#His greatest fear was abandonment... And his soul was abandoned in death.

[luminaryofblood]

"... Dearest Trina... You do not know the feeling of abandonment... The Mother of Truth craves wounds, and there is no greater wound than that of abandonment... It is a unique pain... An awful pain... That you never experienced such is, itself, a blessing."

[starshipsofstarlord]

Brekkie

Summary -> Damon makes breakfasts for you with your daughter after he comforts her from a bad dream (1k)

Warnings -> fluff, mentions of Damon’s past and death, child abandonment

damon salvatore works other tvd works masterlist

Life as a vampire deprived those turned of many thugs, the greatest punishment for Damon being unable to have children. He had always thought when he was much younger that when he met a nice woman he would have the ability to settle down, and give her the greatest gift of all in the form of a child.

But when he met you, the blessing of a child had already fallen upon you prior to meeting Damon. It hurt him knowing that he could never be a father of his own, but without Tiff having a male parent in the picture, it gave Damon the opportunity to step up. He awoke from his heavenly slumber from being shaken restlessly on his bare shoulder by a small hand that was no doubt pining for his attention.

As his eyes peeled open, as expected he was met with the sight of Tiff. Her wide blue eyes were staring up at him, and if he had no recollection of his past, from a few attributes of her appearance he would have been convinced that she was his long lost daughter. "Tiffy, why are you up so early sweetie?"

In her presence, he felt like a whole new man. He forgot all the terrible things he had done as his sole focus was on her. "I couldn't sleep Damon..." Her voice was small and it trailed off into a silence that scared the man before her. It pained him to hear her minuscule heart having a rave in her chest, yet simultaneously he was comforted that she found solace in her sleepless state in him.

You remained comatised in the depths of your dreams as Dam0n helped Tiff up onto the bed, she laid between the both of you, hugging on of the pillows on the bed. "I get bad dreams sometimes too."" He confided in her, reaching to hold her hand with his own. She gripped it tightly, fearful as though Damon would disappear from beside her.

"What are they about? Your bad dreams I mean..." Tiff was a very inquisitive child, and was well educated in her speech for her age. He would never answer her question truthfully, there were far too many sins he had partaken in. There was guilt wrapped around the remainder of his soul like a parasite, and most things he had done were too violent to share. The little girl before him deserved to keep her innocence, she was a the purest light in his life, and he refused to corrupt her.

"Well Tiffy, when I was younger, so a really long time ago, me and my brother would play around the garden with a football. Neither him or my dad if he dared dirty his clothes never let me win. And I miss my mom, she wasn't in my life then, she left us... me." To know Lily hadn't died but in fact abandoned him and. Stefan only pained him furthermore, it had been her choice to leave him in the custody of his neglectful father.

"Oh. Mine was you left mommy and me, like my real daddy did." His heart ached from hearing her words. "You're kinda like my dad, aren't you? You're here protecting us, and you make the bad dreams go away. Do you think mommy's having a good or bad dream?" To think she saw him as a parent figure made Damon feel proud about his journey, he'd come such a long way and finally, he had everything that he had ever wanted.

In reply to her enquiry his eyes trailed past Tiff and rested on his beloved. Your face was rested peacefully atop of the pillow beneath your head, strands of hair laying softly on your cheek. It was a rare occasion that you weren’t unconsciously kicking him, but he guessed that your maternal instincts sensed that your daughter was between the two of you.

“A good dream.” He answered her, thinking about how perfect his life was in the moment. “But it’d be even better if we woke her up with some brekkie.” He insisted as he laid a kiss on Tiff’s hairline, helping her clamber off from the mattress gently, as to not awaken you prematurely. They trailed through the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen, Damon picking Tiff up and sitting her on the countertop. “What do you think we should make, kid?”

“Pancakes!” The child exclaimed, and Damon had to remind her to be soft with her voice as you were still sleeping upstairs. Or so they thought… your bare feet had followed the route they had taken some moments later, and as they made use out of the frying pan, you watched the two of them from the doorway. A small part of you had wished they’d woken you up so that you could join them and teach them some culinary skills that would deplete the mess they had made around them, however the sight you had was everything.

The three of you were one big happy family. “And the two of you are making what exactly?” Halloween costumes would have been your first guess for when they spun around, the flour that they had used as an ingredient illuminated the high points of their faces. Tiff gave you a toothy smile as Damon blew you a kiss before returning to the pan that was hissing for his attention.

“We’re making pancakes, right daddy?” You froze, and Damon ignored that the cooking breakfast required a flip to its other side when the title escaped her mouth. She had never called Damon that before, but it justified Damon’s appearance of flour on his face and a towel slung over his shoulder. “Is that okay baby?” Damon asked you with uncertainty tied around his tongue.

You stood there, remembering all of the milestones and moments that Tiffany’s biological father had missed but Damon had been there for. She loved drives in his Camaro, he’d take her out for ice cream after he collected her from kindergarten thinking you didn’t know but you did. It was difficult to be against Damon being her ‘daddy’, because in all aspects he was. “It’s more than okay. But I don’t think the breakf- sorry, brekkie is; smells like it’s burning.”

[aliusfrater]

almost all s8 opinions regarding sam make me want to tear my hair out but what do you make of the takes that we can't really blame sam for s8, mainly not looking for dean/quitting hunting because it was "out of character"?

not just the you know who shippers who say this either btw I've seen so-called sam stans say the same

the evidence to this claim always seems to be that jared supposedly didn't like it either (which may very well be true idk the source) but I have to wonder if jared only said that or something similar because fan reactions to s8 sam began affecting him too

quite simply, i just don't agree with or enjoy interpretations that genuinely and earnestly refer to it as sam 'not looking for dean' in any context that's intended to be from sam's point of view because that's very much what dean considers it to be because he knows that he wasn't dead in the soul-had-left-his-body sense and he considers sam's adherence to his own perceived death as abandonment which is the major culprit of his own, sam's as well as the narrative's perpetuation of the idea that sam 'didn't look for him'. like this exact idea from sam's own pov is touched on in the first episode of season eight when sam is at his most confident in his independence away from his and dean's relationship:

then based on bobby's reaction to sam's own recount of dean's death to bobby in 8.19, it does seem evident to me that sam neglects to retell his own pov and he tells bobby that dean was in the same purgatory they were currently in, which is why bobby reacts with disbelief (because if you knew where he was, why didn't you attempt to save him?) and why sam's response is to bring up the previous 'agreement' he and dean had about death.

i have my own qualms about bobby's disillusionment re: the agreement as a 'non-agreement' and that he 'taught [sam] that' based on the actual events of 6.01 and the fact that bobby does indeed leave dean out of hunting at sam's will and the only plausible point at which it could have become a non-agreement is during the 6.11 and 6.12 conflict that is regaining sam's soul (without sam's consent, twice fold, but i consider soulless!sam to be more of a direct victim of being resouled than i do sam because of his active agency against it. sam's agency was preceded in his dying wishes and are therefore passive). bobby's reaction does, however, add to the already narratively skewed perspective of sam's decision where there is already that prioritisation of dean's 'didn't look for me' on account of the fact that bobby's own role as patriarch does narratively match dean's, along with bobby's position as a character who is narratively third to sam and dean's relationship (which then then bleeds into both sam's and the fandom's own interpretation of it, i think; sam also begins to doubt his decisions more which is also related to how the trials turn into his own suicidal ideation).

the conflict regarding which brother takes on the trials is very much foundational within sam's own view of a light at the end of the tunnel and his desire to leave the life and dean, at multiple points, within conversation about why he should be the one to do the trials, reiterates sam's own desire for normalcy away from hunting, within what dean himself desires for sam's life, which bring us back to the root of the issue that is dean's fear of abandonment (8.03, 8.14).

sam's own desire or attempt to leave the life seems to be fundamentally Wrong or is at least disproved of until dean approves of it/whenever it's part of dean's ideal for sam. 8.01, "so… free will, that's only for you?" the greatest sin is to disobey your patriarch; i think the culprit here re: sam's own person, just like it was with season four and the beginnings of soulless!sam, seems to be sam's rejection of the dynamics of his and dean's codependency in favour of his own attempt at independence. there's also the idea that dean would rather complete the trials that have a possibility of death than have sam go through the trials, die, then 'leave' dean to face the idea of living a life without sam—and he attempts to make this decision by on his own, without sam's input.

