#What was up with all of the changes they made to the crow lore

[cyborgsurprise]

Finished Veilguard! Sloppy thoughts below the cut.

For the good: I loved playing as a mourn watch necromancer, I felt like the Nevarra level was made specifically for me. My Rook and Emmrich had delightful dialogue. I loved Rook's feminine UK voice, and being able to glam over some of the MANY ugly armors with the one cute piece is a lifesaver I hope continues. Assan and Manfred are cute as hell. Neve's prosthetic leg is rad. We finally get to pet cats and I loved firing the ballistae. The two dragon fight felt appropriately epic and the Weisshaupt level was the first glimpse of the heights the game could have reached.

I could forgive the glitchy controls, the questionable voice acting, the repetitive puzzles, and the boring fights if the story was engaging, but alas. The overall conceit of the story is fun (exciting, even!), but good lord did the execution stumble. Veilguard seems to have contempt for the lore, setting, and tone of the games that came before it. Characters are one-dimensional and read like picture book versions of people. The game only shines when characters from previous installments appear, which in turn makes the new companions feel blindingly dull and anachronistic. My The Heart of Corruption quest glitched by not giving one of the revenant essences, keeping me from completing my Crossroads map. You will feel every bit of the game's difficult development cycle. All in all it wasn't a waste of sixty bucks but I'm excited to see what my friends do with this game - I know they'll fix the story and character negatives I feel and twist them into something engaging!

[dalishious]

All About The Antivan Crows

(NOTE: This piece is a revised, 2nd edition of an old one, updated with information that has since been added to the lore. I will be deleting the outdated post to avoid confusion!)

The Antivan Crows, also known as the House of Crows, is a league of assassins from the northeast nation of, as their name suggests, Antiva. While their notoriety is especially high in their home country, the Crows are well-known across Thedas as brutally efficient killers. The bulk of their work is in Antiva, but they accept contracts all over the continent. Because of their reputation for adhering to agreements—something that should one fail to do makes one’s life forfeit as far as the Crows are concerned—they are an expensive but valuable investment.

To find the Crows anywhere from Ferelden to Seheron is not an unlikely sight. Nations at war send them to cut down leaders on opposing sides. Noble houses with grudges against each other send them to cut down family trees. And of course, politicians vying for power send them to cut down their competition. Whatever the reason, the Crows are never short on contracts. They are even willing to intervene in Circle politics.

While assassinations are the most common contract, and what the Crows are most known for, they’re also no strangers to thievery and spying. In Antiva City rests a giant, well-protected archive, housing of all their collected blackmail secrets, records of past contracts, recipes for their own special poisons, and other such valuables. The secrets in this archive are what keeps the Crows ruling Antiva from the shadows by controlling the nobility and merchant princes. That is, those that aren’t among their ranks.

At the very top of the power ladder is a council of Guildmasters made up of the eight most wealthy and powerful Crow Houses. The role of Guildmaster is most typically inherited down through a family, after successfully proving their skill by single-handedly killing a target with nothing but a ceremonial dagger. The Houses that are part of this council are known as Talons, ranked from one to eight, one being the most powerful. Talon has also been used interchangeably with Guildmaster when referring to the leader of one of these eight Houses.

Below the Talons are the lesser Houses, known as the Cuchillos. The Cuchillo leaders not Guildmasters but simply Masters, entitled as Lords, until their House may gain the rank of Talon. The ranks of these different houses can change with circumstance, gaining or losing power. House heads are also capable of taking over different houses by eliminating others, should they dare to be so ambitious. As such, despite being part of a larger organization, the Antivan Crows are always in competition with each other, and are not unknown to assassinate within their own ranks to get what they want.

The current Eight Talons are as followed:

Dellamorte

Balazar

Valisti

Kortez

De Riva

Nero

Cantori

Arainai

Other known Houses are:

Ferragani

D’Evaliste

Di Bastion

Members of the Antivan royal family and merchant prince dynasties routinely join the high-ranks of the Crows, either as a way to boost their social standing, or because they were forced into it. Assassinations are seen as part of everyday politics in Antiva, and how positions of power often change hands. Having strong ties with the Crows brings a noble family both leverage and security. They also have an arrangement referred to as The Azul Contract, in which bastard royal children are given a choice of either exile or joining the Crows – such as the case was with Viago de Riva. In return, the Antivan Crows all but run the nation. Even kings have come directly from the Crows.

While the Crows are mostly led by nobility, the bulk of their organization is made up of their recruits, though the word recruit makes it sound like there was a choice involved. The vast majority of recruits, referred to as compradi, are children between the ages of five and ten, bought as slaves or found on the streets alone. For example, Zevran Arainai was seven years old when he was bought by the Crows. Compradi are usually gathered in scores at a time, though only a few survive to become full-fledged assassins. The Crows keep the children in poor, cramped quarters, and raise them in emotionally detached and torturous conditions, teaching them to know nothing else but murder, as Zevran puts it. They are allowed no personal items, and are encouraged not to make friends. Along with general training and education in Crow ciphers and Crow history, training of recruits includes pitting them against each other, tests of pain resistance and gauntlets, and challenges like locking them in an oubliette for weeks. All this leads most Antivan Crows immune to morality as much as they are to interrogation. It also breeds loyalty to the only life recruits know. Indeed, many Crows would sooner kill themselves than betray the guild.

It is very rare for a recruit to rise all the way to the top of the organization’s tiered leadership, but not unheard of. For example, Teia Cantori, climbed her way to the head of her house – but despite this, she is still regarded as an “overreaching street rat” by her noble peers.

The Crows favour recruiting elves, as they are widely regarded as beautiful and unthreatening; both advantageous impressions for an assassin. However, they take recruits from all races. Assassins are most typically rogues, but the Crows also train warriors and even mages, providing protection for their apostate assassins from the Chantry.

An experienced Assassin may gain the title of Master Assassin with time, putting them just below the leader of their House in terms of rank. Masters are capable of deciding their own contracts, and command groups of Assassins below them. Guildmasters decide which Master Assassins get which contracts based on the amount of the contract’s offer they bid to give to the guild, and their chances of success. Regularly, Assassins are not allowed to bid on contracts, and are instead assigned contracts or roles in larger ones by the Master Assassins that command them. The exception to this is when an Assassin is attempting to gain the rank of Master.

Save for rare exceptions of escape, Crows are Crows for life. The only way to leave them is to make them think you are dead, or find someone willing to protect you from them. Otherwise they will hunt you down and kill you for betraying the guild, and that is the better alternative: Anyone who angers the Crows and lives risks ending up in their own personal prison, the Velabanchel, to spend the rest of their days locked up and tortured.

Antivan Crows are often easily identifiable by those who recognize their unique tattoos – a tradition taken from the Rivaini. Some of these designs are sacred to the Crows, marking them as which house they belong to, while others are purely decorative. While some Crows display their tattoos with pride and intimidation, others prefer to keep them hidden.

-----

SOURCES

Dragon Age: Origins

Dragon Age II

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Codex Entry: Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Blackfeather Boots (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Finesse (Dragon Age II)

Codex Entry: The Crows and Queen Madrigal (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Item Description: Gift of the Talons (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

Dragon Age: Last Flight

Dragon Age: The Silent Grove

Dragon Age: Deception

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 1

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 2

Dragon Age Promotional Wiki: Assassin

-----

If you find these kinds of pieces fun and/or helpful, please consider supporting me!

[the-rebel-archivist]

Finally finished Veilguard a few days ago and took some time to process and put my thoughts in order. In brief: 8/10 game as a whole, a really fantastic gaming experience, but 5 or even 4/10 as a dragon age game since it does no meaningful exploration of any nuance or moral complexity and seems to have forgotten what made Thedas distinct. My thoughts, critical and positive, coming from a place of love for the series with little to no spoilers:

Thedas has always been special to me because it was a nuanced world. Different groups had different opinions based on their pasts. City elves and the dalish had divergent histories. Injustice against magic was common, but you could understand the justification for it even when you didn’t agree. Now, the worldbuilding is flattened. A mageocracy is fine, it’s only bad apples. Slavery is never addressed. City and dalish elves are basically the same but one lives in the forest. There’s no conflict about what’s best from each individuals’ perception, all groups are monoliths.

“Elves won’t follow the gods just because they’re elves,” yes they would, in past lore. Perhaps not all but some would - these are their Creators. The game refuses to deal with religious belief in any meaningful way, to the point that I don't know if its impact is fully understood. Dalish religion is as much about cultural preservation as religion and it would be CRUSHING to lose that connection to the past when it had been all you could cling to for thousands of years.

And no, seeking out relics of Arlathan would not make up for the foundation of your society shattering and what that would mean to the dalish. Bellara being guilty that her gods are evil is not the takeaway I expected when I thought the dalish would explore that everything they believed was a lie. I'd also like to briefly comment on how an elf can comment that they weren’t raised dalish but adopted their tattoos. Their closed practice tattoos. Closed even to city elves unless they fully joined a clan. Removing cultural boundaries didn’t make the material less 'problematic', it just created a new blind spot.

“They’d never sanitize the Crows” I said before release. Assassins who walked the line between murderer and hero depending on perspective. But in this game they give you absolute truth: they’re freedom fighters. Responsible government who, the mob is benevolent and that is never subverted. They see themselves as the 'good guys' and so they are.

“They wouldn’t put powerful mages in charge of the shadow dragons” I said. “Surely they will explore the nuance of Neve having the privilege of magic in a mageocracy even when she comes from a lower class beyond ‘everyone is welcome in the shadow dragons’.” “Surely if Maevaris is connected her intersectionality as a magister and altus and trans woman will come up - not what Tevinter expects, helping with change, but still privileged and upper class. Surely low class non mages and slaves would be leading the Shadow Dragons, not the powerful being benevolent.”

But no. All factions in the game are black and white, good and evil, no moral complexity. The bad people want power and collect bad people who want power and only bad people do bad things. The antagonists I liked most were the ones with a motivation beyond simply power and they were few.

And that’s setting aside the fact that all of the mystery and fantasy was removed from the setting by the end. The things that mattered before, the religious conflicts, the approaches to history? All false or meaningless now that we know absolute truth. Everything that set Dragon Age apart from generic fantasy was flattened. All of the lore for the world that I had spent hours, days, years in and creating fanfic for became simple groups of good and bad, subjectivity replaced by objective truth. It’s not a world I want to unravel and explore anymore.

That hurts more than the slap in the face that was every cameo and past reference. If they wanted a soft reboot, why include them at all? Every time I saw or heard about a past character or event I felt hurt and angry and it actively harmed my experience of the game. When the choices are pared down to only do something "meaningful" with them and then that meaningful thing is a codex that had been so disdained in dev comments? I do feel pretty let down. Especially when that codex isn’t even personalized.

They never use Rook or the inquisitor’s first name in text once. Vocal I get, but no codex? The Inquisitor, a person depersonalized into a symbol, signing off “Yrs. The Inquisitor” when we input their name in CC was a twist of the knife I didn’t expect. It’s like every time I lower my expectations to grant grace they need to be lowered yet again.

Similarly, the romances in the “most romantic game yet” are paper thin throughout the game depending on your choice, with few chances to truly connect on an emotional level and have deep conversations in some routes. It’s not all about kissing but having the chance to say how you feel, or try to.

But that’s part of a larger problem, that this is a “found family” but Rook is the outsider in it. Rook isn’t asked how they’re handling things or about who they are or what they want except by Solas. The team needs them to fix problems but has little interest in giving back. The companions are lovely, but I can’t help wishing they were friends with me and not just each other. Or wanted to romance me and not just each other, as they begin to flirt before I can and have more banter comments than the player romance. At least if no one got me I know Davrin got me.

These last comments are the reason it’s 8/10 as a game rather than 10/10 for me - the lore I care about but others won’t. The lack of connection is a genuine issue, along with how unbalanced it is depending on romance. I just feel sad at the lost potential to reflect and gain support from companions.

On a positive note, this is the most fun Dragon Age game I’ve ever played. The gameplay is top notch and combat is so fluid and fun. I felt excited to fight rather than dreading the next battle. Really getting into the roleplay of a slippery rogue

The environments are so gorgeous. Lighting, animation, level design, sound design, all spectacular. I’m bad with maps and yet I never got lost and always managed to find my way around. Secret passages to treasure were just the right length to be satisfying. The puzzles were exactly the right amount of investment for the reward. I never felt frustrated by them but also not disappointed by the simple ones, there was a good balance. I had a lot of fun uncovering them. So many areas looked like a perfect representation of thedosian places I had never been to and wanted to visit.

Every time I was in the necropolis it felt like coming home. Maybe it’s because the lore was the most similar to past lore, maybe it’s just because it was cool, but I loved being there. I loved the wisps most of all. And I loved Emmrich’s journey and sympathetic exploration of death. The Hossberg Wetlands were also a standout area. Absolutely horrible (complimentary). Evka and Antoine my beloveds and the environment storytelling was fantastic. Like a hideous combination of the Fallow Mire and Chateau d’Onterre and I was so there for it. Davrin’s story broke my last flight loving heart.

The set pieces and narrative flow in the major battles and main story missions is really wonderful. I also did enjoy the faction reactivity, even if there were few chances to explore the intersectionality of being a particular lineage with a particular faction. I’ll make our House proud Viago!

