#and pharos' eyes in general too

[eru-iru]

i had ryoji brainrot at 6 am and couldnt sleep

[mymp3]

wave ^_^)/ !!!! i hate to be predictable, but for the ask game - poor ryoji mochizuki ? :]c

VITY! waves back o/

Anyways here's Ryoji Mochizuki world’s most perfect boy ^_^

favorite thing about them

Where do I start. Nyx being the primordial being, God in the persona universe. All life comes from her. She’s the beginning and the end, she is death itself. Having death be put inside a small boy and his kindness and love making death want to be human itself. Wanting to repay that kindness and love, feeling guilt at the way it treated the small boy, ruining his life.

The fact that Ryoji is Death, is Thanatos, is Pharos, is Nyx. They’re all the same being. The concept and execution of that, who had no feelings either way before, being treated so kindly to the point where it takes forms this bond with P3 Hero. Protecting him from the first arcana shadow as Thanatos on the first full moon of the game. The culmination of these forms is of course Mochizuki Ryoji. Who’s become soft and sweet. He copies P3 Hero’s appearance and gender and is everything that he never knew he wanted to be.

He loves the world so much, loves humanity so much. He’s so endlessly kind and having that kindness be a direct reflection of P3 Hero makes it that much sweeter. The fact he created this form because of his desire to have it and desire to separate himself from Nyx is the sweetest thing in the world. Especially when they’re all still the same being. Ryoji just has a hard time putting that in perspective again, he doesn’t want to be that, (Evident by his dumb Ryoji phase) doesn’t want to go back to that. It’s so sweet. He’s the cutest in the world.

least favorite thing about them

I honestly don’t think I have one.

favorite line

“I know you better than anyone after all… That’s why I came back to you as Ryoji Mochizuki.” (I know this is kind of cheating. sry.)

brOTP

Him and Junpei are so good it’s unreal. Just bros being bros. They hang out, are the most frat of guys and its hilarious. But when Junpei is going through a rough time Ryoji always knows exactly what to say. I find it so sweet.

OTP

Ryomina

They are literal soulmates. They are one another. Mirror images. Love birds. Codependent cats. Made for each other in the most literal of senses. Ryoji made his form from Minato so they could spend time together. Minato taught Death kindness.

Sometimes I feel so like I’m making them up they’re so perfect.

NOTP

This is a bit odd to type out but pretty much anyone who isn’t P3 Hero with Ryoji? I see Ryoji as only being made for one person in particular, so the others just don’t appeal to me in the same way.

random headcanon

Can I cheat and put more than one. I’m gonna. These are all Ryoji post P3 unless stated otherwise.

- Ryoji going a step further and taking Minato’s hair and eye color. Draining a blue Minato used to have til his are bright and shining. The same way he absorbed his kindness.

- He is crazy codependent. Like crazy codependent. If he was able to touch Minato for a split second in November they would never be able to let go of one another. That’s why Minato had to avoid him in FES.

-He's really warm! Got that from Minato too so he's left with all the cold. Ryoji's fun to hug though :)

- Him and Minato watch over the world together in the great seal! Ryoji shares the knowledge while Minato catches up on rest and helps explain new concepts to him when he wakes up. He’s his doorman ^_^ (ha)

- He would really enjoy working retail if he ever got the shot. He loves people in general. Getting to meet them, talk to them, the whole shebang.

- He’s embarrassed of being Pharos. Like people get of old baby photos.

- Ryoji is metaphorically trans baby. Wanting to copy Minato and preferring being called Ryoji, a boy. It makes talking about Gods a bit difficult. Dysphoria and all. Poor thing experiences it in the weirdest of ways. But as Minato and Ryoji continue to be the seal, it’ll get easier.

- He likes sunrises and cheesy rom coms and fairy tales. Classic knight and princess stories. Kind of has the most normal taste ever, but a romantic at heart.

- Speaking of normal, I think “Dumb Ryoji” is a representation on what Minato would have been like if Death was never sealed inside of him. Perfect friends with all of the right people, charming, a bit of a playboy, and best friends with Junpei.

unpopular opinion

I personally don’t imagine Ryoji with a sexuality. His human form was made as a mirror to Minato, and so interacting with him throws him off course. He acts different around him, it confuses him. I don’t see anything Dumb Ryoji does as being a real representation of who Ryoji is.

song i associate with them

My Ryoji playlist is just the most cheesy songs you’ve ever heard in your life.

Anyways I guess my pick is “Rhythm Of Love" by the Plain White T's. (yeah ik. please go easy on me he's so owl city 2010's pop to me.)

favorite picture of them

i like how pouty he gets when he's upset ^_^

[houndfaker]

weird swap au infodump incoming !!!

i was slightly anxious while thinking on other characters in the swap au but given i already made the decision to be a litte Weird with it i guess it’s not too much of an issue. everythings not really a 1:1 swap

not every single character has a swap because i want to center in on the primary cast. maybe that’ll change later and we’ll get ideas for less relevant characters and how we could change them around but for now try not to expect things like idk “ikutsuki and elizabeth swap” or some scary shit like that

i am admittedly struggling with what to do w the twins (the protags are twins in this au like with every other thing i make) outside of them still having the connecting line of losing their parents to an accident on moonlight bridge. they just didn’t get death sealed in them this time. but uh hey you don’t need that to happen to you for the events to result in Deep Issues. i think there IS something interesting there in that they wind up coming back to iwatodai all those years later, and they get roped into sees because of course they do. i think it’d be interesting to explore them through the lens of being normal party members at least. the only thing is that you don’t really get a solid ‘swap’ situation with them since mitsuru maintains some of their canon qualities while still not exactly moving from her typical role as heir to the kirijo group. more on that as me and the bestie talk details over

we actually are planning some pretty fun stuff with ryoji?? the wonderful thing is that ryoji is by all intents and purposes just a normal fucking guy in this au given all the appriser stuff goes to yukari. but as a general rundown here’s what he has going on

childhood friend to the twins, loves them dearly. was very sad when they moved after the accident, and overjoyed after they transferred back.

has a younger brother named pharos:)

the mochizuki family was close with the takebas, particularly eiichiro was close with them. you can imagine where im going with this. his death was a tragedy to them, but more than anything it spurs something on in ryoji as he grows older. the alignment of the accident resulting in eiichiro's death and the death of the twins' parents occurring in such a close span of time bothers ryoji. for something that had such a massive negative impact on the lives of two people that are insanely important to him to potentially have more behind it than meets the eye, it becomes a vague obsession. which of course, eventually leads him to sees.

his role replacing yukari in this au gives him a fraught relationship w mitsuru. his distrust is very…intimidating, because it’s not nearly as outright as canon yukari’s. when he’s pointing out inconsistencies in what info mitsuru lets them have, he’s calm, sporting a smile, but emitting coldness. mitsuru herself of course isn’t Unaware of the effect the kirijo group’s work has had on him, but i think being incapable of getting a proper read on ryoji a lot of the time definitely does her no favors.