generally, i don't believe sam needs any excuse(s) to live a life outside of dean but the narrative's own facilitation of sam back into the non-role (the struggle to fit into the role) of his and dean's relationship, the dichotomy of monstrosity, the cycle of abuse, the patriarchal structure etc. etc. after his attempts at independence are endlessly interesting to me and although this isn't yelled at you through explicit exploration, i do consider aspects of sam's history with mental health to be relevant within several aspects of season eight, but mostly being related to sam's decision to leave hunting specifically within the context of the year between seasons seven and eight (especially after all that is seasons three to seven) as it's explored in 8.08. ultimately though, i think the major aspects of sam's decision to leave revolve around 1) grief and sam's avoidance of his grief, which is pretty well represented by his initial reluctance to name riot and explored through sam and amelia as mirroring characters (how blatant it is pisses me off a little),

and 2) the very basic building block regarding sam as a character that is his desire to leave the life. quite generally, i think the fact that through dean's own conflation of family and hunting (on account of john's own pov that through choosing college over hunting, sam had also chosen college over family) as well as dean's own pov prioritised through his and sam's relationship along with the previously mentioned structures, the idea that sam, too, is therefore unable to leave the life or subvert any of these structures without it being perceived as leaving dean or forsaking family is pretty neglected within a lot of interpretations of sam as a character. i think dean very much keeps sam tethered to the life either through sam's own ability to choose dean and their conflated lifestyle over something/someone else (later season one, season two, three, later nine to fifteen) (there's also the guilt tripping) or as a result of being preoccupied in a way that inhibits his idea of normalcy (his monstrosity in seasons four and five), but on account of the dynamics and his and dean's relationship, sam is unable to reject their codependency which perpetuates hunting and SamAndDean as existing synonymously. i mean, even when sam was hunting without dean as soulless!sam, on account of the agency and autonomy sam was able to achieve due to the differences between s!sam and sam's priorities due to the difference between then (the soul lol), s!sam's rejection of his and dean's relationship did become evidence for his monstrosity. which is, of course, punishable by (possible) death should dean decide that the dichotomy will not stretch to accommodate said monstrosity.

season eight, to me, is when these characters first start feeling a bit like cardboard, especially due to how wittled down to its core sam and dean's dynamic is represented. this is the most boring and basic version of How They Work at this point in the show and even then people explain their simple and cardboard-ish behaviours away with explanations like saying they're 'ooc'. sam's state of mind is pretty straight forward if you know where to look; sam taking his entire family's death as his sign that he's able to leave the life is not out of character to me at all. kill the supernatural appointed patriarch in your head.

[celaenaeiln]

1-Do you think with all the attention and trauma dick gets from sexual relationships and the people associated with them, do you think Dick would decide to be acesexual?

2-there should be a comic where batman is afraid of Nightwing, for all the shit he's put his adopted or not kids through, especially the boys.

3-Also, if you have read the Gotham War series or not, to feel dick might become the next Pennyworth type of the family? (Basically, someone who has to take care of the whole family, as Bruce keeps awoling from his problems in life?

4- As a new fan of comic lore about the DC universe and the Batfamily, should Bruce be forced to retire Batman if these psychological issues keep appearing?

Do you think with all the attention and trauma dick gets from sexual relationships and the people associated with them, do you think Dick would decide to be acesexual?

Honestly I didn't know so I looked it up because I didn't want a bunch of backlash over someone can become asexual after a traumatic experience or if it's not possible to become it, only that they already are. Half the people say yes, it's possible and the other half say no. Regardless, I understand what you're saying and think he would be averse to sexual contact for a long period of time after that.

there should be a comic where batman is afraid of Nightwing, for all the shit he's put his adopted or not kids through, especially the boys.

YES!!!! Actually I think Bruce is actually the most scared of Dick though canonically. In the Batman vs Robin comic, Bruce has to face and fight the greatest regrets and fears for each of his robins. Each robin tells their most candid regret/unresolved matter to Bruce

Tim

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

Tim's grievance is that Bruce replaced him and he did nothing. That's so freaking heavy!

Stephanie

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

He didn't even try with her. She was always a replacement for Tim. No a replacement would have been better-she was just a placeholder. His blatant disregard of her directly caused her death.

Jason

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

All Jason wanted from Bruce was love but Bruce-he just villainized his son instead of trying to save him. He just wanted to be saved but Bruce just abandoned him out of self-hatred.

All three are massive insecurities/regrets Batman-Bruce-faces but none of these stop him. He just beats them down and moves on like they're nothing. He knows they're possessed but his mission is always the most important thing for him. Or does he keep moving on because his mind is too strong?

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

The hardest one to face is the last one left.

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

It's Dick that breaks him. He can face any fear and grievance by the robins but Dick's? He can't bear to face his.

Until-

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

Bruce's only saving grace is that it's the sword making them say all this. If the sword didn't exist and Dick straight up said it from his soul, this would be the end of Batman. When he heard Dick say all that, he completely lost his will to fight. All his desire and motivation? Gone.

Dick is his greatest source of strength and biggest weakness. If something were to happen to Dick, it would be the end for the rest of the world. But if Dick were to be disappointed in Bruce, he would wallow in self-hatred and change his ways.

Based on their exchange, Bruce believes Dick is his equal in battle and skill. Uncontested best and he probably knows Dick can beat him. Dick actually beat him in this comics and he also beat the heck out of superman-powered Batman before Bruce used his superpowers on him.

As well as here

Batman vs Robin Issue #5

He's proud of what Dick can do. But I think he's terrified of him because of the sway Dick holds over him. And that, I believe, is a worse form of attack than even battle power.

Also, if you have read the Gotham War series or not, to feel dick might become the next Pennyworth type of the family? (Basically, someone who has to take care of the whole family, as Bruce keeps awoling from his problems in life?

Yup! Absolutely do! But Dick has always been running the batfamily whenever Bruce is gone. When Bruce died and Gotham needed a Batman-

Titans (2008) Issue #10

"Nightwing belongs to two families. And all of you...you're good. You have each other."

"I have to go take care of my other family. In Gotham."

(Can we just take a moment to appreciate how they're all holding onto Dick? Roy and Gar holding Dick's right hand, Kori and Donna hugging him, Wally holding Dick's left land, Victor wiht hand on his back? Ugh the feels. Love the Titans comics)

He's always taking care of the Batfamily. Bruce leaving will just make it his full time role instead.

As a new fan of comic lore about the DC universe and the Batfamily, should Bruce be forced to retire Batman if these psychological issues keep appearing?

Oooh no. I don't think Bruce should ever retire as Batman. I LOVE Batman Dick. I'm debating whether I love him more than Nightwing Dick - jury's still out on that but Bruce should never retire as Batman. Bruce Wayne is Batman. Dick was a better batman but Bruce is iconic for the role. He created it, he lived it, he sacrificed for it. Even with all his problems, he deserves that role. It takes a toll on him that even he can't handle but if he dies, he deserves to die in that Cape and Cowl. He's earned it in every sense of the word.

He's an absolute wreck of a man but I love him that way. I love him with his problems and I will honestly forgive him of almost anything. He wouldn't be Bruce if he didn't have mental problems and I'm going to keep rooting for this walking disaster through everything. I don't think he should ever give it up until Terry. I love him too much of a character to ever see him be anything but Batman.

[bunnakit]

Hello! I saw that you were open to Seongjoong prompts! Well, instead of sleeping beauty, how about sleeping Joongie? Hope you have fun with this prompt! :D

GOD OP I'M SO STUPID i didn't reread this ask before starting to write this so i didn't realize it specifically said SLEEPING JOONGIE and by the time i realized i was already 1.5k words in so.... it's not finished and it's WRONG but i screwed up so spectacularly i figured i should post SOMETHING since i don't have the spirit to start over. sorry for making you wait so long for this lakjglai4slt i hope you enjoy it anyway

—

Strictland hadn’t always been so befitting of its name.

Once upon a time, the country had been a thriving metropolis filled with color, sprawling architecture, windows and displays glittering in the sunlight, plants dotting every street and planters lining every odd window. The people had been thriving and happy beneath the rule of a long lineage of Parks, the bloodline having given the people some of the kindest and benevolent rulers throughout the ages.

All things changed with time but no one could have predicted the way the city would fade away into tones of gray. It had only taken a few words whispered to the King and Queen; a hissed warning and promise of impending death to their newly born heir. The omen had been vague, insinuating that art and creativity would lead to the death of their beloved Seonghwa, which ultimately led to a culling of all forms of art across the country. Total control fell over the populace - control of nutrition, sunlight, even their very reflections. Where the royal family had once been a warm embrace they now held a vice grip around the throat of their own citizens. 

And it all ended up being for naught. 