It’s such a fun game that when I play I can almost forget all of the things that I dislike until a codex or cameo punches me in the face. It has such great gameplay that I can finally discuss DA with my partner who refused to play the other games in the series. But what a monkey’s paw. I know from their previous work that they can foster nuance. From the art book that their instincts were there from the beginning. But somewhere after multiple reboots they made a world with contradiction and complexity removed, more reactive to fan discourse than to telling a complex narrative.

It kills me because if the nuance and subjectivity and moral complexity had been there, I would have considered this the best Dragon Age game ever made. It will always be the most fun. But it is legitimately more fun for people who don’t know lore than people who do, and that is soul-crushing. It's the most beautiful Thedas has ever been, and the least like Thedas it has ever felt.

I’ve played it once. I already started a replay. I enjoy the game a lot when I am playing it, overall. But I miss Thedas, and I miss that the “world worth saving” that I cared for is a slate wiped clean and this new world is a more simplistic place.

[kadextra]

Alright explaining the new individual lore guideline and also giving my take on it

Creators will be in charge of making their individual character lore & admins won’t be able to interrupt/participate unless asked to

So, this is literally exactly what we’re having and have had with multiple character stories on the server already.

Bad’s lore, with Dapper and Pomme participating from the start. The ghostie cam streams where he invited all the egg admins to come and build their characters. His glowing eyes custom model

Philza’s hardcore lore with Chayanne & Tallulah participating. Admins building places like Rose’s sanctuary, affecting the environment & making a custom crow wings item & Enderking corrupted model

Fit’s lore with admins playing Madagio’s spycats, Cucurucho, and building unique locations he visits

Quackity’s lore with various characters played by admins

Cellbit’s murdering the federation workers arc with admins making the enigmas & acting as fed workers, custom knife item

Roier’s ratoier and Doied lore

Antoine’s whole *gestures* thing going on with Cucurucho

Aypierre’s Ayrobot lore with the Federation

Maximus’ code infection & nuke lore with custom models and items

The great Tazercraft prison escape from back then

Luzu’s radioactive lore and his other character Arin

Probably more I’m not thinking of

It’s not a new thing with players driving their own lore and in all honestly these stories are some of the best we’ve ever had on the server. and ofc CCs are able involve whatever & whoever they want into it (like Fit involving Pac, Cellbit involving Bagi) without any worry, and improv roleplay as usual

We’ve had situations in the past where stories like this were intervened in by administrators / sudden events, without communication, and we lost what could’ve been- like Cellbit’s murder arc. We’ve had creators get put in lore jail unable to log into the server. These new changes Quackity is making are gonna prevent that kind of thing from happening now

Lores “affected” by this change are ones that were made only by the admins. These are ones like:

The Resistance

Foolish federation worker arc

Baghera’s experiment backstory with the federation

Etoiles code warrior lore

Bagi’s backstory

Some of Tina’s demon lore

But I don’t think this is anything to worry about. Even if these plotlines were started by the admins, it’s still become the characters’ own lore. Now that these CCs are in control they can choose to keep it if they want! They can decide to continue having the admins’ support with it like before, push it forward themselves, or do a different idea. it’s up to them now

And honestly let’s be real, things like the Resistance weren’t going anywhere anyways. If say- Bagi liked this plotline enough, talks with Etoiles/Fit/Pac + the admin team and wants it to continue for her character then she can do that now, and we won’t have to sit in limbo wondering what’s going on with that whole thing for months as we’ve been doing

All in all I think it’s really good :D

[senmiyaazx]

Hi so I just read the other anon's yandere crowe vs sol request and I absolutely love it!!!!!!

Anyways I have questions.

Would yandere Crowe and Sol fight? Would yandere Crowe kill someone?

that's it, I hope you had a great day.

cw: yandere content

a/n: I'm glad you enjoyed it<3 also i kinda used this as an excuse to yap about Crowe, i hope you don't mind.

Crowe and Sol fighting.... over you? definitely. Fighting each other? Hand to hand? I'm sorry, but Crowe WILL get clocked LMFAO (According to this post, he's the second weakest strength-wise.)

Now, these are obviously my headcanons and I don't know how close they are to canon. I'm definitely sure Crowe has no chance against Sol. Physically, at least. Who knows? We might get crumbs of Sol vs Crowe canonically in game mwehehehehe

Would Yan!Crowe kill someone? Let's do a tiny bit of character analysis first.

We all know Crowe is a princely, handsome gentleman of the school. (I've mentioned this a lot before I know) We ALSO know that he's hiding something according to that library scene about the Marie Antoinette book. We're all aware that his reaction was suspicious and definitely hints to future lore.

But what did it mean? He did ask MC if they thought Marie Antoinette was bad or not. Was he as naive and ignorant as the Queen was? Or maybe he did do some morally bad things that he thought was good, or in the name of good. Whatever it was, it became something he felt guilty for. He may have also done things to clear his name, hence why nobody is suspicious of him.

Going back to the topic — would he kill for you? No. He wouldn't. After all, he's made all that effort to change and become the person he is now. He's gotten his hands dirty before, there's no reason for him to do it again.

That doesn't mean he won't do other things to make you his, however. This is still a yandere Crowe we're talking about, remember?

Now, I personally think Crowe would be a manipulative yandere type. In a dangerously subtle way too. I imagine him as someone good with words, so that makes him excellent at persuasion. And gaslighting.

He feels incredibly guilty for it. He hates to see you upset, but the only way he can think of to make you stay is to rely on him. He wants you to be dependent on him so he can play the role of being your guide - and therefore, stick to him like a koala.

He loves you, of course. He wouldn't dare push your boundaries. But if you're not careful and don't stand up for yourself, it's easy for him to get over that guilt and be more bold when it comes to swaying you with honeyed words. Before you realize it, you're completely wrapped around his finger.

On a more extreme side- if he could, I think he won't be against locking you up in his room/house if you're particularly stubborn. Otherwise he'll just try his best to distance you from everyone you talk to until you lose your mind.

(Honestly, I don't really know. it's hard to write for him when there's so little lore aaa)

[solargeist]

an angel doesn't necessarily have to be religious. typically yeah they are, but we're talking fantasy. you could make angels some sort of rare hybridization between different bird like hybrids.

though, if you WANTED to keep with the Catholic/religious theme. there was stuff written about humans and angels (or demons) having offspring. it would in the angels case result in them falling, BUT their offspring would have exaggerated features or even powers.

an angel here could be what happens if you spliced watcher/listener DNA with some other species. in skizz's case it could just be human, but you could probably make cool cases for others.

Yesss you are right, there is a story abt angels breeding with humans and creating giants, angels also taught magic and astrology to humans. (i think this is also what led to the whole flooding thing, which, boooo, let angels be freaky 2024)

I take some inspiration from Catholicism, but don't follow it exactly for Watchers. The Watchers are just that world's version of Catholicism, the people made a religion out of them, how they appear at times to guide and protect, sometimes taking people, and they're always been around. Grian grew up around Watcher religion as a child, he's got catholic guilt as an adult. (his Watcher mum--Aether, also grew up around Watcher religion)

Tho the difference--they don't have a Jesus-like figure, its just tiers of angels, the universe, that sort of thing, but who knows, maybe theres different Watcher branches amongst people as well, there are enchantment dialect differences.

Maybe Skizz just comes from a line of different enchantments, not Watcher based, but it's why he looks like that without being a hybrid. (the protestant joke rly does work here, they don't believe/pray to saints or angels or other figures beyond the main guy LOlol)

Listeners are fallen Watchers, treated much like demons, in the sense that they have to be stomped out, they'll lead humans astray.

Another difference, Watchers are infertile, so they do not breed with themselves or others, they just adopt and use enchantments to change the person, its how they continue, an endless source of Saints.

I do treat it more fantasy style, not super bible-accurate, but the lore inspiration is still heavily tied into it

Their domaines are much like convents, strict and confined.

I call them angels, but.... Watchers are "angels" in the way that they watch people, they bring information and guidance, they're skilled warriors who possess magic, but they don't serve a "God" or "Heaven", this is all of their own interest. (and also humans are cute, they can't help but interact.) Appearance wise they resemble birds, crows and owls, growing feathers and fur, claws and wings, multiple eyes on their face and "spiritually" (the floating eyes they conjure) They dress in flowing fabrics and hoods, they're very modest, but this is just most comfortable for all the feathers and wings, and allows them to blend into the dark and hide their forms. Nothing to do with the purity idea.

Bonus, they're like this meme but both at the same time

[aihoshiino]

Oshi no Ko 145: A Story Without 「アイ」

The question of how exactly Aqua and Ruby were reborn is something that floats around vaguely in the early stages of the Oshi no Ko, teased as a mystery that will exist in the background as opposed to one actively pursued for resolution. My theory is that this element of the story was likely more prominent in the version of Oshi no Ko that was originally conceptualized (i.e, the one that did not involve Ai's death) but the abrupt change to the story's dramatic tone and intensity pushed it into the background. As it stands, Aqua's wishy-washy statement that he'll figure it out once he's done enjoying Baby Mode about matches the weight this is given is the narrative, at least to begin with.

Even with the turn in tone and focus the manga takes, we do ultimately circle back to addressing and answering this question via the presence of Crow Girl/Tsukuyomi who seems to be the one responsible for facilitating their reincarnation in some way or another. Admittedly, this reveal in 145 comes a bit abruptly and the implied motivations it ascribes to Tsukuyomi don't… really line up with the things she says and does prior to the Movie Arc. But what really left me a little cold with this reveal is that it does not involve Ai whatsoever. Her name and even her image are not even once mentioned, not even in passing by GRSR.

This made me feel pretty uncomfortable for a variety of reasons I'll get into later but it wasn't until I started going through the manga to look more into how the reincarnation had been discussed before that I realized just why this felt so jarring - it simply wasn't consistent with what came beforehand. While the current explanation excludes Ai entirely, prior discussion of GRSR's reincarnation centers her to an equal and opposite degree.

Both Gorou and Sarina are thinking of Ai as they die, with both of them also (even if only symbolically) hearing her voice in their final moments. Gorou hears her singing as his ringtone plays and Ruby says Ai was "singing in [her] head" up to the very end. Ai's face is implicitly the first thing either of them see after being reborn and Aqua even speculates, as his first guess as to the nature of their rebirth, that it was this strength of feeling all focused on specifically Ai that caused it to happen.

Not only that, but Ai is even centered in the "fake" story of their rebirth that the twins sell Miyako to get her on board.

Perception of this bit in the fandom seems to vary from "it's just a joke" to "Jokes Are The Deepest Lore" and beyond. I myself don't put a massive amount of weight on it. However, in discussions where this is taken even semi-seriously as foreshadowing then it is flatly disingenuous to cherrypick the AQRB crumbs while not giving the same weight to the (imo, equally loaded) implication that Gorou and Sarina were reborn as Ai's children because she herself was favoured by the gods.

As the murder mystery elements of the story take prominence, this question is left unanswered but resurfaces towards the end of the Private arc with the arrival of Tsukuyomi. Here, too, we see Ai being centered as a key figure in Gorou and Sarina's reincarnation - the chapter is even named 'Mother and Mother', in reference to both of Aqua's mothers for each of his lives.

Most tellingly of all to me, however, is Tsukuyomi's appearance at the end of the chapter. Literally her first speaking line is commenting on how kind the gods must be to bring the Hoshinos together - describing them as (paraphrased) two motherless children and a childless mother and ascribing a great deal of weight to their togetherness.

Even if you disagree that the manga is centering Ai in this context, it is undeniable that the togetherness of the Hoshinos as a trio and specifically as a mother and children is what Tsukuyomi is highlighting as being meaningful here.

We even see a repeat of this in chapter 118 and her first on-screen conversation with Aqua.

I've seen people take this to mean, in the context of future chapter hindsight, that she is claiming the 'meaning' of his rebirth is his connection to Ruby. But if you go back and follow the thread that leads to this mic drop... it's a conversation that's about Ai. And specifically, Aqua is told to consider what it means that his soul was reborn in that body (emphasis mine): i.e, what does it mean that he was reborn specifically as Ai Hoshino's son?

With all this laid out, I really don't think it's a stretch to say that Ai, both as an idol and a person, is treated as a more or less equal part of the GRSR -> AQRB reincarnation as the two people being reborn. Which, like… she should be! She's their mother. But when we do finally get around to concretely answering this question..

Zip. Zilch. Nada. It had nothing to do with her. The closest we get to an acknowledgement that she even exists full stop is her goofy ass bunny mascot's face on (presumably) Sarina's snowman.

As I've said before, the basic beats of this as an answer to 'why reincarnation' are not inherently bad or unworkable. An animal repaying human kindness in some supernatural way is a tale as old as tales and given the ways in which Oshi no Ko plays around with mythological and folkloric ideas, making the reincarnation the result of a Tsuru no Ongaeshi-esque repayment of selfless kindness suits it quite well. The issue here is not one of an inherently broken idea, but flawed execution.

If this is the final word on the hows and whys of Gorou and Sarina's reincarnation - and I feel more or less settled that it is - then Ai has been entirely excluded from the birth of her own children. The sheer amount of weight placed on her role, specifically, as Aqua and Ruby's mother has vanished because after all the build up of why? the answer seems to be just that she happened to be pregnant.

I don't think I need to overexplain why it feels gross for Ai to be reduced to a convenient walking uterus in this regard. This was the element of this answer that made me so uncomfortable when from the get go: Ai's arc is so overwhelmingly about her being denied the right to agency over her own body and sexuality and her giving birth to Aqua and Ruby is, in part, a reclamation of it. It wasn't just an act of love performed for her children but also one for herself - she risked everything in order to give herself the family she had longed for her entire life.

