I gather. You’ll have to be able to hold your own in stately ballroom affairs.”

“...Yeah? If someone experienced could teach me, y’know…”

Galfrey let out a sigh. She let herself smirk, though, a fleeting moment of mirth.

“I’ll consider your request, Knight Commander.”

Magda’s shoulders sank. Her large arms wrapped around Galfrey’s body, squeezing her against her broad, well-muscled chest. Their dance had devolved into a slow, rhythmic sway, the way the branches of a tree might shift and move in the spring breeze.

Galfrey closed her eyes.

Perhaps, for now, she could permit it. Just this one, small indulgence.

[countlessrealities]

@evilmcg sent: Recently, she had taken SR's advice on dumping the other Megs at this Citadel, so her boyfriend Morty wouldn't have to interact with them and she wouldn't fly into a murderous jealous rage. She hadn't felt much jealousy when it came to Mortimer (that's what she liked to believe anyway), but when she caught sight of a Meg talking to Mortimer when she decided to visit him on a whim and he was being so gentlemanly towards the girl, she snapped. Charging over there in an instant. Not only slicing her throat, but stabbing her over and over again once she tackled her to the ground. Panting heavily over her corpse once she was done. Only now meeting Mortimer's gaze. (for E-Morty)

Morty would have never admitted it, but the first time he had heard of a Meg appearing on his Citadel, he had been quite puzzled. Of course, from time to time, it happened that someone who wasn't a Rick or a Morty stumbled on the city-state by accident, but how many chance were there for them to be a version of his girlfriend?

His instinct had immediately told him that it hadn't been a mere coincidence, but he had decided to merely had the girl escorted back to her dimension and not to think too much about it.

...Until it had happened a second time. And then a third. At that point, only a fool wound have clung to the idea that it was a mere coincidence, and the president was anything but.

So, after the second Meg had been taken care of, he had retraced her steps and found out that she had landed on the other Citadel first. That had been enough for a certain suspicion to form in his mind, one that he had gotten the chance to test with the third arrival.

Thus, why he had decided to deal with this other Meg in person, showing her his most charming persona. Useless to say, the girl had gotten bewitched by the act and quickly turned to putty in his hands. It was pathetic, but it didn't annoy him as it would have under other circumstances. He was sure that his Meg would have been outraged by the sight and the idea amused him to no end.

So why resisting when he caught the sight of her spying on him and his current company? He saw now reason to and took the girl's hand in his own, brushing a courtly kiss on top of it.

What happened next was admittedly unexpected. While he had anticipated an overreaction on his girlfriend's part, he hadn't anticipated that level of violence. He had thought that Meg would have screamed and made a scene, at most physically shoved her other self out of the way, but not spilled blood, and even less brutal murder.

If asked, he would have claimed that he had chosen to just stand there and watch, but in truth it was all he could do, as caught off guard as he was. Amber eyes widened imperceptibly as the followed the blood spurting all around, staining the ground and the First Lady's clothes. He was fascinated by it, he had always been, but it somehow looked more endearing and prettier knowing that it was being spread by her hand.

By the time Meg was done raging over her alternate's corpse, Morty had succeeded in burying away his initial reaction and true emotions, leaving nothing but a smug smirk for her to see. There was no way he would have let her see how captivated he was, not unless she had earned that admission.

"Look at what we have here," he hummed, a hint of mockery echoing in his voice. "Really, Meg? Causing a scene just because I was being polite? Careful, or people will start thinking you're so head over heels for me that you can't stand the idea of someone just innocently walking a little too close to me."

He knew that she would have hated what he was implying. Her being in love with him, being obsessed with him. Not that he truly thought that she could have ever been, he knew better than that. It was something that was, for better or for worse, reserved exclusively for his counterpart. However, it was fun to pretend that it could be.

"And look at that. You really made a mess of yourself."

One of his hands wrapped around her arm, coaxing her back on her feet, while the other fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. And if he was much more gentle, almost affectionate, as he cleaned the blood off her face than he had to be, he pretended not to notice.

[ludcake]

can you tell us more about your oc cassanna? we’re piecing together her backstory with a cork board and some string rn

ok you literally do not KNOW how much i have of her. I'm currently writing a dedicated halloween fanfiction of her with the Red Keep-as-monster because I felt like it was a vibe. She's everything to me she's my baby.

Casanna Lannister (with one S because it looks nicer and medieval languages have no consistency :D) is the only child of the Lord of Lannisport. Her mother was Jocasta Reyne, who died in childbirth after several previous miscarriages - and her father, Lord Tommen Lannister, was completely wracked with guilt. (After having pushed his wife to *that*, of course. Because the guilt only matters when it can't be helped anymore.)

Her father turned into a total catholic religious freak. Just, self-flagellation, fasting, wearing hair shirts, threw away the entire finances of House Lannister of Lannisport into giving money to charity and the Faith. Complete freak. He thinks that he's sinned for the murder of his wife and must repent to the Seven and is carrying that guilt *everywhere*.

Meanwhile, little Casanna was being raised by Septas like a proper little lady - except she was very sick. Or rather, very frail - frail on the level of the Maesters saying "she probably won't make it to six", except that since her father sees her survival as the imperative to his own moral redemption, he went crazy on it. Got the entire court praying for her recovery, didn't trust any maesters to touch her, regular leechings performed by the Septon - and while she hung on there as a child, things still weren't great.

That is, until Septon Joffrey showed up.

He was a wandering Septon, who'd taken vows of poverty, and no Septry would take him for his own... Unorthodox views; he was an expelled acolyte of the Citadel, because he saw the Seven and scripture as utterly paramount, to the point of getting into fistfights with his peers over it. Still, he was charismatic; he was a young man at the time, and he was invited into the keep of the Lannisters, as Tommen saw all men and women of faith, and he offered his services.

Casanna improved, and he tutored her. He taught her that the Seven were also One-in-Seven; that the Stranger and the Warrior were just as worthy aspirations for her as the Maiden and the Mother. She'd never be a mother, she replied; the maesters had told her, she did not have the constitution for it. He assured she could find still solace in the Seven, that Maiden-Mother-Crone wasn't all of God's teachings she could hold; his teachings as Maester worked pretty well, and her health recovered considerably, enough she could hang out with other children - enough that he was made Lord Tommen's right hand for it, given the resources of the realm, feast and gold alike at his fingertips.

She was twelve when she was first betrothed to be married, to a third cousin of the main Lannister line; she was twelve when she watched him, twice her age, bring out a mountain lioness to be slain in her name, to honor her, and watched the lioness maul him. Lord Tommen insisted that Septon Joffrey treat him, against the advice of his liege; when the cousin died, Joffrey was cast away.

Five more times she was betrothed, and five more times tragedy befell them; men from the Westerlands, Reach, Riverlands, as far away as Dorne came to ask for the hand of a child upon whom rested the possessions of Lannisport, third and fourth sons aiming to have something to their name. She rejected them all, a sad and small child, who did not wish to see tragedy again.

By pressure from her uncle, who wished to be heir to Lannisport - and by the other houses of the city, who saw her as an unreliable heir - she was sent away, to King's Landing, at the age of sixteen to be a lady in waiting to a princess. And here's where things diverge.