Seonghwa was a free spirit in spite of all the restrictions in place since his very birth - or perhaps because of it. Rebellion shone in his eyes and ran through his blood, sparking defiance against each and every restriction. To those among the resistance - those that continued to paint murals across abandoned storefronts, performed in the dead of night beneath neon lights in abandoned pools, sang with all their heart and soul to a small and secluded crowd - it was no secret that Mars, one of the greatest graffiti artists of their time, was the very prince the laws had been erected to protect. 

The legacy of Mars had slowly crept across the country, though no one had actually met the artist in person. His works had started small, just single subject outlines done quickly in passing with the smallest signature in the form of a rudimentary star. With time they had developed into beautiful murals often depicting the freedom that was just out of their reach. His paintings were often illusions of broken down walls revealing various landscapes, all sporting brilliant colors and long forgotten scenery. His signature evolved with the paintings, the star more sophisticated and eventually crowned with the very circlet seen on the Prince during the few and far between public appearances.

Perhaps Seonghwa would have been afraid of the wrath of the King and Queen if they had shown even an inkling of the parents they used to be. The rulers had fallen victim to their own poison, losing all sense of self as well as any motivation to care about anything. As their grip on reality loosened, as they turned a blind eye to Seonghwa’s deviancy, a new figure stepped up in their place. Z, the self-proclaimed oracle that had predicted Seonghwa’s demise, had easily slipped into the role of royal advisor, all but wresting control of the country from the King and Queen’s lax palms. 

The majority of the rebellion, deemed the Black Pirates, didn’t know if the accident had truly been a prophecy fulfilling itself or perhaps something far more sinister and manufactured to instill fear. What they did know was that Mars had disappeared, all traces of his work scrubbed from every wall, billboard, or street, and none appeared to replace them. Months passed into a year and finally the Pirates grew restless. 

Seonghwa was not the only noble to lift his head in defiance and rage against the oppression forced upon them. Wooyoung and San, two heirs of nobility themselves as well as childhood companions to Seonghwa, had joined the movement early on in their childhood. The decision had forced them to distance themselves from their friend for all their safety, but they’d kept a close eye on him throughout the years. They were only just able to keep their panic at bay, knowing it would do them no good in helping their wayward friend. 

—

“Hongjoong, we don’t even know where he might be or what might have happened to him.” Jongho sighed from where he sat on a threadbare couch in the center of a long abandoned warehouse. A group of seven was nestled within the confines of rusted walls, the inside a stark contrast to the shell. It was a monument to art and comfort - a home. 

A figure of average height paced in front of a weathered coffee table, split-dyed hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it or perhaps even tugging in frustration. His eyes were locked on a chaotic pile of newspapers spread across the table, all emotionless stories describing the accident that had befallen the Prince. Of course it had been pinned on the rebellion, the Prince’s fall from the rooftop labeled a message sent by the Black Pirates. 

“We know Z had something to do with this, it’s not a stretch to think he’s hidden him away somewhere. The question is where?” Hongjoong growled behind bared teeth, only just suppressing the desire to kick the table over to hide every mocking headline. 

“The only guess we have is either the palace or the bunker, but I don’t know if even Z is fucked up enough to keep a prince in a maximum security prison, especially while he’s injured.” Wooyoung shrugged, nestled on the floor between San’s legs, back pressed to the chair holding the latter. Hongjoong could only roll his eyes at the almost-purr Wooyoung let out as San ran his fingers through his hair. 

“But what if he was worried about some of the staff in the palace still being loyal to the royal family? There has to be a few left that would want to get Seonghwa out of there.” Yunho sat atop the back of the couch, legs squeezed behind Mingi’s back. 

“That’s actually a good point. When we were kids the staff loved Seonghwa, especially the cooks.” San said, fingers still threaded within Woo’s hair, fingertips massaging at his scalp. 

“Yeosang, are your drones able to reach the bunker from here?” Hongjoong gestured to the shelf where a kaleidoscope of butterflies surrounded a single mechanical blue bird, each in a dormant state resembling sleep. 

The tinkerer turned in his office chair, his back straightening with an audible pop as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the lighting of the room rather than the bright table lamp he’d been using to illuminate the workbench behind him. 

“They’ll lose signal about a few kilometers before the bunker, we’ll need to find a way to get closer.” Hongjoong always appreciated the rare moments where Yeosang was actually listening as his responses were typically very clear and concise. 

Hongjoong sighed and nodded his understanding before instructing both Wooyoung and Yeosang to join him in the garage in ten minutes. He slipped from the communal space and into a room he’d turned into his own, shoving a few things into a backpack for the preliminary journey. The sooner they figured out the finer details of the plan the sooner they could move on to rescuing the wayward prince. 

He’d never met Mars, not directly, but you’d be hard pressed to find anyone among the rebellion that hadn’t felt moved by his murals in some way or another. His disappearance had been a huge hit to morale among freedom fighters across the country, no doubt exactly what Z had intended. Mars was seen as a last beacon of hope, someone with the power to make a difference and bring light and life back to a world covered in darkness, so regardless of Hongjoong’s feelings towards him (or lack thereof) he poured his all into getting the plan in motion as quickly as possible. They couldn’t afford to lose any more of their already dwindling members. 

The trio gathered by a rusted, nondescript gray van, Hongjoong frowning as Wooyoung jogged forward three minutes late. 

“What exactly are we doing,” he sighed, arms across his chest. “And why can’t San come?” 

“Because I don’t need you getting distracted. We’re going to see how far we can stay from the bunker and still maintain a stable signal. You and San are the only ones that grew up in that part of town so we need you to navigate us, preferably to the most secluded areas.” Hongjoong explained as he tossed his backpack into the back of the van, waiting for Yeosang to climb in back and gently set his own bag down, before closing the doors with a horrible screech. 

“Couldn’t we wait until tomorrow to do this?” Wooyoung whined and Hongjoong barely suppressed the urge to kick him before climbing into the passenger’s side. He very rarely put Wooyoung behind the wheel but in this case it made the most sense and would free him up to take in all the little details of their location and any potential threats. 

“No. The longer we wait the more bullshit Z feeds the press about us and the more fighters we lose. You saw Eden’s last report, things aren’t looking good for us. We need to get the prince back and on our side now.” 

[myreia]

wip whenever

tagged by @galadae and @coldshrugs, thank you! 💖

tagging @bearlytolerant, @thevikingwoman, @impossible-rat-babies, @hylfystt, @allaganexarch, @birues & @roguelioness.

I'm lost in an Echo scene from Chapter 5, Aureia's family sucks. ✌️Stormblood spoilers-ish.

Laughter hums on Elgara’s lips and she returns to her paperwork with smooth, controlled movements. Kallias has always been easy to rile up. It is his greatest weakness—and it is easy to exploit.

“That possessive streak will be the end of you,” she says, tutting lightly. “Go about it then, if you’re so inclined. You don’t need my permission. I’m sure the legatuses would be overjoyed to hear of the death of the Warrior of Light. Perhaps if you offer them proof, they would even reward you.”

He snarls under his breath and bites his tongue, his riposte contained.

“Or does the thought give you pause? Do you fear, perhaps, that you aren’t strong enough? Is that why you’ve come here, crawling back to your mother, riddled with doubt and uncertainty?”

“I don’t doubt, I—”

Elgara sets her pen aside and rises from her chair, unfurling to her full height. She towers above her son, casting a long shadow across the observation deck’s floor. “Kira has something you don’t,” she says. “She has had it her whole life, it is what made her unique. Special. An asset. Your father and I sought to tap it, but we did not have the knowledge or the foresight to understand what we were dealing with. But Aulus mal Asina did. He was a visionary. And someone must continue his work.”

Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

The lights cycle, flashing over Elgara and Kallias, casting them into darkness. The solider inhales once more, her breath as sharp as ice. She presses herself against the door, gazing inwards, her form unnoticed in the shadows. A shiver ran down her spine at the mention of Aulus’ name. She recalls him, of course she does. She remembers his youth when she met him near two decades ago, bright-eyed and intense, speaking theories dismissed by his superiors as fanciful dreams at best and psychosis at worst. It was he who first spoke of Echoes and Resonants, of gifting the Garlean people the ability to control aether.

She recalls what he did to Krile. What he did to Fordola… and Zenos, too.  

How his life ended, screeching about data and souls with his dying breath on the floor of the Ala Mhigan palace. Forgotten and abandoned by the prince he had devoted himself to.

His research, as he called it, should have ended there.