next lets talk about aigis! i had a little too much fun adapting her.

taking after canon kikuno's role, aigis was a human child sold to the kirijo group. she has a naturally-awoken persona (something something ergo research offers a higher payout to her parents because of this)

after the failure of the persona experiments resulting in strega, aigis is adopted by a handful of scientists from ergo research (this is essentially a timeline where the events of aigis the first mission dont happen, at least not the same way. i figured itd be fun to give the characters introduced in that game an active role in this au). she lives in yakushima with them.

her upbringing has left her socially awkward and distant, and trust is hard for her to fully feel. the intention on behalf of her guardians was to make sure she wouldnt have to give herself to the group as a weapon if she didnt want to, while having a family that cares for her and is able to meet her needs as someone with a very unique situation. she accompanies them if they need to do something during the dark hour because shes capable of protecting them with her persona.

aigis is still recruited to sees during the yakushima trip. a la the movie, she protects mitsuru and ryoji from a hoard of shadows after they leave the kirijo estate at night without their evokers. knowing of sees due to how long shes been in proximity to the group, she asks to be transferred into their unit so that she can help directly combat the dark hour so it wont be a danger to her family anymore. she would still very much view herself as a weapon raised by the kirijo group despite her adoptive family trying so hard to help her unlearn it. she experiences some pushback about it of course because its inadvertently feeding into something she is meant to be unlearning, but she wants strongly for it so its not like they can fully deny her.

thats everything we've got cemented so far...we still have to figure out the other members of sees that need swapping but for now you can have these doodles. a kiku + some concepts for human aigis and non-protag femc

[avampyone]

15 questions, 15 friends

Are you named after anyone? My online handle Pharos is from an old fallen angel OC I have, but don't use anymore. I enjoyed the character, so it was kind of a shout out to him!

Do you have kids? No and no intentions to have any. Though I respect people that wish to have them, it's just not for me.

What sports do you play/have played? Aside from dodge ball a few times, I've never been a sports person! Funny story though that one of my old schools wanted to force me to sign up to be a cheerleader bc they thought I was too quiet. No respect for introverts sadly.

Do you use sarcasm? Hmm, not really? I guess it just depends on the person xD.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Hmm..Probably a person's eyes and the general sort of vibe that they have.

What is your eye color? Mine are blue/green hazel.

Scary movies or happy endings? I enjoy both! It just depends on my mood. Scary movies during the Halloween season are a definite must though.

Any talents? I'm good at sewing and some crafting. I used to cosplay a lot and still do sometimes with friends! I enjoy going out to dance (mostly goth clubs) for fun a lot and one of the things I'm more confident in doing. I'm not good at drawing, but I wish I was!

Where were you born? Texas

What are your hobbies? video games, cosplay, sewing, going out to dance, role play, writing sometimes, going to concerts/music festivals.

Do you have any pets? No, sadly. I lost my cat Yuki back in Oct and was a very difficult time. It may take me some time before I adopt any more.

How tall are you? tall! I'm 5'10

Favourite subject in school? I liked science the best, astronomy and archaeology.

Dream job? I wanted to be a vet when I was little, but no way I could have handled it. To have a good paying job in something I don't hate with coworkers that aren't jerks is good enough for me lol

Thank you for the tag @corsair-kovacs !

I tag anyone who feels up to filling this out and please feel free to! :D

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #22: Second Verse, Same as the First

Prompt: veracity || Master Post || On AO3

It wasn’t often that Synnove worked herself up into a good and proper lather, but her teeth-grinding had been audible when Alakhai and Rereha had collected her from Mealvaan’s Gate. The Xaela and the Dunesfolk had exchanged a quick glance and by silent agreement, once they had ordered their food, settled back and just let Synnove rant.

“—absolute bass ackwards logic,” the Highlander growled, stopping only to shove her arepa into her mouth and tear off a large bite of cornmeal cake, this one stuffed with black beans, cheese, and braised buffalo meat, and chewed angrily.

Alakhai refilled her glass of tizana from the communal pitcher the waitress had brought them and took a sip of the fruit punch concoction, slurping up a free-floating piece of mango, too. This little café started up by a family from the southern continent of the New World had quickly become a favorite in Limsa Lominsa, and every table inside and out on the boardwalk was packed. The din was incredible, and was about the only reason Synnove wasn’t attracting attention with her vitriol.

Rereha plucked an arepa filled with pear alligator, fried plaintains, and stewed dodo meat from the platter—her third one of the meal, the lalafell delicately devouring the arepa with the long practice of someone used to eating potentially messy food without spilling anything—and said, with faux innocence, “What about it is so bass ackwards?”

Alakhai rolled her eyes; Synnove had her head down and couldn’t see her, but Rere did, and the bard shot her a winning smile, teeth sparkling white against her dark brown skin.

Their sister snarled, choked, and stopped to finish chewing and then swallowed. Alakhai and Rere refrained pointing and laughing. Barely.

Mouth no longer full, Synnove said, “He doesn’t want to continue with the project because he thinks there’s enough data, which boggles my mind because more data is always useful, and I’ve been happily signing off on the funding for the aetherophysics portion since they kicked me upstairs. Fucking Ul’dahns, the University is just pure trash outside the literature and architecture departments, not sorry, Rere.”

The lalafell shrugged. “You aren’t wrong.”

Alakhai blinked. “The corrupted aether project?” she said slowly.

“The one studying the long-term effects of the Calamity?” Rereha added, just as baffled.

“The one that’s only been collecting data for five years?”

“Because it took five years just to build all the equipment?”

“Yes,” Synnove hissed, malevolence coating the word so thickly it nearly had tangible weight.

Alakhai and Rereha exchanged looks.

“Which is the stupidest shite I’ve ever heard,” Synnove said, green eyes flashing with rage. “This is the kind of project that’s going to take decades before we can make any kind of statement about environmental effects, never mind the ones on people, and what data we do have is pointing to there being no neat and tidy equitable range of factors.”

The Highlander began ticking off on her fingers: “The East Shroud was fairly annihilated by the Calamity, but Stillglade Fane’s reports over the years is showing stabilizing and reversal, there’s a chance they might be able to jumpstart replanting the forest within the next few years.

“The Agelyss Wise outcroppings don’t seem to be doing anything; current hypothesis is that the fragment of Dalamud lodged in there may be why, but the East Shroud is littered with them. The huge corrupted spikes in Pharos Sirius seem to be corroding, and there’s a huge expanse on the north slope of U’Ghamaro that the kobolds report has shrunk considerably since the Calamity.”

