#Noblesse Spoilers

[tritoch]

the warrior of light as a game-breaking force of violence

there's a moment, relatively early in dawntrail, that establishes succinctly how out of place the warrior of light (as the savior of eorzea and main character of four successive final fantasy game plots) is in what is essentially the story of fresh new final fantasy protagonist wuk lamat. and it sets up quite nicely how the framework of fantasy video game conflict pulls the warrior of light forever towards violence as the expansion goes on.

spoilers through 7.0 follow

consider wuk lamat's kidnapping and rescue. bakool ja ja holds his blade to wuk lamat's throat, taunting you. his lackeys line up against your party in neat little ranks suspiciously reminiscent of a classic final fantasy encounter screen.

and it simply does not matter to the warrior of light. you stride right through their combat setup because you are beyond that by now. the warrior of light has absolutely no respect for the "we are about to do ATB combat" lineup. the camera even jumps the line for you in one continuous rotating shot, crossing the axis of action as though to emphasize through the disruption of visual convention how far outside the game's boundaries you are.

this is how far you are above the problems of dawntrail's first half. you cannot even be bound by the normal rules of cinematography and video game combat. everyone else here lined up for a good old-fashioned scrap and the warrior of light said haha nope actually. i'm going to stroll through here like a god of war astride this tiny battlefield. your henchmen cannot even raise a hand to me. i don't even have to engage in violence directly anymore. my mere presence is enough.

in fact, not only can bakool ja ja's henchmen not raise a hand to you, he's not even worthy of your direct intervention. he kidnaps wuk lamat and steals her keystones and frees valigarmanda and kidnaps hunmu rruk and none of it warrants the warrior of light so much as raising a finger. he's wuk lamat's recurring villain, that's not your problem. you're just here to take in the scenery.

zoraal ja spends his whole life aspiring to be thought of as his father's equal and a worthy successor to the dawnservant as the "resilient son." all it takes for gulool ja ja to acknowledge you as a warrior on his level is like a five minute sparring match. the acknowledgement from gulool ja ja that zoraal ja hungered for his whole life and would eventually go full cyborg supervillain to get via regicide is something the warrior of light receives casually in a throwaway line after their level 93 solo duty on the way to more important plot conversations.

it really seems for a second, in the first half of dawntrail, like you are strong enough and the problems simple enough for this to be a clean and easy adventure. bakool ja ja? power of friendship'd. mamook? successfully reintegrated, no worries about the crimes against humanity. rite of succession? handily won. nothing can stop you. even duty finder queue times have been conquered: you can do all your duties with trusts now.

all of which only makes it better when the second half has sphene ask you and wuk lamat directly: could your strength have been enough to save alexandria? could you have found a different way?

i know some people get very annoyed we don't intervene in the gulool ja ja fight. now personally i think if you see arthur and mordred squaring up it's rude to intervene, but beyond that, it simply wouldn't have mattered. by the time zoraal ja's forces arrived in tuliyollal, alexandria and tural were already on a collision course and doomed to conflict. your hands alone could never have averted this conflict. sphene was always bound to do what she did—and certainly a gulool ja ja without his reason would not be any more inclined to peace than wuk lamat and koana were.

there's a great little moment just before living memory where estinien, champion at reading the room, is like "okay so if thancred and i stay here that frees up you up, aibou, to do what you do best and save the world and have epic fights. woo!!!" and immediately afterwards you basically have to apologize to alisaie because part of the sort of unspoken premise of this whole trip in the first place was that you were, finally, not going to plunge into mortal peril to save the world. you were finally going to take it easy. you were finally done with that. and she has to sort of ruefully be like nah it's fine bro. i was trying to get you to take it easy and not do insane risky world-saving violence. but y'know these things (interdimensional invasions) happen.

by the time you reach the very last trial, all pretense that the warrior of light could have ever been beyond these problems has vanished. you were, very emphatically, not strong enough to hold onto all that was dear without sacrifice. gulool ja ja and otis and cahciua died. yyasulani was irreversibly changed, physically colonized and culturally decimated by another dimension. you systematically shut down each part of living memory, and all its friendly, charming, loving ghosts, with your own hands. with your own clicks.

not even the vaunted strength of the warrior of light is enough to overcome sphene's inexorable logic of conflict. and so, in the end, she plucks you out of the crowd and says, explicitly for reasons of your strength, that you are going to have to do a boss fight now. you are going to have to kill her and you are going to have to do it in a proper 8-on-1 trial, and she forces you to affirmatively state that you understand you're going to kill her.

did you think you were above it all? did you think you could get away from here with your weapon undrawn, with your hands clean? that for you and you alone the logic of conflict comes undone? wrong. wrong. wrong.

your strength cannot redeem you, says sphene. your friends cannot make these sacrifices for you. if you would play the hero then you must play the hero. no half-measures.

back to the duty finder with ye.