Inside the observation room, Elgara approaches her son step by dreaded step. She may be no soldier, and yet she engulfs him. Outmatches him. Outwits him. Kallias is no small man, and yet compared to her imposing height he is so small. So insignificant.

“Don’t you see, Kal?” she says, her voice low and strangely soothing in its intensity. The voice of someone who can lull others into implicit trust by the sheer power of command and self-assurance. “Kira is a liability, but liabilities can be exploited. Her usefulness to Garlemald has not ended. You wish to kill her; I will not doubt your thirst for vengeance, it is more than understandable. But think on it. Kill her and we lose her forever.”

He grunts, the panicked sound strangled in his throat. “Have you forgotten what she’s done, mother? What she—”

“Shh.” She arrives before him and places a hand to his chin. It’s a gentle gesture; on anyone else it would be caring. But on her it is empty, a gesture of inspection and observation. “Capture her and our opportunities are thrown wide. We can reclaim what we have lost, you and I. Theorzen will be a name to be respected; no longer will it be spat upon like the rest.”

He closes his eyes, his expression still.

“You deserve more than the lot you have been given, Kallias. And she can gift you the strength you deserve to carry. The skills and talents that should have gone to you. A transference. A replication. A Resonant of your very own, one derived from the Warrior of Light. With it, you can have your vengeance. With it, you can outmatch even Zenos himself.”

His eyelids flutter and he grimaces, lip curling back. Then he crumples into her and clings, shoulders shuddering with the aftershock of silent tears. In this moment, there is no sign of the operative and the spy. In this moment, he is a child coming home.

It makes the soldier’s blood boil. Lost in her anger, she slips and cracks her forehead against the door, helmet banging against the glass. Her vision blurs red and her knees give out from under her. When she finally clears her vision, she finds herself huddles on the stairwell floor, looking in as Elgara enfolds her son into her embrace.

A spike of jealousy flares in the pit of her stomach. Unwanted. Unneeded. Unexplained.  

She curses her inability to do anything but observe.

Elgara cradles him, a hand resting against the back of his head, stroking his matted hair. “Bring your sister to me, Kal,” she croons. “Bring her to me and I can make it happen. I wish for it to happen. It should have been you all along.”

Kallias stills. His expression hardens, his lips pressed firm together. Slowly, one by one his fingers lift as he loosens his grip. The danger and the malice return, blazing bright in his red eyes. “No,” he breathes.

[picathartidae]

Ask game! Wouldst thou be so kind as to answer numbers 7, 9, 18, 19, 20? <3

Can do! If you’re okay getting Durge answers to Tav questions, since my custom/Tav characters are all from a homebrew D&D setting and not fleshed out enough within the Forgotten Realms to give proper answers for.

Though fair warning; some of these answers may be long and likely massively spoilery, for both the game and the garbage fanfiction I’m writing about it.

7. What circumstances led to your Tav becoming their class/subclass?

Alassane, through various exceedingly unfortunate circumstances, ended up alone on the streets of Baldur’s Gate for multiple years when he was 15 or so. What is an urchin in a high fantasy setting to do but to learn the ways of the con-artist, get very good at larceny, and generally fall into the lovable scoundrel and rogue archetype?

Basically, he’s a self-taught rogue who had to learn the hard way to survive on his own. He became a rogue through sheer pragmatism. He turned to being an assassin specifically around the age of 17/18, when his biological family came back into his life.

9. What was your Tav doing when they were taken by the mind flayers?

He was catatonic, as he had been for maybe nine months at that point, and imprisoned in the mind flayer colony deep beneath Moonrise Towers. Then his pod was shoved onto a nautiloid, and the rest is history.

18. What is your Tav's greatest fear?

Short answer; Alassane’s greatest fear is probably his father.

Long meandering answer; Bhaal is arguably the only thing that legitimately scares Alassane, because of the power Bhaal clearly has over him. He’s frightened of himself too, but this is mainly because of the gnawing feeling he has that there is ultimately no difference between him and his father.

Alassane leans very hard into a specific character and personality he has constructed for himself, because he cannot stand the idea of who he really is, and is terrified of the rejection and isolation that will surely come if anyone ever witnesses the truth. More specifically, he’s terrified of the idea that he is nothing more than a fragment of Bhaal, that his soul is not his own but a piece of Bhaal’s unholy essence, and that “Alassane” as a person doesn’t really exist, and maybe never has.

The fact that he was simply abandoned immediately after being “born” deeply traumatised Alassane and left him with this deep seated desire to prove himself worthy, because he believes that after everything he’s done, his father is the only one who will ever potentially accept him as he is. That gives Bhaal an unimaginable amount of power over Alassane, on top of the murder urges that can also wrest Alassane’s autonomy away from him.

Alassane is so sure that no one will ever accept/love/forgive him for the things he’s done that he sincerely believes Bhaal is his only option. Which is, of course, all insanely abusive and shit, because Bhaal is what made him that monster, but Alassane doesn’t really come to understand that until he’s forcibly removed from the situation.

19. What is your Tav's greatest desire?

To be his own person, dictate his own existence, and generally gain some sense of autonomy over who he is and his life. He isn’t really aware of this for most of his life, but ultimately when you get down to it, he wants his choices to be his own, and he wants them to matter.

20. What is your Tav's greatest regret?

Okay, this one is the most spoiler-heavy answer of the lot, so be careful.

Alassane’s greatest regret is the deaths of his foster family. It’s kind of the entire driving force behind his journey as a character, and the one thing he was never able to let go of. It’s the reason why he’s so deeply emotionally attached to his name, and why he’s violently opposed to ever going by the moniker of “the Dark Urge”.

His foster family loved him deeply, giving him a traditional family name as a way of making it clear that they considered him to be their real son, and that he would always belong with them, even after they had a biological daughter of their own. The name “Alassane Erendse” became his last connection to the life he wishes he still had, back when he did actually have that unconditional love he obviously craves. So of course, Bhaal took it all away, by having Alassane himself be the one to kill them.

The ordeal broke Alassane so thoroughly it made him numb to all the monstrous things that followed. It haunts him even after losing his memories, to the point that his “dream visitor” is a grown up version of his baby foster sister.

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Five: Forgiveness

A bit of a different take on this one (like I've been sticking the script at all). There's a certain character throughout Act 1 and 2 that I've always had mixed feelings about. How far can heroes fall when their people no longer want them?

Heroes and Traitors (764 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Warnings: Mentions of death

Ship: Arueshalae/KC (Allix)

Read here under the cut on Ao3 :)

The graveyard was all but abandoned at night. It had been long months since the soldiers had moved their not-so-secret gambling ring to the warmth of the Half Measure Tavern. Without them, very few had any reason to dwell amongst the headstones. The names of crusaders, heroes, cowards, opportunists, equally revered and forgotten there in the mist. A shame, Allix thought as he carefully stepped through the wrought iron gate. A gods damned shame. 

He picked his way between the graves at a snail’s pace, stopping every so often to read the names and whisper a prayer to Iomidae, or Erastil. He did not need to go far to reach his destination. 

The headstone stood alone on its own patch of dried grass. It was nondescript, nothing to mark it as special other than the heavy name carved into its face, and the lack of any kind of symbol to denote any kind of faith. The crusaders had not known under what god’s eye to bury the traitor Stanton Vane. An unmarked grave seemed to be a statement all its own. It stood alone because no comrade, nor family wanted to bury their dead close to the headstone, out of fear that the marks upon his soul might seep from his coffin and infect the souls of those interred nearby. It was hard not to be superstitious when your enemy was the horrors spat out by the worst place imaginable. 

Allix sat down before the headstone, legs crossed, gazing sadly at the name carved there. He had ended hundreds of lives. Cultists, demons, Gods. Yet it was here where his soul felt the quietest. The Knight Commander silently brushed the fallen leaves off the top of the stone, wondering where the dwarf’s soul might have gone. 

“Who were they?” A quiet voice asked. 

“A hero.” Allix replied, shifting to make room before the grave. A moment later, he was joined by the winged form of Arueshalae settling in beside him. “And a traitor.” He continued softly. 

“Stanton Vane.” Arueshalae read off the grave. “I’ve heard his name whispered amongst the crusaders. I’ve heard him called many things, but never a hero.” 

Allix nodded. “I can’t imagine you have.” 

For a long moment, they sat in silence. Arushalae’s head on his shoulder, their tails intertwined. Touch had become easy for them since their return from the abyss, and Arueshalae’s ascension. It had been slow at first, but now even the most mundane of contact felt natural. As natural as breathing. Small touches of support. 

