#Crimson Elite verse

[no-shxme]

my eyes hurt too much to look at google docs so instead i made a maybe controversial tier list of talon skins using @lcathia 's list.

extra opinions below, just cause:

high noon and enduring blade are so smooth to use in game (enduring especially, even if the model's a bit crusty) but most of all i love how thematically it gives talon so much room to breathe. like the amount of kicking off points and extra headcanons both these skins spawn for me is soooo good and there's so much story potential. i like high noon a little more (cowboy bias) but enduring screams autism to me so i love them both. (also enduring sword talon can be mashed together with obsidian dragon sett so)

withered rose talon is a smooth skin but his splash looks way too much like kayn for me. and his thematic is a little shallow. in game he's cute though and he's got that one chroma with the collar. dragonblade talon is underrated and (most) of his chinese chroma splashes are sooo cute.

talon blackwood is cute in and out of game but i don't like fantasy/dnd much. (scream)

ssw talon is just a stand-in until talon gets an actual modern verse skinline.

i dont even know what this next skin is called i always call him homeless talon. he's ugly but if im jungling then its the one i use. ugly ass.

i think this is controversial but i dont like blood moon. snow moon is cooler and i think talon would be there instead if he didnt already have one, but i dont like bm much as a thematic. and i think this skin is ugly, he looks like a frog. (??? how? i dont know.) something about prestige high noon's pose fucks with me, though the quality of the splash is insane. i dont like his head and i miss when he had the undershirt. prestige icon is cute tho. and then crimson guard.... crimson elite(??) talon... idk, what is there even to say.

dude the primal ambush icon is soooo cute to me and i looove the idea that he gets to be in the catboy spotlight but man this was such a miss for me. thematically SO shallow, and the splashart looks a lil funky imo. his hair being the same color as the fluff on his cape implies that he used his own hair to make it and his hair is so fucked the way it sticks up like that. armblade design was cool i guess but i dont like the colors of the whole thing and it was such a letdown for me. idc im a hater, if you liked it then im happy for you.

oh and i know this isn't a Real skin or anything but..

THIS SKIN IS SO CUTE and i would LOVE IT IN SR IM NOT IMMUNE. it would be wrong to put it in top tier due to it not being a real skin/having a bio but the amount of hc/words this has spawned already deserves it tbh. please i beg you

thanks if you read this. feel free to disagree, s just my opinion.

[sentofight]

plots please / between Machipyon and Miss Militesi Lady Princess-ish

dear lord, help us.

what if agito cycle thread? machipyon is somewhat cheerful than game machymachy sobs. if so, he will definitely visit her more often and will get into trouble no problem if it means he can befriend this lonely girl. he does not care who she is or why she is here, you can't just lock up a pretty girl and expect no one will complain smh. looks at kurpapa, how dare you? crime against beauty. you deprive the cadets from this beauty for you---gasps! for yourself!? TAI-....TAI...TAICHOU.... and this when machina gets eternally frozen and hanged over the suzaku statue in the plaza for every cadet to see. the end. jk.

ok but idle chat is like too good between the two over a tea cup? he probably asks a lot of questions without telling her about himself and she like no, no, this is not how twenty question is. eventually he fuss up and tells her about his problem with izana sobs. please. someone talk to this lad about his brother. i was going to suggest what if they actually meet before, but i cant think of a way for machina still not a cadet to meet someone like bomber gi--rude, like Crosseyra; the enemy nation's princess. unless he meet her during his training before they assigned him to a class? maybe she saw him and the other cadets donning the grey mantles and the second time she sees him, he is wearing the dark blue one, and when he actually saw her himself he was wearing the crimson one. cross making a joke about that and he's ??? i dont get it ???? he does not know she saw him before kfjsdlfkjsdlf

LISTEN. WHAT IS HER FATE WHEN KURAPAPA PERISHED HEROICLY IN BATTLE? i need to know. because ... what....ahem. what if machina / l'ciel came and just whisked her back to milites on the crystal order ? ? ? man got access to the academy, walks in, changes to his l'ciel form, burst into her room 'let's go. the crystal's order'.

cross: wait a minute? chocobo nerd? chocobo nerd right? the same guy who yappers about chocobos 24/7?

incognitus: w-waht? no? shut up. let's go. zip it or i will make you.

cross: lmao i'd like you to try, smart pants.

incognitus: . . . fuck. just let's go.

also i offer chocobo ride. limited time only. this will expire once machypyon realizes this. what if she was to be relocated somewhere else? using the airships would be eye emoji for milities so traveling on foot. or on chocobos. maybe for a while until she can return to the academy. like, she is hiding because of the whole thing with Cid, no? what if he send spies or actual 'investigation' team asking to search for the princess' whereabout and not to cause Khalia and the academy trouble, she was relocated somewhere safer for the time being? cough cough elite guard ofc machypopopopo (and other zeroes lmao for favorism eight and king lmao)

we can try other verses, too? i don't mind writing for genpact but it has been ages since i played the game but i always welcome the opportunity to research and find ideas and things that work. that being said since genpact is cross main ver as i see on her blog hmhmhmh i need to think about machy's verse *rubs chin* going by machy's stats in type zero ... he is second in hp, 4th in mp, 3rd attack, 3rd defense, 2nd fire magic, 4th ice magic, 3rd lightning magic, 7th defensive magic so hmhmh. i was debating to go with ether pyro or electro but to go with the suzaku theme and that he was 'revived' for the phoenix motif and all so pyro it is. i still don't know which nation fits him but could figure that out as we go on (because of his features and surname we can assume he is of asian descent maybe Liyue? ;;;). i will rack my brain over this and come back to you if you are interested in writing in this verse :3c

as for their relationship all game man. cross can be his big sister he never had because as ass he is, he pushed away the good big bro he had. sobs. rivals? because let's face it, he will be anyone's rival if he sensed they are better than him. he gotta fight back. listen, the chaotic dynamic between them is chef kiss. their bickering is funny and i live for it. i dont mind if this does not turn to otome route and they just remained platonic friends like i die for you bitch its ok. the social link go meme "Machina now will die for you" lmao. cross can be his mentor too sobs. "control your emotions, cadet" kind of haha. she had suffered far more than he would imagine and yet she is so regal and graceful in face of everything hes just 'what dis power?'

send plot and imma ramble rose some ideas | accepting | @vygiler

[miabrown007]

On Borrowed Time

The life of Paris’ Golden Boy is all shine and glamour; blindingly bright smiles, neverending parties, bargaining for just a shard of time for being happy. But that’s alright; Adrien has long given up the false hope that someone will get it. That is precisely why it’s a spectacle when she does, when she barges in like a hurricane in crimson and turns his life upside down. Heaven knows, it’s time for the wind of change. *** aka Adrien and Ladybug run into each other at a gala. then at another. and another. some would say, it’s a bonding opportunity alike moonlighting on a civilian’s balcony

gala friends Ladrien for this year's @mlbigbang, letsgoo!!

don't forget to check out the stunning illustrations @curlymakingswirlies made for this chapter! <3

On Borrowed Time (words, Teen, 1/3 chapters)

Time is of the essence, my dear, his mother always used to say, but Adrien was so young back then — just a kid trying to sneak away from his mother’s skirt in the crammed and stifling ballroom — he never really got what she meant. He had a vague understanding of it, something about time and timing being important, but he could never put a finger on the reason behind the benevolent smile on his mother’s face, and then it was too late to ask.

Now, Nathalie has her own motto.

It’s something something being punctual like clockwork and skilled in social situations like a particularly agreeable Swiss Army knife. And though Adrien can’t recite that by heart, it still holds true enough to his motherly heritage of time-themed wisdom for him to do his best to follow — even if his stomach violently contracts at the thought of the strained vivacissimo his life has to adhere to if he wants to keep up. But he understands, of course, that as the ambassador of the Gabriel brand, it's essential that everybody, all day long, like him so much. 

According to his father.

In all honesty, his father would probably be ecstatic — as ecstatic as it gets for a man who has never once smiled in the last ten years — if Adrien wasn’t just an attempt at emulating the perfection expected from him at the price of sweat and tears. (Not that it's much of a concern for Gabriel on a personal level, but, quite frankly, a crying teenager in the charity gala's bathroom is the definition of a PR disaster.) But Adrien — despite his father's valiant attempts at concealing this shortcoming — isn't perfect. 

He’s French. 