[c-schroed]

Oh my. And they really doubled down on their Revolutionary Girl Utena vibes in the final episode of Noblesse.

Like, come on. That's just so

However, one thing that happens in Noblesse and not in RGU is that two versions of the same sword merge.

Like. Sword sex?! In hindsight, how did this not happen in RGU?! Clearly the Sword of Dios would fuck itself on any opportunity it finds!

Spouse and I were watching the Noblesse anime series when this little dialogue happened:

And then we found one another yelling in unison

ZETTAI UNMEI MOKUSHIROKU!

Because you can't mention End of the World and a sword in the same fucking sentence and then expect us to not see this in our mind:

Also, in the very same episode of Noblesse, there's this:

Clearly some Ohtori Academy vibes.

[lazzarella]

Felix asking ‘better?’ when Oliver throws up in the maze and telling him he thinks he should go to bed, literally moments after telling Oliver he makes his blood run cold. Like he’s still looking out for him, despite everything. He can’t help it! 😭

[nevermoredragon-main]

This is like a random thought years later but I think Noblesse would have been better if Rai died earlier in the series, leaving his family behind to fend for themselves and get stronger on their own (and also we get to focus on their character arcs more). Frankenstein I imagine would be MIA for a while due to despair and needing to pick himself back up.

And then later in the series, considering it’s revealed that even if he died he would come back like a phoenix or whatever, Rai can come back but just to a completely different situation.

Like, the whole Raizel dies plotline was a thing for so long, taking focus away from characters like M-21 and his goals, which just never went anywhere, that it felt kind of infuriating that he came back after he finally died anyway. So it’s like, why not do something interesting with that?

I’d write a fanfic but it’s kind of hard considering all the other series I am interested in writing about, combined with just how long Noblesse is. Because I’d probably still read it for reference

[hpowellsmith]

Spoilery ask about Pascha, their story, and their family from Noblesse Oblige below:

That's something I'm not sure about. They would like Pascha to return, at the very least to be able to keep an eye on them, but I'm not sure how much freedom they would give them or how happy Pascha would end up being. Around the time of Noblesse Oblige, the Jezhani royal family are wanting to sweep their black sheep under the rug as quickly and quietly as possible. But Pascha isn't in a great state of being able to be either chill or discreet. I've left it open-ended about whether they end up returning to their family in some way after running away (if they run away). Either way the Jezhani royal family really want to keep it all under wraps and they have some other offscreen things going on to worry about too so there's a lot going on!

I love the idea of Pascha's half-sibling Darian marrying Rosario, the Royal Affairs MC marrying Javi, and then the Noblesse Oblige MC and Pascha hanging out with them... or some other configuration like Pascha ending up with the Royal MC and hanging out with Rosario and the Creme MC... what strange dinner-table conversations those would be!

[aroacettorney]

so insane that the aup epilogue implies the problems that everyone has with ludger are magically gone as he has disappeared from their life for so long that they should just be happy with finally having him back

[kumomist]

like... uarghshjn noblesse is great but at some point it feels like a lot of pointless and unresolved racisim?? like 'arrogant human' might seem like typical villain talk in some other story but when its frankenstein whose backstory is fighting against nobles who were taking advantage of humans?? m21 tao and takio who were orphans forced into human experimentation?? and their kindof only response is to get more power, which just keeps getting mocked by even stronger bad guys?? plus the nobles and werewolves that are shown to be somewhat redeemable but keep going along with the conflict because of loyalty to their leader

and also the traitor family heads?? like theres some minor uncomfortableness when they see raizel again but then theyre just blaming rai for protecting humans instead of valuing their friendship????? when THEYRE the ones who befriended him, but ended up USING their friendship to?? plot his death??? like EXCUSE ME???

[justaway-dashedaway]

photos taken before disaster

credits

[quasiquack666]

Chapter 322 spoilers

(Screen readers pause now)

1: "For tens of years". Yeah dang these Top Ten fuckers are certainly old. Maybe it's not even the best translation, but... yeah. Wouldn't be surprised if Kayden is actually half Gestella's age, not even just a decade or so difference. This author likes Younger Man x Older Woman tropes even from Noblesse.