“Why do you call him a hero?” Arueshalae asked. 

For a long moment, Allix did not reply. “We wouldn’t be here without him.” He said slowly. “He helped take this fortress. Fought back the tide of demons for years in the first crusades.” 

“But that’s not why you call him a hero.” Arueshalae said. 

“No.” He agreed. “I believe he’s a hero for what came after. He lost Drezen, seduced by a demon to charge out in a blaze of glory. In one fell swoop, he lost our greatest fortress, and our greatest defense in the Sword of Valor. Hundreds of heroes died in the battles that followed. And yet…” 

Allix’s voice trailed off, a half formed thought on his lips. Arueshalae shifted closer, her weight a comfort on his side. 

“He fought on. For so many years he fought on as his allies and friends turned on him. The crusaders spat on him, outcast him, and yet he still fought, all the way to the Gray Garrison.” Allix whispered. “And I killed him.” 

“He betrayed you.” 

“He did.” 

“And you feel guilty about his death?” Arueshalae asked. 

“Yes.” Allix nodded, his eyes far away. “He betrayed us because we gave him no other option. For all the people these crusades have protected. For all the people we’ve saved… we hurt people. The crusades have allied themselves with anyone willing to supply the bodies and swords to throw in front of the world wound, no matter how young or old, willing or unwilling. I sometimes wonder just how many cultists we’ve created over the years.” 

“It can’t be all bad.” Arushalae argued. “The crusades are the only reason the demons don’t rule Glarion.” 

Allix nodded again. “You’re right. It's just… sometimes I have a hard time forgiving the harm that we cause in the name of good.” 

They were silent for a moment more. “Have you forgiven Stanton Vane?” Arueshalae asked. 

“Some day. I hope that I can.” Allix replied. “If I can forgive him. Maybe there’s hope for us all.”

[midnightactual]

Bleach is Cyberpunk II

I've said before that Bleach's general setup is cyberpunk, but the truth is that its general structure is cyberpunk too. It's more or less the direct antithesis of a prototypical shōnen like One Piece, and its closest relative is actually Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. I'll come back to that later.

Ichigo (and Rukia and Kaien, and to some extent Yoruichi and Kisuke) are fundamentally un-Japanese in their nature as characters in outlook, mindset, and attitude, whatever their aesthetics and presentation. You need to understand that Karakura is a symbol of Japanese stagnation as it actually exists, while Soul Society is a kind of Platonic ideal of it. There's an interesting BBC article from a Tokyo correspondent of ten years who asserts:

Japan still feels like Japan, and not a reproduction of America. It's why the world is so thrilled by all things Japanese, from the powder snow to the fashion. Tokyo is home to superlative restaurants; Studio Ghibli makes the world's most enchanting animation (sorry, Disney); sure, J-pop is awful, but Japan is undoubtedly a soft-power superpower. The geeks and oddballs love it for its wonderful weirdness. But it also has alt-right admirers for refusing immigration and maintaining the patriarchy. It is often described as a country that has successfully become modern without abandoning the ancient. There is some truth to this, but I'd argue the modern is more a veneer. When Covid struck, Japan closed its borders. Even permanent foreign residents were excluded from returning. I called up the foreign ministry to ask why foreigners who'd spent decades in Japan, had homes and businesses here, were being treated like tourists. The response was blunt: "they are all foreigners." A hundred and fifty years after it was forced to open its doors, Japan is still sceptical, even fearful of the outside world.

Karakura is metaphorically the modern veneer of the Seireitei (a place whose name literally means "Stagnant Pool of Souls"). The Seireitei, the heart of the secret world of Bleach, is the ancient, and Karakura is the veneer of modernity that exists on its "surface".

Karakura is by proxy also a symbol of stagnancy. As usual, this is directly called out by the manga. Karakura literally represents the death of Ichigo's dreams. (Have you ever wondered why he was working so many jobs while he was depowered and getting as much money as he could? He was planning to leave after graduating high school because he hates Karakura.)

Ichigo shows his defiance of this stagnation by abandoning Japanese cultural norms: he's anti-authority, pseudo-delinquent, defiant, disrespectful, and generally just kind of a punk, but he has a heart of gold. His greatest hope is to effect change.

When Rukia appears and offers the possibility of changing things, Ichigo jumps at the opportunity.

But the major theme of the manga is that everyone (not just Ichigo) is ultimately ground down by the system and submits to leading quiet lives instead of keeping up resistance to the bitter end. They're defeated. Ichigo stays in Karakura.

You're directly told that grand sweeping gestures and plans don't work. This is the point of Aizen's whole saga. This tells you something about Kubo's politics and more generally reflects the Japanese shōganai (しょうがない) attitude, but that isn't really the point here. What's underlined (but absolutely not highlighted) is that successful resistance is subtle and gradual, corruption of the status quo rather than a revolution against it, whether it be along political (Shunsui, Nayura), informational (Kisuke, Shūhei), or scientific (Kisuke, Mayuri) lines. This is actually a primary focus of CFYOW as a text if you read between the lines.

I've said before that Bleach is basically an antishōnen because it subverts the whole nakama premise, and I've doubled down on that, but it's also one thematically, because it's also about world-weary cynicism and the gradual disaffection of youth: "growing up" to set aside "childish ideas" like changing the world.

It's initially set up like a typical shōnen only to bait-and-switch you. You wanted a raucous punk adventure? Well fuck you, you get a depressingly realistic death of dreams, just veiled in goofy supernatural metaphor.

This is why I say its closest relative is Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, something from Studio Trigger which you initially think is going to end in a triumphant defeat of Arasaka by David and company, much like their previous Kill La Kill did, only to end in tragedy. Ichigo, like David, is "built different" only for it to ultimately not make a difference in the end. Rukia, like Lucy, comes into his life and completely changes it. Orihime, like Rebecca, really wants nothing more than to be noticed by him as a woman.

Unlike their counterparts in Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Ichigo and Orihime don't actually die. But their hopes and dreams do. Ichigo doesn't want to be in Karakura, but he is. Everyone has chosen to knuckle down because:

And when does Yhwach appear? When Ichigo and Orihime get married? No. When Kazui is born? No. Only when Rukia shows up again. Huh. It's almost like they chose to be miserable just to survive rather than go out in a blaze of personal defiance but couldn't quite extinguish that last spark, and that's what Yhwach keyed in on.

It's a bad ending where the system wins, because the system is too big for any one person to overcome. Even when Yhwach is defeated, Soul Society and the reincarnation cycle and all its inequities continue to trundle on, just like Arasaka and really the megacorps in general of which Arasaka is merely one. (And even in Cyberpunk—the setting not the genre—in actuality behind the megacorps still stand the national governments. There is always a bigger fish.)

Everyone just has to make their peace with the nature of the world or die as they're crushed by it.

If fate is a millstone then we are the grist. There is nothing we can do.

And then you get No Breathes From Hell, where everyone is smiling again! But...

... They learn they're all destined to go to Hell, among other things. I told you about the bigger fish. So not only did nothing actually change, but really everything only got that much worse. Which again is pretty much a hallmark of cyberpunk settings.

[yakool-foolio]

Okay, now that you have survivedfinished the Yakou DLC, I can finally ask this question: do you plan to incorporate some of the elements from the DLC like the badge/pill since it seems like they can play a role in the AU?

I'd love to incorporate the badge into my Death Knight Yakou AU. I've been meaning to slightly rework how chapter 5 plays out by aligning it closer to my fix-it for the canon chapter 5. And by that, I'd like to have the NDA detectives have more involvement in the final showdown, or in this AU's case, the aftermath of it.

All the NDA detectives are knocked out by Makoto's sleeping gas and dragged over to the abandoned village to be homunculi food. Yakou is taken along with them because Makoto decided that the chief needs to learn the hard way about why Kanai Ward's greatest mystery can never be solved. A majority of the group is scattered about the area as they do their 'field research' and leave notes of their revelations as breadcrumbs for Yakou and Yuma to find so they can regroup.

Wait a minute. I just checked my watch, and would ya look at that! It's time for another Viviakou moment! As Yakou and Yuma trek through the ruins of the abyssal laboratory that housed Project Homunculus, they encounter a lone Vivia staring off into the distance. Yakou nearly trips down the stairs to get to him, Yuma worriedly following close behind. Vivia mutters something before turning to face the duo, a lining of relief in his tired eyes. As Yakou rattles off about how afraid he was of losing his detectives, Vivia quiets him down as he hands him a disc. Vivia explains that he went digging through the skeletal remains of the facility and managed to find it. But after he did, a distinct ghostly voice pulled him further down into the depths like a siren's song. As he mentions this voice, Vivia steps aside to reveal a faint violet silhouette standing before them. Yakou's eyes widen and glow in the warm light of the apparition. Yuma mumbles to himself about Vivia radiating waves of purple caused by the passive ability of the phantom detective's Forte. Vivia not only recovered the disc, he also found the wandering soul of Yakou's wife roaming the lab.