French, with all the ups and downs, all the over-the-top romanticism and rebellious streaks, all the moony-eyed, longing stares that follow her carefully — always observing, but never close enough to reach. He can’t help it, though. The way she pulls him is like a rule of nature, a crimson inevitability. Unbidden, unconscious, unparalleled, and Adrien knows no other option than to succumb to it, to her celestial power of baring his soul and making him feel Frencher than he ever thought possible. When he’s with her, he can’t help his slowly crumbling essence surging for the surface with a new force; can’t help his heart leaping to his throat as he's being reminded — in the sweetest, most torturous ways possible — that Paris is the city of love.

And Adrien, Adrien's Parisian to the core; even if his core — doesn’t matter that he wishes to wear it on his sleeve — only shines through when he’s with Ladybug. 

*** 21:00 ***

It’s ‘by pure accident.’ 

The charity gala’s ballroom is gargantuan, filled to the brim by the crowd of celebrities, politicians and businessmen. They bustle around — chat under the pompous chandeliers, shake on agreements by the chocolate fondue fountain, and hover on the dance floor to the string-quartet’s beat, in what appears to be a poor substitute to rehearsed ballroom dances none of them are well-versed with. The maroon tapestry could sing odes about the Parisian elite’s secrets and illicit escapades, but it keeps them all; its discretion only rivalled by that of the catering staff and security. 

Adrien doesn’t care much about rumours either. He’s on a mission of ‘pure accident’. The sole objective is talking to her; a worthy endeavour, even if it only lasts for a minute. 

He drifts next to her at the bar, in the most casual manner he can manage. His fingers fiddle with the cufflinks of his dress shirt; his arms by his side, prim and proper, instead of reaching out and pressing a kiss against her knuckles. But he still flashes his Frenchest smile at her, because that’s not something within his control to amend. 

"Good evening, Ladybug!”

"Good evening, Adrien!" It's hard to believe, but she beams right back, as if he just made her night by this chance encounter. "It is a lovely night. You should really try the champagne," she says, her voice airy as she swirls the drink around in her own glass. 

She's making smalltalk. It's only natural. After all, right now he’s no more than an acquaintance; and she definitely doesn’t have any idea that this almost stranger finds the way fizzy drink drizzles out of her nostrils, when he makes her laugh too hard, quite charming.

"I've heard it's pretty good," Adrien nods, never one to be remiss about the rules of conversation. 

That is— 

He nibbles on his lower lip before continuing. "What I've also heard is that you have had to come alone tonight. Again."

"Ah. Yes," she hums, her smile faltering. Then she leans closer and her voice drops low as she adds in a conspiratorial tone. "Maybe you wouldn't believe it, but Chat Noir isn't the ballroom dancing kind," she tells him — the very same excuse Adrien had to feed her — and he's compelled to laugh along; if nothing more, at the dramatic irony. 

"Or so I've heard. Can't blame him too much, though. Granted, with four paws he must have two left feet." 

Ladybug laughs at the stupid joke, and oh, if that isn’t the most beautiful sound. “That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d say. I don’t believe him, though,” she muses, a fond look in her eyes as she shakes her head gently, the flyaways dancing around her face like a holy halo. “I’m sure I have enough experience for the two of us, I could teach him the basics pretty fast.”

Adrien’s breath hitches because oh, the way she says she misses him beats her laugh anytime, even if only by a hairbreadth. 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” he says, clearing his throat. Her words make his heart swell, and the bigger it gets, the easier it is for it to spur him on, to make him a little more daring than his father likes. "But since Chat Noir isn’t here tonight… Maybe I could keep you company instead of him?"

Ladybug just stares at him for a long second, eyes wide and mouth forming a little ‘o’, before life returns to her face and she looks away, her cheeks tinted pink under the scarlet of her mask. "It wouldn’t be the same, but I'd like that. I'd like that very much.”

"It's a da— deal, then," Adrien grins, toothy and giddy, trying as he might to swallow back the word ‘date’ from the tip of his tongue mid-sentence, because no. It is most definitely not a date. 

He extends his arm to lead her to the dance floor, or out of the city hall — truthfully, he doesn’t even care as long as she stays this close — but just when he does, a cold voice calls from behind his back. 

"Adrien, you have to meet Mr. Giorgio in five minutes. I hope you didn't forget about your duties!"

His shoulders sag but he hides his clenched jaw behind a million-watt smile as he turns. "Of course not, Nathalie. I'll be right there!" 

An apologetic glance at his Lady is enough for her to let go of the ball gown she has just pinched up to float to the dance floor. She wraps the gloved hand so far extended for him to take around her torso. 

"I'm sorry, Ladybug, it looks like you'll have to take me up on my offer another time," Adrien sighs. 

"It's alright, I understand!" she says, but her sour smile makes Adrien wonder if she’s choosing her words carefully, deliberately avoiding saying ‘it’s no problem’. “Have a good time!" she offers, and he can only nod, heart aching. 

He never has time. And he certainly never has a good one without her.

[read the rest of the chapter on AO3]

[monterraverde]

Rules: repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to achieve some of the facts, feel free to add some other of your own! When you’re done, tag 15 other people to do the same!

Tagged by: No one I stole it

B A S I C S.

Name: Rika Navarro

Age: 28

Birthdate: July 17th, 1994

Species: Human

Gender: Female, She/Her pronouns

Orientation: Heterosexual/Heteroromantic

Profession: Paldean Elite 4

P H Y S I C A L  A S P E C T S.

Hair: Green

Eyes: Crimson red

Skin: White

Height: 5'5"

Weight: 110 lbs

F A M I L Y.

Siblings: One younger sister, Bella

Parents: Mother's deceased, Father is MIA

Grandparents: Deceased/unknown

Other Relatives: Unknown

Any pets?: basically every pokemon she owns; Clodsire, Garchomp, Excadril, Tyranitar, Camerupt, Gliscor, Donphan, Dugtrio, Whiscash, and a Great Tusk in Scarlet verse. She just never speaks about it, far as anyone knows it's just a decorated Donphan.

S K I L L S.

Battling and Clerical work. She's the Leagues receptionist after all.

T R A I T S.

STRENGTHS: Mom/Big sister friend, Protective, Determined, Just the right dose of childish.

WEAKNESSES: Traumatized, Depressed, Abandonment issues, Touch-starved, yet touch averse from behind, Likes to keep everyone at arms length out of fear of getting hurt.

L I K E S.

Colors: Green, Red, White

Smells: Freshly baked bread and pastries

Textures: Squishy, flabby things ala Clodsire. Fluffy fleece.

Drinks: Coffee, Whiskey, Bourbon, Vodka, Lemonade.

O T H E R  D E T A I L S.

Smokes?: Yes

Drugs: No

Driver License: Yes

Ever Been Arrested?: No

[wrathstricken]

FILE ;  STRIKER

          an imp born in lust.  raised by hard - working parents who were eventually forced to move to wrath.  parents killed by a lesser goetia,  striker was orphaned as a teen,  made to see the rings  &&  classes for what they were.  he harbors a deep hatred for the nobles  &&  the elite.

                to know your place is a hard lesson to learn.  striker grew up raised by wrath imps who moved through the world by their talents  &&  hardworking methods.  striker's father was a well - known man who eventually ended up hired at the palace,  living in the lust ring when striker was born.  eventually,  though,  he lost his job  &&  the couple were forced to move back home to wrath in his early years.

their marriage fell part,  his father lost his reputation  &&  found it harder to find  &&  keep work.  when he learned in person that his wife was having an affair,  he hit her with his car,  killing her  &&  attempting to attack the goetia she was escorting.  he was shot in front of striker,  who was present,  &&  striker was told to learn that lesson quickly.

striker took over his family's property  &&  worked hard for a long time.  floating between farm work  &&  body guarding,  bartending  &&  bouncing.  it was during that time he would meet aella,  who he fell in love with.  it was a whirlwhind relationship,  but it ended very poorly,  when she turned out to be a goetian in disguise,  trying to take his property out from under him.  he relinquished it in defeat,  &&  his hatred was solidified. 

the elite,  the royals,  those who don't work very hard for what they have  ...  it all pisses him off.  he leans into wrath as his primary trait,  reacts angrily,  &&  has hopes to take out those in power who don't deserve it.

verse  one ;    ‘ I'LL FAKE GOD TODAY ’   (  SHOWTIME  )      this verse is mostly a catch-all.  pre-show,  during show,  after current episodes all go in one place.  au's  &&  large departures from my portrayal would dictate other verses.  striker is an assassin for hire,  as well as other grunt - like work.  has worked for stella  &&  crimson.

[askdragonbladetalon]

[fic] RIVEN: An Eulogy

When a hero dies, a country mourns. 5 reactions to Riven's death, feat Talon, Kat, Cass, Trifarix and Black Rose.

i.