A third finger: “Thalana’s a mess. The Burning Wall may be something we have to actively dismantle, there’s a population of quartz doblyns where we’re beginning to see mutations every generation, that’s up from every third generation in the Calamity’s immediate aftermath, and the flora’s crystallizing. And that isn’t taking into account some of the illnesses being reported out of the nearby villages.”

A frown had crossed Rere’s face at that, and she set down her arepa to tug at her pink-and-white braids in her typical I’m thinking really hard right now pose.

Synnove ticked out a fourth finger: “Dalamud’s Talons in Northern Thanalan? Expanding. I don’t need to tell you two what an encouragement like that could do to the ceruleum fields, we need to know how fast it’s happening in order to start the clean up.”

Rereha’s frown deepened, and Alakhai nudged her sister’s ankle with her foot. Synnove snapped her mouth closed and glanced at Alakhai, then at Rere when Alakhai gestured to the lalafell.

“What’s this guy’s family name again?” Rereha said.

“Allond.”

“And just when did you get those latest reports from Eastern and Northern Thanalan?”

Synnove stared at her sister, her expression fading into the terrifyingly blank mask that once had Gaius Baelsar cautiously ease out of her line of sight during the Werlyt mess, and currently had Alakhai scooching her chair further away from her. Finally, the arcanist said, “They were the last reports the project received, a fortnight ago.”

“The Allonds intermarry quite a bit with the Whites,” Rereha said slowly, “and the Whites are—”

“—notoriously stingy and in possession of a reputation of wringing every last drop of gil from their lands they can and damn everyone else,” Synnove finished, voice deathly quiet, hands clutching the edge of the table.

Alakhai wondered whose head would roll first.

“And guess who owns a nice chunk of land out in Eastern Thanalan on which a number of tenant farmers reside, and recently purchased stock in the Amajina & Sons ceruleum operation?”

The wood beneath Synnove’s hands creaked ominously, and then Synnove shoved her chair back and stood up. “I need to go raise hell with Thubyrgeim and the Admiral,” she said.

“Have fun!” Rereha said, beaming a very evil smile. “I’ll give Lilira a warning ping you’re going to be descending on her.”

“She enjoys ripping up the Monetarists anyway,” Alakhai murmured.

Synnove grunted an agreement, dropped a handful of gil on the table to cover her third of the bill, and grabbed an arepa on her way out of the café. She must have put her murder face on once her back was turned, because the crowd cleared a path for her immediately.

“Truth over solace in lies,” the bard said cheerfully, stuffing her face anew with her arepa.

Alakhai raised her eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Eh, nothing,” Rere said around her mouthful. “Just the bard brain making pretty phrases. Pour me a refill on the tizana, please?”

PREVIOUS PROMPT || NEXT PROMPT

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Love in a Fiery Place or Hot and Bothered

Summery: Lisa tries matchmaking. Never let her matchmake. See my (shamlessly self promoted) other fic, Just like Fire, for who the heck Volcana is.

It's been months since Lisa had seen her brother or Mick ever since they went on their time travel, earth saving mission and she was bored.

Sure she had pulled off her share of heists and gone on a few dates with her favorite, babbling engineer but jewelry and sex had it's perks for so long. Especially with Cisco having a job.

She really needed a hobby, but one evening after too much beer and watching Love Actually on Netflix she thought of a brillant idea.

Matchmaking! 

She could matchmake someone she knew and watch them act all blushy and idiotic. It would be definitely entertaining.

She could match up her brother, but Lenny would never go for it. Besides she couldn't exactly see her brother in an attractive way. The guy made cold puns and read Kant during his spare time. Who would go for such a nerd like that!

But Mick. Mick was an equally challenging prospect with his unhealthy obsession with fire, alcoholic tendencies and general unpredictablness. But there were lots of the pyros in the world, she just had to find one who would be willing to date him.

Unfortunately that was a lot harder than she thought.

After checking most dating sites, she found that most Pharos were either dead, in jail, old or jailbait or that they weren't super into it. Just a few trash can fires.

She needed someone who would be just as willing to burn a building down.

So she had to up the search a notch. And what better way was to hack into S.T.A.R. Labs. More specifically, Cisco accessing into S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Please..." Lisa pouted. 

"No no no. I'm not helping you find MICK of all people a date,” Cisco protested.

"Why not? Don't you believe in love conquers all? You redeemed me,” Lisa purred. 

"Hardly." Cisco snorted. 

"Very true, my corrupt little scientist," Lisa smiled, leaning over his chair and basically falling into his lap. "But love could get him off the crime paths he's been on.” 

"Then he can fall in love with a psychiatrist. Putting him with another pyro will only cause more crime." Cisco stammered as Lisa caressed his long hair

"Pyros can handle pyros. Psychiatrists are suicidal and it won't do any good if the girl dies of fear after two dates." Lisa pouted again, bringing her lips closer to his, ending with a nice smoldering kiss.

Plus three more after that.

"Umm what we're talking about?" Cisco asked dazedly coming up for air

"Files. I'm not going to let this go Cisco. I always get what I want,”  Lisa smirked

Cisco paused, "If I do this, I'M choosing the movie and the restaurant for our date."

"Fine! We'll go to that disco bar." Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Alright!" Cisco started humming Bees Gees as he typed away on the computer for pyro meta criminals.

"There's none. That's impossible. There really aren't ANY pyros in Central City besides Mick?l Lisa cried

"Guess they didn't want to steal his gimmick," Cisco shrugged, looking relieved

"Do you think there are any in the Starling city?" She asked "Don't know, it's more mercenary and assassins then metas." He answered

"Maybe there are fire aliens?" Lisa thought out-loud, 

"Only Earth 3,” Cisco shook his head.

"Earth Three?" Lisa froze. 

"Shit!” Cisco eyes widened "No, no, no. That's just some crazy dream I had. There's no such thing as Earth Three is like there being Earth Two. Totally stupid" Cisco babbled

"Take me." Lisa demanded Cisco started taking off his shirt.

"I like how your mind works. But no. Take me to Earth Three. Tell me all about it. Are there really such things as fire aliens?" Cisco groaned

"I'll do it myself. You know I will. So you can come help or I'll trash this place doing it myself" Lisa insisted

"We are so lucky that Caitlin and Flash are out today" Cisco groaned again "Yaaas"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They had entered to Earth Three just as Supergirl finished saving a bus full of children. Once the reporters left, Cisco introduced himself and her as friends of the Flash. Lisa explained her mission to help Mick find love. 

Supergirl had been just as convinced as Cisco at the idea that love redeems but with a lot of wheedling and encouragement about second chances, Supergirl had allowed the idea of helping them.