Thanks to Yakou putting her soul to rest by solving the mystery of her death, she's free to walk about as a spirit, though her communication is limited. Only Vivia can hear her. Vivia speaks her words, thanking Yakou for all he's done to avenge her and hopes her assistance will prove useful. She can't do much other than help Vivia salvage what is left unbroken from the wreckage, but she promises she'll find something of worth. Yakou's heartstrings are tugged by her caring words in Vivia's cool tone. He swore to protect anyone under his wing, so he'll continue to care for his detectives just as he did for her. His wife finishes off by saying she and Vivia will continue searching the facility for something she lost long ago. She wishes the best of luck to Yakou and the rookie Yuma, Vivia repeating the same in his own words. The two fade into the shadows, leaving Yakou and Yuma by themselves again. Yakou shoves aside his fears and doubts, determination reignited from their heartfelt talk.

In the aftermath of the final Mystery Labyrinth, Yakou, Yuma, and Makoto regain their composure as the NDA detectives burst into the bathhouse. They clamber over the chief and rookie, worried for their safety. There's a lot of explaining to go around. Vivia remains in the back of the crowd as he fidgets with something in his hand. Yakou notices his reserved nature and makes time to step aside and let Yuma and Makoto do the talking for a while. Yakou questions what Vivia is holding, and the phantom wordlessly responds as he holds up an old badge, 'Nocturnal Detective Agency' scrawled in marker along the edges. Vivia tells the story of two ghosts finding solidarity as they tread the mortal realm, both desiring to set things right with the one they love. While they seem to speak of the same person, they realize one has fallen for the past and the other the future. Both find solace in their own perspectives of their loved one; she looks back fondly while he looks ahead assuredly. After mingling together in the present, they have to return to their times. However, the ghost of the past offers the ghost of the future a parting gift. A physical reminder to carry the past with them so that the future will always be bright. He accepts her wish, carrying the torch to lighten the path laid in front of him. Her gift is this badge, or more importantly, what's inside of it. Yakou takes it in his hands and flips open the star emblem, revealing a single pill inside. Vivia doesn't need to tell him anything, as the memories of his wife's discussions of her work serve him well. With this single pill, they're one leap of faith closer to saving all of Kanai Ward.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

🦋 (Butterfly) - Does your OC ‘fear the reaper’, so to speak? If they fused with Morpho Knight, what sort of form would they take on?

For Celestine, Uther, Icarus, and Morgan

Fair warning the answers are a little spoilers... (but still enough room for some mystery)

Uther: Yes, for Uther... he did not want his name and legacy to die... using his apprentices as an extension of himself.

This is why he was extremely upset with Arthur (the one he tried so hard to mold), who had gone off and abandoned his privileged station as his right hand (as his pawn). Disobeying him and choosing Meta Knight over him.

And he feared death even more when he got ahold of Celestine's prophecy (A series of events I plan to explain later). Which predicted the end of Uther & the Ancient's reign over the galaxy... A prophecy she tried so hard to make into a reality.

Celestine tried her best to stop Uther from peering into it (so he could not stop it) ... destroying it before he even got a chance to see all of it...

All he saw were a few vivid images and colors... but the only thing he could see was an astral with a pink-hued warrior... (wait a minute GALACTA'S PINK...)

Uther has always believed the one who'd destroy and usurp his throne was Galacta Knight... but in reality, it was Kirby... he got the wrong star warrior. (he realized it too late)

Before taking his life Morpho gave him a small glimpse of the future, which was the greatest punishment of all for him.

He saw the child that he had forsaken & despised (Meta Knight) become the future leader of the GSA. And Kirby succeeded in destroying the era he created... ushering in the era of peace.

And the one whose legacy that was remembered and beloved by all was not his... but Arthur's. :3

Icarus: He feared death while astrals have a long life the concept of death always freighted him... he hoped to remove his "organic shell of a body" and create an immoral body... which he played around with creating life so much... got him in trouble with big time.

Once he triggered the creation of Kirby from Void... Morpho immediately came for his life. And made sure he felt the weight of his crimes... coming for his wings and burning them slowly & painfully.

Morpho despised Icraus' lack of respect for organic life and destroyed his soul... crushing it to never be reincarnated. (He did this with Uther's soul as well.)

He'd flown too close to the sun...

Morgan: She doesn't fear death... she's actually looking to dethrone Morpho... Respectless... (that's all I can say without spoilers)

And my (HC) voice for her Velvet from Hazbin Hotel.

Morpho doesn't know whether or not to sympathize, despise, fear her, or be impressed by her... the actions she's doing are practically punishing herself.

She's sunken so deep that... he can't even call her soul a soul anymore... and no longer has any jurisdiction to collect... she's practically a walking corpse.

Celestine:

I can't spoil anything but Morpho has great respect for Celestine... she is one of the few lucky souls he can say had outwitted him... and will go as far as to say congratulations to her without any hint of resentment.

[420hamlet]

The Devil's Hell (#125)- Raul Victoria III

The greatest tragedy of The Devil’s existence, his true hell, is his divine incapability to create true beauty. At first, he was happy to torture and destroy for pleasure. If, like Faust, you’d offer your soul to him, he’d torture you with everything you wished for and then come to violently collect what you’d sold. In the morning of Faust’s death, they found splattered blood and brains all over the walls and floors of the room, his eyes on the floor and his body on the courtyard. He’d enjoyed his whole life the blessing of a curse and The Devil had grown tired of it.

The Devil’s first attempt was to visit Giuseppe Tartini in a dream. He performed the most beautiful sonata Tartini had ever heard. Upon waking up, he got to writing it as accurately as his memory could allow. The Violin Sonata in G was, in Tartini’s own words, “so inferior to what I had heard that if I could have subsisted on other means, I would have broken my violin and abandoned music forever”. It had been a perfect rendition, but The Devil agreed with the disappointment and his failed attempt at beauty.

Next came Niccolo Paganini, the greatest violin virtuoso ever. His soul had been sold even before his birth, a hellish pact between parents and Devil. It paid off. With his pale lanky look, long fingers and flaming eyes Paganini was born a demon and a master. At age five he started music, at age seven composing, at twelve performing live. For 57 years he was plagued by disease and tragedy, but his violin skills were unmatched and feared. He came to be known as The Devil’s Violinist. Beautiful art had finally been created, but The Devil was found out, and genius was punished for it. He needed one more try.

I made my pact in my twenties and used my great talent for a decade of successes. Unfound and unsuspected, I simply enjoyed the ripe fruits of my hell-given talent, until my 30th birthday, when he came back to see me. Almost apologetic he asked for a favor. He said I could keep my life and my talents, and if I could do one thing for him, he’d give me my soul back. Ever since, I’ve written for one client only. At age 87, on my way to heaven, The Devil finally got what he wanted: he consistently enjoys the beauty of truly divine art while depriving the world of all of it.

420 words.

Instagram: @thevictoryville

[thornfield13713]

betrayal and fear for Ned?

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

...are we counting Lolth?

Sorry, just- Ned grew up as an aristocrat in Menzoberranzan. From early childhood, it was drummed into them that they could trust no-one, and betrayal was expected. It was just a matter of how openly it happened. So, Ned was betrayed and schemed against by many people that, by the standards of the surface world, they ought to have been able to trust, but it didn't really hit the same way because they did not trust any of those people. Because that is just what Menzoberranzan is like.

The big, defining event of Ned's life was not being betrayed or abandoned when they expected it - when their mother sacrificed standing, position, and even her own life to save them after Lolth rejected Ned as unworthy of her service and demanded that they be made a drider. They had no expectation of help or rescue. They had played the game and lost at the last hurdle, and drow society has no mercy for such people. Nor do most drow parents. But, somehow, Ned's mother managed to cling on to enough love for her child to set Ned free, and that changed Ned's whole life.

After that...not so much. Derendil could not be said to have betrayed them, after all - not by his own choice. It wasn't his fault that it turned out he was never who he believed he was, after all.

If any of Ned's family or classmates trusted them, Ned probably did betray them. Scheming and backstabbing was just ordinary business, after all, and Ned was very, very good - they did not get to be the top of their class amongst their fellow initiates on schoolwork alone.