2: Seongik got confirmed again as Top 50? But he was already lower Top 50s in previous chapters. Jiyoung makes sense but... again, plot degradation. We didn't even get to see the battle that reevaluated her as Top 50. Fucking sucks.

3: Wait there's actually a Chairman of Baekho? I never recall meeting him before. Nice. AND ONE FOR HALLA TOO?! FINALLY.

4: "Awakeners displaying their power and wanting to rule over non-Awakeners". Yeah Eleceed is quite literally a rip-off of Noblesse. I already knew that but... wow.

5: Lmao Kayden is such a boogeyman. It's actually hilarious.

6: So... yeah, no actual difference between this Kayden basement scene and previous. Except Pluton and Kartein bickering next to him. Not really surprised, just continuously disappointed. *Tallies another disappointment mark on my wall*

7: Why the actual fuck is Gestella just lurking around the house, good fucking lord. It's creepy as shit, she would be a villain for doing that exact same thing if she wasn't already the weird one-sided catfished forced love interest.

8: Gosh I love Mei and Blues, they are such a fun duo. Sibling energy to the max.

9: DUDE DID THEY ACTUALLY DRAW KAYDEN'S CAT FORM BUTTHOLE IN ONE OF THESE PANELS? KAYDEN'S ASS CONFIRMED? I HATE THIS? HAHAHA WE GET KAYDEN ANUS CONFIRMATION BEFORE KAYDEN TIT CONFIRMATION. Dude I will forever be salty that we haven't seen Kayden's nips yet but we've seen some of the fucking minors shirtless.

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

The morning after Tav and Astarion have sex brings up old memories and complicated concerns.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 10: After

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Torture, Abuse, Mention of Torture Devices, Sexual References, Act 1 Spoilers

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The spawn will need rules—lessons—to follow by. Just as Vellioth handed to me, so shall I hand to my creations. My future, beautiful thrall. The time grows near to choose who will do my bidding, to usher in the rite. Ones that value their lives beyond mortality’s chains. Even to exchange it for an eternally damned life. It will take time. Centuries worth. But, they will do my bidding. My dark children. My slaves. My sacrifices.

Let my first lesson guide them:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

— Cazador Szarr ‘The Avid’, journal entry 1280

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Astarion Ancunín.

From the moment he was turned into a vampire, he was reminded by his sire that he had been chosen. Chosen for his rare picturesque appearance. Chosen for the allure of his social noblesse towards mankind. Chosen to masquerade as a courtesan.

Over and over again was it repeated, until the pale elf believed it to be a treasured gift from his master.

It had taken the better part of six years, forcing Astarion to learn how to control his hunger for thinking creatures. Cazador kept his spawn held captive within rooms—he affectionately referred to as ‘the kennels’—of cages and torture devices. A claustrophobic scent of blood and decayed animal fluids long having permeated into the floors like a sedative sitting beneath a tongue.

But, his creations had a role to play! Obedient mutts to play fetch for his fertile ghastly mechanisms. He trained them with bugs and rats to curb their appetites, whilst feasting on mortals in front of them. When the spawn would flinch or show their hunger towards a human, Cazador wasted no time in having his servant of bones ready a pair of red-hot pliers.

Twist, pull, burn. Twist, pull, burn.

Fingers. Nipples. Eyelids. Tongues. Cauterized and ripped open in the room that would be their confessional.

“I am your creator. Your father. The priest to hear your penitence. CONFESS! Hast thou lusted after the blood of thinking creatures?” Cazador would scrutinize.

Eventually, the vampire spawn learned. Oh, they always learned. Who they belonged to. Who held the leash that tightened around their mendicant necks. Always sniveling until they learned to smile and appreciate their master for the welfare he bequeathed upon them.

Astarion's fear and resilience drove him, unlike the other spawn. He would not relent to slip entirely into the madness of the night. And because of his choices to defy his master—when he was not around to compel him right away—the consequences for disobeying the coven’s lessons would result in a barbarity far worse than he could ever imagine.

Lacey and Wymonde were their names.

Two victims within the first decade of Astarion becoming a vampire spawn.

Two victims he became enamored with.

Two victims that would create two of the worst memories in his immortal life.

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Lacey. Good-humored, sunny, feisty, Lacey. An unmarried half-elf woman at the age of 42. A baker who inherited a pastry shop in Baldur’s Gate from her human mother.