They still tell stories of her after her death.

Every second soldier in the Noxian army swears that they’ve served with her or that they know someone who has. Riven, they say, was the heart of Noxus. The Trifarix are Might, Guile and Vision but Riven was the Noxus’ Heart. Riven was the best of what Noxus could be and Riven died fighting for Noxus, just like any true Noxian should aspire to.

Talon hears these stories in every bar, in every barracks. Women wield swords larger than themselves and men tattoo themselves with runes in her honor. The runes on her sword are sacrosanct; what they mark themselves with are the runes for ‘riven’, spelled out one letter at a time.

‘Riven’, Talon knows, means to split apart violently. He does not think it is something that should be tattooed onto flesh. It feels too much like an invitation.

Their tattoos glow, pale green-blue, and Talon thinks of the Shadow isles and their slow, creeping corruption of flesh.

He does not say it but he thinks that they are calling the wrong god.

ii.

Katarina paces restlessly around the rooms of the Du Couteau mansion. The click-click of her heels sounds like the gunshots fired at Riven’s state funeral; her fists are clenched, her jaw tight and when Talon enters, she whirls on him like he personally called the strike down on Riven.

“She shouldn’t have died like that,” Katarina spits, shaking from the force of a fury that has nowhere to spend itself. Her eyes are green as Singed’s toxins, far more green than the runes of Riven’s swords, and they bore into Talon. “She was the symbol of Noxus, the Heart of Noxus. What will the Ionians think of us – what will the Demacians think?!”

Talon shrugs and watches Katarina’s hands. He knows these moods. She’ll draw a knife soon and throw it either at him or the mirror. He doesn’t understand why she’s so angry with herself for Riven’s death, but he does understand that being quiet is safer.

Nonetheless, he asks, “What did Riven think of us as she died?”

iii.

“If I had the body, I could revive her,” Vladimir suggests in the council.

Swain steeples his long fingers together and smiles coldly at the hemomancer, a crow’s cluck coming from his teeth. “Because your magic fared so well with Sion?”

“Sion had been dead too long.” Vladimir bristles, coat collar jutting up with steel tips that match his claws. “Riven’s far fresher.”

“I think not, Vladimir,” Swain says, resting his hands on the table, “Noxus needs no more monsters made of its heroes.”

“Let her rest in peace,” Darius rumbles from across the table. His words have the impact of mountains moving, the ageless strength and presence that will not be brooked.

LeBlanc, usually Vladimir’s ally, laughs and leans back. “She was growing too popular. What if she decided to turn on Noxus one day? She’d have the support of the people and we can’t afford a civil war.”

Something sparkles in her eyes at the thought, a vulture’s hunger behind a feline’s smile, and Talon shifts his hold on his sword slightly.

iv.

“This is not like my shed scales,” Cassiopeia says as gently as possible as she slithers up to Talon. He’s kneeling not at Riven’s monument, where the masses still leave offering and burn letters to her, but below the tree where the last time Riven was at the Du Couteau grounds, the two of them climbed high and spoke seriously in solitude.

Talon turns and looks up at her, fingers dirty and a small hole scraped into the ground. “What?”

“Remember the first time you saw my shed scales? You thought I’d been killed and skinned. You were so relieved when I came around the corner.” A small smile twitches at Cassiopeia’s lips as she rests a clawed hand on Talon’s head, but then it fades as she keeps talking. “Riven is dead, Talon. Hoping otherwise won’t bring her back.”

“I know,” Talon says, shoulders curving defensively as he bends over his task once more. “I’m not – like those people. I’m not burying a talisman for her safe return.”

“Then what are you burying?” Cassiopeia asks, sharp snake-eyes unable to make out the small item that Talon’s clutching in one hand.

There’s silence for a few seconds, then Talon says, “Her heart.”

He opens his fingers, showing the Crimson Elite crest. “We traded them before she left. It’s a good luck routine – it was supposed to mean she’d come back. But if I die outside of Noxus now, then hers won’t make it back. Assassins don’t get their bodies retrieved. I need to bury it now so she’ll always stay in Noxus.”

v.

A small figure enters his tomb (his prison?). There’s just enough light from the glowing sword to recognize her before the shattered edge drives into his heart. Blood flows from the wound over the sword, dark and congealing, and extinguishes the light.

“Rest now, Sion,” she says as she stands over his dying form. “Your war is won.”

[kngfisher]

tag dump

[madefate]

verse. au / three houses.

age. nineteen.

starting class. commoner.

affiliation. adrestian empire / black eagles house  / those who slither in the dark / anti-church rebellion. possibly: the leicester alliance.

recruitable routes. crimson flower / verdant wind

tag. ❪ ⁂ ❝ blackbird song is over now. ❞ ( HENRY / THREE HOUSES. ) ❫

notes.

henry remains a bit of an enigma at the officers’ academy; as far as anyone knows he doesn’t come from a noble house, still possesses a minor crest, and has not made a name for himself in the elite echelon of society. his only notoriety comes from his prodigious magical ability and brief time serving as a mercenary.

his enigmatic status is only reinforced by his somewhat odd behavior – his taste for the macabre, his high pain tolerance, his inappropriate humor, his lack of understanding of manners and customs. his inability to adhere to a rigid social structure often has him at odds with students that take hierarchy seriously.

after a very brief, tumultuous childhood, henry was given to agents of those who slither in the dark, though he has neither admitted this nor does he claim to know why this was done. he alludes to his time with those who slither as a ❛ magical education. ❜ in reality, henry served as a test subject for magical experimentation. ostensibly, the goal of grafting him with the minor crest of macuil ( the only crest that would take ) was to ensure that his innate magical talent was honed so that he might serve as a weapon of disruption. it is unknown if his prodigious talent is natural, or entirely a result of experimentation, and it doesn’t appear as if henry cares either way.

his admittance to the officers’ academy, then, was at the design of those who slither. he was meant to be a messenger of information, and, if the time came, an agent of destruction from within.

of course, most seemingly foolproof plans are never quite so. it’s at the officers’ academy that henry’s perspective begins to change, thanks entirely to the connections he manages to forge with others. in the end, he defects from those who slither in order to fully support the rebellion against the church. even when working alongside them in the crimson flower route, he only takes orders from the professor and, to a lesser extent, edelgard. if he is recruited to the golden deer route, he will only listen to the professor. if robin is present in either route, henry will also listen to them.

henry will never fight for the church specifically. he is a crimson flower route character, and recruitable to GD. initially, this is due to the fact that it’s more ❛ exciting ❜ to lend his power to the side of the fight that is smaller – the monolith of the church, in his estimation, is too strong, and has more than enough power to suppress a rebellion. however, he begins to fight less for the fun of it and more for the cause of it if he forges deep enough connections with the strike team.

in crimson flower, this necessarily means fighting alongside tws for some period of time, and he approaches this with mixed feelings at best. outwardly, he rarely shows reservations at using the organization that has used him, but he will never work with any agent of tws directly. everything he does, he does at the behest of byleth and / or edelgard, and with high enough support it’s revealed that after his defection from tws, he simply turned the obedience he’d had for them into obedience, and burgeoning trust, in the members of the rebellion.  

all of henry’s character development comes from his supports and connections with others. his first healthy relationships are important – they radically alter his self image and how he processes and understands emotions. if he has grown close with someone on the opposite side of the war, he will hesitate to harm or kill them, and might refuse entirely. ignoring that the mechanic doesn’t exist – if he’s at A rank with someone who tries to kill him, henry will not counter attack & will retreat if injured.

henry is strangely and consistently helpful during his school years. while he might spend time talking about the most gruesome things he can conjure images of or experimenting with dangerous hexes, he is always willing and eager to do just about any task that those he’s formed a connection with ask of him.

his hobbies include telling ghost stories, hanging out around the stables / getting all the monastery cats to sit with him, bothering anyone who takes training seriously & also hubert, coming out of goddamn nowhere in order to interrupt a conversation with a not-very-fun fun fact.

ignoring the fact that this Isn’t a Thing in the Game, his recruitment to the GD house is dependent only on achieving an a-level rank with byleth / the professor.

he has strengths in reason and flying, a weakness for heavy armor and faith, and a hidden talent in riding. 