I suspect someone may have offered Ned help shortly after leaving Menzoberranzan. Not sure who. A foolhardy, kind-hearted person, possibly a deep gnome or one of the other, more benevolent peoples of the Underdark, who saw an exiled drow running from their own people and reached out, assuming a Drizzt situation. Ned killed them, took their supplies, and kept running, and didn't even really think about it until years later, because they were just so used to the way things worked back home. They're a bit ashamed of it, now. Even moreso, when they realise they don't even know that unfortunate person's name.

What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

Lolth, and what she will do to them if she gets her hands on them. This is a fear so basic that even being taken by mind flayers and undergoing ceremorphosis is a relief by comparison - their soul will, at least, only be destroyed in that case. Lolth will keep it, and make them suffer for an eternity. Ned is willing to do just about anything to escape that fate - destroy her soul, sell it to a devil...nothing, in their mind, is worse than the idea of Lolth catching up to them.

When confronted with this fear, Ned tends to respond by bargaining and scheming. Trying to find ways out, where they can, means of extending their life, putting their soul beyond Lolth's reach and so on and so forth. Ned is quite willing to face down any number of terrible fates-worse-than-death, just because the thought of what Lolth might do is worse.

They're not exactly advertising this fear, but they will admit to it to those they are close to under stress - they bond a bit with Astarion over their shared view that the devil they know is, in this case, much worse than the devil they don't - or at least, they both have a great deal invested in spiting the devil they know, whereas that's not as much of an issue with the devil they don't. You do have to be pretty close to them or someone they can empathise with before they admit to it, though.

[kolkudarandtheorcgang]

(Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm, suicide, violence, fictional religious aspects, s3x work, mental health issues)

Worldbuild Lore: Mystic Tribe

Once known as Sauron's most loyal adepts, the Mystics were infamous for their sorcery skills; according to legends, such skills could reach the point of flawless necromancy. Their cloaks of darkness, the green flames of their magics, their chants and their unflinching determination in the face of death were the trademarks of their faction.

Forming the back of the forces, this tribe's main duty was to raise the fallen troops from the dead, diminishing the losses suffered in battles and ensuring victory even after crushing numbers in casualties for the Dark Lord's army. Other notable contributions were in cursing the enemy lines, healing wounded soldiers and using clairvoyance to gather valuable information. Their main feature to boast about is at successfully compiling and learning most of Sauron's ancient dark arts, thus forming an entire horde of talented witches and scholars under his command.

As for their mindsets, the most typical trait is the morbid humor along with complete disregard for the respects one should pay for the fallen. Another feature is the permanent arrogance as well as high levels of intelligence, dexterity and logical thinking. It is no easy feat to trick a mystic, much less to impress them. Hand-to-hand combat or heavy weaponry are nothing of importance compared to a sharp intellect and even sharper skills in casting spells of all sorts. The mystic orcs usually tend to have a more spiritual perspective of life, and many are actually superstitious. There is a traditional deference in place for the teachers amongst apprentices, forming an hierarchical web of bonds between generations of mystics; many pride themselves and even feel a sense of belonging in their scholarship lineages. Strangely though, some apprentices may display signs of loss of mental health at the start of their training, requiring their masters to take measures to cull self harm tendencies in their classes of students.

The Mystic Tribe's domain is aptly named Vogaumtarband; there, schools of all kinds can be found, mainly the schools of witchcraft and alchemy. Scholarships, although expensive at times, are still accessible if the student earns the acceptance of tutelage from one of the teachers. Services such as fortune telling, potion trades, sorcerers for hire, religious rites, and libraries, are widely offered to the Haven. The entire burgh is almost a temple in itself, built of marbles, of gemstones, of silver and petrified woods, rising from the grounds in the shape of towers and palaces that blanket the entire area in shadow. Though not many guards are present, countless sentries are visible perched atop the walls and rooves, keeping their sacred home safe from robbers. The Haven's mausoleums are also located at this burgh, and every day many citizens arrive to leave offerings for their lost comrades. Some fear wandering for too long inside due to loose spells cast by apprentices being a far too common hazardous occurrence.

One might argue that the mystics hold even stricter discipline than the warmongers, another might cite their cult of wisdom, yet their greatest deed is that of consolation: the mystics are known at the Haven for their preachings, which act like verbal remedies for the souls of the crowds, encouraging many to abandon the seeking of their own deaths, comforting those who experience grief, settling disputes before they blow into violent altercations, amongst various other effects. The Haven wouldn't be so safe and peaceful without their influence.

Hierarchy:

-Overlord: Kûpash The Damned (current head parson of Black Blood Haven’s cultist order and the royal seer)

-Warchiefs: Ur-Zunn The Cursemaker, Ûggû The Whisper, Grak The Matriarch, Ar-Gahu The Acidic

-Captains: approximately 45 of them, with Grisha The Gentle as their main representative

Brand: The ritualistic star circle of ten points, surrounded by two more circles of runes and with Sauron's eye at the center, representing their worship of the Dark Lord as well as his ancient magics

Societal Relationships:

-Machine Tribe: Clashes with the machines are common, for the machines are skeptical of the power of the mystics, while the mystics have disdain for the technological advancement the machines bring

-Terror Tribe: Currently good relations, since both share the enjoyment of spooking others; terrors receive special treatment and discounted pricing at the temples and schools of mystics

-Slaughter Tribe: Often sought after for they are amongst the only ones who can properly extract and prepare potion and alchemy ingredients out of animal sources, though the slaughters still find necromancy distasteful for it is "to play with food" in their opinion

-Feral Tribe: Ferals are often fanatical adepts of seeking the advice of mystics, for few seem to have as much insight into the souls of animals and other living beings as mystics; sometimes, ferals also help by offering free ingredients and other materials to the mystics as gratitude for their services in taming aggressive beasts more peacefully than the terrors do

-Outlaw Tribe: Neutral relations sometimes, some others have clashes due to the outlaws holding a rebellious rejection of the cult for Melkor and Sauron; outlaws often get banned for vandalizing temples

-Warmonger Tribe: Currently neutral relations, though many ridicule the warmongers for their fear of necromancer magics

-Courtesan Tribe: Many mystics were once courtesans, and many mystics become courtesans afterwards, leading to rather firm bonds between the tribes, though many believe it might be because some mystics have admiration for life bringers such as broodmothers and vatkeepers; many courtesans study fortune telling under the tutelage of mystic trainers

-Suture Tribe: Tight bonds, though there is the neverending rivalry between the tribes over which is the best as healers

-Marauder Tribe: Bards are terrified of them, other marauders either ignore or appease them with false adulation due to the superstitious belief that mystics can bless or curse the businesses at will

-Dark Tribe: Relatively good relations, thanks to the darks often purshasing poisons and other tools for murder and espionage from them, as well as the high number of darks who seek blessings from the shadow priests

-Rover Tribe: Great relations, for the mystics are not foolish to ignore the fact that their source of income would not exist without the merchants bringing in imported materials and constantly paying for blessings and fortune telling

-Other orcs (goblins, hobgoblins, etc): These goblins and orcs hold much respect and consideration for the Mystic Tribe, not only because they already have culturally the same acknowledgement for their own priests, but also because it was this tribe who persisted on baptizing them into their cults in order to force The Orc King into granting them citizenship until his royal decrees changed, allowing these orc races to become citizens as soon as they moved into the city

-Pinkskins (humans, half-elves and half-orcs): Pretty much same as the other orc races, though a few of the pinkskins sometimes reject their religion as something unholy and vile

Foreigners (The Free Folks as a whole): The Mystic Tribe is fully aware of how they would be demonized and hunted down for their faith by The Free Folks, so they keep themselves as concealed from them as possible

[monettsuki]

Kiyoko - OC lore post

Just a ton of lore from one of my rants to a friend-

Tw: death, suicide , suicide idealisation (a bit)

Kiyoko and a spirit that has been with her since she was a child have not so much of a good relationship

It's like Christine and the angel of music in a way

Kiyokos spirit encourages her to keep going with her acting career while at 17 she's burning a "bible" in her fireplace with a cross placed on top and prays a higher entity will stop her from taking her own life due to all the pressure

Kiyoko is forced to choose between her right at life and the self destruction her passion brings and if she wants to become an automaton of her own accord or just escape everything through death and giving it all up just so she can enjoy some freedom

Freedom which even in the little time she has free is restricted due to her friend's habits of exploring abandoned places and the last one they went to only Kiyoko and two other people got out alive (from a group of 9) and she was forbidden to go explore such places anymore