During year eight of Astarion’s new unlife as a vampire, he noticed her for the first time on his way back to the Crimson Palace after a failed hunt for Cazador. Hauling poorly sealed bags of powdered sugar into her business from the alleyway, it looked like snow was falling in the middle of summer. She was covered in it—angelically so.

He stared at her from the shadows for far longer than anticipated, wondering if the wings of aasimars resembled such purity as the woman’s ringlets garnished in the soft confection. And then, she greeted him roughly, voice lively as a worker bee.

”Saer—are you going to just stand there drooling like a lout or are you going to volunteer to help?”

Astarion shouldn’t have helped her that night. Her bold humor in acknowledging his presence and asking for such a brainless task made him feel more human than nearly every evening he spent in his immortal life thus far. She never once addressed his handsome face, instead taking a genuine interest in him as a man.

Lacey rendered him speechless with her intellect. She belonged in a college as a professor, teaching the youths of their age! Yet, this life was the one that she chose. Perhaps for her it wasn’t ideal, but he admired how she made the most of her situation. There was a degree of strength Astarion tore from it, like a bandit running off with fortunes in his pockets, until he realized he had become genuinely attracted to her. She retained care behind her shining eyes he wanted to own, to sequester beneath the soils of his spirit.

Five nights in a row he visited her. Conversations often leading into topics the vampire slowly started to forget about from his previous life, but she managed to temporarily unearth them for him to relish. Everything she spoke about was wrapped in her warm positivity. She had unintentionally given him hope.

It was the beginning of a relationship. A forbidden intimacy only they knew about. One to possess as his alone; one to nourish.

On the fifth night, he brought her a bouquet of fresh flowers: an invitation for romance. After she closed up for the day, he slept with her in the back room of her shop. Propped up on the edge of a table, corset haphazardly unlaced, Astarion thrust into her slowly. They kissed each other in a display that seesawed into a fit of inferred emotions until dawn.

The next evening, she disappeared.

And he knew.

The following night, Cazador shackled Astarion to the prayer cross torture device. His limbs were not allowed to straighten; he was sleep deprived for several more evenings. Punishment for allowing himself to belong to another aside from his master.

Until she finally appeared.

His angel of hope: Lacey.

Brought secretly to the palace by his siblings. A reparation for his sins.

Cazador drained Lacey wholly of her blood, compelling the spawn to watch as his lover died before his eyes. Then, he flung her body to the creatures in the foul sewers of the undercity to consume.

Through Astarion’s exhaustion, his screams became hoarse recollections. Those that were attached forever to the brief season of possible love, now belonging to the destitute plane he started to feel within his oppressed consciousness.

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Wymonde. Loyal, persevering, darling, Wymonde. With paladin oaths scarred upon his hands and a wondrous sense of courage. A young human man with a naivety typically carried over into the early stage of adulthood.

Ah, was he ever beautiful. Skin smooth, unblemished, with the faint trickling of rosiness upon his cheeks. Tall and muscular. His virginity—not yet taken. The perfect victim for the master the spawn were enslaved to serve.

It was at the end of Astarion’s first decade as an undead, that he bumped into the man—quite literally. Wymonde had been sitting on steps leading down to the docks, gawking at the stars above, when the vampire tripped over him in the dark. Instead of offering a wayward apology to him, the human conceded with his knowledge of astrology—a strange bid given Wymonde’s nature as a country yokel from some distant farmland.

With the stars as their guide, the man extrapolated upon his preferred constellations and what they meant to the denizens of Faerûn. Astarion mostly sat in silence, listening to legends of the pictorials in the back-lit canopy beyond their reach. The paladin expressed the weight of his loneliness he carried with him since he entered into duty with the blade. They squeezed one another’s hands, knowing of their shared sentiment resulting from their hardships.

In the moment, they were just allowed to be.

This would be the last time Astarion felt a sense of connection to the living.

Impulsively, he kissed Wymonde tenderly. He had not attempted to jeopardize himself with the fanciful whims of indulging in an affair since Lacey’s death. The act scared him in such a way, that he ran in lieu of delivering the unsuspecting man to his demise.

But, he belonged to Cazador. There would be no escape.

And as the djinn of malevolence danced on his master’s back—aiding him with instructions of scourge—it was decided Astarion would be sealed, unfed and alone, inside of an ancient tomb for a year.

Buried alive. The vessel of his body, raw out of desperation to scratch his way out. Silence. Wishing for death. Months of nightmares. Starvation.

There would be no heroes to rescue him. No mercy granted. No gods that would answer his prayers. Sadistically imprisoned for the contrition of his conscience.