The *main* version of her is from the RP server I run, Birthright, and it's where a lot of her being crazy comes from; there, Daeron the Daring became King after the death of Aegon II, and things spiraled out from there to a general Green Victory. In that scenario, she's lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenara Targaryen, whom she fell in love with - and who loved her back, until Rhaenara was betrothed to Casanna's cousin through the Reyne line, who is the Lord of Casterly Rock. The main thing is that Casanna's approach to that relationship is... Very toxic, and very central to her character - she cannot be a maiden anymore, but she'll never be a mother. She used to fantasize about being a knight to her Princess, but someone else took that away. She created her confidence around being her confidante, about serving her, and her father died and she put a crown on the Princess' forehead and now the realm is dying and the gods aren't answering her prayers and she has to grip onto the idea of that idyllic, perfect relationship she had in her teenage years with all her might because otherwise there might be nothing left. So she became Lady Confessor and Mistress of Whisperers, and she can't handle the torture and murder, but she doesn't stand being unable to serve, so she pushes on and punishes herself through hurting others, including, ultimately, one of the hostages at the Red Keep - Daenaera Stone - whom she slowly falls for after months of very much being in a position of almost killing her, because Daenaera has accepted death enough that it's the only moment of peace Casanna has now. Because they can just sit together, and talk, and hate each other, and that's as good as bliss. Because nowhere else can she be like that. Because she can say the truth, because she can say what she feels, because she knows nobody will ever believe a prisoner. Nobody will ever listen to the words of a madwoman. A dead woman.

MEANWHILE, there's several other versions of her I play with. The constant with her are - toxic catholicism, usually involving the worship of a person as an outlet for her own frustrations with herself (my sin doesn't count if it's for them) and - being gay and also really mad that she can't be straight and have children and a husband and feeling lonely and isolated because of it, because in a society where the worth of a woman is measured by her womb, by her beauty, what happens when you can't have children, when you can't love men, and you're aging??

The main version I'm playing with for my Halloween fic is one wherein she's a lady-in-waiting to Cersei during AFFC, and her obsession revolves both around Cersei but ALSO around the Red Keep itself, and thinning the line between the two as an entity until the ghosts of the Red Keep eat her because the Red Keep is alive and is also a monster.

I can talk a lot about her, but just gonna. Leave this bit from a scene where I'm writing her.

Lady Confessor. My due was to be her Hand, to rule Lannisport, to sit beside her, that our blood be one and our flesh be united; my due was to speak as her voice, to act as her will, to breathe at her command and caress her as leal companion. Rather, mine is the charge of dungeons, of torture, of questions and answers, of the dread that come to men's hearts when they hear the whisper of her name; mine is the charge of spycraft and rats, of shadows and death, the Stranger's work. A lioness ought to have her pride, but none may hear me roar. Casanna's heart weighed and sunk deeper into her gut, that ever demanding ache for a past she'd lost a millstone round her neck; for sweet spring days where she blossomed to a woman, laying beside her heart's delight, her deepest desire. Those few nights not plagued by terrors, the images of her father's ghost haunting her, of Aegon, of Rhaegar, of the King and Lord Mallister passing to her eyes, their dead eyes, final sigh, their blood drowning her - those few nights not plagued by the weight of her actions, she dreamt of how her hair smelled in those drowsy mornings, of how the sun shone to her face, how her skin felt to her fingers, her voice to her ears. Her hands shook and spilled ink over the parchment, staining the words she'd penned; her ears echoed the sound of screaming, the insults and the sobbing, the pain and the despair of the Black Cells she now oversaw. A lady is never fazed by her circumstances; merely inconvenienced, the voice of Joff returned to her. The Seven made each of us in Their image, and given us the duty and the right to take Their Works into our hands - Maiden and Crone, Warrior and Smith, Mother and Father, even the Stranger; righteousness and piety comes through all.

She'd crowned her, laid the steel circlet to her forehead and proclaimed her Queen as she'd done a thousand times amid kisses and whispers; yet though her gaze still lay fondly upon Casanna, the duties of a Queen called her away - the realm tore itself apart for the grief they shared, the grief which parted them, the grief neither knew how to bear. Had it been a mistake, she'd questioned? Had she taken to action too quickly, and now she'd share the fate of the Black Queen's favourites, her Queen given to the flames? Her cousin had taken her from Casanna, wed her, given her a swollen belly and a happy smile through sorrow and thorn; Master of Laws, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport - yet that shield did nothing to prevent the incoming blow from the Ironborn. That shield let her father die, gave away her birthright, the Rock that now stole her treasures. She penned down her letter again; to a cousin she'd grown beside, a Lannett of a cadet line, a boy when they'd last met and now a man grown. Were her father alive, he may have encouraged that she match her hand to his, so the line may persist beside another junior of the Rock; rather, he'd serve as her castellan and first officer so long as she remain in King's Landing - she'd hoped that mayhap she may charge him with the affairs of the Rock, too, if she could persuade her cousin, but he now went to campaign, warring across the Riverlands, reaping the seeds of rebellion she'd sowed. Encased within the envelope to be sent was a badge of office - a golden key with the bow of a lion, twinkling eyes of sapphire and fangs of ivory. She had five made - one for herself, one for Lord Damon, one for Ser Lannett and the two remaining ones... Well, she needed bait to find new stakeholders.

The Golden Bank of Lannisport - as it would be called, as per its charter - was to finance the reconstruction of the city, a new fleet for the Rock, to rival Oldtown and even the Free Cities; without Gulltown or White Harbour beside the Queen, her domain may expand, and though her holdings would always be those of a cadet, she may find fortune elsewhere. Or so ran the thought. Lord Royce had passed not a week before, and the rotting smell of his body still stained her clothes, she felt; her hands seemed bloodied no matter how much she washed them, and she could hardly focus anymore, her tired expression hidden by the steady work of her servants and ointments and paint from lands as distant as Lorath and Yunkai. Casanna had torn the realm apart, laid beside a woman, killed those who trusted her; it had been the Seven's own punishment that she lose all that she love most, that she be shackled like a hound, that she be put to serve her Queen as her left hand, do the darkest bidding and shed the blood and whisper the evils necessary for the realm. She had her duty, and she'd do it to her best ability - but her heart hurt that she felt it unrewarding, a punishment, her mind taken by guilt she'd never felt before. Casanna had never questioned the direction her heart took her, the winding roads that service to her Princess led her through; she'd lied and betrayed, she'd even been accomplice to death when it was required - but that was when she was rewarded with kind words and caresses, when they were one, when she still held out hope they may be together, as the Maiden's light bless them. Now she was a spinster, a gaoler, a rat-catcher in the walls; Mistress of Whisperers, Lady Confessor, Child of the Stranger, a bloodied sapphire to adorn her Queen's crown. No true lioness should be sneaking about without a pride to follow her.

What had once been the Queen's was now hers, and she sat at her chair on the Small Council; as she busied herself with royal affairs, now Casanna looked after the wyrms and drakes along the realm, whose whispers and blades served the line of the dragon. They said the usurper courted the favour of the Iron Bank of Braavos, and that the Rogares lay close with the court at Sunspear - the Martell had not yet recognised the legitimacy of Her Grace's reign, but they'd always been a troublesome lot. She set the letter aside upon a stacking pile of missives to be sent to the rookery by a servant; her livelihood had become to writ letters, learn the weakness of flesh and bone, demand answers, reminisce and fall to night terrors, at times interrupted by the counsel of the Small Council. Her cousin rode out to the Riverlands, her Queen was beset by treason and flattery; Casanna's affairs were not war, and war was all the realm was set against. She'd grown in times of peace, blossomed to a woman in strife, but when it came again, she was beset by matters she'd not learned, powerless in the face of it all. She paused, and cleaned after her desk, standing up and taking a deep breath - her corset felt tight around her waist, months of indulgence to hippocras and honeyfingers to console her heart taking their toll on her shape. She'd not gone out hunting or riding on horseback since the Great Council, and she missed the fresh air of the open fields of the Kingswood; but duty took its price, and it was rather that than her blood. The Lady Confessor placed her cloak upon her shoulders, and pinned it together with a golden brooch; with firm steps, she ran down the stairs, the stink and musk of the gaol bringing her insides to a simmer. She withdrew a dagger, a pretty dirk from Lys, and got well to work. For the Queen.