If this incongruity was intentional, I think I would be interested in it as an element of Ai's tragedy - the idea that even the birth of her own children was hijacked by forces beyond her control and warped into something that existed to serve her fans. But I really don't get the sense that this was considered at all and honestly… that's kind of equally sad.

I was wordvomiting a much less articulate version of all the above in the Oshi no Brainrot Discord server and @penguinkyun said a few things that I think really nailed the heart of the issue here:

"theres barely anything of ai here when shes such a central character […] removing ai's own emotional stake in the matter and rounding it up to "crow girl felt bad for gorou and sarina because they helped her that one time and then reincarnated them" just…doesnt hold the same impact."

This is, I think, key to what made this reveal fall so flat for me and highlights this chapter's place in a much broader trend of Ai's place in the twins' lives being downplayed and favour of amping up the intensity of the GRSR relationship. To once again quote Lace because I think she sums it up quite neatly:

"[...] akasaka is absolutely ramping up the soap operaness of grsr with ai as collateral."

And that just kind of bums me out. :(

[spiderprincess-suffet]

Ngl ever since swapping styles (again-) I've made a surprising amount of changes to how I approach this little au of mine I like it lol

Anyways finally getting around to drawing my Lily for the au that @naughtykittydv-1992 was kind enough to let me make lol

LORE TIME:

Lily Korbyn and Scarecrow girl (Crow for short) live on and maintain a small farm in the normal human world, Korbyn was originally found and taken in temporarily by the Slender mansion Proxies similar to her original comic but instead of sticking around and becoming a proxy as well she fled after finding out what becoming a proxy to slender would cause. Crow once attempting to kill her eventually became an ally and assisted Korbyn in her escape from potential proxyhood.

Currently they're hiding out on said farm trying to find a way to free people from being taken on as "Proxies" especially the kids at the slender mansion and also Crow from her Proxyhood under Zalgo.

They haven't found a way to remove the proxy marks that usually come with the Ordeal, they can't remove it but they can study how it works with Korbyn having to eventually make the choice of attempting to make her own Proxy, with Lily being said proxy of hers.

Slender has Proxies of all sorts Human, Ghost ,even other demonic and Inhuman entities. Korbyn already has Crow to study for the inhuman part and she made Lily a proxy of herself to study the ghost side of things but she's still missing a human proxy to study.

Magical beings (typically demons) often have proxies to benefit them in some way, slender has them for food, any person one of his Proxies kill acts as a energy and food source for them, requiring the Proxies to kill at least once a year.

Often these proxies have way less benefits than the people who made them proxies Wich is why they're trying to stop this.

Also Unlike a lot of proxies Lily isn't one of these no benefits proxies as it's Korbyn who she's a proxy of, instead of the typical Proxy who gives something up and the proxy owner who gains something, with Korbyn and Lily it's more like the opposite Korbyn gave up half her Seer abilities to Lily in order to make her a Proxy, now technically they're both in the role of Seer lol.

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Well, ig it's time for me to talk about one of my favorite lores and streamers at this point.

Fit MC of 2B2T and his tragedy.

Honestly, when I watched the launch of QSMP I was full on Philza watcher. I never knew Fit before, but I was charmed by his voice, humor and friendship with crow father. And honestly I never even expected any lore from him, so when his first lore stream happened I was pleasantly surprised! So, I really want to express how much I love Fit's lore. It's not in your face and has a lot of subtle hints and build up. Honestly, it's not an essay but rather an expression of true admiration of masterful story telling in form of incoherent ramblings.

(I'll try to compose it, but I can't promise it'll always be coherent)

So let's start with quick review of his lore. FitMC of 2B2T is, evidently from the oldest anachy server. It's described as wasteland, where you can't trust or be trusted. Once he was approached by a person, whom Fit can't remember. It was a contractor who sent our favorite war criminal to the Qsmp with a mission to steal player data. Everything up from there is in vods.

Well, it is a great start, isn't it? At this point we have a very sad start. Practically no trust and emotional connection to anything. The eternal destruction, explosions, deaths and betrayals don't teach you anything different. So once he came to the server, I imagine, Fit didn't care about anything but mission. Player data and that's all, but right from the start this mindset started to change because of the greatest misfortunes of any mercenary or a 2b2t player. Emotional connection.

So now let me break this up into some sections.

Philza: you really thought I won't bring him up? As a greatest (platonic) Fitza/Wallflower duo enjoyer or just a Phil watcher, I couldn't leave him out of this post. I really think that Fit's learning started with crow father. From the start we know that they're at least are acquaintances. But throughout all this months they grew into something more. Philza's trust is hard to get, but if you get it this'll be worth it. Yet Fit got it. Throughout the good old days of Qsmp, when everything was easier, Fitza always were together. No matter was it a life threat or a camping trip with kids, they're with each other. Trusting to each other enough to letting each other in eggs' homes. And after feces hit the fan, it didn't change. A person, who was taught to never trust a soul and to survive no matter what, was standing there, saying "I'm with you, Phil" In the midst of attack. The trust between them is just incomprehensible. A paranoid hardcore survivor and a war criminal, with a lot of secrets and separetion anxiety, became best friends. If anything goes South for Phil, Fit'll be spying, controlling situation. If a wise crow ever starts loosing his sense of reality, this soaked in blood hand will lay on his shoulder, reassuringly. And it isn't one sided. If Fit needs anything Philza instantly passes him it ("You're too good to me"). Phil shares everything he can with Fit and even trusted the Dream to him. And Fit even had a small separation anxiety attack, just cuz Phil was gone for a few seconds. They are so close, Fit even considered letting in Phil on his purpose, Aaaaah... They're gonna be the death of me. Philza learned Fit friendship/ platonic love.

"You [Phil] and I [Fit].... We walk into churches and they burn just by our presence."

Ramon: the baby boy made in heaven by God himself. There's so much to be said here. Once again, coming into the island, Fit never expected to connect with someone, especially to have a son. After having a rocky relationship with Spreen was left one on one with a child. The absurdity of situation is just as laughable, as ironic. A man, who's hobby was killing kids with no back thought, was now stuck with a child, having no idea of how to raise him. And, honestly, he did pretty good! He gave Ramon freedom, but always was here, close enough to help if needed. Of course he wasn't the saint, yet he always tried to be as honest as he could, even letting him on the "Family secret". Ramon loves his dad, and it's obvious by how he helps Fit with his job, building him a communication with his contractor. The little one even taught this cold person to be kinder and more open. They only have each other. And Fit is ready to do anything if it means he'd get to leave with his baby boy by his side. Also I don't wanna hear a scrap about 2b2t historian not caring about his son's disappearance. He does. After behaving and distancing himself from his past antics, he decided to burn the ship, where Ramon lost his first life, just to avenge his baby. He visits his sons house every stream, looking if maybe he came back. If you want any prove of how much they care about each other search Ramon's graduation. They made each other better and their love is just aaahhh. I love them. Ramon taught Fit parental love.

"Baby boy, made in heaven, by God himself.."

PacTW: the last, but not least, Pacman himself. Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy.... Now, I haven't watched a lot of their interactions, but from all I've seen they're suuuuper in love/crush. All those little glances to each other, protection, quality time... Honestly, I think these two videos explain everything. They trust each other and at least have a crush on each other. And once again, there're a lot of small moments that prove this point. Fit having a small panic attack over not seeing pac for a few seconds and even helping to find Walter Bob and Mike. And Pac, no matter how much he loves Mike, didn't drop Fit after the latter was accused of being a traitor. Love is blooming, and even though it's "baby steps" These are still steps. It takes a lot to relearn trust and especially this kind of intimacy, when all you knew before was war, betrayal and lie. And thus Pac taught him love and trust.( I'm not big on shipping but every time hide duo hug my life gets a little better).

"Baby steps, chat. Baby steps. (Puts roses Pac gifted him)"

But, why did I call Fit and his fate tragic, and then just list all the good interactions Qsmp gave him. After all he experienced at 2b2t , this island seems like a heaven. But, Fit was, is, and forever will be stranger at the paradise (this man is way too good at presenting lore. Even music gives us soo much things to think about... I love it.). No matter how much Fit loves people around him and feels this being reciprocated, he'll never have this full closure. He knows and believes that once everyone knew his mission, they'll hate him. Even people I listed before. He'll never be fully honest with anyone (apart from Ramon), and no matter how people love him. Fit truly feels for Baghera, when she told him about her past and her fear of telling it to BBH. It is literally what he struggles with. This dialogue has a lot of good foils and parallels. The fear of their past, full trust/ forced lie, darkness/ light, and eventually positive outlook. Baghera was eventually able to trust Bad with her secret, yet Fit wasn't. But this paradise spoiled this war criminal. It made him more trusting, more social. Fit can't now be alone, cuz he connected with people. This server, though is full of secrets, lies and danger, is still a paradise. A heaven on earth for a lonely man...

So the last part of this long ahh post is about his desire. The one thing that convinced Fit to go to qsmp. Freedom. Which he doesn't have. By making this deal with Contractor he fell into the trap. He must to find this player data, or else he'll return to the world he tried to escape. For forever. With no way out. But once he came to the server, Cucurucho will never let him go. So he's now in double trap. Yet the biggest trap is Ramon. He's prepared to sacrifice everything for his baby boy, and can't leave the island without him. And without Ramon Fit wouldn't be able to contact the contractor. So in creating connections, Fit traps himself further.

I can't really call it a character analysis, but it's all I see in Fit's lore. A very lonely war criminal, that got so tired of distrust and destruction, that he agreed on a spy mission. But once his mission started he learned how to love and care, that he trapped himself further. Love isn't a miracle that saves you, but it's a very useful tool. Once you learn to understand and reciprocate it, life may become better. (Sorry, it's super cheesy, but I think it encompasses Fits character very good) .

Fit is a spy. They're not supposed to have a family and love, because they can't stay for long. And I think at first, Fit saw everything and everyone as just a means to an end. Just the player data. But after all that has passed he can't be the same. He has a son, friends and a possible love interest. Will he be able to still continue his mission? Will he still betray them and they're trust? I don't know.

But I now I love how cc! Fit does his lore. It isn't so in the face and doesn't affects other, yet it is so layered. Everything is so important down to the music choice aaaaagh. I don't even pretend to analyse everything in his lore like contractor, memory loss, head aches and ect.

I just love it. It's marvelous.

[salty-an-disco]

some more magical girls au stuff

and also some lore stuff:

– ‘The Echo’ is an immortal entity originated from the first ever echo to be created in that construct that trapped two gods. And now, eons later, this echo is obsessed with keeping a balance between the reincarnating pieces of these gods, and is always seeking out Quiet’s pieces reincarnations so that they always have the power to slay the pieces of the Princess that keep coming back. In this AU, this manifested as him basically making the voices magical girls

– the Echo is attached to a mirror; its shards used to make several hand mirrors he can be on at once and is how he communicates with the voices. Has mild shapeshifting abilities as an inky shadow that usually takes the form of a crow

– the Princesses create dimension bubbles around them ala Madoka Magica that change their surroundings to match their respective themes; they can only be dispersed by either killing the princess or helping them find closure in their stories (Echo conveniently doesn’t tell anyone about the latter option). They’ll always come back when they’re killed tho (often worse), and the cycle can keep going.

– Hero is in community college, studying law (it’s not his passion at all, but his family really wants him to be a lawyer and he can’t disappoint them!!), and often does gigs as a delivery boy for several businesses or other odd jobs. One of the newest magical girls alongside Contrarian – name in this AU is Hiro Capricórnio, and his transformed name is Starling; he has a stars and knight theme, and is able to summon a long, silver, feather that he uses as both a sword and a shield

– my Contra design kinda looks like a vocaloid so I decided he’s an actual superstar in his normal life who goes by the name ‘Contra Jester’ — their shows are always a fun spectacle that mixes in jokes and comedic gags in their musical performance (kinda like an inverse Bo Burnham, but with more lighthearted themes) – his AU name is Carter Thomfoolery (actual birth name) and their transformed name is Lyrical; has a music and clown theme and can summon a lyre that he uses to do all sorts of effects on the people affected

– Oppy is Carter’s agent and a senior magical girl. Doesn’t technically has any credentials to be managing a super star and was caught money laundering before, but hey! as long as he doesn’t try to meddle in their shows, Carter won’t sue them :) — was very concerned when they found out Carter was made a magical girl considering how unpredictable and uncontrollable they already are – AU name is Oscar Wilde and transformed name is Jack of Trades; has a showman/magician theme and can use the cards up his sleeves and his echoing voice to convince others to do what he wants

– Paranoid is a workaholic trying to get into medic school while juggling two part-time jobs and her responsibilities as a magical girl. Is very distrustful of the Echo in her mirror that gives her orders, but is EVEN MORE distrustful of the princesses; one of which is a recurring Nightmare she has only barely managed to defeat a few times. Tries to help/keep an eye on Lyrical and Starling, since she knows how it is to just start this off without much (helpful) guidance – AU name is Pamela Noid, and her transformed name is Little Shrike; has a plague doctor/engineer theme, the suitcase she carries can be opened to all sorts of contraptions that creates toxins and acid-filled bombs or guns, can also produce healing medicine (the pinnacle of “I’m a healer, but–”)

[libraryraccoon]

Overblot!OC (and some lore) [TW : bad english, it's not my first language, Major Character Death]

Spencer Crow Tsukimi come from a world where magic exist, but nobody is born with. You learn magic with books, you use magic through rituals, by reciting spells, by making potions, or by making a deal with a supernatural entity.