TIMELINE. 

childhood.

henry is born to a minor noble house ( von lowell ) within the adrestian empire. little is known about the family, and in the interim it seems as if every trace has disappeared.

when henry is five, he is moved out of the family home and into a complex of mages that claim imperial affiliation. he never sees his family again and does not search for them.

over years of blood experimentation, henry’s personality forms; he develops a simultaneous aversion to pain while losing a majority of his ability to process it, and approaches the subject of violence with unflappable cheer.

after a few years, henry is successfully grafted with a minor crest of macuil. he is then officially taken in as a member of those who slither in the dark, his magical & combat abilities trained for the rest of his adolescence. his indoctrination against the church of seiros lasts for the rest of his life.

at eighteen, henry is given an invitation to join garreg mach monastery in imperial year 1180. he is told that his mission is to feed information about the church to those who slither, and to keep track of the imperial princess’ movements.

he does precisely this.

crimson flower.

as a citizen of the adrestian empire, henry joins the black eagle house. his incessant, macabre cheer and seemingly immediate desensitization to violence keep him at arm’s length from many of his peers when he first enrolls.

he has a penchant for riling up his stiffer classmates, particularly ferdinand and, occasionally, hubert, though ferdinand is by far the most entertaining person to bother.

with a high enough support with the professor, henry will confess his affiliation with those who slither to the professor and edelgard before the strike force first attacks the monastery. he himself will also realize that he is afraid of those who slither, and that he desires a connection with his classmates. otherwise, he’ll unlock that conversation towards the end of the route.

until this revelation, henry remains obnoxious at best and antagonistic at worst to almost everyone around him. the exceptions to this are the professor, to whom he is overly helpful, edelgard, to whom he is surprisingly polite, and bernadetta, to whom he stops speaking about macabre things after their first support.

he’ll spend a large part of his life after the war working against those who slither. if not paired with a romantic interest or a friend, he’ll mysteriously disappear after the organization finally falls.

golden deer.

henry will only join the golden deer with b+ professor support. ( in any verse where awakening’s robin is in golden deer, he’ll join with c-support with them. )

he’ll confess his affiliation after the five year timeskip, and will similarly have the revelation of his fear of tws & his desire to connect with his classmates.  

he is somewhat less antagonistic in this verse; he likes to poke fun at lorenz, but will steer very far away from both hilda & claude. in his highest support with claude, post confession, he’ll admit that he knew that either hilda or claude would see through him if they looked too closely.

henry progresses through his character development a little more quickly in this route because he doesn’t have to ally with tws, & doesn’t interact with too many people who are loyal to the church.

if not paired at the end of the game, he will not mysteriously disappear.

azure moon.

henry will not join the blue lions under any circumstances. he will remain as part of the imperial army, and will be stationed at fort merceus. if he has achieved b+ support rank with the professor, he will refuse to fight them and will not counterattack. if he’s not killed in battle, he’ll have mysteriously disappeared during the end of the war, presumed dead.

silver snow.

henry will not join the church under any circumstances he will presumably remain as part of the imperial army through most of the war, but will only appear on the side of those who slither in the city without light. if engaged in battle by the professor, he will comment that isn’t it funny that we’re going to kill each other, even though we’re only puppets of a bigger machine? wow, it’s like there’s no difference between us anymore! henry is a general and must be killed.

stats.

henry excels at reason and flying, and is bad at faith, brawling, and swords. his typical path is anything that emphasizes reason: warlock, dark bishop, even dark knight. if the dark flyer is ever unlocked for gender, that would be an optimal class for him.

he trades physical strength, speed, and charm for high magic and above average res & defense. with the right strategy, he can fight fairly well on the front lines for limited time spans.

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

@ravenfan1242​ You said short and it started short and well, it just became this the way only an open prompt can... I hope it’s remotely decent!!!

----

Raven leaned against the table and under her light weight, Jason could swear the solid structure shifted. From the moment she arrived, brandishing an eco-friendly tote, she was weighted down. Even after relinquishing the heavy bag, she still seemed to sag into it.

"I'm worried, Jason."

"Raven, don't be," he offered quickly. "I mean, look around you, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine." A heavy sigh exited her body. "There's something else I'm forgetting... I just feel like I should do something... Something more."

"That's pretty clear." He pointed at the huge bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It was all organic and more than enough fodder to sustain two down and out Jason Todds for a month. Completely and utterly unnecessary. But, if you spent enough time brushing the tuxedo-covered and satin gloved elbows of the Gotham elite, you grew familiar with the concept of overcompensation. "I don't know why you're worried. I have everything I need here - and some. Oh and good morning - by the way."

Her blue-violet eyes narrowed and then ran their lap around the space for about the eighth time. "Natural light... That's the problem." She wrung her hands together. "There's no natural light... But, I should have figured that bulbs alone weren't enough."

"You think I need exposure to sunlight? That's certainly rich." Jason's chin jutted in her direction. "It really means so much coming from you." The half-demon's pallor was pretty standout in the tight black v-neck, more than usual, which was saying something. It was like someone had flipped a switch to change the settings to negative, then pointed it solely on her, leaving the colors of her skin and sweater equally inverted.

"You're vitamin D deficient - probably... Definitely. Or you will be..." Once more, she fussed about the beige corded string tote. She held up the carton of milk and then a container of yogurt, examining percentages, as if expecting these offerings to remedy the problem in the short term.

Jason half considered telling her she'd do well to down a glass or a spoonful herself, but he held his tongue. This was clearly about alleviating what she could, so as not to focus on the real problem.

"Underground to underground bunker...?" Jason stretched his arms behind his head leaning back onto the small couch in the hideout. "I can't help but consider this a vast improvement." The space was so very much like a studio. So it was practically palatial compared to his previous digs in the cemetery. He barely stifled a scoff as he contemplated yet another bitter realty. B couldn't be bothered to spring for a bloody crypt. It was probably confirmation of where he ranked. What did it matter? There was a revolving door of Robins anyway.

"So, I suppose... it can't be helped," she said somberly.

"Exactly. If you've been deep down enough, natural light becomes a cursory concern." It was meant to be an offhand remark, as he was sure she knew what lay underneath the earth's surface better than most. But Jason watched as the daughter of Trigon actually flinched. She was quivering slightly with her small shoulders starting to shake. Some part of this had to be beyond her, it was the only way for someone so powerful to seem so fragile.

Raven was the only one who could say with certainty that Jason Todd's coffin in Gotham Cemetery was empty.

The hardest part was supposed to be over, but neither of them really knew what was going to happen now.

Would he have good days and bad days? Or just all bad? What were the long-term after effects?

He could try to be proactive and take some preemptive actions. Perhaps he could borrow a leaflet from the shelf of one Raven Roth and start meditating to pinion the chaotic churn burgeoning inside him.

Steady the mind... You are neither a puppet nor a proponent of mania, or the voices inside...

He had a couple of chants he was mulling over. Raven knew the value of a good chant.

She also knew what it was like to have multiple forces pressing themselves upon her at any given time. Sometimes literally.

But the occasional moment in front of the crimson and gold strewn sky of dawn, brought her solace.

She'd told him that once, so he could believe it.

Maybe if he too could feel the sunlight, smell dewy grass, or hear the chirping of birds, it would make him feel less apart from the world. Or maybe he would just feel more strange and inhuman, like he was something indecent that didn't belong. And all the organic groceries and housewares in the world wouldn't be enough to rehabilitate the reanimated corpse of Jason Todd. Though Raven sure seemed willing to try.

Wait.

Did she really?

He sat up straight and craned his neck, not believing it. Among the health food items, Jason saw a flash of bright packaging. An orange tin of biscuits. He also spied a familiar looking paper carton. Well, well. Cigarettes.

Circumstances aside, wasn't Raven a do-gooder supreme, even among her fellow Titans? She didn't strike him as one to approve of cigarettes. They kill and all that. Though now she probably figured what was the harm? And he had to painfully agree.

In a state of delirium, he vaguely recalled mentioning something about a smoke. But how on earth did Raven find his favorite English biscuits? His weakness for Hobnobs was something he figured only Alfred knew about.

How did she always know?

Perhaps Raven had seen a small package on his place setting while visiting the manor and filed it away somewhere. In, but never out, she was Fort Knox. And like a fortress, one rarely ever knew what lay within her walls.

Hmm. A cigarette, black coffee and a biscuit for breakfast. Yes, the familiarity of it sounded comforting. Made the place feel downright homey. And suddenly Jason wanted her closer to him, to hold her, at the most. At the least, reach for her hand to squeeze it, if not to reassure her that she had done more than she could ever know.

"It's nice - the blanket... Wool, right?" He patted the soft blue throw resting over the back of the couch, another furnishing, courtesy of Raven. She pursed her lips, probably thinking he was being facetious again. "But, really. I appreciate this - and the food. Didn't I make that clear?"