"I think I know the girl perfect for Mick" Supergirl explained enthusiastically as they walked to the government building, DEO. "Claire Selton, code name Volcana. Born with pyrokenesis and trained to be a weapon by the government. She went rouge on them and used her powers to steal and cause crime. Superman had to put her on a deserted island in hopes not to harm any more civilians. But stay here. I'll be back soon." She left them in a plain white room, suitable for a noir style interrogation scene and waited. Five minutes later, Supergirl was back with a young thirty year old. The girl in question had long flaming orange hair that reached to her ankles in a messy braid. Her tan skin glowed brightly against her white bikini, her ambers eyes sparked with confusion and annoyance.

"No" Claire hissed, sitting down on the table. Lisa noted with��pleasure that the metal table steamed and let out drifts of smoke when Claire touched it.

"No what?" Cisco asked.  "Supey told me what you want. My answer is no. I am not going to a totally different Earth for a guy I never even met. What is this? 1689? Supergirl take me back to the island I am missing my afternoon tanning" she demanded. "Oh oh well that's understandable but did Supergirl mention that this guy has a heat gun that radiates about 220 tons of fire power in a single shot" Lisa rattled off.  "It's 225 tons of fire power btw. Plus how many guys here can say they burned a house for the sake of watching it burn" Cisco added.  "And he's been practicing flame swallowing,” Lisa added.  "Claire.." Supergirl started calmly.  "It's Volcana to you.” Claire scowled.

"Volcana. You're not going to get married to him. Just one date and if you don't like it you can come back here. Besides aren't you tired of being alone in your little island?"

"I wouldn't be there if it weren't for you!" Volcana shot back.

"You were hurting innocent people!" Supergirl retorted.

"Well those "innocent people" we're hurting me. I didn't want to be a weapon but you all treat me like a bad guy because I am what I am.” Volcana ranted, flames suddenly burst from her hands.

Lisa and Cisco jumped back and Supergirl put on a defensive stance.  "And he will love you for it" Lisa put in.

"We have a lot of metas. They get what it's like to be used for their powers. Now Mick will get you even more because he understands how pretty the flames are. It doesn't have to be a date, just two adults talking, fellow pyro to pyro." Cisco said

Claire glared at them in silence, contemplating. "Fine, only for the sake of watching something burn."

The three nodded eagerly at each other. --------------------------------------------------------------- Claire changed into a more appropriate outfit of red leather top and black leather pants with combat boots as they left Smallville.

"Good luck," Supergirl gave a tentative thumbs up and left.

As the three went through the portal, Lisa interrogated Claire and was pleased to find out that she and Mick had a lot in common. Love of alcohol, way too graphic descriptions of explosions and fiery deaths, and had no filter when it came to humor.

"They are practically soul mates!" Lisa whispered giddily in Cisco's ear as they left the Earth One S.T.A.R. labs to Mick's abandoned apartment.

"Oh joy," Cisco muttered sarcastically. --------------------------------------------------------- Cisco had left immediately, stating he didn't want there as a witnesses for future villainy. 

Lisa settled Claire to the guest room of the apartment and waited for the boys to arrive. Claire had gotten bored so she sat down, turned on the oven and stared. Another pastime she shared with Mick. Lisa swore her face was going to break open if she smiled anymore. 

Oh this was going to be so good, and if it ended badly damn it was going to be more entertaining than the firework bomb Mick had set up for April Fool's Day. Leonard and Mick arrived at 7 pm. They didn't say anything about where they had been, they were just so exhausted and about to fall asleep but Lisa insisted on keeping Mick awake, slapping his cheek the whole time as he walked to the kitchen. 

"What do you want?" Mick scowled, shoving her hand away from his face.  "I'm about to change your life, Mick this is Claire" Lisa introduced "Claire this is Mick.” 

Leonard gave a questioning look to her but she just grinned. 

"Oh you gotta be kidding me. Look however she suckered you into this I'm not interested. Leave." Mick instructed Claire.

"Aren't you a charmer? I've seen midgets more handsome than you" Claire spat. 

"She's a pyro. Claire, show him" Lisa said.  Claire sighed but showed off anyway by blowing a kiss as her hand spouted fire like a dragon. "Where's smoke, there's flame. That's me. Volcana" Mick just stared in awe. 

"Heatwave" he lifted the gun from his belt, "Do that again, I need to try something.” 

Volcana complied, Mick shot his gun at the same time and it set the table on fire, and quickly spread to the oven. 

"Holy Shit!" Lisa screeched and grabbed the fire extinguisher taped to the door for emergencies like this, spraying it everywhere. 

"What the hell are you two doing" Leonard yelled but the two heat villains ignored. 

"Volcana huh?" Mick grinned maniacally, leaning against the charred table. "I like your heat gun. Sure could have used it on those cold Metropolis nights" Volcana flirted back, staring up at Mick. "I'll leave you to it. C'mon Lenny," Lisa shoved Leonard out the door. When she stopped by the apartment to drop off a six pack and to get her golden bra for her date with Cisco, she saw the living room an absolute mess with scorch marks in random places, a torched smoke detector on the ground, pile of clothes and the smell of smoke in Mick's room. 

She was good. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- The following weeks just reeked of success. Claire stopped by the apartment regularly. There was a new headline everyday as the couple started fires and explosions around Central City for their dates, and Lisa had overheard their nicknames for each other. Fireball and Spitfire. 

Since it went so well she was even thinking of setting up the other Rogues like Trickster II. Maybe with some Metahumans that Cisco watched like Peek a Boo. She was once again considering setting up her brother but she had pick pocketed his phone earlier and saw that he seemed to have sort of "thing" with White Canary from his Legends team. Which prompted her to stalk any information about Sara. Purely for research, not that she wasn't worried about him getting hurt. Please Len was way too cautious for that to happen. 

At the same time the success of her match had come with a price. Due to their fire kink, the two had burned Mick's room, her room, the guest room, the living room and the kitchen was beyond repair. 

She had to crash at Cisco's place which was nice, but Leonard came also because his cold gun was in the threat of being torched at any second. Nor could he get any piece of quiet with the all the fire puns. "Not fun to hear them," Lisa taunted. 

"That's different. Mine are clever. Theirs are just about fire and sex. Some things I do NOT need to know about my partner." "Thanks for the nightmares," Lisa sighed as a "lovely" mental image entered her head. With them crashing at Cisco's place, Leonard resigned to glaring from the love seat while she and Cisco were on the couch. It was not helping date night. So it was up to her to save the apartment. 

She had entered the apartment expecting another scene of quite literal hot love but found more burning rage.

"You are weak!!!" Claire screamed, "You don't even have pyrokensis you just have a gun huh. I can start a fire whenever I want! You are nothing!" "You're just a hypocrite! Oh the government just wanted to use me" Mick mocked with a falsetto "Screw that. You're just as selfish as me. You just use your powers for petty thief but you could be better, so YOU ARE WEAK!" 