When he end up in that twisted world, he didn't remember how he came here.

He didn't know that searching the how and the why would do this.

Crowley was always giving him things to do, his duties as director, and forcing Spencer to do them.

The drops started falling every time Crowley asked him to do it after Azul's Overblot.

Ace, Deuce and Grim were always making problem, and all the blame was always on Spencer. Even when he wasn't there when they caused trouble.

The drops were falling every time this happened after Jamil's Overblot.

The Overblots' injuries left him with scars that refused to go away. Many stared at him because of this, and he was advised to cover them with makeup to hide them; but Spencer preferred to keep them in plain sight. (A reminder of what they had done to him.)

The drops fell with every negative comment/'advice on how to hide them' about their scars after Vil's Overblot.

The stains accumulated with scars, stains filled with hatred and pain. He wanted to leave, never come back, forget.

But, when Malleus' Overblot end, the night, he remembered. Remembered all that happened that night.

When his older sister killed him.

-----

They were on a rooftop, Spencer didn't remember how they end up here, but they were.

His sister, older and stronger, held him by the collar over the edge.

He remembers begging his sister not to let him go, that she was making a mistake, that she will regret it. He remembers praying to gods he didn't even believe in, praying to the Universe that he would survive, that it was in reality just a bad dream. But it wasn't. It's was the real reality.

He remembers his sister letting go of him, he remembers the wind hitting him during the fall. He remembers the impact.

He didn't die instantly. He remembers being conscious, feeling all his bones breaking, his ribs puncturing his lungs, some bones puncturing his flesh and organs. He remembers the blood coming out of his body, touching his fingers. The pain was strong, but at the same time so distant as Spencer's eyes were focused on this beautiful starry sky.

He had reached up to the sky, refusing to close his eyes. And as a shooting star passed by, he made a desperate wish to not die, to live on. Black spots obscured his vision as he stared at the sky, trying to imprint that image in his head until the black spots had obscured his entire vision.

Thinking back, maybe that shooting star was actually a warning, a sort of last resort to not end up here, in Twisted Wonderland. Maybe, if he didn't have made any wish, or just wish to die fast, maybe he won't be here ? Not knowing all this pain ?

But it's too late.

-----

He was in the schoolyard when it happened. Deuce, Ace, and Grim were arguing about something, although Spencer didn't know what it was. He could feel the Overblot coming, the rage and the pain swirling throughout his being.

"And what do you think, Henchman ? I'm right, aren't I ?" Asked Grim.

"Hah ! You wish !" Laughed Ace.

"Henchman ! Tell hi-" Grim couldn't even finish his sentence before Spencer started to speak.

"Can't you just shut the fuck up ?" It was rude, he didn't want to say it like that.

"Spencer ?" Asked Deuce worried.

People overblot for more than that, more than a petty little argument.. How pathetic was he ?

He doesn't remember what happened exactly. Just that the rage and the pain had taken over. Everything had gone black for a moment before everything cleared up.

But he wasn't himself anymore. He couldn't control his emotions anymore, and his appearance had changed too much, looking like a mix between an angel and a crow. Or was it a fallen angel ?

All he know was that he was Overblotting and that suddently, he had magic. A blood magic. It reminded him strongly of the blood and death witches spells of his world, except he needed neither ritual nor book for using it.

He had screwed up by overblotting, he knew it, he knew there were going to be consequences, but for now, he didn't think about it. Instead, he focused on his rage and pain as he began to fly into the sky, aiming to hurt everyone who had hurt him, to give them the same scars as him.

[justbelievinginmagic]

ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 6: the hunter and the hunted.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader, bang chan & fem!reader, jisung & fem!reader series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: the gardens hold the beauty of the labyrinth . . . as well as its horrors. creeping forward without jisung's companionship, you face the roars and growls ahead, alone. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, bang chan is referred to as chris, mild violence, cruel punishment, injuries, blood, fear, fights, strong language, faerie lore!!, world building, hyunsung tension, let me know if there needs to be more tags! word count: 7.8k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

Roars echoed through the Labyrinth, shaking the greenery around her. Some rogue flowers curled into themselves, hiding away like sea creatures returning to their shells. Startled bird-like creatures croaked and crowed as they flew off with leathery-sounding wings. There was a rustling within the hedges like the leaves themselves were crawling away from the frightful sounds. Yet here she crept forward, holding her breath as she finally reached the entry-way, a grand hedge archway shadowing her as it opened into a courtyard.

This courtyard was different from the others. Instead of being encompassed by the hedges, the immediate space in front of her were evenly spaced porcelain columns holding up the large rotunda above them. It was only then she realized she was closer to the edge of the Gardens than she had thought – the false sunlight was still bright overhead, making sweat drip down her neck but, she could also see the rest of the Labyrinth in front of her, maze after maze crawling over large undulating hills. It looked like it was made for an ant, how far away and never-ending the maze felt from this perspective. Looming over it all was the Castle, ever present and ever far away. She swore she saw a light twinkle from the highest tower, like a winking eye. The Runner looked away and peered towards the cacophony filling the air.

There was a maze of columns now, scattered in no exact pattern she could distinguish, but providing cover as she crept forward. The floor was between cobblestone and dirt, uneven and changing in its consistency. Yes, this wasn’t the well-maintained Gardens of before – it felt like she was off the chosen path once more. Creeping forward, each pillar seemed to hide what was happening purposely, shifting to prevent her from moving forward fast enough– growls and roars only increasing but also screeches of giggles from squeaky-goblin voices. The same tones she had hear in her bedroom chanting and snickering from underneath her bed. That felt like ages ago…

In the shadow of one of the columns holding the grand rotunda up, she could see a man hung by his wrists, high above small furry goblin creatures wielding weaponry of all sorts. He was well-built, shirtless, his white linen shirt torn to shreds below him where it soaked in a puddle of his own purple blood and sweat. Injuries and bruises painted his skin like a mosaic of muddy emerald, inflamed vermillion, and bloody purple-violet. His head was thrown back in pain as he bellowed out an animalistic noise, too deep and monstrous to truly be human. It almost didn’t process that it was coming from his chest, yet she could see his human-pecs vibrate faintly with the sound. That was when Y/N noticed the ram-like horns curling out of his temple, framed by messy, sweat-plastered brown curls.

Yes, he was certainly not human. (But what here was?)

The fine muscles in his neck and shoulders strained and bulged as he swung by the iron chains looped around his hands. All his weight on just his wrists must’ve been torture. The fae-man took a deep breath, his stomach concaving and expanding, before he heaved himself upwards as he tried to adjust the weight on his wrists. He only had a moment to breath out a hiss before he slumped down, groaning from the pain of holding his weight. Shoulder bones popped and creaked inhumanely.

Even worse were the goblins surrounding him that took joy in his agony, giggling and cackling with sharpened fangs.  Each one held a different sort of weapon – a spear with a sharpened tip dripping in violet, a javelin with some sort of creature tied atop with millions of fangs and blood-stained claws at the ready, a flower-esque whip with red-thorns lining the long strip of vine, the list went on. One by one, the goblin creatures dressed in miniature knight-wear would approach with giggles and chatterings, egging one another on. They poked and prodded the man, who grunt and struggled.

A particular strong bite to his ribs by the javelined-creature made him roar out in pain. Inhuman noises broke free from his gnashing teeth, bearing chipped fangs at the guards who tormented him.

It wasn’t right.

The horned man was dripping in purple blood, the violaceous rivulets staining his bared skin. His eyes squeezed shut as he groaned out a growl. The clash of a whip went against his bared back, and Y/N flinched back at the sound.

She had to help; she just wasn’t sure how. Glancing about she tried to find something to defend herself with. The goblins were small but there were five of them and only one of her. Five armed, one unarmed.

“Take this,” she heard a voice squeak out as a spear prodded the fae man’s chest and he let out a wail, head thrown forward now. As if he could somehow protect his chest. Breathing heavily, he glared at the little creatures, struggling against his bonds once more as he twisted and swung in a slow circle. Eyes wild as he spun and spun. She thought for a moment, their eyes locked. But he soon was groaning out in agony.

The Runner glanced at the jewels on her waist. Would one of these be large enough to throw or cause damage? No, not truly. Perhaps—

She felt a nudge against her shoe. Holding in a yelp, a hand over her own mouth, she looked down to see… a rock. Nothing magical about it. Not a bauble of light, a bubble she had seen the King tempt her with time and time again. Just a sandy-looking rock, large enough to be a softball size. It nudged her again slowly and intentionally. It kept a snails’ pace but it nudged and nudged and nudged. Insistently. As if called to her. It took her a moment of awe before she heard another cry of anguish, and her eyes flashed back to look at the captured fae-man.

Her heart squeezed to see tears drip down his cheeks as his teeth gritted into a scowl. This wasn’t right; she had to try something. Squatting, she grabbed the rock that inched forward slower and slower, and brushed her thumb over the rough edges; it didn’t look magical, or living, but this place had made her question things before. The Runner glanced back up to see all five of the ‘knights’ count down, preparing to rush forward the weapons ready to strike the poor trapped fae. It was now or never!

It was then she aimed and threw the rock, aiming for one of their heads. With a clank, she hit her target. The rock bounced off of one of the guard’s helmets, swinging it around almost comically until it covered their eyes. With loud squeaking words in a language she couldn’t decipher, the creature spun about with their weapon tilted before it pierced through another guard’s chainmail. Shrieks of chaos, bickering and moans of pain came from their pile of fur and claws.

“You hit me!”

“No, you did!”

“I’m reporting this to our commander!”

“No, you won’t!”

They spoke over one another in a hurried mess.

Most goblins weren’t clever; they followed their instincts and forgot things. Like their prisoner and the rock that had hit their comrade in the first place. Off they marched, babbling over one another still, until the prisoner and the Runner were alone.

Y/N let out a breath.

That was surprisingly easy. What wasn’t easy was finding out how to get the injured man down now! Rushing forward, she heard a low growl shake the ground.

She slowed, hands rising as she took in his appearance. He was huffing and puffing, his ribs expanding and decompressing rapidly. He had finally stopped swaying in the wind, but it only seemed to trap him more. His body huffed and puffed, eyes wild as they eyed her and snarled.

He looked uncanny in this moment – less human than he had been a minute ago. His mouth too large for his face as he let out a menacing growl, rows of fangs as if he were a shark were visible as he glared at her. There were far too many sharpened fangs for her to feel comfortable and yet she still tried to soothe him.

Those goblin guards had been torturing him for fun.

She wouldn’t.

(She surely hoped that would mean he wouldn’t hurt her in return.)

He growled again and she paused – doubting herself for a moment. She met his eyes and saw how they were shaking. The irises were trembling, jumping from her form to the environment around them. Maybe he was just… scared, overwhelmed.

She offered a gentle smile, hands held up in defense.

“I won’t hurt you!” she called out softly. “I promise.”

Before she continued forwards carefully. He jolted backwards and growled. His movement made him spin from his wrists once more.

He was afraid – that was the only explanation. But she could feel his pain as he spun once, twice, three times. He squirmed and tried to readjust again only to swing wildly. His chest heaved and there was a whine of pain escaping his throat.

“Oh no,” the Runner rushed forward quick, hoping he’d be facing away and not startle too badly as her hands rose to stop him from spinning. Two small hands resting on his broad back with care, sliding to settle on his ribs to avoid any of his wounds. His body was cold as stone and sturdy as rock. She felt his muscles jump as she minded his injuries the best she could. He stopped swaying and she took in his restraints from up close for the first time. Far too many chains of iron curled around his form. There was a shackle around his neck, a chain looped around his lean waist, wrapped chains around each of his biceps and finally a myriad of overlapping chains around his wrists from which he hung from. She gently turned him around, trying to keep it slow and gentle.

She met his eyes, grey and stone-cold. They were piercingly heavy and she couldn’t help but stare. His face was all masculine angles, sharp jaw, rectangular face. His nose was broad and bore a large scar, like an animal scratch starting from his right cheekbone traveling across its bridge to the other cheekbone. His teeth were snarling at her, perpetually stuck in this growl. His bottom canines were sharpened and chipped in places as if he had used them to fight before. Her eyes flickered back to his eyes that seemed to speak for him now. It was commanding but not in a way that was magical – it was a brute strength, cold-stone glare.

“Down,” he finally spoke to her, more like growled out to her; his tone still edging towards animalistic still.

She nodded agreeing. “I’m trying.” She reassured, her hands leaving his form after a moment. “Trust me.”

“Before they get back,” he rumbled.

“I know. I’m trying to find how they strung you up,” she relayed as she followed the chains high above them. Like his own bonded wrists, the chains linked and overlaid one another in a patterned mess. They stretched up across the columns, criss-crossing like a spider’s web. She could even see some bird nests in between the chains, making their home there and weighing down sections. Her gaze went one way and then another. This way and that, that way and this. Twisting around columns, decorating it in intricate weave work. Until they came to the end. Which was thankfully not too far. The last end of the chair curled around a column like ivy before hitching over a hook in the rockwork.

Rushing over to the end of the lead, she quickly released it, unwinding it and letting go as it tugged ferociously. The man crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. He hissed out but remained still on the ground for a moment. Huffing and puffing.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she cried out, rushing over to him and falling to her knees beside the fae-man.