[meissashush]

I feel bad about this, but I need all the Ro info. Hate, betrayal, and nightmares for Rosea? T_T

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Moogles.

It was a genuine fear when she was a child, the wide empty eyes of a giant plush moogle staring into her soul from an armchair in the Amicitia manor. The thing was absolutely haunted. It didn't matter how much Lady Amicitia tried to assure her, nor how much Gladio tried to make it seem harmless, she was utterly convinced that thing was going to eat her in her sleep.

The moogle got put away for future visits.

Now that she's older, it's mostly a joke. Mostly. The cartoons of them are fine, the small key-chains are sometimes actually kind of cute, and she'd never let Iris know she doesn't care for them, but the reality is they make her skin itch. She doesn't want them near.

Kenny Crow doesn't bother her in the least, though, which is the only reason Gladio won't pick on her about the moogles. She knows his weakness.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Rosea isn't someone who is easily betrayed. It's a self-preservation thing, in that she knows her place in the priorities of the people closest to her, so it's hard for her to consider it a betrayal. If she did, she'd only ever feel betrayed.

In an emergency, the King must come first. Then the Prince, then the Shields, and so on and so forth. The Marshal's Daughter isn't very high on the list, as it isn't a position that holds any power. No systems will crumble, nor institutions suffer if she were harmed, other than Cor's feelings. Which means considerably more than she believes, but still doesn't really hold a candle to the lives of parliamentary figures.

In an emergency, she is often left in charge of herself.

But that level of sacrifice, especially amongst children, only meant that the little things would hurt so much more. When they were children, Noctis and Ro had a spat that would have landed most children in timeout. It was petty, mostly verbal, and ended with Rosea throwing her very first punch.

When Noct started bawling, both he and Ignis (the sole witness) threw her under the bus. She ended up being banished from the Citadel for an unspecified amount of time, and their friendship was almost completely destroyed.

In a way, this could also be seen as a betrayal by her towards every adult in her life. They all expected her to be more mature than that, which lead to a lot of them treating her much more coldly from that point on. She was a trouble maker, now. They expected her to disappoint them.

And given this mindset? She hardly counts anything else she did from that point on as an act of betrayal, since why would anyone expect better of her? It's not her problem, she owes them nothing.

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

A lot of things. Between training for emergencies and actual emergencies, nightmares were sort of just expected. It was even mentioned in the training manual. Being chased, kidnapped, tortured, murdered, etc - it was all fair game. Cor comforted her when she was younger, but the more they happened the more numb she grew to them. She doesn't mention it much, anymore.

[cerberusdailynews]

[CRIME] Notorious Cat Burglar Turns Self In, Claims She "Was Tired of the Whole Business"

Police Baffled by Self-Report via Clancy Tavish, the Sirona Star [SIRONA] Police at the 42nd Precinct Station of Senturom were baffled yesterday as an elcor alleging herself to be the infamous “Crawler of Grisaron” turned herself in, citing a climbing dissatisfaction with her work/life balance. Thirteen artifacts of considerable worth were recovered in her ensuing arrest, lending significant credence to her claim. “We had no idea what to make of it,” said Police Sergeant Eduardo Spaulding, who was present at the time of arrest. “We still don’t, frankly. Here we are, three Citadel homeworlds and over a dozen colonies trying to pin down this master art thief, and she just lumbers into our podunk town and turns herself over.” The Crawler of Grisaron is currently wanted on Sur’kesh, Thessia, and Earth, along with a number of other major colony worlds for the theft of countless priceless works of art, often stolen under spectacular circumstances. Thefts attributed to the Crawler include Athame by Siphoni M’Stal (c. 2100 BCE), the statue Lady with an Orange by 21st-century sculptor Uriah Blau, and the painting Tore Nura Scheming Against the Gods by Siron Sogan. The last of these, commissioned by Clan Dragel after their first successful manned mission to the planet that took their name, is a Union treasure and was considered impossible to steal before its disappearance in 2166. The alleged Crawler (current name unknown) has refused to divulge the means by which she procured any of these items, nor has she identified any co-conspirators who may have assisted herself, citing only “extensive research” the degree of which “has encroached on my social life.” Attempts to identify her via biometrics have similarly failed, though investigative representatives from the Union, Republics, and SATAE have promised to combine their efforts to determine just who she is and how she managed to commit each crime. Until then, the Crawler has been detained in Sentorum’s maximum security prison wing pending extradition to one of the aforementioned homeworlds. “Matter of fact: it will be nice to get some much-deserved time off,” she said in a statement to the Star before her detainment. “Smug: Perhaps, once I get out, everyone will finally be better at looking after their toys.”

[devout-of-the-elder-scrolls]

Azura Quick Start Guide

LAST UPDATED: January 01, 2025

A guide for beginning with Azura, intended to help you begin your practice, but not to serve as the only information you use.

Keep in mind most of this post is UPG versus just based on the fictional canon, based on my personal experiences with this entity. It may directly contrast fictional canon and the experiences of others. I suggest, as always, at least reading over Her UESP lore page.

(banners by saradika-graphics)

AZURA

azure-ahh aka. Azurah prns. she domain. Moonshadow date. Hogithum, March 21st

Azura is a mostly benevolent Daedric Prince, herald of the Dawn and Dusk. She is a Mother of the Prophets, blessing humans with divinatory power, to help them help themselves – though at times, She does it for Her own reasons.

Azura protects all of Her children very strongly, wanting to soothe all of their pains and sorrows and griefs. She encourages growth and progress, facing oneself and coming out stronger for it.

Azura is very wise, and while She does not want Her children to suffer, Azura is not at all against letting Her children learn the hard way, or letting them go through hardship that will lead the way for a better tomorrow – Leaving Her to sometimes be called “cruel, but wise”. 

Within Dunmeri myth, Azura is one of the Three “Good Daedra”, being the “true way” for Dunmeri to worship and work.  She is also the one who cursed the Chimer to become Dunmer, after they chose the gods of the ALMSIVI, the Tribunal Temple.

Within Khajiiti myth, Azurah is a core part of their passage into the afterlife, and knows the names of all Khajiit that live and will ever live – and as such is often the first step Khajiit take on their spiritual path. She also has a triple aspect, in that She has three forms – Khajiit, Mer, and Human. She’s said to be more beautiful than any spirit, save for Nirni. She has Khenarthi as Her messenger, who ferries the dead Khajiiti souls to Her for judgement. Azura tends to lanterns lit by Khenarthi in the eyes of Jone and Jode, their stillborn brothers, when they burn low. After the rise of Riddle’Thar, she fell in prominence somewhat, and is seen as a “distant mother”.

Azura is a great Prince to start with, as She is calm, collected, and cares deeply about the happiness of followers. She is hard to slight, and is likely to forgive quickly with a proper apology.

🜚 terms of respect . . .