"You have nothing. No brains, no strength and yet you think the world would bow to your awesomeness. And you are the most impulsive idiot I ever met. You just forge along with no regard for logic or what we are suppose to be doing on our date. Honestly what am I suppose to do with you, tell me!" "You think you're so hot. Well I'm hotter, hotter than Cold." Mick sneered.

"I thought you didn't care about that!" Claire protested.

"In the middle of sex, yeah I do." Mick retorted.  "Well the TV was on, I happened to mention he was cute get over it!" 

Lisa cringed, ewwww!

"You also said the same about the police officer, Scarlet, the bartender..." 

"You are just jealous." Claire scoffed.

"JEALOUS! I'll freeze your ass in a place where fires die!" A loud crash sounded through the apartment followed by a explosion. 

Lisa scrambled out of the apartment and never looked back. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- After that incident, Lisa rationalize it was a natural lovers quarrel and that the two would work it out, therefore there was no need to tell anyone. That because of her honest assumption it was a lover's quarrel or her pride not letting her admit that her match might not have been as successful, it was up to anyone's guess but a phone call three days later confirmed the worst case scenario. 

It was the middle of the day and Lisa was online shopping using the money she stole from a heist earlier that month when Cisco called.

"Lisa, have Mick and Claire been having any trouble that you know of? Any that you feel like warning us about?" Cisco asked, calmly with a slight edge that gave Lisa a sinking feeling. Best to play it dumb.

"Uh just some spats but you know. Couples fight, they fight. Why do you ask?" Lisa chirped. 

"Well you should know that you're little pet project has gone up in flames." Lisa rolled her eyes. Wonder how long he was waiting to use that pun? "Heatwave was stealing from the Central City bank when Volcana stopped by, something about how "she was better than him" and was trying to one-up his heist. Thankfully we were able subdue them both. Mick's back with the Legends and Claire was sent back to Earth Three. No one knows she came from Earth Three except you, me and the Flash. You and I are the only ones that know how she actually got here." 

"All's well that ends well," Lisa weakly smiled.  She could just feel him glare through the phone. "We're going to talk when I get home." ---------------------------------------------------------------- "So what are we not doing?" Cisco asked pacing in front of her as she sat on his couch. 

"Match making Mick with a pyro." Lisa muttered.  "And...." 

"Match making Mick with anyone." 

"And...." 

"Match making in general." "Ever.” Cisco said.  "Ever," Lisa repeated. 

[elitemarketingpro5-blog]

The actual Network Marketing Solution?

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Careers, task opportunities, vocations, and ministry are all ways in which we because individuals search for personal satisfaction. All of these are productive pursuits in which we can apply each of our talents interest and passion. Throughout society today, the purpose of spending yourself to a job, career involving vocation has been misrepresented.

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It is just a common response when you request some one why they are within a particular job, or have a precise career, that their alternative was because of money. Men and women find jobs they similar to for money, and people stay in work they don't like for money.

A lot of who propel their life with this ideology find a useless in their lives. Money is a superb way to measure the value a person generate to society nevertheless is not an end in itself.

Dollars is just a tool used for testing the amount of value you provide peoples lives. As a small business owner you can generate value for your consumers by offering them solutions to their very own problems while building residential areas of dedicated professionals.

You can actually see why business owners make a bundle, because they bring a lot of price to those around them.

Solving the condition of discontent or displeasure with your job or occupation could be as simple as redefining what you do or you can look for personalized fulfillment in something else.

A single common mistake people accomplish when searching for professional fulfillment is self employed. When you become small you are your own accountant, director, labor, customer service, sales office, loss prevention, and legal professional in some cases.

People go in company for the love of the assistance and value offered to some others, not necessarily for the love of the paperwork involved with it.

There is a answer for those looking for personal gratification that does not involve the expense of buying, starting or running a traditional business.

The solution permits you to focus your time and energy on what is very important and that's generating valuation for people, without having to worry about all of the overhead.

Does this sound way too good to be true?

It certainly is not and the solution has really helped millions in many different kinds.

The solution is Network Marketing.

Precisely why Network Marketing? - Network Marketing is promoting into a billion dollar business since its humble beginnings within the 1950's. Amway and Avon, together, are worth virtually 20 billion dollars and many more companies gross between 700 million and a billion money yearly as we speak. The reason is not necessarily simple but can be categorised.

First and most superficially, the company model makes sense and this could be the first reason why Network Marketing performs. Why Network Marketing works is because of Network Marketing companies cut out each of the advertising and offer the people mentioning their product or service the money alternatively.

Simple enough right? I mean, the regular corporate companies throw up huge amounts of money in the air (in forms of as well as middle man costs) and anticipate that it will rain down customers. Performs this work, OF COURSE! But probably would not you rather have a chance to earn cash doing something you are going to complete anyways, which is refer something!

Isn't it human nature to relate something when it is good? SURE! Isn't it conscientious for the company to offer you money just for this? YES! And that's why Network Marketing can be a solution for many problems! Aside from, how many people know about the gecko that offers car insurance and don't get his insurance?

The second good reason that Network Marketing works is a little greater. People throw money apart in afflictions for the purpose of becoming a part of something, or obtaining something to talk about with their associates.

Seldom is the opportunity wherever their much adored ailment pays them with something aside from a good way to pass the time that is certainly usually only where playing is legal.

When people are generally introduced to the Network Marketing chance either they see that the business enterprise model makes sense or that they join for this second explanation.

They see an environment just where goal oriented professionals satisfy and celebrate communion inside a healthy positive and high energy environment with the plus area of being able to make an further buck. While many people expend most of their day at a position with only evening television set programming to look forward to, Multilevel marketing offers people the opportunity to make, meet and celebrate lifestyle with friends while creating more friends and producing an extra buck!

The Third the reason why Network Marketing works is because really based on a social wave dating back to ancient times. The particular wisdom of our fore daddies still resonate in the traditions of Network Marketing, as they speech words of liberation on the list of oppressed and those subjugated by simply Pharos, Cesar's other lord kings and their governments. That they spoke their wise phrases which has at the heart of the meaning the UNMEASURABLE VALUE OF ANYBODY and sent out the separated with the words, "go out and make disciples of the world" and so two by 2, they went out and their issuing message is carried out by individuals still committed to this vision.

This is why Network Marketing works.

Some sort of mission that speaks on the person and tells him/her that their is no reason you should feel like you aren't are generally be fulfilled as a individual. People are attracted to Network Marketing given that they feel encouraged by, not simply the message, but with the example leaders in the industry display in service of one another.

Multi-level marketing offers, without regards on their race, color, creed, nationality or economic situation, the opportunity to obtain their dreams through a motor vehicle that is meant to provide the monetary means and the personal expansion for an equal platform for all of us.