Astarion would never disobey again.

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The sun’s fountain on his skin had become a verb for Astarion.

It would not mend his centuries of torture, but it was the harbinger of a freedom he thought no longer existed. His hope disintegrated in that impenetrable tomb all those years ago; he didn’t understand the meaning of the word anymore. Not fully. Astarion’s story was no longer about hope: it was about self-preservation.

So, he stood beneath the kindling sphere of flame to soak up the authority and knowledge that predated mankind, that the sun was the only natural force in the universe he would allow himself to trust. No longer was it gods he made his supplications, but it was this daystar he could worship above all else. Should he decide to fly towards its rays of luminescence with wings made of wax, he would gladly allow them to melt for one final grace of its burst of gold upon his flesh.

With dusted flakes of gold printed into his hands, Beneath the watchful gaze of the fiery star, He finds respite in its rusted hues. The realms aglow, kissed by its streams. A catharsis found, until the shadows do rage.

“Good morning,” Tav yawned from behind him.

With his arms outstretched, eyes closed, he continued to bask in the lustrous beams. “And here I was thinking you’d sleep longer after last night’s activities.”

“I mean, I did pass out as soon as I—we were done,” she laughed.

Astarion could hear her heart speeding up. She was most likely blushing, perhaps remembering their passionate evening together.

“Yes, well, when you’ve had a lover such as me, it’s only natural you’d overexert yourself,” he boasted.

The bard shuffled on the ground, leaves crunching from her movements. Her breathing seemed changed, as if she were deciding on her next move in a game of lanceboard.

“Astarion? Maybe I was mistaken, but you didn’t seem fully there during the act. The first night we fooled around in your tent, I thought I saw the same distance in your eyes,” she hesitated with her voice considerately. “And gods—I’m embarrassed to even bring this up—but you also didn’t…you know…finish. Which is fine and there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever, it’s just—”

Bedding a bard was a rarity for him. They were able to spellbind with their lyrical flattery, even better than he at times, acutely aware of his trickery with his soothing tongue. A troublesome group better left in the dust.

Except, for her.

She was far too intuitive for her own sake, lacking the ignorant tact to have less perception about the world around her. The explorer with a fine-tooth comb, running it through the varied remnants of him.

He craned his neck to acknowledge her, eyes indifferent. “You wish to talk? As in, having a conversation about sex? Adorable. Darling, there is nothing to say, except that, yes, I held back intentionally to focus on your pleasure before I lost control. Need I remind you that during your orgasmic relief, it was my name you cried from your lips. So, apparently, it must not have been too much of a concern.”

“It is a concern to me though. Your thoughts and emotions mean something. To put it more plainly: If I’m not what you want or if this isn’t what you’re interested in after all, we can end it right now,” she replied firmly.

Astarion sighed heavily, moving further into the sunlight. “See, this is exactly why your little meddlesome ploys seats us in the predicaments they do. There is no need to ruin our little ventures into each other's portfolios. We’ve already stated what this is meant to be—let us leave it at that.”

“But, ‘Starion—” the songstress started before he interrupted.

“Tsk. Now, none of that. Shall we get on soon? I’d like to depart before those dreadful tieflings come back to my tent again to thank me for saving their tails.”

Suddenly, he felt her looming near him. He knew by that stuttering heart drum of hers, that she was not done with her interrogations. That she had seen in full view the raised scars etched on his back, like a crest he carried for the Szarr family. Damn her all to hell!

Tav studied him, lightly stepping nearer. “This—this is what I felt last night?”

“A poem from my old master. He fancied himself as quite the artist and carved it with a lot of revisions over the span of a night,” he told her hollowly, trying to restrain the anguish in his tone.

“Have you ever seen it? The script looks familiar…Inferno maybe?”

The vampire sharply turned to face her. She looked disheveled—a sloven mess. Hair wild. Dried blood smeared on her cheeks and neck. The fluids of their lust, still preserved on her inner thighs. It was unlike him to leave a tryst in such a state. Providing thorough aftercare had been an essential rule to follow when it came to seducing his conquests.

Yet, he was prepared to leave her alone in the forest, naked and dirtied. Why?

The answer was transparent. So much so, it consumed him, making his blood run colder than chilled bones. People didn’t see him—not really. But, Tav, she wanted to see him. See beyond the fog of his existence that lurked in passing witching hours. And it bothered him. Enough to leave her there to turn tail and put as many miles between them as he could muster.