Term – Prince • Goddess • Deity Prefix – Lady • Queen • Ma’am • Madam • Divine • Shining • Bright Titles – Azura of the Crimson Gate • Queen of Dawn and Dusk • the Mother Soul • Moonshadow • Mother of the Rose • Queen of the Night Sky • Twilight Queen • the Rim of all Holes • the Cosmic Severer • She Who Sits at the Precipice • Favored Daughter of Fadomai

🜲 rulerships . . .

dusk • dawn • twilight • stars • transition • change • the cycle of the days • mystery • magic • fate • prophecy • vanity • egotism • beauty • roses • knowledge • guidance • astrology • death, esp the “good” things that come of it • mourning • soothing of physical pain • bringing peace . . . HELPS WITH . . . the craft and power of prophecy and premonition • understanding prophetic dreams • delivering prophetic dreams • the practice of divination • the art and knowledge of astrology

🝰 commandments . . . This part especially is bound to be different from person to person.

Know the Sun, Moons, Planets, and Stars. Learn astrology and learn it well. You needn’t be super good at it, just knowing of how astrology works.

Love oneself greatly.

Pursue your own self and self-love.

Accept prophetic visions. You can, and often will be asked to, change the prophecy. But you should never deny it.

Use your prophetic eyes to improve your life.

Know the true power of divination, and utilize it.

⛯ main tarot cards & other signs and associations . . .

Citadel Oracle Card — 

The Astronomer

Tarot Cards — 

II the High Priestess • IX the Hermit • XVII the Star • XVIII the Moon

IV of Cups • VII of Cups • X of Cups

Ace of Swords • VI of Swords • X of Swords

VIII of Pentacles • X of Pentacles

II of Wands • VII of Wands • X of Wands

Other Signs & Associations — 

moon and star symbols • falling tears in art

very vibrant colors

anise • rose • owl

❂ devotional acts . . .

regularly do divination

veil, esp if you cover the face. all veils count

keep a dream journal of dreams you feel have meaning, or conversely, all dreams you have if you want

keep a journal in general

wear Azura’s symbols

wear butterfly symbols

invite Azura to provide Her input / visions / etc during divination sessions, esp for meditative things

provide your prophetic and divinatory power to others

speak to Her when shuffling decks, esp if you’re inviting Her to the session

self care, and otherwise take care of yourself

cleanse your divination tools in Her name

dedicate a divination session to Azura

involve Her in the “awakening” of a new divination tool

vent out all of your feelings at Her shrine or in prayer to Her

stargaze

wake up at dawn to greet Her and do some divination

study western astrology

perform planetary magic

keep track of your horoscope (I suggest cafeastrology because it actually considers a lot of stuff)

meditate to a burning candle / melting wax

travel to beautiful places

soothe your overstimulation

uncover mysteries

perform magic with Her

try and find peace in yourself

work on changing into new things gracefully

do glamor magic

perform an emotion releasing ritual

perform self-love spells like a confidence spell

add your natal chart to your book of shadows

perform magic in line with the zodiac signs active at the time

perform rituals to welcome new zodiacal seasons

perform divination with your natal chart

. . . offerings ❦

↘ natural ; 

colorful bouquets

anise

beech trees

bistort

agathosma / buchu

willow trees

aloe vera

↘ foodstuff ; 

sugary foods and candies

fig

pomegranate

lettuce

starfruit

yam

hershey’s krackle

milk

rice

↘ items ; 

art with vibrant colors

azure colored things

newly obtained divination tools

lots of candles and wax melts

star and moon figurines

things related to the zodiac

silver mirrors

silver jewelry

silver anything

↘ music ; 

melodic music

emotional songs

↘ etc ; 

emotional letters

blue candles

things associated with the planet Venus

Note: Azura seems to prefers devotional acts over offerings for the most part. She does love having Her playlist played during devotionals, though.

🜾 altar building . . .

This is all suggestions. Please build it however you can, if a physical altar is even possible.

As always, you can use offering items to build an altar.

by a window where the sun and moon rising can be seen

plenty of candle space

a moon symbol and a sun symbol

a space for a dream journal

🝊 identity . . .

Azura is a very understanding Daedric Prince, being much more lenient than others might be. She is caring and just, and wants the very best for all Her devout. She sees our hardships and feels empathy, sympathy, and compassion for what we endure. Even when She sends hardship our way, or when She must let us endure it to become better – She weeps for our pains and desires our soothing and happiness. 

She is very gentle, and takes upon a soft guide and guardian feel – Though like with all Daedroth, She can be very cruel and harsh should She feel it is necessary. 

Azura seeks to herald change and growth, providing knowledge and guidance all along the way. Unlike many others, Azura does not often use Her own hand to paint the new picture, but instead provides Her followers the tools and capabilities to create such better things.

Azura mostly appears as a Dunmer, a Dark Elf, or as a Chimer, a golden skinned elf, with long pale azure and/or pink hair (depends on the day), and bright golden eyes that shine within the darkness. She’s often dressed in elaborate, beautiful dresses, usually with earrings – The right ear a moon, the left ear a star/sun, depending on how you want to view it.

Azura has an medium pitched, strong and powerful, but sweet at the center. She hardly speaks at loud volumes, though is known to raise Her voice purely to be noticed.

☉ domain . . .

Azura’s domain is known as Moonshadow, which is a very bright and colorful land, filled with pink trees, flowers, waterfalls, and contains a city of silver. It is said to hold “too much” beauty, so much that it can render mortal visitors “half-blind”. 

Azura herself resides in a rose palace. She is always welcoming to mortal visitors.

According to the Khajiit people, Moonshadow is where Azurah tends the Gates of Crossing, the bridge between Nrni and the afterlife. It’s here that they are guided to the Sands Behind the Stars if worthy.

⛮ working with . . .

Azura is treated mostly like a teacher.

She is not often pampered, but is not against being treated that way.

To love Azura and yet hate yourself brings Her great sorrow, as She is a Goddess who deeply loves and cares for Her followers.

Working with Azura is heavily shaped by the follower in question, as Azura more just lets you do as you wish, as long as you still invite Her and work with Her, and let your emotions be at the front of worship – Be them positive, neutral, negative, and any colored blends of them.

She teaches many things in relation to divination and astrology, and guides to self-love and adoration.

She also often bestows prophetic dreams upon followers. While not all prophetic dreams might be from Azura, some very well might be, and so followers should learn how to tell when Azura’s influence is present within.

Azura isn’t easy to slight, and is likely to forgive immediately if just apologized to.

Things that slight Azura:

not much… I can’t think of any! /lh a testament to how gentle Azura is

Much like in the canon of the Elder Scrolls, Azura sometimes gives visions / prophetic signs / etc that might not necessarily bring peace to their mind. Sometimes, She simply chooses you to bear a burden, though She tries to be kind and provide for you to apologize for that.

. . . benefits ]

Azura warns followers of hardships coming their way with Her prophetic gifts. She teaches divination and astrology for the sake of goodness for oneself.

Azura teaches intensely to love oneself.

. . . risks ]

There’s very few, next to none risks of working with Azura. Even if slighted and offended, She’s more likely to scold you than punish you, and if it’s bad enough, She’s most likely to just leave and return once you’ve righted your wrong.

⚜ holidays & festivals . . .

Azura’s summoning day is March 21st, which I practice as a day to honor Azura.

♡ prayers . . .

⛤ 01 . . . Great, beloved Azura, Queen of Moonshadow Herald of the Dusk and of the Dawn With Your kindness and grace that You send down upon me,  With Your love for me and the adoration within Your heart,  Please hear my prayer on this day,  and know deeply of my love for You.