This opportunity and its strategy attracts the most committed as well as sincere servers of humankind. The leaders and control of the many Network Marketing companies are absolutely committed to the success of the testers that marry their lifestyles and dreams to the market.

Is there bad people out there profiting from others that make people inquire why Network Marketing has a awful rep? Yes.

Is just about any industry, charity or corporation free of rotten apples? ZERO!

The reason why Network Marketing has a undesirable reputation is far from purpose and is nowhere close to truth.

The bursting of the real estate property bubble and the victimizing on the subprime markets by loan companies is exponentially a whole lot worse than all lawsuits in any Network Marketing history put together. Precisely what Bernie Madoff did inside the securities industry is greatly worse than any poor rumor about why Multi level marketing has a bad reputation. As a former in the construction industry more than half my life and all what exactly I've seen makes Internet marketing seem like Zion.

- The complexities for these problems eludes to your greater cultural problem a large number of Network Marketing companies are dedicated to resolve through responsible consumerism.

Why then Network Marketing has a bad standing? I can't be sure but I am able to give a pretty good idea. It can be because its unconventional. It can weird for people to see a whole lot positivity and generosity.

Is actually weird for people so dependant upon their jobs for economic security and only have their careers to fall back about (so much for security) to see that others are daring enough to live and struggle and hurt for a wish or a purpose.

It's odd to many that so many people are certain to get together and cheer an individual on that isn't wearing the football helmet.

Misery likes company and when you are in the clouds some one on earth is eager to grab for your leg and get you down with them.

The many bad news about Network Marketing depends upon rumors of a lawsuit or possibly a cousin that lost the shirt because of a company. Normally are not there lawsuits in any enterprise? You should be afraid if you was to here that there is no such thing since lawsuits in Network Marketing. Would you want to sue somebody who have doesn't make any money?

Multilevel marketing will continue to grow and also flourish as more item companies find that leveraging men and women and their relationships at a talk about in the profit is the best approach to establish their brand, specially with the availability of social media containing refined free advertising.

Being a manufacturer, would you like to pay $1,000,000 in media and promotion for the chance of getting buyers or would you rather shell out a commission for every product or service sold without having to gamble using your money? Yes, a pet bird in the hand beats a couple of in the bush. And this is why Multi-level marketing is so attractive to many businesses.

Not all Network Marketing companies provide you the same opportunity. Some present massive bonus' for hiring and sell you the dream of eventually having enough residual level in your organization to be able to be given a worthy retirement. Network Marketing businesses that serve this type are companies that offer telephony or energy services.

The causes most in those organizations don't ever make anything is because there is very little continuing paid out and qualifying for your small percentage is challenging in those companies. rapid the lure of people acquiring paid for something they are going to perform anyways, which is pay any bill, does not stand in the eye of reality when When you qualify for the residual, it is nickels that are being paid out.

Other companies give a product through a binary payment plan which is great for specialized recruiters and marketers but it really is very difficult for your average person to make a buck.

The most successful companies offer the personal growth and an environment that allows you to have great results, probably not in the Network Marketing firm you are in but through the connection with those involved in your corporation you become a better professional and even more effective as a person. This kind of takes years of building along with growing with those in the organization.

Every rare from time to time there comes along an opportunity with the obligation product, right direction, appropriate ideals, and the right settlement plan that shows what exactly the ownership is contemplating. These opportunities are several and timing is important. So the famous saying moves, the t in moment is bigger than the testosterone levels in talent.

The real possibility is when a company is usually conscientious about their reps regarding the message about supplying everybody a chance.

A company who may have a real product that provides a true service of real worth, and a compensation plan that is certainly transparent enough that it will give you a clear idea of what the control is thinking.

A company which offers you all the educational for you to refine yourself as a particular person while paying you that which you deserved for the time an individual dedicate representing them in addition to living their opportunity.

[rasenkaikyo]

Hina’s Twitter #DailyHeadcanons (thus far)

If you’ve been tracking my Twitter you have probably seen me attempting to put out various headcanons per day for my OCs, and catching up on days where I don’t. Most of them have been about Hinako. Here are all of those to current, including those from a “1 like = 1 headcanon” thread a while back (Thanks again to everyone who contributed to that with a like!).

Hinako is effectively a secular geomancer, as her art has the similar structure but the foundation of different pretenses oriented about the importance of kami.

Because the kami manifest in any aspect of nature, from the rocks to every living individual, the use earth wind and water are construed to be pure, positive manifestations of kami essence, hence their extensive use in shinkan healing, sealing and purging.

Shinkan principle also includes the light of kami, the purported manifestation of soul, which bears resemblance to white magic of the west. Some of the more potent spells, however, extrapolate from one's self more than the latent aether around them, in accordance with soul.

Hinako bears a soul crystal that has long been shared among kannushi of her former temple. It appears as a magatama made of jade.

The shakujo Masakaki, validated in the lorebook in its use originally as a ritual stand, is standard for the temple priests that become shinkan. In their case it became a signature aid only after the priests adopted a versatile field-based approach.

Spells, too, evolved as priests took a more active role beyond their normal bounds, whereas originally such cants were usually full blown norito - prayers of testament to the kami. Hinako recites norito and meditates daily to steel herself in advance.

Hinako's bloodline is a Hingan clan that began as naught more than dairy farmers in the north end of Koshu, rising to status of preeminent warriors to protect their land during the Age of Blood. Pragmatically they allied with the Mitsurugi clan at war's end and remain prominent.

Hinako can detect differences in the flow of aether and by extension any atypical and anomalous areas. Especially where the veil is thin or where something might be lurking, she can manipulate natural energies to pull out what is hiding behind the veil or even open gateways.

Yukai, the Hidden World, is the eminent alternate facet of reality overlapping the known world, where the supernatural can hide or cross over - from yokai to voidsent to the spirits of Reikai and the kami of Shinkai. It is also the most viable one within reach of Hina's magic.

Hinako's equivalent of Holy is the norito-koto Mabataki, an emergency purifying technique described as a projection of the user's spirit, a single blinking eye of the kami making its victims flinch. Its greater counterpart, combining latent aether, is Qi Release: Tenbatsutekimen.

A big influence to Hina of late has been Saint Martha from Fate, due to her voice HC being Hayami Saori. It works well with Hina, as she is of staunch discipline but it hasn't always been that way. Her strength lends both to her constitution and her potential to deck you.

One of Hinako's mother Honoka's favorite things to do was make jewelry out of flowers preserved in resin. She gave these delicate lucky charms in some form to all the important people in her life: chiefly, her brother Yoshichika, her husband Katanobu, and her first child Hina.

Iwa-no-Sato, Hinako's home village, was reputable in a few ways, but the strangest thing it was notable for were the numerous tapirs that dwelled in and around the village and temple; the result of a foreign trader's misfortune and several of the non-native animals escaping.