“Inferno? Gods. The bastard was demented, so who knows. Oh, but I’m sure grabbing a mirror to look at it will solve all my problems!”

The bard bit at her lips—as she was wont to do—acclimating to a serious matter. “Maybe if I took another look at it, I could help you somehow.”

“I think not. You’ve seen enough already,” he snapped.

But, she was the Bathsheba tempting him with her bathes to wipe parts of him onto her and behold his burdens. It nearly forced a piece of him to crack.

“No one is going to harm you here,” she softly reassured him.

Rich scarlet flooded his vision as it orbited around her. She waited patiently in front of him with that same pitiful kindness behind her eyes that she extended to nearly everyone. He turned his head away, uninterested in bearing the weight of her concern for him.

Then, their worms were twisting together, forcing a psionic connection without their permission.

“No! Do not try to dredge up the past, Tav,” Astarion absconded as he severed the link.

Disoriented, she shook her head. “The tadpoles must have done so of their own volition. I wouldn’t have ever tried to pry into your past without your consent, Astarion. I swear it.”

“You seem to have misplaced your accountability, my sweet, or have you already chosen to shoo away our other recent incident when you tried to connect during our pleasant encounter with Raphael?” he snarled defensively, throwing up his hands.

“That was different. I was trying to protect you,” Tav urged, inching closer.

Astarion backed away from her. He didn’t know how to communicate to her what was coursing rabidly through his mind. But, there was the trickling of his body feeling an unknown he could not recall ever harboring. A reclamation of his autonomy he was straining to identify.

“Well, nothing to sate your entertainment like the tragic backstory of the beautiful vampire. How blatantly cliché,” he deflected sarcastically. “Perhaps you can write about it in an upcoming song! Please do remember to give me some credit.”

Her face was covered in splotches of reddish pink. A mist wettening over her sight. Remorse filled the fine lines around her mouth, but she also seemed… frustrated.

Did he really mean to widen this chasm between them while trying to maintain his security with her?

“I’m sorry about the incident with Raphael; it will never happen again,” she admitted coolly, avoiding his gaze.

Tav dressed herself quietly, doing what she could for her appearance. Astarion watched her intently. She was a fool to linger around him. He was a fool to allow her to probe to the extent she had.

“We should head back to camp.”

She nodded, smoothing down the last parts of her skirts. But, before she turned to leave, she stood before him in her observing stillness. Her empathetic valor crashing against him with the tremoring cadence of her cardiac organ. An unparalleled flicker in their time together.

Astarion blinked several times, processing what he had just witnessed. Yes, he could be a crude and brusque man—he was aware of his derisive tendencies. Yet, while she stared at him, he saw his sorrow eclipsing her eyes like the ashes from palm leaves. And for a second, he could have sworn his hunger for blood was replaced with a longing for affection he had locked away in that burial chamber, along with his memories of Lacey and Wymonde.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Starting my little question rounds again, but this time I'm asking about people's Rooks! And since I don't really know much about anyone's anything (been avoiding spoilers like the plague), I'll just start with the basics:

Who is your Rook? What class did you pick for them and why? How did they end up with the background you choose? Please do add a picture!

Bonus question: Got any little "fun facts" about them? :3c

WHEE thank you again for starting this up! I'm so excited to see all of the answers. :>

This loser is Moritani "Mori" Ingellvar, one of only a scant handful of dwarves to ever wander their way into the embrace of the Mourn Watch. She was found by the resident dead of the Ingellvar family crypt as a baby, and given over to be raised by the still-living members up until her very early teens. They did this more out of a sense of noblesse oblige than out of any particular love for the little foundling girl, but they were never cruel or callous, and their respectful distance only served to give Mori a deep sense of curiosity for her own beginnings.

This curiosity led to repeated escapes from the family estate to go explore the Necropolis, both the public AND the restricted areas, until it became clear that she was simply not going to be stopped from spending her free time there. So eventually everyone just sort of shrugged at each other, and some of the scholars of the Mourn Watch began to give her impromptu lessons whenever she appeared --- which, naturally, meant that her appearances became more frequent.

Thus empowered, Mori spent most of her early years running absolutely rampant through the Necropolis. Respectful as a penitent saint towards the interred dead but absolutely ravenous for information about them, she would explore any room that was open to her, listen to any story that was offered, and overall displayed a sort of fearless love that made the Watchers who encountered her regularly particularly fond of her. By the time she was entering her teens properly, it was clear that she would be joining their ranks in some capacity.