"No, you didn't." She thumped the back of the couch, now hovering above Jason. "But, of course that would mean that nothing has changed."

"So..." A smirk spread onto his face, as he replayed the last fifteen minutes of their conversation. "That Vitamin D..." Raven blinked slowly, then rapidly, her expression no longer blank. "Being that you're a bit of a recluse, I always guessed that it's pretty difficult to come by... Is that by choice, or -"

"Raven?"

But the half-demon's body stood frozen like a statue. It was always so sudden and swift when it happened. Jason watched helplessly as the emotions arisen from her depths started to vanish themselves. The bloom of red left her face almost as quickly as it had come.

"Raven?"

It was utterly useless to even try. She was somewhere else now. On another plane - a private one - somewhere beyond this secret room to another. Raven was speaking with people he couldn't see and having conversations he couldn't hear. The severe line of her mouth softened and then curved over, as she bit her lip to stifle a tiny smile.

Well that was just great.

Currently, she was holding back a laugh at a joke that wasn't his. So, not people, a person. The only person it could be. And that man's timing was nothing if not spot on.

He stood up abruptly and -

Wait, was it even abrupt if no one noticed?

Who was to say?

But Jason wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to thaw. He figured he'd at least just pick up where she left off. He shot one more glance at Raven before he opened the empty fridge and filed in milk, eggs, and cheese. Huh. She'd gotten mild cheddar, not sharp.

Did anything at all get by her?

Of course, the fall of footsteps meant she was cooked. Defrosted, no longer in suspended animation. She glanced back and forth, calling out when she didn't see him.

"Jason... Jason?"

"Polo. It's not the manor. There's only one door and it's for the bathroom." That was harsher than he meant it to be. He stopped and sighed. "It was him, wasn't it?"

This was Raven, she didn't often lie, not even to spare feelings. "Yes. He... uh..." She paused for a while. Longer than was necessary. Five whole minutes went by. Was she conversing with him again? "Sorry... That was him. Dick hadn't seen me this morning and he seemed worried."

What did he somehow forget what Raven looked like?

Not likely.

Besides, didn't a mind meld render the need for that redundant? Or did theirs not work that way?

"Twice in twenty minutes, that's got to be serious."

"Well... Yes." She shrunk inwardly, holding herself tightly, amethyst orbs darted to the very corner of her eyes. It was the kind of shape someone twisted themselves into when prefacing a breach of something uncomfortable. "He wanted to make sure I was coming."

"Coming? To what - Birdy Book club?" Jason picked up another package. More cheese? Shredded and sliced in addition to the wedge. And Gods, was there crumbled in there too? He was perfectly capable of slicing or shredding or crumbling his own cheese. After all, he was well-versed in knife handling and had plenty of interesting shapes to carve things into.

Or had Raven removed all the sharp objects and replaced them with throw pillows?

"I told you." He shrugged. "You forgot? It's today." Then Raven's voice went low and quiet, as if she were about to speak about something improper. "It's the opening of the..." She swallowed. "Memorial today..."

The memorial.

His memorial.

Of course, he forgot, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

A can of tomatoes slid from his shaking palm and started to roll past his feet. The ghostly burn of verdant followed the steady path of the cylinder, until it bumped into the couch's leg, unable to go on unaided.

"Yeah..." he said after a while. When Raven didn't move, he nodded. "You should go..." He attempted what he believed to be an encouraging smile. Raven winced and Jason wished she wouldn't. He almost preferred pity. "You definitely have to go to that, don't you?"

"Well, yes I have to go. As a Titan and a friend of the family. I have to go and show my face." The half-demon avoided his gaze.

In spite everything that was thrown at her, Raven did the right thing. Why was it that he always seemed to say and do the wrong thing? He could feel a pull towards it now. Amplified. Not lulling like white noise. Loudly, it was rising, roaring in his ears. Burning, red noise.

All he could think about was why? Why this? Why today? And was he seriously unpacking groceries, when he should be in a grave?

What the hell was he doing?

When he shut the fridge, Raven was standing next to it, with her eyes glazed over, nodding at that which he couldn't see.

And she was talking to him again. In the middle of their conversation.

Perfect.

Raven was on it. She was taking care of everything. And everyone. This was best for everyone right now.

But that certainly didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Raven would climb out of here once this was over. She could go out there and stand in the bright light - with him and their friends and family. Jason was stuck in a damned bunker and what did he get? A tin of biscuits and a pack of cigarettes. Concrete walls. Stale air. No sun. In his former life, Jason had never fully appreciated the sun or the air. He glared at the spotless, dustless, windowless room.

Was she really going to go off and fake it for the world?

And was he going to stay here underground, like he was dead - or as good as?

"Go, I'm all set here," Jason tried flatly. "You can go and put on a dress. Stand there at Dick's shoulder...let him hold your hand."

He had tried his hardest not to think about what his memorial would be like. And now, he couldn't help but picture it.

The specter of Jason Todd would hang silently above those in attendance. But since he wasn't dead, perhaps the only shadows would be cast by this latest slab of stone. Would it be a statue or a sculpture or an engraved tablet? He hoped this one would at least have a better inscription than the one in the cemetery.

Something like:

Jason Todd.

Never fully at rest in life or in death.

The war wages on.

Eternal.

A little noise ripped the image from him. Raven was staring at him with her eyes widened and shocked. She hadn't ever looked at him like that. Not even when she saw him covered in graveyard soil, suit torn to shreds, body broken. The empath faltered and took a clumsy step backward.

"Are you scared of me, Raven?" He felt worse than terrible. "Where is all that talk about not giving up and not letting go?"

"Gods. There's no doubt you're the same Jason. Still the same arrogant -" She clenched a fist. Was she contemplating shoving him? No. Ironically enough, he was too breakable.

"-ass with a selective filter, you mean?" Jason laughed, though the humorless sound of it was probably cruel. "That's crass of you, Raven. Don't they teach you not to speak ill of the dead in other dimensions? Better practice up on that custom before you step out of the town car."

"Stop it." She reached for him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. It was just a hair too big. Because there was a side effect that they could count on: atrophy. Notably, it was one of his least favorite. "It's not me you're mad at. But it is your day. So you can yell, or throw things, and...you can cry if you want to." Her eyes were brimming over with tears enough for the both of them.

He swallowed, wondering if it was too much, if she was taking on too much.

"Crying already?" Jason tried to smirk if not fall back into usual patterns, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult. He had never seen her cry, not even when she was brushing the dirt from his face. "Don't waste it all here. I know they're for me, but... I think you'll need to save some of those, for later."

"Yeah, I do." And then she laughed bitterly. Miserably.

She wiped her face on her sweater sleeve right as Jason felt a sharp impulse to brush them away for her. He ground his teeth. "You'll give 'em a good show - for me?"

"I won't have to, Jason." There was no need to glance at her to know the mask of Raven that everyone knew was back in place.

"Because... it won't be a show."

[minnarr]

star wars fic masterlist

Hey, folks! Since I am absolutely horrendous at crossposting links to fic on tumblr, thought I’d put together a masterlist of my Star Wars fics. Most of these are easily found on my AO3, but I occasionally post things here that I don’t stick up on AO3. Here divided by era for lack of a better set of themes to divide by.

High Republic Era (232 BBY–⁠)

A Master’s Counsel - Stellan wants to check in with his former Padawan after the Steady Wing disaster; Vern needs some support in the weighty decision she’s just made.

Prequels Era (32 BBY–19 BBY⁠)

You’ve Got Mail - A mixup at Naboo’s post-office puts Jango Fett’s mail in Obi-Wan’s hands. How wrong could bringing it back go? Pretty much just crack, flirting, and begrudging rescues.

Leia Meets the Prequels Gang - chunks posted on tumblr of a story where Leia was thrown back in time from the moment of Alderaan’s desctruction to the moment of Shmi’s death and fell in with the prequels trio.

Four Funerals and a Proposal - Gregar Typho's life from the battle of Naboo through the early days of the Empire, and his developing friendship with Saché, as seen through snapshots at four funerals and one proposal to build a life after together.

Rebellion Era (19 BBY–4 ABY⁠)

The Bridger Extraction - Sabine inflitrates the same elite academy that Ezra Bridger, disciplinary nightmare of an Imperial cadet, is transferred to. Project Harvester + “even in an AU fate brings Ezra to the Spectres.”