She watched, cautiously, as his body heaved and huffed. His muscles finally had a break, his joints cracking loudly as he shifted this way and that. He pressed his forehead to the ground beneath him, his horns digging into the soil. Skin to raw earth, he seemed to relax. His shuddering stopped as he took in deep slow breaths.

“Are—are you okay?” The Labyrinth-Runner queried. She didn’t touch his bare back nor move from her spot beside him.

He breathed in before nodding.

“Yes,” he replied, sounding different. More whole now. His voice was no longer a rumbling growl but instead it was shifting into something far softer. He cleared it gently.

“Thank you for helping me.”

Rising up onto his knees, his hair fell over his forehead in mussy natural curls with leaves and twigs from the ground tangled in his locks and dirt clinging to his forehead, but what caught her off guard was his eyes. They were no longer stone-cold but instead a gentle grey. Sparkling and gentle as he took her in. He leaned back onto his legs, matching her kneeling position as he blinked owlishly at her.

“I’m… I’m Chris,” his voice was careful, soft. Tinged with an accent Y/N couldn’t place but felt far different from the others’ she had met so far. But what had shocked her so far was his sincerity.

Despite everything - the mussed curls plastered to his sweatied forehead, the overwhelming chains wrapping around his form, the claw marks, goblin bites, and cuts oozing violet-purple blood across his torso, the layered scars up and down his arms and shoulders, the prominent slice across the bridge of his broad nose, the dirt across his brow – his grey eyes felt soft and real. Honest. His lips twitched into a careful smile, far from the uncanny rows of fangs she had sworn she saw while he was trapped.

She would take this in stride she thought. Not everything is as it seems but… if she was honest, he seemed to be different from what meets the eye.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” she greeted, a hand slowly going to pick the leaves and sticks from his chocolate hair carefully. He flinched away at her movements at first, his overcast eyes dilating before focusing back in on her like a big cat as he froze and allowed her to pick a pine needle from his hair carefully.

“I’m Y/N.”

He repeated the name with a softness. “I’ve never heard of a Y/N in the Labyrinth before.” Chris murmured.

“Is there only one person for each name here?” she queried as she continued her picking and fluffing of his curly hair. He blushed an otherworldly purple, the color high on his cheekbones.

“Names are special here. No one is ever named the same,” he informed her.

If he had been even more honest, he’d mention that names held power. (There was a reason Jisung never gave her his, nor did Hyunjin. Learning names from other sources gave them less power than someone giving it to them but it was still power. Naming a fae was entering a pact with them.)

She hummed in acknowledgement before taking the final loose leaf from his hair with a satisfied smile.

“I’m trying to beat the Labyrinth,” she told him, hands going to her knees. “I’m trying to get home. Do you know the way to the Castle?”

There’s a glance towards to the looming image of Hyunjin’s castle – it somehow was able to look so close yet so far away in one blink, as if it were an optical illusion. Chris pressed his lips together and swallowed, looking away from the centerpiece of the maze.

Despite his strength, in that moment, he looked small. Hand going to scratch at a wound on his arm as he shook his head softly. Eyes downcast, almost child-like. Frightened, she realized.

Maybe it was due to the King’s cruel guards, or maybe the King had declared this sort of punishment.

It made her blood boil – the King was frightening. A tyrant king. She had yet to meet one person with a positive view of him. It was guards long forgotten at posts deep in uncared for mazes, remains of Runners scattered in the Labyrinth like forgotten toys, trolls left to rot in oubliettes, power-lusting goblin guards torturing a man. All away from the castle and yet shadowed in Hyunjin’s power.

She glared up at the Castle she was trying to get to. What would become of her if she fails? If this is how he keeps his Labyrinth’s order? She knew he wanted her to be his – but if this was his Kingdom, was she to become nothing but another ghost in the many twisted paths of his Labyrinth?

“Okay,” she buzzed. Too much energy in the word to sound calm. But she didn’t push him, not when he winced after grazing over a wound too closely. Her gaze settled back on Chris, taking in the way the iron chains wrapped around his body. They cut into his skin harshly, his wrists dripping with deep-violet blood, and even his biceps had rivulets of blood running down his arms with every movement. That had to hurt.

“Let’s try to get these off, okay?” she changed the subject, hands moving from her lap to brush tenderly over a chained bicep before fingering the ones around his wrists. The chains were heavy and criss-crossing like snakes around his wrists. She couldn’t see where one chain started and ended.

Chris couldn’t help but let the awe in his eyes gleam as she touched his shackles with ease. (Iron is cursed to fae – remember this. Iron-metal burns with a thousand suns to weak faeries; why do you think the human realm is made up of it?) Chris had grown used to the ache and sizzle where the metal laid but every push and pull made his eyes water in agony. But she touched them easily.

“It’ll hurt.” Chris rumbled - eyes wide as he pulled back from her grasp. His hands going towards his chest protectively.

“But, doesn’t it hurt now?” Y/N asked, eying the cuts carefully.

Chris visibly gulped as he tried to shrug.

“It’ll be over in a second,” she promised. “We’ll tug them over your hands and figure out what to do next.”

The horned man shook his head, eyes wide like a pup’s. “No, no way; it’ll hurt!” he pleaded.

“Trust me?” she asked. “Like before? I helped you then and I want to help you now.”

He swallowed. “I do trust you. . .”

“Good, here let me see,” she soothed as she took his hands once more in hers.

The chains wrapped over and over around his wrists, weaving in and out. They were made slippery with his magenta-hued blood. It took time and each time she unwound it further, each time she found a new give in the chain, she’d apologize quietly. The push and pull of metal had to hurt against his irritated skin.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts; it’ll be better once its off,” she apologized once more as she tugged and tore at the shackles from his wrists. He whimpered, the sounds escaping from his clenched fanged mouth.

As they continued to unravel, the iron digging into his skin became more and more rusted and sharpened. There were odd-crystal structures of rust piercing into his skin, like thorns, and it made her only gasp in horror as she continued to pull at the irons.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured softly as she saw how torn up his wrists were. It only made her want them off quicker. He sniveled, eyes shutting tightly. She quickly continued onwards, flinching as these crystallizations scratched her own hands up. But they were almost unraveled, more and more bare skin visible. Puffy and inflamed, deep-violet and navy spiderweb bruises bloomed where the chains had rested.

“I’ve got it I promise.” she quickly slipped the cuffs away.

His violet and her ruby blood mixed together on their skin as she dropped the cuffs to the ground.

“There,” she smiled proudly before looking over his hands. “Oh Chris, are you alright?”

Only, he was staring down at her own hands, covered in red and purple.

“I’m okay.” his voice was strained. “You’re bleeding, Y/N.”

His nostrils were flared. His chest rose and fell harshly as he smelt the blood billow into the air.

Her hands stung but she simply shook her them as if its rid them of the pain. Chris’ large hands went to grasp hers, his touch harsh at first as if he wasn’t used to his own strength. Her furrowed brow, soft gasp, and clenched teeth were cues enough and he held them gentler, tenderly. His eyes were sad, almost like a kicked puppy dog.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” she reassured. “Just some cuts and scrapes.”

His fingers brushed over some of her wounds with the carefulness of a parent, not wanting to cause her any more pain. She squeezed a finger gently, trying to let him know it was fine.

“Let’s get these off too,” she nodded to his arms. They looked easier to wiggle off, less wrapped and more like a singular chain that dug into his skin. With some effort and Chris flexing and twisting his arm, they too fell away to the cobblestone floor.

His biceps were ringed in irritated-inflamed violet while remnants of magic-infused blood, sparkling and shimmering like amethysts in the Gardens’ light, dripped down his tanned skin.

“Do you want us to try to remove the neck and waist chains?” she queried, wiping her hands on her pants (luckily, they were dark and wouldn’t show the blood that now painted her fingers a pinky-purple color.) Each brush of fabric made her flinch.

Chris looked down at his bound waist, long chains of iron wrapping around him and draping to the floor, tumbling around his legs.

“No, let me try; I can move my arms,” he tested the strength of the chain, gripping it by his sides. Gritting his teeth, he held the shackle’s chain in his hand and pulled. Pulled, pulled, pulled until the link shattered. The shackles fell from his waist like it was a paper chain.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the display of strength.

“Wow.” She murmured. “You’re really strong.”

Chris smiled, his eyes squinting into half-moons as his cheeks flushed.

“You're strong too," he complimented, because in his eyes, she was.

"I was a Hunter before this,” he admitted to her.

“What happened to get you caught up in this?” her chin nodded to the shattered remains of the chains and his shredded shirt on the ground beside them.

He frowned. “I failed a mission set by the King,” he replied. “He cursed me to a hundred years of imprisonment.”

“That’s horrible,” she replied. “What was the mission? Nothing is worth a hundred years of imprisonment if it was just a task he gave you.”

“I was sent off to destroy a beast – a monster in the desert sea, but when I found it—him—I realized it was just living peacefully,” he commented. “He hadn’t caused any destruction or deaths. So, I spared him.”

Her brows crinkled. “So, the King punished you for mercy?” she queried.

Her blood boiled. Hyunjin was becoming more and more unsavory to her. How dare he! How dare he punish someone for mercy!

“He wasn’t himself after—I thought maybe a courtier had planned it, made the plot to blame the destruction onto someone else – he didn’t believe me.” He murmured, fingers brushing over his no-longer aching wrists. “The Prince had tried to help me.” Chris admitted after a moment, head tilting in acknowledgement. 

Prince… King… wait. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“How long have you been captured, Chris?” she asked.

“I can’t remember—maybe a few years.” He admitted. “Minutes can feel like days.”

She feared it had been much longer if there was a Prince when Chris was put into chains and now there were none. Unless Hyunjin had a son running around in the looming Castle but there were never any tales of that in her storybooks.

“I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck for so long – especially with those goblins looking over you,” she nodded in the direction the ‘guards’ had scurried off to. Her eyes flashed over his bared skin, the cuts and bites and bruises looking gnarly on him.

“I’ll heal,” he promised, smiling at her kindly. “The pain will leave soon; thanks to you.”

She smiled gently. At least she helped him in her quest. He seemed kind. There was a warmth to him and bigness that felt like he was sturdy and true in himself. Confident but quietly so. Comforting like the way mountains were comforting in their ever-presence.

“I need to keep going now,” she admitted. “I need to make it to the Castle – will you be alright?”

His grey eyes widened, soft pouty lips pursing into a frown.

“Without me?” he murmured. “Can’t I go with you?”

It didn’t feel like a ploy. It felt like he was genuinely sad you were parting.

“I mean, we will be going against the King,” she told him. “I don’t want you to get into any more trouble, Chris.”

He shook his head firmly. His lips now falling into a disapproving line rather than a pout.

“Nah, nah, nah,” he said. “I can help you – like you helped me.”

Her own eyes were soft and gentle as she looked at the hulking man before her and yet his words were gentle and kind.

“Are you sure?” she clarified.

“I can’t let you leave without me,” he insisted. “We—I’m here for you now.”

It was insistent and genuine. Not insistent and obsessive. It felt like for once… she had someone truly on her side. Not won over by prettied jewelry or by loneliness in the middle of a maze with only their lover. But for her and her actions.

Her smile made her cheeks ache with how large it was.

“Okay. We’re friends now,” she told him sincerely.

“Friends,” Chris beamed back as he took her hand in his giant one.

His hand encompassed hers easily, but he held it with care of a gentleman.

“So where to?” he asked.

The path onwards felt counterintuitive. They were led away from the Castle, their backs to it as they settled on the now-dirt path. Light from the rotunda above them still glared down but now felt more like a sunset’s rays rather than a noontime sun. Perhaps it was due to them being so close to the edge of the false sky-light.

They had walked only for a short time before Chris queried.

“Why do you want to get to the Castle?”

“I’m a Runner,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a deal with the King.”

He shivered faintly from the corner of her eye. “I’m surprised he took upon a Runner.”

Her brows crinkled. “Why?”

“His Champion-Queen fled to the human-realm a few years ago.” He hummed. “He hasn’t been the same since.”

“That’s interesting,” she mumbled, glancing around and winding around a column.

There was now just a large bank to her right and the Gardens and their large columns to her left. The gorge was dark. Misty and shadowed as the light of the garden’s rotunda failed to reach it. There were no fantastical floating lamps and no fire pits in this part of the Labyrinth. Just darkness. Trees seem to sprout into existences as they continued onwards, large piney trees that crept higher and higher, growing denser and denser. This shadowy darkness spilled over onto the path like an oil slick leak.

“Can you tell me more about the royals?” she asked after a moment.

Chris offered a bashful look. “I don’t know them that well,” he admitted scratching his neck. “I grew up in the Shadow of the Castle; I know the Royals by face not name; I doubt anyone really does. There’s the Goblin King, the Heir Prince, the Queen-Consort. We all know of the Champion-Queen but I’ve never seen her.” He shrugged a bit.

“I don’t know what else to say – they are the rulers of the Underground? The Prince loves celebrations; the King loved the Labyrinth once.” He tried to find anything else to say but it seemed to be difficult. Was it the topic or was it something more?

“Tell me about you then,” she conceded, hoping maybe she’d grasp some more information about this world.

Her eyes stayed locked on their surroundings, watching as the dark shadow-like trees of the forest beside them shifted and bent in the wind.

“I was the King’s Hunter – my father was their Hunter before me. My brood will be their Hunter after me,” he said easily, shrugging. “I’m tasked with maintaining the peace in the Kingdom when it comes to unrulier creatures.”