"In some capacity" was a big question, though. Her lack of magical talent meant that conventional positions in the Watch were not really open to her, and despite her deep love for the lived history of the Necropolis's interred dead, it was clear that she didn't have the temperament of a scholar. Someone up top must have seen the benefit of a Watcher who was immune to possession and had the vigor of a proper warrior though, because eventually they lined up a curriculum of history and ritual-learning and daily exercise, and they put a sword in her hand.

If asked, Mori will admit that she still spent no small amount of her time doing menial physical labor alongside the working dead as they helped to clear the Necropolis's shifting halls, and she will admit that she has most of the rituals and rites memorized simply because that was one of the few things that she was regularly able to help with in peaceful times, but you will never catch her complaining about it. She loves her home, and served it happily and with unshakable pride.

At least, until they kicked her out LMAO.

[teodorawitchblade]

Noblesse Ending Explained

I've seen on Reddit new people coming into the fandom and they're confused about what happened at the end. I've explained this before a few times, but I will do it again for the new people. (Make sure to read everything)

Spoilers ahead.

In the spin-off series ("Rai's Adventure"), at the end, it's revealed that the "Tears of God" have the power of revival. And at the end of the main series, after the Nobles are hit by the missiles, you can see these "Tears of God" everywhere. So they all got revived supposedly by the Gods.

(Here it shows how the Tears of God have revived everyone in the spin-off:)

(And here is the exact moment after the Nobles have been hit by the missiles:)

Frankenstein doesn't know this because he didn't participate in the spin-off, reason why his last line was talking about finding out how they are all alive. Only Raizel knows what happened.

On Wikia it says that the Tears of God is the Blood Stone and Raizel is the keeper. So the second option would've been that Raizel used the power of the Blood Stone two times to revive everyone including himself. Maybe that's what the author meant by saying Raizel has "Phoenix-like" powers. Because he's the only one that can revive using the Blood Stone.

[entamesubs]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Go Rush!! Episodes 105 Sub Release

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There are translation notes below, so spoilers ahead.

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信呼吸 Noblesse

Yes, it is also a pun on "no breath", considering "breath" was Tiger's thing from SEVENS.

Noblesse is from noblesse oblige, the idea that those who are privileged should be generous, noble, and responsible to those who are less privileged. That nobility is not merely gained through blood, but social status and good acts.

Taken apart, the kanji mean individual things that are part of what a "Noblesse" is in canon.

信 can mean trust, sincerity, honesty, and (religious) devotion. 呼 can mean to call out or cry out. 吸 can mean to inhale, or (magnetic) attraction.

呼吸 together means breath. It can also mean harmony and peace, relating to how the voice of a Noblesse can settle disputes.

Anyway, the kanji is not how any of those kanji are individually read no matter how you slice it. This is what's known as a "forced reading" - they slap kanji together that look cool, but force a completely different reading in the furigana to name it something else.

Now I'm going to take the time to recommend a fun song for you. Be sure to turn on captions.

[catusbeanius]

Decided to branch out and take notes on my Riddle vignettes! So, here are some Riddle tidbits (I have all his cards aside from his birthday jacket and tsumsitter, sadly :(. Also, why doesn't masquerade riddle have a vignette smh. Gave me a heart attack thinking I never got him)

Tidbit 16:

Riddles calls himself the "King of Heartslabyul" (Suitor Suit vignette pt 2), yet he still appreciates the powerful femininity of the Queen. He says he enjoys the way heels make him stand taller and how the clacks catch everyone's attention (Halloween vignette pt 3)

Tidbit 17:

He shows his insecurities on his sleeve.

In his Suitor Suit vignette pt 1, he mentions to Malleus how the princess won't like him because he's short (he also mentions this in the regular event). He doesn't want Kalim sharing anything about his low P.E score (P.E uniform vignette) and he assumes Vil is making fun of his athletic ability when he was just trying to compliment Riddle in heels (Halloween vignette pt 1-2)

Tidbit 18:

He initially assumes everyone understands things the same way he does, but he can grasp other methods fairly easily.

In his Dorm Uniform vignette (spoiler for the whole plot, if you care), he's trying to help Cater pass his exam and initially gives him a 300 page study guide to memorize in a week. He gets very upset when Cater can't even pass the table of contents, but Trey tells him to think about it from a different perspective. He asks Riddle what method he'd use to eat his least favorite foods, and Riddle responds that he'd dilute it or eat it alongside something he does enjoy. He quickly comes up with a way to help Cater study (through Magicam tags).