Death and the Dame - Necromancy-tinged noir AU. Qi’ra is a private investigator who specializes in the dead. Leia needs answers. Han’s their getaway driver. Qi’ra/Han/Leia, road trips, messy feelings.

death, unfolding - There is no universe in which Jabba survives his final, cruel joke. Short, experimental time loop fic feat. Hutt-Slayer Leia.

The End of Fellowship - Bodhi contemplates the first of many consequences of his choice to defect.

Gambit - Missing scene. When Maul disappears, Qi’ra makes a move to take charge of Crimson Dawn.

Ignite ‘verse - a what-if AU kindled by (off-screen) time travel: Palpatine was successfully deposed before he became Emperor, the Clone Wars lasted eight years longer, Anakin Skywalker eventually left the Order, and the Skywalker twins trained in the Jedi Temple.

It’s Not Fire You Want to Ignite - Just as Leia Skywalker is getting comfortable in her life as a Senate aide, a message from her time-traveling alternate self sends her on a quest to find one Han Solo and unsettles all her plans.

Cusp - On the twins’ eleventh birthday, Obi-Wan and Anakin look to the past, and the future. Little bit of bittersweet closure for me.

Daughter of Naboo - Leia has a complicated relationship with her homeworld. Character study covering her years in the Jedi Temple.

Keep You At My Back - a series of vignettes from the partnership of Hera Syndulla, freedom fighter, and Caleb Dume, Jedi Knight. 

bonus: timeline

That Beautiful Shore - At a post-Endor celebration, Enfys shows up to tell Han I-told-you-so.

Leave a Light in the Window - Twenty years after nearly dying on Mustafar, Padmé wakes from cryostasis. When her niece brings her back to Naboo in search of answers about her children, they're caught up in the political turmoil on Naboo, where old friends push back against a Moff intent on silencing resistance against the Empire on Naboo forever.

The Promise - Chewbacca tells Leia she’s included in the life debt; Leia doesn’t like being owed. Found family fluff, by and large.

Your Heart with Me (I Carry It in My Heart) - Lando never quite gets over losing L3; finds a kindred spirit in Hera, who loves her cantankerous droid; and experiences a reunion he’d lost hope in.

New Republic Era (5 ABY–28 ABY⁠)

fate, i found a place for us series - largely canon-compliant up through Mandalorian season 1, this ‘verse starts from the premise that when Ezra and Thrawn disappeared, they eventually found their way to the nascent First Order, working as double agents to stop it from within before it grew too strong. This is kind of now my catch-all Relatively Happy Sequels Leadup ‘verse.

we walk through the fire - When Ezra joined the Knights of Ren, neither he nor Thrawn anticipated the result of one horror too many.

darkness, yet the force - On the tenth anniversary of the Liberation of Lothal, Ezra reaches for a part of himself usually kept buried. 

All You See is My Ghost - Ezra gets a lead on the weapon he needs to confront Snoke; Thrawn investigates; Sabine and Luke don’t plan on letting Ezra go all self-sacrificial.

Rattle This Ghost Town - During the hunt for a new home for the former Nevarro covert, Sabine and old comrade Paz Vizsla clash as they contend with the ghosts of old decisions.

Happy Accidents - When attempting to get to Grogu on Tython goes very wrong, Din is thrown back in time to the Clone Wars. It takes meeting several possible Bobas before he realizes. (Bonus: unexpected babysitting duty for adult Boba).

Resistance Era (28 ABY–35 ABY⁠)

The Cost of War - *whispers* I guess this counts. Check Please characters as Resistance flyboys, Ransom and Holster focused, definitely abandoned WIP. 

rest for the weary - Finnpoerey, modern AU, h/c: after searching for her bio family and finding only heartache, Rey returns home.

Sabacc Face - Finnpoe flirting and silliness as Poe teaches Finn how to play cards.

Strangers in the Night - While running from present griefs, Han encounters an old one in the form of Qi’ra, come to check up on him.

[muekura]

KIMETSU NO YAIBA VERSE.

“It was unlike anything I’d ever seen, I tell you. . . when we heard reports of a demon attack on a clan manor, we expected to see something awful. And it  -  it was, it was something awful but. . . we never expected to see that uniform. No one of us did. No one us expected that the demon would be one of our own, wearing our own cloth, wielding our own swords. But I think we all knew, one way or another  --  that it would be them.”

Uzumiya Hibiki is born, and once they have been brought into the world, they are designated a sacrifice.

They are told, from the moment they are born, and everyday after, that they are to become something greater than the flesh. That they will take in the blood of a man they have never met before, will never look eye-to-eye with, and become apart of his many ceaseless moons.

When their fifth year sets, decades old trainings and centuries old learnings are beat into their young skin. With every year, it is pushed and carved into their form. And when they hit the age of fourteen, they are told that the only path to true completion is to follow the road of the people who would attempt to strike them down once they are reached their truest point.

So they do. Because it is what they must. And it is all they know.

They train and they continue to train. And for years, they gaze down the blade to those they would soon become. And they are filled with a word they have no breath for.

At the age of eighteen, they arrive at the manor they have been raised in, refined with, beat within, and they slaughter each and every resident of its halls. Till not even bodies remain to rot, they cross the hallways, and complete their execution where they once sat dressed in formal clothing.

When their eighteen year closes, bloodied sword in hand, they are banished from the corps.

On their twenty-eighth, they continue to roam those halls that have been scrubbed clean of those crimson stains. And they never raise that sword from where it rests upon their hip.

Summary/TLDR:  Born and raised by the Uzumiya clan to become a potential next member of the Twelve Kizuki due to their own indulgence of power, Hibiki is trained from the age of five years old to fulfill that position. At the age of fourteen, they join the Demon Slayer Corps as a facet of their training to prepare them for being hunted by members of the corps after their transformation. However, after four years of being in the corps, something within them changes - and at the age of eighteen, they slaughter the entirety of the Uzumiya clan leading to their banishment from the Demon Slayer Corps. Now twenty-eight years old, Hibiki continues to reside the halls of the Uzumiya Manor - serving as a teacher for those brave enough to enter those stained walkways.

Additional Info:

Hibiki fights solely using close combat fighting techniques. After the slaughter of the Uzumiya clan, they have never once used their sword. That is, to anyone’s current knowledge. While in training, they will use a wooden sword - but none of their students have ever reported them using it offensively.

They are a Hashira level combatant. In sword style, physical prowess, and breathing technique, they had the potential to become a member of the Demon Slayer corps elite had it not been for the events that occurred at the age of eighteen. However, in truth, the potential of it ever occuring was slim - as their next venture would have been to become a demon for Muzan.

Hibiki’s breathing style is known as Void Breathing. It originates from Thunder breathing and it is described as being the vacuum often left behind. It is their own personal style that they developed from a young age. The breathing style incorporates Hibiki’s own self-embodiment of nonexistence ; allowing them to seemingly fill the gaps in between them and their opponent’s attacks and bodies. It has eight forms.

Though it functions extremely well as a defensive form of breathing, allowing Hibiki to seemingly pacify the impact of an attack, it has its own offensive merits. By using sleight of hand, the technique uses the body’s own reflexes against it by making it react to false swipes and attacks.

They do not have a negative opinion of demons. One would almost be faulted to believe that they would blame Muzan for the events that lead up to their birth and life afterwards, yet they never quite could muster such an emotion for someone they believe did not so much as lay a finger ( nor would care ) upon their life. Hibiki, odd as they are, often invite demons upon their manor. Death or life for them is a matter of whether or not they wish to take an offensive stance against the former demon slayer.

Hibiki’s nichirin blade is an orange standard katana with damascus-like patterns inscribed into it. Though they do not utilize it, they can be seen caring and cleaning the weapon as a ritual. The guard/hilt, a reflection of their clan’s name, is a swirl pattern that is black and orange.

[godkilller]

@oboete-iru​

How much of Gin's memory of his human life remains in your Vampire verse? Does he remember how or why he was turned all of those years ago? Or has he long since forgotten, only clinging to the ghost of his hatred for Aizen?

          out of character.  Percent-wise ? Probably around twenty or thirty percent of his human life remains as a memory to him by now. Gin’s old, EXTREMELY SO, only a decade or two younger than Aizen in all of his vampire glory... and the longer one goes in this life of immortality, the easier it becomes to forget one’s past life as a human. His goals, his likes and dislikes, his family, his love life, his friends, his childhood, all become kind of fuzzy the older Gin gets as a vampire. He’s roughly 1,038 years old, and grew up during the mid to tail end of the Heian period in Japan as a poor farmer’s son.