She nodded slowly. So, there was supposedly order here and Chris was once their enforcer, which felt like he was higher than the guards that were poking and prodding him.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

He nudged her playfully with his shoulder, having to dip to nudge her with his muscular shoulder. It made her smile.

“I’m with you now!” he chimed. “You got me, Runner, in your graces. I’ll travel with you and make sure you are safe like you have for me.”

(Blood for blood. Life for life. He was here until his debt was paid.)

“But… after I leave. . . “, she wondered. “What then?”

Chris pursed his lips, looking off into the distance. There were faint hazy orange-light over the horizon – from what she could only assume was the entrance of the Labyrinth, the way she came. It looked so far away now. She couldn’t help but feel optimistic that they were making progress even as they approached where she came while following this path.

“I could go back –”

There was a scuffle in the brush. Chris’ hand reached out to grasp her shoulder. She wished he had a weapon but his bared teeth reminded her that he always had a weapon with him.

“Y/N,” he began before there was a hissing sound and flash of color in the dim light.

He shifted her to the side, pressing her behind him as his large arm blocked an attack. There was a loud thud as the creature was tossed aside. It thudded to the ground, a pile of red. Another flash of light was to its right.

It didn’t look humanistic. The way it shivered and shuddered with technicolor light, too bright and too flashy to really grasp onto its features. It was more of a shifting, shimmering light leak.

Chris grunted as he stood fully in front of her as a screech escaped the creature on the ground. In a blink, all she could see was red dripping down the creature- with its long talons and dripping crimson rivulets down his forehead. Large antlers pierced through its skull and his eyes gleamed a burning red.

Meanwhile, the entity of light danced this way and that, around the crimson creature, around Chris, and around her. Like it was dancing in a waltz amongst a battle. Chris hissed.

She shifted this way and that as she batted off the tendril of light and color. It didn’t harm her, didn’t even touch her, but it was almost observing her as she backed into the hedges of the Gardens. It hovered beside her and she tried to maintain a distance while keeping her eyes on the fight.

A low growl rumbled from Chris and the creature shifted low on the ground. Her back pressed against the leaves of the Gardens, ivy scratching at her ears and neck as Chris’ posture shifted.

(Faeries all had glamour. Some wielded it; some didn’t. Some wielded it quite well.)

Chris seemed to have great control over his glamour as the same uncanny features appeared. Larger mouth, his form felt larger even if was the same height as before and there was a fearful aura around him as he dug a hand into the ground.

The crimson creature jumped and jittered about, long limbs cracking inhumanly as it crept forwards. Its gaze was locked on Chris before they rose to linger on her. There was a deep chuckle, humming through the threads of existence.

Chris rumbled again, a warning hiss. There was a jolt and movements too fast for her human eyes to follow. In a blink of an eye, the creature was gone from her vision. Chris turned and swiped towards her; the crimson creature far too close to her now. The entity of dancing-lights seemed to swerve in front of her, an inhuman type noise pushing out of its existence. She stumbled back as the two grappled one another. Antlers against horns, their feet slid in the dirt and mulch of the path. She shrieked as her feet fell deep into loosen soil by the bank and she yelped, trying to escape the cave-in of their path along the gorge. Nails dug into the remaining solid rock, her head only above their path now.

“Chris!”

Chris’ muscles strained, wounds dripping purple, before he grabbed both creatures and tossing them aside like they were nothing but a leaf.  He turned to find her amongst the concaving dirt.

Mud and mulch kicked up into the air and a blur of color rushed towards her. Chris quickly leapt into action, pushing the creature away as the Runner was shoved to the side, out of breath. There was only a moment of calm before she was slipping off the path. The bank crumbling from her weight and becoming nothing but mulch and loose dirt beneath her shoes. She scrambled, trying to grasp onto something as the crimson creature roared from overhead. The entity of dancing technicolor light swirled and whirled as it danced in and out of existence until it was gone.

“Chris!” she screeched out. “Han!” the name left her throat in fear. “Help – please! Jisung!”

A barking noise, like a creature whining and running off, pierced the air before there was a huffing puffing Chris in her vision.

“Y/N, I’m here!” he cried out, reaching a hand out.

There was no time for relief as her shoes sunk into the dirt and she slid further down the gorge. Hands scrambling against tree roots and dead brush as she tried to climb towards her friend. But the dirt was too loose, too damp. She kept sliding down and falling. The wind was knocked out of her as a log buried in the dirt nudged her stomach painfully. It dislodged her from her clawing, making her tumble onto her back.

“Chris!” she screeched out as she fell, her feet gripping nothing as she slid fully now.

She tried to grasp onto something, a root, the dirt, but everything was so fast and the fall was so steep she was soon tumbling down faster and faster until she was far below the Gardens in the darkness of a forest.

-

“She’s so dumb – I can’t believe she’d- just,”

Jisung was wandering around the last of the Gardens’ hedges – huffing and puffing about the Runner and her stupidity. His clothes were clearly ruffled from maybe, possibly, probably forcibly-pushing his way through the hedges to get back onto the main path. His curls were messed with twigs and flower petals. He stomped a bit as he passed into a new part of the Labyrinth.

The cobblestone had faded back into a dirt path. There were destroyed arches of stone, large sculptures that were tumbled over, and cobwebs casting a haze of fuzz across near everything. Old trees and barren hedges of rot framed this place. A dried fountain ached for water in the nearby courtyard of an abandoned castle. The Old Castle. This was a place for ghosts and dust. Dust sprites huddled together by a barely lit fire. In the corners, abandoned shadows clung to concrete columns and broken hunks of fire-eaten wood.

There was a large sculpture of a familiar face – strong jawbone, pout familiar, and a glowering brow – half destroyed as if by a blast of magic. Jisung passed by it without a second glance.

“Running towards roars – she isn’t going to last long; why would she do that?” he grumbled and muttered, fussing with the bracelet on his wrist. “Why would she do that?”

He didn’t understand it; he didnt understand her. But he wanted to, itched to. He couldn't help but feel so so...

“Han!” he heard her cry in the distance and he froze, jeweled eyes widening. “Help, please!”

It felt like liquid ice was injected in his veins. She needed him. She was hurt or in pain or about to be in pain and he left her. Left her. He left her alone in a place that was just built to prey upon her. His only friend. . . 

“I’m coming, Y/N!” he breathed, turning to race back to the Runner only to run into a sturdy chest. The smell of fire-smoke and honeyed-mead flooded his nose. 

“Where are you off to, Jisung?” the King hissed.

“Hyunjin,” the goblin-fae breathed out, startled by his appearance.

Dressed in a white silken shirt that was lazily open to reveal his chest, leathered pants, and a dragon-scaled purple cloak. He wore a fine halo-like crown of kingly-gold, intricate and delicately embellished with rubies. His face was one of annoyance, his lips drawn into a line and his brows furrowed.

It was a surprise to see the King in a place like this. Even the solidarity shadows hid away from their corners and pillars of stone, far away from the King of the Underground. Hyunjin glanced aside, looking over the ruins with a curled lip.

“Jisung, what did we agree upon last time we spoke privately?” he queried, remaining ever close to Jisung even as the goblin-fae continued to back away until his back hit the statue’s remaining face.

Hyunjin’s gaze flickered over the half-desecrated face of the King of old, his eyes squinting in disdain before settling back onto Han’s pout.

“Lead the Labyrinth Runner away to the beginning – which-which I was going to go do, like you told me to. She simply, uh, escaped me. Got too eager.” Jisung replied. “I’ll go lead her back right now!” He wiggled against the press of the King’s body. Hyunjin held Jisung’s shoulder down harshly, digging him into the sharp cheekbone of the Old King’s statue.

“I see; I thought you were running off to help her,” he mocked.

Jisung snorted out, the sound forced as he let out a strained smile. His shoulder-blade ached with the way Hyunjin pinned him to the stone. 

“No, no,” he smiled, pleadingly. “Not me, Hyune.”

There was almost a look of fondness in Hyunjin’s eyes at the nickname. His hand rose from the other’s shoulder to squeeze Han’s cheeks. The metal claws that Hyunjin wore pricked his skin and Han grimaced. There was a beat before Hyunjin pulled away, a glaring smile on his lips.

“Of course,” Hyunjin hummed before letting go of the goblin-fae with a rough hand. “Not after my warnings, no.”

Jisung stumbled away as he rubbed at his cheeks. His gaze flickered upwards, looking at the other through his messed curls.

“Poor, poor Jisungie,” the King condescended, sighing out. “I noticed your jewels are missing,” Hyunjin noted.

Jisung’s hand instinctively went to wear they usually weighed on his waist. They were absent; his bracelet thudding against his belt with a plastic scrape.

“Oh, oh.” He stuttered.

“Jisung!” there was a distant cry from the Runner, so far off in the distance it was barely audible. She needed him. Hyunjin was quick to speak over her and her following yells.

“How’d that happen? After all you went through to obtain them, you’d think you’d be more… careful with your treasures,” Hyunjin commented.

The goblin-fae’s hand rose to itch at the back of his neck, fiddling over the raised scales that resided there. “I—You’re right—something must’ve—I’ll have to look for them,” Jisung stumbled over his words.  “But, first, I’ll go and whisk the Runner back to the beginning!”

Jisung bowed slightly as he began to back away, step after step, heading towards Y/N. Y/N needed him. He had to find her. His fingers fiddled with the charms of his bracelet, rubbing one charm back and forth as he tried to sneak away only to feel the world stop. Birds shushed; the brush ceased to shift in the air; sounds and squeaks of the world tumbling along quieted. The air chilled to a freezing temperature and he froze.

“Wait, Jisung.”

It was an odd thing – a power only the High Fae had with their pure-connection to magic, blessed by the Underground to be able to control time and reality at whim. Hyunjin didn’t do so often, and only when it benefitted him.

It had been a while since Jisung had felt the effects of his power. Time stopping was useful when you wanted to avoid something or prolong another thing. He has memories of forever parties where time refused to tick forward, air frozen cold from magic being warmed by his body pressed to Hyunjin’s and other courtiers, and paused moments around the Castle, just him and Hyunjin, locked in embraces and pleasantries beyond Time’s eye.

Jisung’s eyes shut before he turned and falsified a smile to his King.

“I have a better plan.” The King mused. “Give her this.”

Hyunjin commanded with a flare of his fingers. Suddenly, a fruit was daintily perched in between his clawed fingers before he tossed it to Jisung quickly. The goblin-fae reacted and caught it easily.

“What is it?” He hummed, holding the thing carefully.

“It’s a present,” Hyunjin’s voice was sharp as he paced a few steps forward.

He didn’t like that he had to stoop to such levels, but she was progressing far too quickly. He couldn’t help the rise of defensiveness. He had expected her to be cowering in his shadow by now – he had expected her to be at his knees, sweet and pliant. 

“It won’t harm her… will it?” Jisung queried, quietly.

The peach was abnormally heavy for such a small thing. It reeked of magic like honey-suckle with a sour-undertone, like something was fermenting within it.

“Now, why would you care?” Hyunjin paused, glancing over his shoulder at the goblin-man.

Jisung’s lips pressed into a fine line. Silence struck him. He was truly a coward after all that has happened. He couldn’t say what he truly thought even now. If he did, what if it hurt him – what if it hurt Y/N, too? It was odd feeling care for someone else after all these years. It made him swallow roughly.

Hyunjin’s smile was sharpened fangs and rolled eyes.

“Don’t tell me – you like the girl?” the King mocked.

It was foolish but expected of Jisung. He always wanted what wasn’t his. And the Labyrinth-Runner was his. Not Jisung’s. His.

Jisung’s voice was a stutter as he glanced towards a nearby shimmering tree and avoiding the King’s gaze. His throat felt dry as he swallowed. His hands fiddled with the bracelet – her bracelet he was reminded cruelly by a voice in his head. Her bracelet she gave him after he promised to help her. But here he was… discussing her with the King. Betrayer, betrayer, betrayer. Coward, coward, coward. His thumb brushed over the charm he favored the most – the smoothness easing his rising anxiety as he felt a roil of bile climb in his throat. He felt like he was back to the dunes outside the Labyrinth, banished and alone, with only the sands of time as his company and the taste of dust on his lips. He licked his lips – it didn’t taste of grit or death. He wasn’t there.

The King made him anxious and ever-cowardly. A long while ago, he was believed to be the King’s favorite – but it is true that Hyunjin’s blood was cruel, and no one knew that more than Jisung.

“Do you love her?” Hyunjin pressed on, turning fully to look at Jisung.

Head tilting like a predator sizing up his prey, he took slow steps with his long legs. His deep purple coat didn’t dare touch the dusty ground – it was as if small dust sprites lifted it just enough so it wouldn’t tarnish the fabric. It made him look more unearthly, more slowly unhinging at the thought that Jisung wanted her. His Runner.

“Do you think she loves you?” he commented, voice deep and low like a tiger’s growl.

It held an air of warning but also ridicule. As if the idea was fictious – unbelievable. Hyunjin’s eyes stormed as Jisung’s gaze rose at the other’s words. At the sight of the hurricane building, Jisung glanced aside once more as he found his voice.

“She’s my friend,” Jisung finally murmured, glancing down at his feet. “I don’t want to harm her.”

His eyes focused in on the bracelet that jingled lightly. The metal didn’t burn him – despite its iron and silver appearance. He liked that. It made him feel powerful. His other hand’s thumb brushed over a different charm.