Iwa-no-Sato, once a lively hub between regions of Othard, has since been abandoned when the 12th Legion made a sweeping effort to eradicate pocket cells of the Resistance after Doma's razing. Its tenkonto has been destroyed and its falcon porter displaced.

As described in roleplay with Tola, Yugiri's refugee convoy was not immediately turned away from Hingashi, but given temporary respite in Kugane while pleas of asylum were attempted to the island chain and at the Thavnairian Consulate.

Hinako has a way of conveying her general intentions without uttering a word, in a similar manner to the Qestir, to those with whom she has formed a bond. Perhaps the most intrinsic, complete link of this sort has been made with Mozu.

Hinako didn't initially take up her priest discipline with grace as a child. She was stubborn and reckless and blamed Granddad for her parents leaving them.

She kinda Didn't Understand and Morimoto wasn't the best teacher for her from an emotional point. Although she is far more cool and composed now, occasionally she can still be a little... snappy.

During her training, Hinako was taught in martial arts and swordsmanship not just for the skill, but for the principles in the art meant to bolster the mind, body and spirit. Methods of precision and awareness would be carried on in her strength as a priest.

One treasure of the Daigo clan is Dojigiri, a katana of mythic quality carried in the family for ages and supposedly once wielded by Morimoto himself. It was named for having slain an oni in legend; stained with the demon's blood, the blade gained a fiery glow.

The existence of aramitama and nigimitama are important concepts in Hinako's belief. They are considered facets of the spirit endemic to all souls, including two additional 'hidden' facets. Maintaining a sense of balance is key to Hinako's regular meditation.

As countering excess aramitama with force is one means to dispel it, Hinako has proposed friendly 'healthy' sparring with Mozu, with a degree of mutual benefit - placing faith not in that Mozu couldn't kill her but she can take anything Mozu delivers regardless.

There are ritual ways to let one's aramitama pour out or boil over to see release. These methods are naturally considered quite dangerous as they often see the subject in a berserk state for the duration of release.

"Yuniwa" is the term the shrine priests have given to similar principles Asylum and Sacred Soil; a section of purified earth with the original purpose of helping connect with kami, it encourages healing the body and spirit.

The ancestry of Hinako's profession can be traced to early geomancers, Auri shamans from the north, and Raen priests from the Ruby Sea - the latter carrying principles of Kojin magic and religion.

Hinako regularly commits a part of her prayers to her girlfriend, bidding the kami to ever watch over her. She also always sends a small prayer in Susano or Byakko's name whenever she sees a thunderstorm, be it overhead or looming majestically in the distance.

Subtly tied around near the base of Hinako's right horn is what seems to be a single little flower-shaped ornament, not dissimilar to the blossoms that she at times wears on her head or as a necklace. This is in fact her linkpearl.

My timeless #DailyHeadcanon is one that spawned when @catearenthusiast​ took a candid shot of Hina from behind a cake, it was decided that after Hinako had tried cake for the first time while in Eorzea she has been enamored with the decadence and artistry of cakes ever since.

Hinako has a comprehensive understanding of tending to plants for it was important to take care of the sacred trees in and around the shrine, like the 'sakaki', but there have been times where she would plant new flowers and the like in areas for the beauty of it.

Hinako is known to have been bold and spirited from a young age. Occasionally she would steal away with her longtime friend Mine and peruse the vibrant streets of Doma proper, enjoying the myriad food and craft stands.

In the end, the truest form of soul is pure and good; there is no 'evil' in Hina's belief, only that which has been tainted along the way. It is for this reason that she gives a prayer to any life lost in this world regardless of circumstance, including Imperial Garleans.

Hinako has not just a perception of one's individual aether up close, but of the "current" or distribution of aether over a broader range, which allows her to head to general points of interest. Of course, she cannot pinpoint exact spots from too far a distance.

While she is very cognizant of large areas of instability, like constant ones such as the crystal embedded in Pharos Sirius or the entire region of Mor Dhona, or something as drastic as a primal summoning, more centralized forms of corruption are a harder read from malms away.

It is believed that in the beginning of days, the great kami walked freely in the Natural World. Things changed over time, however, and eventually the kami could only hold a more subtle or latent presence without being a detriment to the land and qi around them.

Of Hinako's spiritual awareness, arguably nowhere is as potent a place to be than in the Black Shroud. The uniquely teeming nature of the "kami" there leaves the priestess particularly keen about her surroundings unlike any other location she has known.

Hinako regularly forwards the large part of her earnings in tending to property or for others' benefit, at times to the point where she barely has any money for herself. Seeing that she's not one to ask for favors, Mozu (or Mine) tends to treat her on worse days.

Hinako occasionally indulges herself in tea ceremonies, and in the beginning Mozu would merely watch from afar, then later be encouraged to partake herself. The first time Hina did it with Mozu after Doma's liberation, they finished it with a kiss. uwu

Hinako dresses fairly straight-forward as a priest, but she's fond of pretty kimonos and dresses with brighter tones or soft pastels. She would have gone and perused Doman vendors for such, and such went into the dress she took up after starting out in Eorzea.

Aside from her flowery preferences, she may have also chosen to somewhat invoke the spirit of a journeying summoner from Far Eastern lore of ages past...

During her initial Eorzean travels, Hinako happened upon the shop of an Ala Mhigan pâtissier. Beholding the immaculate confections, she just had to purchase a piece of cake. She has loved the dessert since. (xoxo @kukurubean )

On some days when Mozu is gone for a mission, Hinako will kinda just... try on Mozu's kimonos and gear, and walk about or exercise in them. She also times this in ways where she'll show up in Mozu's gilet at 893 HQ, mostly for sake of reactions (esp. from Kiri).

Erring away from the somber epithet Hōzuki, Hinako has come to give Mozu an occasional nickname of her own: "Suzume", literally sparrow, drawing from themes of her family. She will endearingly call her girlfriend her "little sparrow" as well.

Suzu is a logical shortening of this also.

Following the apropos advice of a Valentione's Day fortune-teller, Hina's idea of making the most of the day was to take Mozu into the scenic Yanxian peaks, just as Honoka did with her as a child. She could scarce think of anyone better to share the view with.

Hinako's Magatama, her soul crystal, is regularly attached to a rosary (juzu) firmly wrapped around a band on her arm, and comes into play in various practices. Such use was adapted mainly from ascetic monks in the region. 

Against Mozu's swifter and precise methods, Hinako was taught to "stand with the might of the mountain kami" around her, firm and strong. It is for this reason that she is more durable than she appears, and capable of hauling a grown Auri man pretty easily.

The priests of Iwa often worked afield when called to task for their cleansing and purification rituals -- which due to the potential unknowns, the invisible threat, meant the necessary garb of Doman iron plate armor and underlying chain mail.