          Gin doesn’t remember where he lived, but figures his accent’s an identifying factor, as that’s probably the one main thing about him that hasn’t changed much with the times, regardless of how outdated it may become. Around when he was about ten years old, Gin was sold into slavery, and bought by an elite family amongst the wealthier districts. There, Gin was tasked with helping around their large manner, and tending to their various grand gardens — after all, Aizen Sousuke seemed particularly keen on a certain dreamlike aesthetic that needed constant maintenance.

          IT’S REALLY FUZZY FOR HIM, ESPECIALLY THE EARLIER YEARS. Gin remembers being raised by him, but he doesn’t quite remember when, why, or what started his hatred. Perhaps it started as bitterness towards his master, a homesickness moving him to loathe all those finer things that this fake-smiling man surrounded himself with, or maybe it was the fact that he’d hear rumors about the mysterious man who would take late-night walks and return smelling like copper and ichor, and whilst many praised him as some descendant of the divine, Gin felt only distaste at his more subtle monstrous cues. A night under pale moonlight, crimson rain dripping from the rooftop plates above, some mangled man’s stiffened hand clasping emptily, limp, having been flung like a ragdoll from the gardens Gin happened to be hiding within at the time. GIN RECKONED AIZEN WAS A DEMON IN A HUMAN’S BODY. It was only later in his short human life that Gin was validated in his criticism when Aizen started outright bringing in those of lesser status into his home only for them to never be seen again, telling Gin these were matters that went beyond mortal comprehension.

          Gin could not run away. He figured this was a test, a game, and Aizen expected this mortal to try and flee rather than sit and play with him — like that board he had been shown, and all the little pieces. GIN HAD NO DOUBT THAT IF HE DID WHAT ALL OTHERS HAD TRIED, AND FAILED, TO DO... HE’D BE KILLED. So Gin did not run away.

          Aizen subsequently waited until he was older to turn Gin into a vampire.

          Sometimes, Gin remembers those things, but the memory is hollow, like reading a sentence in a textbook detailing, in the most empty way possible, the happenings of the last decade. Gin feels detached from his previous life, it doesn’t spark anger or resentment, and at times Gin figures in some way he was saved from suffering through some great famine or dreary life in the mud and outskirts, destined to be nothing. Or he could have been those various puppets reeled into Aizen’s den to be fed upon, drained and shriveled and frozen into a state of thick death and fear, spent. He could have been worthless enough to be deemed food, rather than something to be kept. BUT HE DOESN’T FEEL APPRECIATION, EITHER.

          There’s only a vague, nagging thing in the back of his mind, fading in and out like a tide, that he hates Aizen Sousuke, and would one day prefer to see him dead. It’s not until Gin is met with Rangiku’s vengeance towards Aizen that his own wrath is reignited.

[blackwinged-silversolace]

[ wall ]   your muse pinning mine against a wall.

Sephiroth Answers|| Violent Prompts || Status: No longer Accepting|| ‘Unsaid Goodbye’ || CC Verse

Something was irrefutably wrong. Genesis had not spoken the entire day despite his persistent efforts, let alone looked at his Silver companion.

Sephiroth had seen this happen before but never like this. The masks that  the redheaded rival exceeded in crafting to shield the world from trouble that lurked behind, no longer seem to fit. And where they bore cracks, there was an almost tangible heaviness that seeped and made wrong the blatant deception in his confident stride.

 "Something is troubling you." Sephiroth attempts softly, as they near the elevator. Genesis simply strode faster, stood taller, eyes shielded from behind his auburn hair, but Sephiroth could not dismiss the way the other’s lips pinched shut. Pursed tight around teeth as if to bite against a foul taste.

"The wound... perhaps? " Sephiroth tries a second time, warily. The overbearing guilt swelling up, each word a struggle to push out from where it tightened round his throat. There was only silence, understandably so, of course it was bothering him. It was still not healing...and there was only one to be blamed. and each time Genesis had been taken down, held in the dismal medical wings under careful observation he returned, less and less like he’d been before. 

This is my fault.

“Genesis, tell me what I can do to--....” 

And when the pair slowed to stand before the parting metal doors, Sephiroth reached for the other, only to feel the cold biting sting of rejection. Genesis had recoiled, jerking violently out of reach and visibly grimacing, promptly forcing his way to be first inside the doors before they had fully opened.

How repulsive the silver one was, must have been.

Dismissed, crumbling within his sturdy frozen state of horror, Sephiroth hesitates, but follows behind, gaze upon the floor, it's impossible to keep the hurt from clenching his brow, and he parts his lips several times before he is able to comprehend. Or do anything but reel from the shock. I deserve this, for losing control...The doors shut, the air within the space collapsing down around him, becomes harder to breath and Sephiroth looks up, eyes pleading, helpless, unable to find the words... anything, to undo what had been broken between them. But the words, none of them valuable, none with the gravity needed to mend the one he felt he had betrayed, failed so profoundly...  “I--...please. Gen, I’m ...sor--”

 “You don’t get it!” Genesis snarls, and it is instant, explosive, Sephiroth was unprepared when the rage came at him, the Crimson General had spun violently on his heel, drove his forearms into the taller one’s chest, the outburst hurling both against the wall and forcing the air from his lungs. 

The impact caused the Silver Elite to wince, the metal to cave in behind, and the elevator shudders to a stop. His eyes, for a moment pinched closed, blink open in rapid confused succession to meet the red emergency light blinking overhead and then down.... frantically searching the infernal blaze within the eyes below. Meeting the other that grips his collar, and trembles, those furious blues, the way they spilled over at the corners shatters Sephiroth completely. But Genesis’ hold weakens, grips tight, then slacks again and he retreats. Defeatedly ducking his head and shaking it slowly where his forehead had planted into Sephiroth’s exposed skin, but the image of what lay within that gaze was haunting; all the terror within, the pleading, panic ..pain... fear? It is all he can do to remain standing as he felt the agony tremble through Geneses’ form, only to inexplicably slouch with exhaustion for a breathless embrace around Sephiroth’s mortified being.

 “It’s not--...It’s me, I’m--...” Genesis mutters, the broken thoughts making none and entire sense, in some way, and it is automatic as Sephiroth’s arms coil gently around the other in return, scared to let go...Something felt devastatingly permanent in the way the other clung, afraid, as if he would disappear.  “I don’t want to--... ” 

He cant bare to hear it, didn’t have the strength to believe it... so as soothingly as he can muster, Sephiroth hushes his comrade, swallowing back the sickened dizziness of his racing mind...

“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I’m ...here.” 

But, just... promise you will stay...

[jankadank]

Wolves of Avarice

Nonexistence within subsistence is the theory of conscience One asks, with insistence, if their life receives a continuance Mortality plays the adversary to all humanity Thoughts of eternity occupy the minds of the slavery All the answers to the cancers of our mothers and fathers Coming closer to the cure for our sons and daughters. Independence from the guidance of their "Holy" interference Is the purpose of the evolution of mind, body, and spirit Vitality is the tendency of individuality The key to surviving is not to be found lonely, depending On a martyr, All-Father, a tale of a mythical savior The belief in a wise, all knowing creator is a step oft skipped by the ones that are clever A resistance of significance should be led with vigilance Any opening is a chance to bring the end of ignorance The age of enlightening is coming into being And soon, we will see the fruit of our endured misery Stop the slaughter in proper order, Execute the shepherd that led the herd to murder all of the others The hate is thickening and the peasantry, choking On their lost jobs and their trained insecurities Wounds inflicted continue bleeding profusely The elite shoot us up with the opiate of the masses Citizenship guided by blind judgment While warlords and tyrants dictate global action But this contraption, this illusion, is primed for destruction Our words, our actions are the impetus for revolution The herds are revolting against the Wolves of Avarice Crimson, the color of the currency used against us Stains them, inciting a riot of righteous fury Fighting back against all the gameplans of the greedy Light these lanterns to guide the wayward lost, alone Carve a path in this world for the rest to follow Horrors are abound to the brave and the bold But a better world can be theirs to behold What is done now shapes what happens again The point is to change the matter at hand Change the planned patterns we have come to adapt Break the chains of the slaves that have learned to relax Afraid of the choice they now have in their future plans Of the reigns of power left in their inexperienced hands But justice shows kindness to those who have learned to take a chance We have maintained a restrained misplaced trust in these angels and saints But the relationship is straining, breaking, soaked with these blood stains With these lies aligned, all designed, to fill us with fright. Turning day to night while they pretend to care for our plight. The church dries our thirst, thinking us content to come across in verse But my delivery, sharp and terse, is the preamble to much worse. Constrained and contained in our breaking cages, becoming insane The blood rains as we all seek to explain our excesses of pain We seek to right all the slights we have sustained in our lesser lives Remove this blight that slows the development of the human mind The human curse is a learned dependency on these things inert Idols made of clay and dirt, books filled to the brim with empty words Slain in vain, boys march off under the banner of a "holy" name All the while, bounded and gagged, we remained to stay contained as slaves But the light at the end of the ride is finally within sight And the likes of human kind could realize their full potential might Lured by a world where freedom is spoken out loud and even heard No longer are we sheep to herd. We have now become the Wolves.