“Oh Jisung,” his true name was like a dog’s lead around his throat. His head snapped up to meet the King’s gaze. He was oh so very close now; his smell of fire-smoke and honeyed rosemary burning Jisung’s nose.

“We were friends once, too,” Hyunjin reminded the shorter man.

And he had hurt the King was unspoken but loud and clear. Betrayal bit at the lesser-goblin’s spine. There was a hum in the King’s throat, a soft tut before, with the polished specter, he tilted Jisung’s chin up.

“Jisungie, if she ever kisses you,” Hyunjin was close, the king invading the space of his once-Gentleman-In-Waiting, his estranged best friend, “I’ll make you a Prince.”

Jisung couldn’t help the glow of wonder from sparkling in his eyes. Confusion and awe. He was a greedy soul through and through. Perhaps his blood was of dragon-fae long passed considering how he exceled in green envy and the need for a hoard of pretty things.

If he was a Prince of the Underground, he’d have all the jewels and finery and wondrousness that a fae like himself deserved. Even more than when he was a Gentleman-In-Waiting. All because of a human kiss? No, no, not just a human’s kiss – it was Y/N. Brave, stupid, charming Y/N. She’d probably like him more and--

“The Prince of the Land of Eternal Stench,” Hyunjin finished with a cruel smirk. He loved to watch the awe fade from his subject’s eyes – how Jisung’s Adam’s apple stuttered with a swallow. Hyunjin’s fingers rose to pinch the fair goblin’s chin. “Don’t make me do such a thing, my pet.”

Jisung trembled as he nodded. “Yes--yes, your Majesty.”

“Good boy,” the Goblin King hummed before letting go of Jisung’s chin and stepping away with a scowl.

“Give my gift to the Runner; she’s making too much progress.”

[macgyvertape]

Saw a post about shows adapting when cost/scheduling reasons prevent a guest actor from returning, and it made me think about Destiny narrative limitations especially since without insider info it seems some characters like Orisis (Oded Fehr) and Crow (Brandon O'Neill) are easier to get than others (like Nathan Fillion infamously so). Especially when considering things like voice actor line budget and how Episode Echoes seems to have less chatter than previous seasons during the seasonal activities.

So there’s a number of “how the sausage gets made” reasons aside from reissuing season of the Dawn weapons that Saint and Osiris got the Vanguard ally storyline, though I thought it was the weakest part because it retrod thematic ground that has been touched on before (the game wasn’t going to break up the one onscreen happy couple).

If money wasn’t a concern (nor voice actor scheduling) I think it would have been a really interesting season to see Ana Bray, Elsie Bray, and finally see Camrin Dumuzi (Ana’s girlfriend) onscreen replacing Osiris and Saint for the vanguard ally storyline. Things line up well enough that Lakshmi’s storyline wouldn’t have changed much. Elsie fits into both the traveled through multiple timelines/realities storyline as well as is an Exo who could be affected by The Conductor. Ana has experience with AI and it would be great to see her interact with Failsafe especially since she’s been at loose ends since Resputin was killed off. Also if the devs wanted to address alternate versions of yourself doing monstrous things there is that version of her that fell to Darkness in The Dark Future. Finally for the romantic parallels between Maya/Chioma and a happy couple that isn’t putting their wife through the Torment Nexus, it would have been great to see Camrin onscreen since there hasn’t been an onscreen f/f couple. (Feel like I need to clarify there have been onscreen sapphic characters but their partners are dead/missing/lore appearing only). Also bringing in Ana and Elsiewould have tied into Conductor!Maya’s end of season remarks about Clovis’ Bray’s hubris and her remarks about a new golden age really well. Last reason but not least I would have loved to see a reference back to the version of Maya from Clovis’ logbook that stopped his medical procedure to flay him alive with these words:

““Something like this happened to me. I was an explorer, once. One of… hundreds of myself. Then I fell into a… a trap, I think? And they drew me out of it with a hook, and turned me inside out to see how I worked, and then they made billions of me. All of us shouting at each other, shouting for Chioma, screaming for mother. They were looking for the right one. And when they found me, they killed all the others. I knew I was different, because the quiet made me happy. I was glad to be alone.””

Because what a difference “I was glad to be alone” is from the Conductor version of Maya Sundaresh.

[obbystars]

Farewell to All the Earthly Remains

Synopsis: He loved them. That’s why he had to make this decision no matter how much it hurt. It was for the better. This was how it should’ve been.

Notes: OC-insert / Pressure OC / Oberon Sol x GN!Reader / can’t believe i wrote that… / pre-pressure Oberon / talk about death / fluff leading to angst, no happy ending / reader is dying, cause is left open for interpretation / some scenes are based on recent game stuff I’ve been doing on roblox / if anyone knows what the title is referencing ily forever / oberon lore!

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(here’s the oberon x reader i promised you 😭😭 i cant believe im doing this but hey, oberon lore and you get to know a little more about him so win i guess. i have been wanting to write more for him tbh. i don’t think i’ll put him on the list since he’s like… my oc, yknow? i think it’ll be more of like a treat? not everyone knows who he is so yeah.)

Every now and then, there was a young man who’d sit on the bench by the tree as a crow or two had hung around him. Sometimes there were three, sometimes four. He seemed to always have food for them, and every time, not a moment too soon, the crows would be there waiting for him. Then, while the crows went on about their day, he’d simply people-watch his time away.

He’d almost never actually speak to anyone who passed by unless they spoke to him first. Sometimes, those people scared off the crows, but sometimes they stayed. Sometimes the children who pass by want to play with the crows, and he’d have to tell them how they should handle them. Sometimes, people would observe from afar. They would admire, question, maybe even feel a little uncomfortable knowing what crows tend to represent.

A bad omen. An impending change. An unexpected change. Death.

Maybe sometimes it looked a little unsettling, but that didn’t seem to stop you from watching from afar. Every time he was there, whether alone or someone had him preoccupied, you’d watch him and try to build up your courage to talk to him.

You slowly approached him from behind, but you didn’t get very close as the man turns around and crows suddenly flew away. Only now did you realize his eyes are red. His eyes had widened and looked back to the crows. A part of him seemed a bit startled and sad that the crows left.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare them off,” you quickly apologized.

When he looked back to you, he smiled, “It’s alright. They always come back anyway. They just need to get to know you, that’s all,”

You nervously laughed, “Is it alright if I sit with you?”

“Of course. I don’t mind at all. I don’t think they mind too much either,”

He’s referring to the crows. Either way, you were still nervous as you sat down next to him.

“I believe it is considered rude to sneak up on someone the way you did,” he suddenly adds.

You immediately tensed, “I-I didn’t mean to be rude! I just didn’t know how I should approach you and I’m honestly not very good at this kind of stuff and-!”

He laughs, cutting you off, “Please, don’t stress yourself over such things. I understand not everyone can start a conversation with a stranger, but maybe it’s not the best first impression, yes?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,”

“Let’s start over then. My name is Oberon,”

You looked at him and smiled, “[Name], it’s nice to meet you,”

At this point, one of the crows came back. It was like they were testing the waters and slowly walking closer. Then another came back, and then another.

“If you don’t mind me asking… Did you happen to be named after a moon?” You bring up to try and keep the conversation going. Although, maybe it wasn’t the best thing to bring up.

“Oh? Do you happen to be interested in astrology?”

“Yeah, kind of,”

“You’d be correct then. My name came from a moon of Uranus,”

More crows came back and both of your attentions had been redirected to them. Oberon seemed to have more food for them and began to give all of them their share. One of the crows eventually made their way up to his shoulder while another had went to perch on his hand. The others were either on the bench or interacting with each other on the grass.

“Did you name any of them?”

He lets out a faint laugh, “If I did, I would grow too attached to them. I figured it’d be best if I didn’t. They are still wild animals, after all,”

“That’s true. You can’t really cage a wild animal,” you continued to watch the crows seemingly all accept Oberon as one of their own.

It looked rather strange. It was like a variation of the ones who would be surrounded by pigeons.

…you feel so awkward. He was welcoming and didn’t mind company or a conversation, but it felt so difficult to talk to him. You kept your hands on your lap, completely tense. You dragged yourself into this, and it’d be even more awkward if you just decided to bail now. Maybe even embarrassing.

Oberon suddenly holds a few seeds to you, “Do you want to try feeding them?”

“H-Huh? Are you sure?”

“You’re tense. Maybe this can help you relax,”

You look at him for a moment, then down at the seeds. The crows already looked interested, but seeing as you were there too, they didn’t go for it. With a shaky hand, you accepted to try it.

“Take a deep breath and relax yourself,” he continues, “Avert your gaze, let the birds know you’re not a threat to them. They’ll know the food’s safe. They’ll warm up to you,”

You did as he said. You calmed yourself as you stared out towards the field. You can hear the crows making small noises. It was like they were discussing if they should trust you or not. You can see a crow in the corner of your eye inching closer and closer to your hand before it snatches up a seed and moves back.

It was silent, and then another decided to try it too.

“See? They’re not going to hurt you. They just want to talk,”

You blinked and turned to Oberon. He was talking to the crow on his hand. Before you knew it, the other crows had already taken all of the seeds you had. You did feel more relaxed, but they still seemed cautious about you. Trust with birds doesn’t come easy after all.

One had suddenly come up to your blind spot and cawed at you. When they see you jump slightly, it jumps off and onto the ground to join the others. It was like they were laughing. You can hear Oberon holding back his laughter, and you couldn’t help but laugh yourself.

The two of you would continue talking for a while. Time was practically lost. The crows would eventually start moving away, some even leaving. Oberon seems to take that as a sign and stands up.

“I suppose that’s time, then,”

“Off to do other stuff?”

“By stuff, it’s mostly work,” he admits, “Lots of work to do. This was just my own little break,”

You pulled out your phone to check the time, but then you hesitantly asked, “Do you think we can stay in contact? I’d love to talk more if that’s okay…?”

He looked at you with a surprised expression, but he still smiled, “I’d love that. Would same time tomorrow suffice?”

“Oh, yeah!” You nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, [Name],”

You watched him leave and observed the remaining crows who stayed behind. There was one who lingered closer to you and sort of pecked at your shoes. Maybe you’ll come here on your own time just for the birds as well.

You and Oberon have been meeting up quite frequently the past few weeks. Sometimes it was during his routine of feeding his corvids, while others were a bit sudden as you had run into each other. This time, you two ran into each other in a dessert buffet. It had just opened a few days ago and you found the time to have a look, and it seems like he had the same idea.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to be into sweets,”

“D-Do I really give off such an impression?” He stuttered, “I try to make it a habit to eat different kinds of food. I was hoping maybe this buffet could have something new,”

You smiled, “I think I heard they have quite a variety of treats. I wonder what kind of cake they have,”

“I’m hoping that they have a red velvet cake. I’ve never tried it before,”

“I’m pretty sure they do. I saw a video of someone reviewing it already which is why I even came here, actually,”

He turns to you with a smile, “Oh? Looks like you already know what’s in here,”

“Only a few things! Maybe they added new stuff? Even though it’s only been a few days…?”

“Only one way to find out, then,”

The two of you were given a table that was on the second floor which did give you a good view. Once that was settled, you were free to get whatever you’d like. There was a wide variety you could choose from. They even had some sandwiches you could choose. After a few minutes of deciding, your plate was filled with some of your favorites. The table was still empty when you came back. Looks like Oberon is still searching around, so you sit down and place your plate and cup of your preferred drink down. You didn’t get too much as you can always go back down to get more if you wanted to.

About a minute passes by and Oberon came back with two plates full of treats. He found the red velvet cake and cupcake, he had some eclairs, croissant, macarons… He might as well eat everything in this buffet.

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d REALLY love these,” you laughed.

His face turns red in embarrassment, “Everything looked so good! I couldn’t decide!”

You take another bite out of what you had picked up, “You can leave your plates here. I’ll watch ‘em while you get something to drink,”

“Thanks,”

He carefully places them down and almost runs back down the stairs. The sight of that was amusing, and looking at his plate… It’s taking all of your strength to not steal one of them. He won’t notice, right? Right?

No, no. That’s rude. He probably won’t be too happy about it. Who knows how he’d react? You looked away and continued eating your own to try and not think about it. It doesn’t take too long for him to return with a cup. You watched as sparkles seemingly appeared in his eyes as he ate. Hell, you swear you can see sparkles surrounding him.

Even after you got your second plate and finished what you had picked up, he pushed for a fourth plate to get whatever he hadn’t tried. It was pretty impressive to see he can eat that much, and it was nice to see such a happy look on his face. In the end, he seemed satisfied with the experience.

You two stayed to chat for a little while longer, even going back down to grab another drink. Oberon offered to pay when the topic of the bill came up and you didn’t mind, but you still felt like you could’ve at least paid for what you ate. He did get a lot to eat after all. Even if you offered to pay your share, he would’ve insisted he handle it.

You checked your phone for the time as Oberon offers to walk you home as it started to get dark, which you thanked him for. It also meant a little more time with him.

You lightly shoulder bumped him, “Did you have fun?”

“Of course I did,” he smiles, “The food was good, we had a very nice view… I had really fun with you,”

You tried not to blush at that comment, but you can already feel your cheeks heating up, “We should go together again some time. What do you think?”

“I’ll let you know whenever I can. Of course, as long as your schedule allows you to,”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me. I never asked what you do for work, so I hope you don’t mind me asking now,”

“Hm, what if I keep you in the dark there for now?”

“Sounds mysterious. Alright, fine,” you smile.