⛤ 02 . . . Divine Azura, blesser of mortals with the gift of prophecy,  I seek to know more of my fate.  With this offering I leave at Your altar,  I humbly request your aid.  Be it with a dream, or be it with cards or a crystal, or any other tool,  I graciously accept your gift of prophecy.

⛤ 03 . . . Azura of the Crimson Gate, Queen of Dawn and Dusk, I leave upon You this offering, with all of my love within it. I hope that You enjoy it well.

⛤ 04 . . . O Lady Azura, I call upon You now. I seek Your audience, I seek Your time.

⛤ 05 . . . Prince Azura, Bright Moon and Star, You who deliver prophecy and knowledge upon mortality, I worship You, I revere You.

⚿ evoking, invoking, summoning . . .

EVOKATION &&° 

wear gray make-up, nail polish

veil

wear sun and moon symbology

wear flower crowns

— ☆ — 

Things in [] are for making it a summoning.

WHY AND WHEN &&° 

when you wish to receive a prophetic dream

when you wish to do a major divinatory session

on March 21st

INGREDIENTS AND OTHER TOOLS &&° 

some mixed scent candle or wax melt. [two candles, one dressed with a simple sun, the other a moon OR carve the sun and moon into the wax melt]

[rose petals]

IDEALS &&° 

Time – dusk or dawn

Location – in a safe place

STEPS &&° 

If using tools, prepare your divination tools, and cleanse them.

[Burn a rose petal in the candle and let the ashes sit at the bottom of the candles for the wax to melt into/onto. OR Layer rose petals around the wax melter.]

Light the candle or turn on the wax melt and call upon Azura [and ask Her to come to you as the candles burn.]

Offer upon Her an offering. 

Invite Her to either provide the dream or sway your hands in a divination reading.

Snuff or blow out the candle after it is done.

NOTES &&° 

Azura is often invoked just by calling for Her. You don’t need to invoke Her for small bits of divination, as She’s likely to be there and present regardless. But if you want to do something big, feel free to invoke.

⛼ history . . .

. . . mythos ]

Note that most of this is... generally copy/pasted and very mildly edited from UESP. Look, I can't thin it all down, I tried. Please support UESP forever!

( KHAJIITI MYTHOLOGY )

Azurah was born from the third litter of Ahnurr and Fadomai, after the twin Moons and their Motions, and Nirni. Nirni and Azurah immediately began fighting for their mother's favor, but soon an angry Ahnurr struck Fadomai, and she fled into the Great Darkness with her children for protection. There, a dying Fadomai birthed her youngest, Lorkhaj, and bestowed gifts upon the rest. One by one the children received their gifts and departed, until only Azurah and her mother remained. Fadomai then left Azurah her greatest gift, three secrets—instructions on how to create the Khajiit.

Much of what comes after are known in pre-ri'Datta Khajiiti stories. They state that Azurah wept as her dying mother told stories of love, war, and undreamed dreams; the names of all gates and thresholds, of all the spirits, and of all the Khajiit that would ever live. Azurah wept so much that the moonlight reflecting off her tears "became one with the Lattice" as Fadomai died. Azura remained within the Great Darkness for some time, consumed by her grief.

Sometime later, Nirni needed a place to bear children. Lorkhaj tricked his siblings into creating the World to satisfy her desire, and many of Fadomai's children died in its creation. The survivors killed Lorkhaj and tore out his heart. Or so they believed, for the Great Darkness in his blood filled the hole where his heart had been. He sought out Azurah for help. Meanwhile, Azurah remained within the Great Darkness, mourning Fadomai's death. In time, the light from her tears and the Lunar Lattice dispersed the darkness, and she found herself in a "place of moonlight and shadow". Azurah then tried to return to her mother's side, but her tears had created a great sea, and beyond it stood a black gate that opened into darkness. And there stood Lorkhaj, his chest gaping, a shadowy imitation of his heart beating steadily, dripping black blood. But Azurah knew the names of all of the spirits, so she recognized the Great Darkness for what it was. Azurah was able to rip the Dark Heart—and all the Darkness—out of her brother before it could consume him. She cast it beyond the sea, into the Void, where it became the Moon Beast, the first of the dro-m'Athra, and Lorkhaj perished within Azurah's embrace. Azurah made a funeral pyre for her brother before the gate, and lit it with the Twin Lanterns of Jone and Jode. Her tears fell upon the pyre and the ashes scattered across the Lattice. As a result, it is said Azurah (and Khenarthi) can call upon the "true spirit" of Lorkhaj to appear.

The spirit Noctra was born from the black blood of Lorkhaj at the steps of the Void Gate. Boethra was able to defeat the spirit and took her to Azurah for judgment. Azurah was merciful, and allowed Noctra to live if she agreed to serve Azurah and the Lunar Lattice. But Noctra stole one of Azurah's keys and fled into the Void. So Azurah summoned the true spirit of Lorkhaj after her, and now Noctra aids the Khajiit when she is called upon.

Because of Lorkhaj, Nirni could now make children. But she was sad because the forest people, her favorites, were "torn between man and beast" and did not know their shape. So Azurah came to Nirni and tricked her into allowing the creation of the Khajiit, offering a "gift" of new people. She spoke Fadomai's First Secret, and the Moons parted for her. She took some of the forest people and made them many shapes, for every purpose, called them the Khajiit, and put them in the best forests and deserts on Nirni. Azura told them the Second Secret and made them Nirni's secret defenders, and bound them to the Lunar Lattice. And she spoke the Third Secret, and "the Moons shone down on the marshes and their light became sugar".

However, Y'ffer overheard Azurah speak the First Secret and told Nirni what Azurah had done. So Nirni made the lands of the Khajiit inhospitable, and allowed Y'ffer to change the forest people into elves—the Bosmer. And Y'ffer shouted the First Secret across the heavens so all the original spirits could cross the Lattice, but Azurah ensured that neither Ahnurr nor Lorkhaj could hear the Secret. Y'ffer was corrupted by the Namiira sometime after Lorkhaj's death, and murdered Nirni. Hircine, Azurah and Khenarthi slew him in retaliation for the deed, then built a cairn for Nirni using his bones.

Sometime before the Khajiiti people's "first memory", Azurah, knowing that the false Lorkhaj, the Moon Beast, would one day covet her children, used the Twin Lanterns to summon Lorkhaj's true spirit to be a sky-guardian. As the third moon, Lorkhaj shined his light upon the Khajiit, choosing the purest of heart to be part of the "Litter of the Hidden Moon", to learn the way of the Moonlight Blade. And from then on, on nights of the Ghost Moon, Azurah opens the Void Gate, and the Moon Beast will challenge mortals until banished. Modern Khajiit have fallen away from this belief, instead interpreting the Ghost Moon as the corpse of Lorkhaj which was flung to the moons after Convention, and forced to follow Jone and Jode forever as punishment.

It is said that Magrus serves as a reminder of Azurah's wrath. The Sun God once fought Boethra and Lorkhaj, and Boethra plucked out one of his eyes. Half-blinded, Magrus fell into the Moonshadow, where Azurah judged him too fearful to rule a sphere, and tore out his other eye (though other stories say he gave Azurah the eye willingly). Azurah took the eye and fashioned it into the Aether Prism, a stone that reflects the Varliance Gate, and opens from Dawn to Dusk.

( FIRST ERA )

Many years after the Alessian Slave Rebellion, tensions between the descendants of enslaved Nedes and remaining Ayleids grew. Culanwe, one of the most beloved servants of Azura, sought to broker peace between the Nedes and the Ayleids. An Ayleid messenger was mysteriously murdered during this, causing suspicions between the two forces to grow, until an outsider Nede and Ayleid discovered that a servant of Molag Bal was responsible, seeking to sabotage Azura's will. United against a common foe, the Ayleids and Nedes made peace, though Culanwe sought to stop Molag Bal's plots for good. She would later be captured at Laeloria and imprisoned in Coldharbour, tortured by Molag Bal for millennia, much to Azura's dismay.