[cerulean-seeker]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.

Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

MUN NOTE: I’m answering this regarding the verse I share with who tagged me

NAME.  Thundercracker NICKNAME(S). TC AGE. (( TBA, still working things out)) SPECIES. Cybertronian GENDER. Male (he/him) ALIGNMENT. True Neutral? INTERESTS. Flying, photography, dogs PROFESSION. ? WINGSPAN. 43′ EYES. Crimson

FACECLAIM.  N/A HEIGHT. 30′ VOICE.  John Stephenson (pls click on this link they picked the best line for a sample) COMPANIONS. Dragonsbane

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single

ENEMIES.  Whoever attacks him COLORS. light blue, red, white, grey, black  ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? Yes.  SMOKES? Nope. DRUGS? Nope. DRIVERS LICENSE? Why drive when you can fly?

FAMOUS FOR: His sonic booms INFAMOUS FOR: Being an elite Decepticon WANTS: To be left alone NEEDS: To understand his existence

Tagged by: @dimorphodon-defect

Tagging: @cyber-pop-star, @thebestdecepticonleader, @sparkmender, @grand-galvatron (Thrust), @purple-seeker

[huntershowl-moving]

VERSE ( fe3h: howling bow. )

THE ADRESTIAN EMPIRE holds many secrets, organizations and insidious figures that lurk in the shadows. THE UNSEEN is one such organization. while its leader, sanya triskel, schmoozes openly with empire, kingdom and alliance elites, their underlings seize power in secret. assassinations, blackmail, extortion, everything the unseen does is – well – unseen, impossible to connect back to any one person or group of people. sanya stays above it all with no proof of any crimes and seemingly endless funds to win people over. it’s colloquially known that they head the unseen... but from a technical standpoint, they’re untouchable. those who oppose them are swiftly cut down from the shadows. a young girl and her twin brother vanished from their family’s manor into the unseen’s ranks as young children. their path was the same for a long time – the twins worked together, inseparable, even after losing limbs ( her arms, his hands ) to the danger of the job.  somewhere along the line, they stopped talking to each other. a year ago, a bloody set of riots happened somewhere in enbarr. an entirely new person walked out of them.

GENERAL INFO.

name: persephone aisa / hellhound age ( pre-timeskip ): 19 age ( post-timeskip ): 24 height ( pre-timeskip ): 6′4″ / 193 cm height ( post-timeskip ): the same - house: verse-dependent; can be any. strengths: bow, brawling, axe weaknesses: flying, faith, hvy armor, reason ( budding talent ) - likes: fruit jam, training, seafood, weapon maintenance, poisonous flowers dislikes: rowdiness, ice cream, disrespect, extroverts, magic crest or crestless crest: ??? gifts ( liked ): hunting dagger, whetstone, lavender, coffee beans gifts ( disliked ): literally everything else lost items: strange screw, sturdy bowstring, book of poisonous plants dormitory floor: 2nd frequented locations: library, outdoor cathedral area, training grounds WHITE CLOUDS.

HELLHOUND, THE HUNTER emerged in the empire as a young and independent mercenary shadowed by terrifying rumors. more accurate with her bow the farther she is from you, the sniper is known not to miss – and to transform into a demonic beast once you’ve angered her, teeth gnashing, wild and murderous. she made quite the name for herself in enbarr. the city’s population began to refer to her as an it, a rabid dog, a creature.

one year after first appearing, hellhound vanished from the imperial capital without a trace. 

around the same time, PERSEPHONE AISA joined the officer’s academy as part of the black eagle house – just as much a student as she is a spy. aisa excels with a bow and brass knuckles but refuses to touch magic ( despite having a budding talent in reason ). she keeps to herself, eating alone and conversing very little. she wears high collars, a hood and gloves, and a tight bun at the nape of her neck no matter the weather, refusing to take her gloves off or her hair down even indoors. it is a precarious state to be in. one wrong move, and her identity is no longer secret – who knows what happens then? who knows to what extent sanya can protect her from the church’s wrath? what happens if she makes friends?

POST-TIMESKIP.

no longer does she hide her identity as hellhound, the hunter from her allies – smoking hair let down, mechanical arms revealed, she lets everybody know exactly who she is. her status as a high-up member of the unseen is still a closely-kept secret. people hate, fear, and avoid her more now than ever before – merchants, former students, and civilians have heard the rumors about what happens if you piss off hellhound. but she’s a formidable ally to have. a necessary evil, as they say. on the battlefield, while she stays human rather than in her rumored demonic beast form, her bow pierces enemies with deadly accuracy. she’s fast, smart, and quiet – an excellent flanker. by now, she has also trained heavily in brawling.

CRIMSON FLOWER.

persephone follows edelgard after the emperor declares war, as sanya triskel has ordered her to do. her mission is to eliminate those who slither in the dark as well as the church leadership to create a power vacuum that eventually sanya will fill; eventually, hellhound will likely be tasked with killing the emperor, as well. speaking of sanya, they are openly in support of the empire. not only that, but they are a major source of funding, supplies, and resources during the war. it’s still impossible to prove that they are the leader of the unseen, but nobody’s really looking now that there are more important issues at hand.

her brother, leto aisa, lives in the alliance capital with his fiancé, halwart, making a living as an artist while vocally opposing the empire. hellhound keeps their status as twin siblings on lockdown in case anyone is looking for a weakness in her to exploit. even if anyone does find out, they haven’t talked in seven years and it seems fairly obvious that hellhound has abandoned him. 

AZURE MOON.

when the newly-crowned emperor edelgard declares war, sanya vanishes. everyone in the unseen is left to their own devices –– including persephone, who up until now has relied on her boss to guide her every move. while waiting for her boss and keeper to return, persephone hellhound focuses on the rage in her heart repressed deeply for many years – and decides, finally, to act upon it. the spy is now faced with a choice: join the empire, the kingdom, or the alliance. she chooses the kingdom. why? considering how hostile she acted to most of the students including the blue lions, a lot of them wonder the same thing. leto stays in fhirdiad instead of moving to the alliance when the war starts, hoping to reconnect with his sister after he hears persephone is fighting on the kingdom’s side. his paintings help to bring morale to a war-torn land, leto’s skill becoming quickly renowned throughout fhirdiad. persephone refuses to return his letters, envoys and requests for contact. unopened mail piles up in her room. like dimitri, she is on a destructive and unhealthy war path.

VERDANT WIND.

following sanya’s disappearance as described in azure moon, hellhound chooses the side of the alliance instead of the kingdom or the empire. claude was one of the few people in garreg mach who did not give up on her, slowly chipping away at the ice walls until he began to understand her. eventually, he managed to convince her to join the golden deer and fight on the side of the alliance. claude is the only other person who knows sanya was her boss; the two spend hours poring over leads to figure out where they could have gone ( for very different reasons. ) meanwhile, claude continues to try and find out hellhound’s many secrets while she attempts to block him every step of the way. she is particularly distant towards the alliance’s former students. hellhound knows when she doesn’t belong somewhere – of course, she’s a spy, she never belonged in garreg mach. but something about the way the former golden deer bond and communicate with each other feels further alienating to her. LETO moves to the alliance to try and reconnect with persephone. as in azure moon, his letters to her go unanswered... but he does strike up communication with claude, who updates him on persephone’s state and needles him for information about persephone that she herself won’t give him.

OOC.

so this is my first crack at a fe3h verse for hellhound – she’s a difficult character to adapt, because of how much lore baggage has to be brought with her, but i think this is an alright first draft. because i’ve been in 3h Hell lately, i felt the need to make an official verse before following any fire emblem blogs, which i’m bound to do because this game and its characters are taking over my gotdamn life right now!! currently i’m thinking that the unseen used to be allied with those who slither in the dark, but cut them off sometime after they taught the unseen engineers high-end technological shit (like hellhound’s arms) (this was the only way i could figure her prosthetics would work) another note: i have not yet played crimson flower. i’ve played through all of verdant wind and just past the battle of gronder field in azure moon. this post is subject to updates as i continue the game. let me know if you have any questions! thanks for reading!