Imo, this means he's learned to be open-minded and to listen to people before collaring them immediately (however his gut reaction is still anger)

Tidbit 19:

Kind of in conjunction with the last tidbit, but Riddle is not very confident in things he hasn't mastered. Namely, cooking. He follows directions unquestioningly (can also be seen as his strict rule-following).

Riddle trusts Lilia with only mild-skepticism when he tells him how to make soup (Labwear vignette). I don't know for sure what he put in it, but Lilia tells him to make a strawberry tart soup. Lilia tells him to min-max the nutrients and Riddle is like, "Really? Okay... I guess that makes sense."

Tidbit 19.25

I gotta yap about Diasomnia ONCE, okay?? /j

Anyway, I noticed Lilia was very good at making things understandable for Riddle while cooking. When something was up to Riddle's preference, he basically explained it as, "what do YOU like in food," and, "how much would Trey realistically eat?"

Analyzing TWST vignettes has proven that they are VERY careful and purposeful with who they have interact. Knowing Lilia in his general days, it's very obvious that HE struggled with similar things. Very different circumstances, but they're both loosely following rules/orders to survive. They both grew up in tense environments without the tools for self expression and self understanding.

Does that make any sense??? I think it does.

Tidbit 19.5

I gotta yap about Mally, too.

He talks with Riddle in his Suitor Suit vignette and we learn about his ideals in a king!!

He says Riddle's character is befitting of a king (quickly acting to save his dorm mates) and laments how he can't do the same (since he can't marry a princess willy-nilly). Flash forward to his overblot... Yeah, makes sense. He wants to be a good king/son/student/brother/boyfie, idk (talking about the MC not Diasomnia ftr) and he assumes trapping them from harm is the best way.

Tidbit 19.75

Also, why does Riddle say "noblesse oblige" is a philosophy of the "Realm of Roses??" (in the Suitor Suit vignette again)

As far as I know, the Queendom is never referred to as the Realm of Roses & the translation on the Japanese wiki is the Queendom as well. Idk what's going on.

That's it for my Riddle tidbits! Idk who I'll do tomorrow, but I'm planning on spotlighting a different character every day. I might just do Riddle's voicelines (or I'll do those tonight, who knows). Maybe leave a comment/ask for a suggestion? I can't guarantee a quality tidbit post since this is only based on my vignettes. I also wanna try rereading the entirety of TWST and taking notes (idr if I mentioned that before) but especially Leona's, Azul's, and Jamil's overblots bc I know an embarrassing little amount about them. I only discovered critical thinking the past few years /j

Anyway!! Until next time BD

[sirswooshnoodles]

So I’ve been reading Noblesse lately and I just can’t do it right now

I’m all for whump, mostly physical but some emotional too

But (SPOILERS)

I can’t deal with m-21 meeting mark in my-24’s body and thinking it’s him

I was shook when I “m24” first reappeared and looked it up bc I was like “no way he’s really back from the dead” bc I wasn’t sure I could handle having it dropped like a bomb that he wasn’t.

I’ve been reading chapter summaries instead of the real thing bc that’s much easier to handle

And at the same time as I do want to read when they meet and talk I’m just not sure I can handle it, my heart can’t take it

M21 deserves so much better than this, he deserves his buddy back, not this, god not this. M21 is a sweet baby that must be protected at all costs and a fucking can’t with how much it’ll hurt when he find out and just, aaaaaaagghhh

[hpowellsmith]

Spoilery ask and answer about Pascha and their family from Noblesse Oblige:

Really complicated and regretful. They would realise that they handled everything really badly. Queen Mirela would rather not admit that, openly at least. Consort Youcef is devastated. I could actually see them breaking up in the aftermath.

It has been a really difficult time (especially if Rosario didn't marry the Creme MC because Pascha's half-sibling Darian was getting married to them and if what happened with Pascha came out, Queen Mirela and her consorts are well aware that the wedding would be off). Rosario or no, sending Pascha to Teteriuk and trying to sweep everything under the rug was them acting in an absolute panic rather than acting to support Pascha, who whatever you think about their culpability has gone through A Lot, compensate Frantisek's family in any way (though obviously nothing would bring him back), or help bring closure to anyone involved.

(The secret villains of Noblesse Oblige are bad mental healthcare and a bad justice system.)

I can see them trying to track Pascha and the MC down. Maybe they would find them, maybe they would be able to disappear and build a life for themselves. If they did find them, I'm not sure what would happen: I think a lot would depend on how Pascha and the MC were feeling and how they would handle it.