The disaster caused by Molag Bal at Gil-Var-Delle was the catalyst that sparked the conception of the Coldharbour Compact between the 3rd and 5th of Rain's Hand, 1E 2920. It was an agreement between Tribunal god Sotha Sil and eight powerful Daedric Princes: Azura, Boethia, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, and Sheogorath. Little is known about the Compact, but it is theorized that it prevents the Princes from directly manifesting on Nirn. It is also speculated that, in order to secure the agreement of the Princes, Sotha Sil either made a credible threat to them or presented a significant offer in exchange.

( SECOND ERA )

In 2E 582, Azura asked the Vestige to help free the soul of one of her servants from the clutches of Molag Bal, and to free her Oracles from pocket realms of Oblivion.

Azura involved herself in the affairs of mortals once more when a plot concocted by Barbas threatened to destroy the island of Vvardenfell. She assisted the Vestige and her new champion Seryn in defeating the false Nerevarine and brother of Seryn, Chodala, and begrudgingly helped return Lord Vivec's power so that he could stave off the meteor Baar Dau's collision.

( THIRD ERA )

Some time around 3E 405, Azura charged an agent of the Blades with killing a monk who had offended her. The Blade was given Azura's Star for completing the task.

In 3E 427, Azura took notice of a prisoner sent from the Imperial City to Morrowind in the hopes of being a prophesied hero, the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of Azura's First Era champion, Lord Indoril Nerevar. She helped guide the prisoner into fulfilling the prophecy, becoming the Nerevarine, and freeing Morrowind from the threat of Dagoth Ur. The Nerevarine was also given Azura's Star, as a reward for helping her win a bet with Sheogorath.

In 3E 433, the Hero of Kvatch received the Star for putting down some of Azura's worshippers who had inadvertently been turned into vampires while in her service.

( FOURTH ERA )

Faithful priests of Azura were given a vision that led them away from Vvardenfell before the eruption, and the Dunmer built the shrine of Azura in Skyrim after the Red Year as their thanks to her, so that none would forget that she watches over them all. Azura's further visions tested the faith of the priests, who gradually left the shrine afterward as they were afraid to know their own future.

By 4E 201, Azura's Star was in Skyrim, in the hands of a dying mage. He had corrupted the artifact, allowing it to trap black souls and placing his own inside it. Azura sent the Last Dragonborn to retrieve the artifact, though when found, it was broken. The Dragonborn entered the Star and destroyed the mage's soul, though whether or not this was done with Azura's help is unclear.

𝌁 other vettable information . . .

When meditating on Her presence and name, Azura brings:

visions of: moon and star clusters

feelings of: night chill

❡ notes . . .

Azura has a major goal of Her followers loving themselves as much as they love Her.

Azura teaches astrology a lot. Specifically Western Astrology.

Azura also teaches a lot of magic about changing the future itself. 

Azura adores any decks/tools related to astrology and/or proper divination.

[evilmcg]

Another lovely art piece I commissioned from @spookyfartduck of my emeg and @mcltiples emorty.

[draklorn]

amaryllis, anemone, bay tree, hibiscus, tulip :)

amaryllis: what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in? how do they express that pride?

Devan is proud to be a Draklorn of the Frostguard. Although not a title they had strived to achieve in the cult, it is the highest honour to be chosen as one of Lissandra's most faithful, and they carry that heavy responsibility on their shoulders with the utmost pride. They are a role model to Warriors of the Keeper's Lodge and Foundlings alike, but also a mortal bearer to the truth of the world; their eyes truly opened. Specifically within the Citadel, Devan keeps their role in high regard. From the way they carry themselves to the way they will speak with authority to all bar their Lady herself. Being one of only a handpicked few in the entire history of the world to know the forbidden truths they do is something few dream of having, and even fewer find any joy in holding.

bay tree: does your muse seek glory & accolades, or do they favour a simpler, more personal life? 

The only thing Devan has ever sought was the honour that came with being a loyal Frostguard. To protect their home from the Darkness, and serve a higher calling, was what Devan believed their purpose in life to be. They are a model Frostguard; one other Warriors of the Keepers Lodge have been able to look up to and be inspired by. They are well-studied, are a knowledgable soldier, and have always placed their faith first. So it is no wonder that, after serving (and surviving) for so long, they have been granted the highest honour of being a Draklorn. After reaching the highest goal in life they had dared set for themself, Devan has been left with little to be motivated towards besides continuing to perform their Lady's bidding. Which... should be enough. They have even made an effort to appreciate little things they achieve, no matter how mundane or irrelevant it may seem. But these attempts are so artificial, it leaves them far more bitter trying to find fulfilment in the mundane than just going through the motions without giving it further thought.

hibiscus: how does your muse view the gentler, daintier things in life? as things worth preserving & caring for, or things only bound to wither & disappear? 

The most precious things in life are the young lives brought to the Foundling village. Whether orphans or recruits from villages under the Frostguard's protection, to Devan those young faces represent the future of the Freljord. Among them will be the next line of Frostguard, who defend their home from itself and the horrors below, and who will teach the younglings after them. So they must be prepared and cared for in every way. And beyond Devan's soft spot for companionable creatures, their unyielding faith in their Lady and ingrained loyalty to their Frostguard kin, there is nothing else physical they truly care for in their heart. By oath, they are not to take a partner, and their own self-care does not go beyond the necessary. Everything, eventually, withers and returns to the cold. From ice we are born, and to ice we will return.

tulip: how does your muse view people in general? 

The humble heartbound or southern foreigner is looked down upon, in the simplest way of saying. Those who do not have ice running through their veins are, if not lesser, than fundamentally weaker, in the Draklorn's eyes. At the best of times, the Hearthbound are to be cared for; kept safe and warm at night, and fear in their hearts quietly stoked with stories of what lies beyond the fire's inviting light. They don't know any better, you see? And they never should, for their own sakes.

Fellow Iceborn are regarded as equals, so when they do not follow Her Faith, it is a disappointing heresy. And because of Freljordian customs, women are inherently held with more respect than others, and Devan is no exception to treating them with more courtesy, relative kindness, or warrior's respect, when fitting.

anemone: answered here.

botanical questions

[groundbreakingdot872]

Thinking about this scene in the context of Agravaine’s brainwashing has completely changed it for me…

The entire two episodes, Agrravaine had a subplot to play where he acted angrily at Morgana’s new reliance on Helios, reminding her that he was her ‘one true ally’

This isn’t unusual for him, he’s sporadically had these speeches of loyalty before; but this time, even Morgana’s a little put off by his strongly worded statement.

Look at where the scene takes place:

Arthur’s desk

In a perverse show of power, Agravaine is meant to act subservient to the wrong ruling Pendragon, at the very desk where all of those treatises to alter the Kingdom would’ve been drafted. The man who’s loyalty and familial love he should’ve cherished, has been stolen from him, and misplaced in Morgana’s servitude.

That entire conversation Agravaine comes off more pushy and worried for her than he’s ever been, and I wonder if the symbolism of Morgana taking Arthur’s place so physically, was affecting him more than usual.

His last words to her seem to reference another scene, “And I ask you take care.” Words of assurance that startle her, maybe for the genuinity in his eyes, but to me they come across more vulnerable from an inner panic..