When they tried to ask her she became unresponsive and her spirit was nowhere to be seen for a month after that incident happen as she seemed to sense something or someone grasping onto Kiyokos soul as much as it can without hurting her physical or mental form

Kiyokos fate is inherently doomed as spirits seem to find a creepy kind of comfort just by latching onto her soul. They feed on her pain like parasites and the spirit trying to guide her doesn't make it much better with her critique of every little thing she does on stage be it rehearsal or an actual play in which she thought that she was doing well which leads to her going onto a downward spiral until something snaps and she is found on the floor of her chambers with a bottle of medication that I'd heavily advised not to take in large doses, and thus she dies her dream of being one of the greatest actresses dies and the bodily form of the person that had said dream

She becomes a spirit, being at the middle of the living realm and the realms in which dead souls reside to find themselves in a better predicament, creatures create realms in which *their* dreams are made into reality but before she can enter that place to live out her dream, a *delusion*, fabricated by her in which she thought she would be finally happy and at peace

She is eaten by the same souls that latched onto her soul all along while she was alive , they latched onto the delusion Kiyoko had created for herself and it had been her greatest dream but if it actually went according to plan it wouldn't have worked out. She was not to be happy still in a dreaded circle of being criticised and becoming better, she *had become* the greatest of them all but that didn't mean that she would be happy, she had the support of so many people but she didnt find happiness in it because after all she was alone and had become what she feared the most an automaton which needed fixing all the time

So at that last incident the problem wasn't that they were attacked by creatures that obviously killed a majority

The problem was that they were lured with people they once loved or rejected their affection it wasn't just a simple bohoo they were someone that left you they were the people that swore they'd love you but something came up and you had to be separated to never be united again or that person left and you had no power into saving them

Kiyoko *did almost* die there. A creature had imitated a person she once loved dearly but she had killed herself 4 years prior due to finding out her parents had already arranged her marriage when she turned 18 to a 40 year old man that by then was going to be almost in his 50s and thus they found her hung in her lavish bedroom and the one that actually found her was Kiyoko, who came just to visit and say her apologies and grim "congratulations" so she can please the girls parents , there was a suicide letter on the girls desk at that time , explaining why she had done this and that *they WILL* meet in another life, in one which didnt make it so theyd be separated

Kiyoko was tempted to immediately throw herself at the creature, believing it was her , a delusion which was broken by a friend who grabbed her and dragged her while they ran as the creature had revealed what it was finally and decided it wasn't gonna let go of such a desperate soul that longed for closure from the one that she lost

But for them to have been able to copy her exactly they'd have to have consumed her soul in death , which also happened to Kiyoko but she wasn't attached to any creatures so hers was a much more painful process

In the end they were reunited but at the cost of their dreams, their lives and souls which could have lived on in the dream realm which most went to but they have undergone such degradation during the time when they were alive and they were so weak so they were just consumed doomed to forever live in the shadows and roam the darkness which awaited them ahead

People have said that they sometimes could see two of the spirits found in an abandoned opera house dancing together in a tango that was both intelligible and romantic as if it was a dance of doomed souls that never could have made it out alive with the lives they had and death was their only salvation and way to be together for eternity

In life they were never meant to be happy, not together not anything. They would've lived their lives in a painful manner which would have led them to being more sad than happy

Sure the girl could've just poisoned the guy and run away or take all his money but her family would have found a way to get her married to some old asshole that needed a brand new wife that could easily be moulded how he wished her to be and obey all his commands with no complaints and in the end she would've been broken apart mentally and unable to function other than being a pretty doll in the harem of mistresss which her "husband" had

And Kiyoko sure could've just left the threate life but for her *that was* her life's purpose, what she was supposed to be doing not anything else. Her parents instilled in her that if she wasn't on the stage she was a failure, a mistake , a mistake made by the very own gods they seemed or said that they worshipped and wanted her to be a star no matter if she agreed or not

They were constrained and by the fact that both their families were influential and no matter what they did they would be found on way or another, there's always people that could snitch on them for a large sum of money or the promise for a better life and they fully know that

[inawordaverage]

disclaimer: OPINION, FAMILY ISSUES, RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION. I don't intend to put forth any hate speech towards any belief in this post. It is simply an expression of how I perceive my past experiences.

This one's gonna be VERY long.. and there's a good chance it's not going to be seen by many.. but this is an okay spot to get it off my chest, I suppose. Thank you for listening.

To put it simply, I feel like I will be behind in life until the day I die. And no, it's not because I've decided not to go to college. It's because I have missed many of the world's major turning points.

A small example: you can ask me if I've seen a movie, regardless of its popularity, and nine times out of ten the answer will be no. A larger example: you can ask me what happened during Obama's presidency (the entirety of which I was alive for, of course), and I can tell you nothing except that his name was spoken with venom throughout our church.

The history of the world, and of internet itself - a concept that has been familiar to most of my peers for most of my life - is still something that I will never fully grasp, because I was not allowed to participate in it at all.

My life, until I was sixteen years old, mainly consisted of three things: school, church, and home. Anything outside of those three things - or anyone who had access to the rest of the world - was disallowed from my carefully curated bubble.

I was brought up to be obedient and quiet. Don't speak until you are spoken to. Don't question authority, ever. Do, however, make sure you ask permission before doing anything, to make sure you are supervised. And, most importantly, worship God above all else. Or else.

My priorities were as follows:

- Honor God

- Honor others

- Honor myself

As I grew older, I allowed myself to be trampled, abused, mocked, degraded, and assaulted - all in the name of honoring God and others above myself, disregarding my own safety. And nothing was done to stop that impression from being made, as long as my behavior was favorable enough.

To make matters worse, I hardly knew what privacy was. My personal space and private belongings were regularly invaded, and I let it happen because I didn't know any better.

A mantra that was repeated throughout our house was, "If you have to hide anything, it must be something wrong." Nothing was sacred. Personal journals were opened, excessive time alone was scrutinized and brought into question, earbuds were confiscated.

My eyes hungrily latched onto any screen I could find, just to get a glimpse of the world, just to satisfy my curiosity. Each time it happened, I was caught and reprimanded. I felt guilty for trying to see past the bubble, because I was only supposed to know that the bubble was safe, and the rest of the world was evil.

I feared the world. Fear was instilled into my heart from a young age. The fear of strangers, sin, death, and even God himself. Eternal punishment, separate from our almighty creator, was the worst possible pain imaginable, and we were to thank him for sparing us from that punishment.

We were taught that Jesus endured the pain of hell so that we could be saved from having to go through it. We were taught to be contrite, desperate, lost, and confused souls that needed to be washed clean and purified of anything imperfect.

From inside the bubble, I was convinced that being saved from eternal torment was the greatest gift of all, the purest expression of love. But with my first step outside of the bubble, I learned that salvation was not my motivator for following God. It was fear.

Now that I am no longer practicing religion, I experience two feelings at once when thinking of death. These two feelings are very familiar, but that does not make them any less traumatic.

The first feeling is terror. Yes, because of what I have been taught my whole life, I am afraid of death. Will I be punished forever for breaking free of the bubble I was raised in? Will I suffer eternal agony for choosing to abandon God and the church?

The second feeling is intrigue. I must know what happens after death. I'm morbidly curious. Literally. I have had visions of the emptiness of nonexistence, and I have experienced the blind, white-hot pain of what can only be described as hell... but I NEED to know what really happens.

As I am of the firm belief that perfection will always be impossible, I am only left with two options that I constantly mull over. My thoughts are stuck going back and forth between either constant agony, or nothingness. No one has come back from the dead to tell us which it is. So the only way to find out, is to experience it..

I'm not willing to leave this life behind. I've only just begun my journey. Although I have missed out on so much, I am now free to learn, and I will never stop learning. I am learning to love myself for who I truly am, discovering and accepting my own identity while welcoming others in with open arms.

To me, it is such a refreshing change. The worst isn't over yet, but I have had many tumultuous seasons so far, and if I were to never learn from them, I would not be where I am today.

I'll leave with a quote from a message I sent to one of my friends, who had asked me why I live my life the way I do now.

"...I will not let my fear of eternal torment lead me into blindly accepting whatever salvation is thrown at me. Not anymore. I'm living my life, surrounded by good, supportive people, and I don't want to change that. ... The end of the world is near. Before I know it, I'll blink, and everything I know and love will be gone. I'll die, and not have faith in where I'm going to end up. But I feel like that is the truth in the Bible that comes closest to impacting my view of this harsh reality."