As you continued to walk, you notice that Oberon seems to like looking up at the stars. There wasn’t that many out tonight, but that didn’t stop him. Part of him looked a little sad though. You eventually pass by the graveyard your home happened to be close to and Oberon’s attention immediately shifted towards it. It was almost strange, but maybe he lost someone. You’re not one to pry.

He stopped walking all of a sudden, “Do you think those people were afraid?”

“Huh?” You stopped to turn to him, “Afraid of what?”

“Of dying. Were they scared in their final moments?”

You didn’t know what to say at first. As you looked to the countless tombstones that scattered across the field, that same question would repeat in your mind. Were they scared? Were their final moments filled with fear that they wouldn’t be at peace?

“I think… Some of them were. I mean, who wouldn’t be, right?” You hum, “But I also think some felt happy even in death,”

“Why’s that?” He questioned, his voice almost in a whisper.

“Maybe they were happy with how their life came out to be. Or maybe they were surrounded by family and knew they were the last ones they could see,”

Oberon is silent. You turn to him to see his sorrowful expression. It almost looked like he didn’t believe a word you just said, but he doesn’t speak of it.

You gently tug on his sleeve, “Oberon, are you… Afraid of death?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quietly admits, “I’m just… I’m just confused. Even when you led a life you wanted to live, one where you accomplished everything you wanted to. Even when you’re surrounded by people who love you, wouldn’t you be at least a little afraid?”

You looked down, hesitating to hold his hand, “Yeah, maybe that’s how some felt deep down,”

“Do you believe there is an afterlife?”

“I like to think there is. I mean, that can’t be it, right? Our lives suddenly come to an end and suddenly there’s just…nothing?”

“Is that why some are afraid? There may just be nothing on the other side?”

You looked down, “Maybe, but I don’t think they thought of that even in their final moments,”

“…I hope you’re right,”

Both of you continued to stare at the graveyard in silence. You really do wonder why he brought that up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought up such a topic. Come on, we’re almost there, right?”

“Oh, yeah,”

For the rest of the way, you two walk side by side and in silence. He would walk you to your door, say good night and goodbye, and you’d watch him disappear into the dark through your window. Something about him was strange, but strange in a rather interesting way. You wonder if the feeling is mutual.

When you awoke, you were… in your room. It was just as you had left it. Was that a dream? A very, very long dream that felt all too real? You leaned forward as you gently rubbed your head. It was such an odd dream, yet with the remaining moments of what you remember from it, you can’t help but feel warm all of a sudden.

That man you’ve been meeting with. He was sweet, gentle, and patient. He loved the bakery you invited him to. He loved crows and fed them whenever he could. His view on death was… interesting. He was afraid. He was confused when others didn’t seem to be afraid of their end and rather embraced it. Had he lost someone before? Is that why he was afraid? Maybe you should ask him next time you meet.

Just as you were going to stand up, you hear footsteps approaching. Your door suddenly opens and a strange man entered. He had a black mask and black horns. There were two pairs of wings on him, one located on his head while the other pair rested beside his waist. There was even a halo above his head.

An angel? You must be dreaming again…

The white eyes on the mask almost looked sad when he saw you, “I apologize for the intrusion. I’m sure you have many questions, and I assure you they will be answered. Most, at least. It depends on the question,”

You tried to stay calm just to make sure this was indeed a dream. You’ll wake up any minute now, right?

“How did you get in my house?”

He shakes his head, “While it may appear to be, this isn’t a house. It’s a room, your room. Where you are is my realm that resides in the line between life and death. It only appears as this because this place is where you feel the safest,”

You feel your heart beginning to pound against your chest. Between life and death? Realm?

“W-Who are you?”

The man pauses as he went to pull a chair over and sat down in front of you, “You…may refer to me as Mr. Sol,”

“What are you?”

“I suppose the closest thing I can call myself in your words is a grim reaper, but I am not here to collect your soul. Perhaps I can describe it as…guiding your soul,”

Grim reaper? Soul? He’s not an angel?

“Guiding my soul? Where?”

“That’s for you to decide,”

Mr. Sol has been strangely open about answering such questions. It’s hard to tell if he is lying or telling the truth. It may be the mask, but his tone seemed genuine.

“I don’t understand. Am… Am I dead?”

Mr. Sol looked down for a moment, and the white eyes closed, “Not yet,”

“What happened to me?”

His eyes open at that question, “You don’t remember?”

When you shake your head, he starts looking around. A few drawers open and eventually, a file is pulled out from one of them. He opens it, giving it a quick read before closing the file and holding it to you.

“This will explain everything. From the moment you were born to your eventual end,” he says, “But it is up to you to read it,”

You stare at the file then briefly looked at him. Your entire life, and it’s in a small file that he holds in his hands. Hesitantly, you grab the file and open it. A picture of you, your name, your age, your date of birth, your family, your school life… It was all there. The final paragraph detailing your fate was suddenly cut off, but the moments that happened before was all there. You were dying.

You look up at him, “You said you will guide me to where I want to go. What do you mean by that?”

Mr. Sol pauses yet again. He crosses his legs and his hands rest on his lap, “[Name], I am giving you the choice to continue where your life had left off or to end it. I am giving you the choice to go back, to wake up in the living world continue with the life you planned for yourself. I am giving you a second chance,”

“And if I say no?”

“Death awaits,” was all he said. His tone had shifted slightly as he said that.

It was an easy choice. Anyone would want to continue living. Anyone would give anything for a second chance when absolutely nothing was being asked for in return. You’d even see him again. You wonder if he had tried contacting you during that moment. He must be worried.

“This is the only chance I get, right?”

He nods, “Yes. It is all I can give you,”

“So we won’t be meeting again, huh?”

“It’d be best if we didn’t…”

Should you? The answer feels obvious, so you finally give him your answer.

“I’d like to go back,”

Mr. Sol nods and stands up, holding out a hand to you. He pulls you up to your feet and suddenly pulls you closer to him. He held your hand close to where his heart should be.

“I must tell you, once we go back, you won’t remember your time with me. You won’t remember a thing about me,” he lets out a shaky breath, almost like he was holding back tears, “I’m sorry,”

The crows seem to like hanging around the bench you often sit at. You’re not quite sure why. It’s not like you had any food on you for them. One of them was even sitting on the bench, looking up at you almost like you were an old friend. You only stared back, wondering why a flock had decided to hang out around with you.

One suddenly flew off and soon, the others followed one by one. You watched them leave and begin to surround a man walking down the path. He had held out a hand for one to perch onto.

Ah, maybe they were only just waiting for him. Crows can remember faces after all, and perhaps they accepted him as their friend. It was strange. You’d think it would be pigeons one would be surrounded by, but this man had attracted and befriended them. He must be very knowledgeable with them, maybe even grew up with them.

You smiled, stifling a laugh. It’s not often you see something like that, but it is a sight to behold. You wonder just how long it must’ve taken the flock to accept him.

The man continued down the path beyond your sight. The crows follows his steps and look up at him, almost begging for more food. The one on his hand caws, turning its head towards their usual meeting spot.

He shouldn’t have allowed you to get so close in the first place. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get so attached.

I am actually ashamed to say I made an Oberon disguising as a human and I hate it so much he looks like a generic anime boy

UGHH I LITERALLY COULD NOT LOOK AT HIM HELP MEEEE 😭��😭

BOY KEEP YOUR MASK ON

[fandom-geek]

(read your tags) the fact that datv apparently sanitised the Crows is really making flames come out of my eyes... thank goodness datv can't change the origins experience in any way, because I cherish Zevran and his story just the way they are. I really wanted to like datv but now I don't think I'd try it either unless it were for free ^^;

i think i've been pretty upfront that i had basically written dreadwolf/veilguard off between all of the senior figures quitting, the schreier article, and the layoffs, but i thought i had set my bar for veilguard pretty low. it has somehow fucking limboed under that bar. i would almost be impressed if it wasn't so terrible.

and everything i have read abt the plot leads me to believe that the writers actively hated origins. i am seriously trying not to just hate on veilguard, but the most positive things i've seen are "the characters are pretty and the character creator is so good!". is that really the bar ppl want to set for dragon age games? i accept that i am uncommonly willing to accept potato graphics, but seriously? it's the bread and circuses of bloody video games.

between the crows being sanitised, denerim/ferelden being destroyed by the blight off-screen, and the fucking "loghain was controlled by the illuminati" twist in the goddamn credits (not sure if you saw that post), i really cannot fathom any other explanation than the new producers/executives at bioware just straight up hating origins.

i'm not the sort to say this at all, but it genuinely just comes across as disrespectful to the writers who worked on origins and 2. there's no sense of "oh, i disagree with this choice but their love of the series still shines through" whatsoever, just straight up ignoring any lore that doesn't suit their very narrow vibe goals.

i get wanting to make the series your own with a new instalment, especially since 99% of the senior figures for da quit or were forcibly laid off it's a new team, but everything i've seen makes me want to think that the people in charge of veilguard actively hated dragon age but were too cowardly to make a second fantasy ip. you know, if the aforementioned creative forces being made to quit or being forcibly laid off didn't give that away.

there is some shit going on at bioware, especially towards veteran dragon age staff, and this bonfire of a game is the result. like this list is from before the layoffs, and you just don't get that many veteran employees of 10-20+ years quitting from 2016 onwards unless there is something massively wrong going on at that workplace.

but yeah, i realise workplace conditions are kinda off-topic and this has been way longer than i meant it to be, but i just really cannot with veilguard. once i'm finished with expeditions rome, i'm probably just going to continue my origins playthrough and admire what a competently-written and consistent game it is compared to the mess that is veilguard.

[wrathofrats]

Day 19: confessions - mist and aether talking about dews transition. Aether thinks she hates him, she doesn’t, and they talk about their feelings

It helps to read this piece and some of the stuff in #wrath’s ghost lore before hand, but it’s not necessary. Just know aether did dews transition.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows as always for this month <3

Warnings for small talks of mortality, it’s kinda angsty but I made it better so.

“How did you-“

“Dewdrop” aether interrupted.

Mist sat under one of the old concrete arches that decorated the back of an abandoned chapel. One of the little ones that primo had used before the clergy grew out of it. Let sit to gather vines and moss. Leaves decorated the pillars, the walkway was full of cracks and so overgrown that it was almost hard to follow.

There was a sense of tranquility in the chaos. The fresh smell of plants and old water that had seeped into the grooves of the concrete made mist feel at ease, nothing to order her around, nothing to remind her of the strict order she was to follow when in front of the other siblings.

“He’s such a snitch” mist snorted. She patted the ground next to her, motioning for aether to join her.

“He told me what happened” aether sighed, leaning back against the structure. He jumped slightly at the cool feeling on his back, before settling in completely.

“How much?”

“Said you went off on him. That you were upset he actually changed his element”

Mist cringed. She brought her knees tight to her chest as dewdrops jacket now felt shameful around her shoulders. Part of her almost wanted to just get up and walk away to avoid the confrontation. She knew dew probably told aether what she said about him, that she had partially blamed him. Words spat in the heat of the moment begging dew just to look at her.

“He told me what you said”

“I’m sure aethers real pleased with his work this time” mist bit

“If omega of all ghouls can fuck up did you really expect me to trust aether?”

“Aether I-“ mist choked. She cringed remembering her own words, bitter tasting in her mouth now that the target of her anger sat next to her.

“Don’t, I understand why you’re upset,” he sighed. The air felt thick around them, a heavy cold that encapsulated them both as the sun went down.

“Yeah but I’m not upset with you”

Mist doesn’t know who she’s upset with if she’s being honest. Maybe herself for feeling betrayed even if dew didn’t pick pride over an animalistic fate like she did. Maybe papa for letting her choose her own reality of not transitioning. Maybe whatever sick divine being cursed them to be like this. None of her feelings seem correct. She couldn’t pick an answer on what’s appropriate to feel about this even if she tried.

“No one seems to be. I kinda hoped you were the one to actually see through this bullshit " Aether threw his head back to rest against the wall, staring up at the dark patches of algae on the top of the arch.

“What do you mean? No one should be mad at you aeth”

“I did that to him, I ruined him”

“You saved him.” Mist turned to face him, a concerned look on her face. A gust of wind cut against the tears in her eyes, making her realize that she had once again started crying.

“He’s not himself anymore mist, so does it even matter?”

Aether sighed, chewing his lip in frustration. The lingering light of the sunset cast a cold shadow on him making him shiver as he moved to stand up.

“He’s more himself than he ever was” mist practically whispered. She gave him a pleading look, motioning him to continue to sit with her.

“He won’t even look at you mist”

“But that’s always been dew. He’s had a fiery personality since he was summoned. I could’ve used his favorite cup and he would’ve ignored me for hours over it”

Aether stopped to stare at her, a puzzled look in his eye.

“I would give anything for him to just talk to me, but that’s my fault anyways. He’s always been a volatile bundle of emotions, it’s just fitting he now has the element to match” she laughed.

There was a rare crack in her pride that made her feel solemn. Asking if she herself made the right decision to stay a water ghoul. The choice between staying true to herself and succumbing to a natural fate or potentially becoming a botched version of herself that was barely mist anymore.

Dew was thriving. He had his scars and sudden outbursts that weren’t exactly there before, but he was happy, and that’s all mist needed to care about.

“I just don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself” aether mumbled, sitting closer to mist while she wrapped the small jacket around his shoulders.

“You will. One day you’ll see how bright his smile has gotten and you’ll realize it was worth it.”