He may be remembering an earlier memory, before the brainwashing, remembering where the words “I am your one true ally, my lady. I am your own teue friend” acted as a spell to ground him in subservience to her.

Sound familiar?

Morgana to Gwen: You are not alone now. You need never be alone again. I’m the only one you can trust, I’m all you have left in the world.

Agravaine: i am your one true ally, my lady. I am your one true friend. I would do anything for you, you know that.

——

He was alone.

Dishonored by his past, and on self-exile for 20+ years by the time s4 rolls around. Ygraine had been cast off and long-forgotten, and the brother-in-law he despised holding a candle to her memory. Tristan had died at the same iron fist; died trying to win honor back for the Du Bois name, only to felled by his own family.

He may very well have been in the citadel when it all occurred, cradling Arthur in his arms in the birthing room, pale in shock and new grief, while Tristan stumbled out to face Uther in his wrath.

But he’d been given a chance on Arthur’s coronation, one more opportunity to return his family name to honor. Riding to the citadel in haste, anxiously wanting to see how much of his sister lived on in his nephew, he was an easy target.

…It must’ve happened so quickly, pulled off his horse, knocked unconscious on the trunk of a nearby tree.

Dragged back to her makeshift lair where she commenced with the ritual. Her first foray into mind control.

Her experiment.

She took his grief and regrets, and transformed them into something more insidious, seething. An ugly scowl weathered into his features, where decades before, a jovial man had once laughed. But her work was awkward and imperfect.

I definitely agree that this accounts for the deadened stare that sometimes crossed Aggravaine’s face, where his inner self surfaced with clarity.

And those words Morgana frequently whispered to him, about ‘true allyship’ and ‘promises of loyalty’ were likely triggers to blind him under the spell again. Repurposed years later to lock Gwen under thr same control, but this time, with enough allowance for free thought to execute more complicated plans.

But Agravaine was her first. The unfortunancy of his circumstances wielded to manipulate Arthur by his only damning weakness. Family.

I love how the Merlin fandom doesn’t agree on everything, but we all can agree that Agravaine is a slimy bastard

[whirlybirbs]

FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good. 

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling. 

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details. 

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel. 

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch. 

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot. 

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 

Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?” 

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.” 

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

[incorrect-koh-posts]

If you search Krol Tredowaty in Polish you mighy find images of Baldwin IV. An early take. Very cool.

Oh, thank you for pointing that out to me! 💛

Have some lovely Baldwin IV cover illustrations for Zofia Kossak's 1937 novel The Leper King (Król Trędowaty):

I'm particularly fond of these two - I think the minimalist art style suits both the subject and our leprous boy quite well, and I like the design the artists chose for his cloak and veil.

I also came across a rather pretty Polish cover for the Bernard Hamilton book:

My version of the Kossak novel (published in Germany in 1964), sadly, looks quite boring in comparison:

And while we're on the subject: I have to admit I rather enjoyed Kossak's take on the events in the Holy Land between roughly 1176 and 1187. Of course, it is very old-fashioned in terms of its writing style, and far from historically accurate - but considering that it was published in 1937, long before most of the decisive academic works we know had been written, I think Kossak nonetheless did an admirable job with presenting the historical events in a way that is both comprehensible and somewhat entertaining. Being nitpicky about the details while having access to almost a hundred years' worth of further research would be a little unfair, in my opinion.

That said, I'm not sure this is the right novel for you to read if you are simply looking for some good sauce about Baldwin, since Kossak's portrayal of him is a bit of a mixed bag. In some instances, her Baldwin resembled the wise, gentle king we know from KoH very closely, but in others, he came across as whiny and wallowing in self-pity, acting much more childish than he should. (Remember: In that time and place, men were considered legal adults at the age of fifteen.) So, what I missed in Kossak's Baldwin sometimes was the inner strength that - according to the chroniclers - he must have possessed in spades. His mother Agnes of Courtenay, by the way, receives a similar treatment and is presented as an overweight clucking old hag, which is, unfortunately, the default characterisation she is given in older historical fiction.

Apart from that, though, The Leper King was a hoot. This may be just my particular brand of weirdness talking - I'm currently writing my thesis about medieval German literature, so go figure - but I unapologetically love those early literary takes on Baldwin & Co. Their differing characterisations of the various historical figures are always fun to compare, sometimes I merely get a good laugh out of them while other times I end up being surprised or even genuinely impressed. This novel, somehow, managed to pair the WTF-factor with moments that I found genuinely heart-warming and dialogue that was by turns either well-written or absolutely laughable.

To be fair, some of this can probably be chalked up to the translation because - let's face it - many things that sound fine in any other language become very odd, all of a sudden, when translated into German. Towards the end of the book, for example, Kossak covers the Hattin episode and thus briefly tells how Eschiva and her sons retreated into the citadel at Lake Tiberias when Salah ad-Din laid siege to the city. Upon hearing this news, Kossak's Raymond exclaims affectionately "Meine tapfere Alte!", which is best translated as "My valiant old lady!", and if that isn't the funniest shit ever, then I don't know.

What I also found particularly wholesome - though of course not historically viable - was the way Kossak depicted the relationship between Baldwin and Raymond. For some reason, she seems to think Raymond was Baldwin's uncle (when in reality he was his first cousin once removed), but the "favourite uncle & favourite nephew" dynamic she builds between them really works for this novel. As a Raymond fangirl, it was also quite refreshing to read something that showed him as both sympathetic AND ambitious and, for once, didn't make him do the whole "cackling evil relative who is after the crown" act.

In the German translation, Raymond repeatedly calls Baldwin fondly "Mein Junge" und "Mein Kleiner", which literally means "my boy" and "my little one". I'm not crying, you're crying. Baldwin, in turn, refers to Raymond as "Oheim", which is an old German term for "uncle" (specifically: the brother of the mother - imagine that: Raymond as Agnes of Courtenay's brother! 😂). Hence, while it is simply a genealogical mistake and historically speaking, of course, a cartload of bollocks, it nonetheless warms my heart that this novel chose to present us with the one and only depiction of a literal "Uncle Tibs".

So, yeah - this was a fun read.

[cloneforceenby]

Bad Batch AU: Omega and her many, many uncles ✨

This is a continuation of the "Five Clones & a Little Lady" Bad Batch AU/headcanons about The Bad Batch raising Omega from a baby. Let's talk about how our favourite clones would be as uncles to little Omega growing up! This was so fun to write, honestly.

Thank you @scarlettroseog for the help with these!!

Note: I've finally been decisive and this AU assumes everything up until and maybe just after the Citadel arc happened, meaning all our faves are still alive, except the Domino Squad; please accept my apologies to Droidbait, Cutup and Hevy for not being included in this. If its any consolation, this means Fives would absolutely for sure been there to help rescue Echo on Skako Minor.

Oh, and 99 is alive. He just is. Don’t question it.

Mando'a glossary:

Buir(e): father(s)

Ad'ika: daughter/little one

Ba'vodu: uncle

Ba'buir: grandfather

So, the many, many uncles, let's begin with the 501st (I will do other clones in another post!). I haven't fully decided where they are/what they're doing in this AU. Maybe they're on a nearby planet, I don't know. The main thing is that they visit often and Omega loves them. 

Rex: 

Hands down, the most trusted uncle of them all (you'll see why as I go on), besides Cut Lawquane. When Rex is in charge of babysitting, Hunter in particular can actually relax and get on with whatever he's doing, because he knows Omega is in good hands.

Rex is nervous to begin with, but Echo picks up on it and guides him through how to hold her safely. Tech quietly offers to show Rex the extremely useful baby care videos. Rex quietly accepts.

Due to incessant teasing from the 501st, Omega first refers to him as Grandpa Rex and calls him Ba'buir, but eventually she switches to Uncle/Ba'vodu Rex. She adores him, though, particularly because they're both blonde! He always has time for cuddles (no really, he will drop everything if Omega calls for him), is full of stories to tell her, and he might just secretly be her favourite.

Fives:

The self-proclaimed favourite, coolest uncle in the galaxy. Cried when Echo first called and told him about Omega. Due to being so close to Echo, Fives seems to believes himself to be the uncle-est of uncles. They're all her uncles, but he's the most uncle of them all. In fact, he was offended that no one got him a "congratulations on becoming an uncle" card. Rex writes a half-assed one on the back of a receipt to shut him up. Fives wasn't amused.

Fives is not allowed to babysit Omega alone and especially not with Jesse and Hardcase, because the three of them caring for her only ends in disaster, or Hunter crying. Case in point; Fives was once left in sole charge of Omega for 30 minutes and she wandered off without him noticing. It took him ten minutes to realise the child had disappeared. Cue panicked clones, Hunter in hysterics (can you tell he is the Anxious Dad™️ of the bunch?). Omega was found napping under Echo's bed. Turns out Fives had forgotten they were playing hide and seek. For Hunter's own sanity, Fives is never left in charge of Omega anymore.

Jesse:

Assumes he is in charge when Rex isn't around to babysit but he isn't. In reality, he isn't allowed to babysit without Kix of Dogma around to keep him and the others in check. Fives and Hardcase are the ringleaders for mischief, but he eggs them on and joins in, making him just as untrustworthy.

Once, he just stood back and watched as Fives and Hardcase allowed tiny Omega to eat her bodyweight in junk and candy, despite Crosshair having specifically left a meal for them to heat up for her. Crosshair gets home to his ad'ika looking a little green, and receives a lovely welcome home gift in the form of vomit. All over him.

For real though, Jesse is a sweetheart, and he was so honoured to even get to hold her when she was a baby. He turns into a total softie around her, making faces, playing peekaboo, all the baby talk. He listens so intently whenever she babbles or talks, and will fight any of the others to get to read her a bedtime story. He would quite literally kill a man for this little girl.

Hardcase: 

The Funcle™️, or so he claims. Heard once that babies are made of rubber (and therefore bounce), and believed it. He loves Omega to bits, but can't figure out why her buire (especially Hunter) look so fearful everytime he goes near her. Might have been the time he tried to yeet the weeks-old Omega into the air because he saw a guy throw his child in the air once, and the kid seemed to love it. Or when he brought an old 501st jetpack for four year old Omega to play with (Rex did not see him smuggle that on the ship when going to visit them, or he would have confiscated it). He means well, he does. But he also has little to no sense of danger, and for that reason, mone of Omega's buire allow him around her unsupervised.

Much to their despair, Omega adores Hardcase's chaos and often tries to copy him, which has previously ended in upset or injury. If Omega is hurt on his watch, though, Hardcase feels utterly awful. But then he never learns.

Kix: 

Now being a full time medic, the Bad Batch (mainly Hunter, Wrecker a very close second) practically have this guy on speed dial. Seriously, that little girl will fall and graze her knee and you'd think she was bleeding out. When Omega bumped her head because Wrecker wasn't looking where he was going with her sat on his shoulders, it was as if her head had been sliced clean off. Kix finds it adorable though, they just want their ad'ika to be safe and healthy, although he knows for a fact that Tech self-taught himself basic medical aid, and almost definitely extended that to baby and child care. He doesn't mind too much, Omega might just be the sweetest kid he knows, she comes out with the funniest and most profound things, so he'd never turn down a call from them.

He got Omega a tiny medkit because he'd always catch her trying to look inside his when he visits. One time they had a great day where he taught her some basic first aid, and her buire and many of her uncles ended up all wrapped up in bandages.

Kix is the actual second in command if Rex can't babysit, although he has on occasion allowed Hardcase, Fives and Jesse's antics as long as Omega is in no immediate danger. He is still one of the most trusted uncles, though.

Tup: 

MY SWEETHEART. THE MOST PURE. THE GENTLEST BOI. Tup knows two things when he goes to visit. First? He'll have a little shadow the entire time. Second, he will have his hair braided (with added flowers) at least twice. Omega will fight anyone who mocks him, usually Hardcase. Tup doesn't think he looks lovely, Tup KNOWS he looks lovely.

Tup is such a gentle soul and little Omega always ends up gravitating towards him. He's such a natural, and he's just so sweet with her. She'll chat away to him about anything and everything and he'll just sit and listen and talk about whatever she wants. He'll play dolls with her, take her out for walks (even if only to give her buire a break), read her stories, he'd do anything for his little niece. Their favourite activity together is probably painting, they create all kinds of masterpieces together, and usually Omega ends up putting a blob of paint under her eye like his teardrop tattoo. In fact, they often give each other face "tattoos" when they get bored of painting on paper.

Dogma: 

Has absolutely no interest in babies and barely knows Clone Force 99 anyway, so why should he care. He will emphasis his disinterest until he's blue in the face, and yet almost always ends up taking charge when the 501st babysit. Not to mention that he's been caught making faces at Omega to make her laugh and doing aaalllll the baby talk. And the fact he is consistently able to sooth Omega to sleep (something that annoys Hardcase endlessly, she always cried whenever he held her). Rex also found a holo picture of Dogma holding Omega, both of them smiling away. But sure, Dogma doesn't like babies.

Bonus! 99: 

Omega's Ba'buir! 99 might just be Omega's favourite person in the world, and her buire quickly realise that they have to take her to visit him every single day, or she will take matters into her own hands and take herself. No, really, Hunter was walking home one day to find little Omega toddling along on her own, Lula dragging behind her, on her way to 99's house. He only lives down the road, but its obviously too far for a small child to go alone.

99 was a large part in why the five of them committed to raising Omega. In the early days of her arrival, they were full of self doubt and didn't feel they could give her what she needed or be who she needed them to be. 99 reminded them that she was their blood, and that they never leave their own behind. He was so proud to see his squad become such great, loving buire to little Omega. They were so grateful that he helped them see sense.

Omega adores her ba'buir (who she called Ba/Baba when she was very little) and loves hearing all his stories of her buire growing up as well as all the clones he met on Kamino. She chats away to him about anything and everything, and they'll often bake all kinds of creations together. He also starts teaching her how to fish! He always enjoys her company, she reminds him so much of each of her buire, and he's so proud to he the one she calls her ba'buir.

Random extra headcanons:

- Fives, Jesse and Hardcase once had a great time tormenting Hunter by sending him constant holo-images of Omega in various staged hazardous situations. One of Fives pretending to put Omega in the oven, another of her sleeping on the couch surrounded by empty beer cans (this one freaked Tech out because he thought she really had been given alcohol, bless you Tech), you name it. Hunter did not enjoy his child-free night and went home early. Kix was in charge that night, but he saw it as harmless fun, so didn't put a stop to it.

- sometimes the 501st have a contest where they all kneel down and try to get Omega to run to them. Fives always insists it'll be him, but it never is. She usually runs to Rex or Tup, although at least once Dogma was the lucky clone. One time, Omega stared at the line of clones staring back at her and instead just burst into tears and ran right back to her Cross'buir, who scooped her up into his arms and very smugly said "I win."