As a child, Hinako would engage with other kids in staging elaborate, jidaigeki or chanbara-coded pretend play, in which almost every time Hina herself was a samurai warrior - doubtlessly inspired by her father and grandfather.

Although she would now downplay her capability for physical combat and err away from violence, perhaps it isn't so farfetched that she took to learning the sword.

🌸🌸🌸

[kasunex]

“I Choose this Fate of My Own Free Will” - What Persona 3 Means to Me

As a forward, I decided to write this post after finishing my fifth replay of Persona 3. I didn't want to go too in-depth, but rather to focus on what particularly stood out to me as the most important elements: gameplay, design, and story synchronization, and the characters of Makoto, Aigis, Junpei, Chidori, Takaya, and Shinjiro. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!

Persona 3 is a game unlike any other that I have ever played. When I began it for the first time on December 25th, 2012, I was in a pit of confusion and fear, struggling with abuse, isolation, depression, and anxiety. By the time I finished the game, on January 2nd, 2013, I was overwhelmed with emotions that would bring about the biggest change in the way I see the world any work of fiction has ever led me to. Even six years later, when so much media is unable to elicit response from me, it’s Persona 3 that drives me to tears again and again.

At first glace, Persona 3 wouldn’t seem much more than an edgy escapist experience for nihilistic teenagers. The emo design of the protagonist, the often rude and even callous dialogue options, the coffins, and most notably, the mock suicide used by the characters to fight. Yet, this initial impression hides behind it a genuinely heartfelt and anti-nihilistic message, hinted at from the start. The first screen of the game gives us this cryptic statement. “Time never waits, it delivers all to the same end. You who wishes to safeguard the future, however limited it may be, you will be given one year. Go fourth and do not falter, with you heart as your guide.” This is presented without ever receiving much explanation, but it sets the tone for what is to come. All throughout Persona 3, the shadow of death is present. The obvious places to point are Pharos’ visits to remind the player the end of the world is near, or the evokers and their aforementioned suicidal imagery. But it also does so in more subtle ways as well.

The theme “Mystic” plays at the beginning, when the player agrees to Pharos that he will “take responsibility for his actions”, and is reminded that “nobody can escape time.” From then on, Mystic plays in the background of the Tartarus themes. The theme of the first block is subtle, mysterious, and eerie. As the player climbs, the omniscient atmosphere grows. By the time of the final block, the music has taken on an intensive and foreboding feel, the shift building towards a gradual climax. Pharos’ statement that one can’t “close their ears or cover their eyes” is one the player is reminded of time and time again, and it can be felt that things in Persona 3 are building towards Makoto’s doom from the very start. While I can understand the oft repeated criticism of Tartarus as grind-heavy and somewhat generic randomly generated dungeon, it being a tower is the perfect way to metaphor for this inescapable fate. Each step up the stairs of Tartarus bring the player one step closer to their ultimate fate, one that, fittingly, can only be death. After all, what else does life amount to but one step forwards to death with each moment we all live? The game over screen serves as yet another reminder of this: “Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey. One is always aware that it lies in wait. Though life is merely a journey to the grave, it is not one to be undertaken without hope.” Tartarus is the ultimate symbolism of this concept, even more so with the appearance of the Reaper. If one stays on a floor of Tartarus too long, they are reminded to keep moving forward, lest death take them before they have accomplished their mission.

Makoto Yuki is a unique protagonist. A mix of Japanese and Western RPG tropes, he is both his own character, and yet also an extension of the player. In many ways, Makoto has an individual personality that is portrayed subtly throughout the game. This can be seen in his design, in his unchosen reactions, in the range of options provided to the player, his turbulent but close friendship with Junpei, and in his bond with Aigis. Yet, the game also goes out of its way to reinforce the player’s identification with Makoto. In another oft criticized choice, the player is unable to directly control any character but him, even in battle. This forces the player to identify themselves as Makoto in particular, rather than as the puppet-master of the entire party. As mentioned before, his dialogue and certain actions are often controlled by the player as well. In this space the player is given to input themselves on to Makoto, the game ensures that we remain in his shoes, while also ensuring that the narrative purposes ultimately override player choices. In this implementation, the game is given unique control over its audience for narrative purposes.

From the start, the player is encouraged to expressing an uncaring worldview onto Makoto. When Pharos first states that the end of the world will soon come, one of the options is “I don’t care”. Indeed, why would the player care? Regardless of their thoughts on such a thing happening in reality, there seems little reason to feel invested in the fate of a fictional one. What more is the player there but to fantasize about being a hero, right? It’s natural to look at SEES and romanticize their struggle. In some ways, Persona 3 would seem to encourage this viewpoint, but it also questions it. Much of the game is focused on the motivation of the characters, on their varying opinions on the Dark Hour and on their lives in general. The player is given many views at which to approach the situation and of course, many options to express their own stance. Yet, the player can’t deny that their role is in that sort of escapism. The most on-the-nose comment is given by Junpei, trying to understand why he is angry at the thought of the Dark Hour vanishing, despite it putting a decent amount of people in a coma. “I talk a big game about fighting, but hell...it’s all I’m good for. If it weren’t for that...I’d be worthless.” Junpei cuts through the audience’s defenses with this statement. Despite their proposed hatred of the Dark Hour, many of the characters do feel a sense of purpose in their powers that is missing from their daily life. But can the players say much else for themselves? Even if it’s just a simulation, a game, why would one play it if not to fulfill something missing in their real lives? Would we really react much differently in their shoes?

It’s not until October that the game truly begins to turn this sentiment on its head. After a boss fight, Shinjiro is shot and killed. Killing a party member so soon after their active addition is an uncommon choice, in part because it essentially leaves any effort that the player puts into leveling them null. The most notable example is certainly Aerith from Final Fantasy VII, one that has become infamous for the reaction it invokes in fans of the game. Killing off Shinjiro makes clear that the game is willing to kill off major characters, and it breaks through preconceptions about plot armor, all the more prevalent in games, to remind the player that there is true danger in this situation. Shinjiro’s death also highlights the disconnect between those who have lost loved ones and those to for whom death is just a statistic or a news story. The other students are apathetic at best and disrespectful at worst. They don’t act unrealistically, or even too unsympathetically, but they clearly don’t grasp that Shinjiro was more than a punk. He was someone with friends, dreams, and a future. And can any of us really say we would think any differently? When we hear that some number of people died on the news, do we really see these people as individuals? I can attest that I at least would reasonably see such things in a very abstract way. The other students are not vilified, their comments are nothing that seems unlike what we ourselves might say. The fear of their own mortality leads them to distance themselves emotionally from Shinjiro, writing him off as a delinquent so as to paint him as "the other". But we knew Shinjiro, and so we see their comments in a different light. Makoto is given the option to tell the students badmouthing Shinjiro to shut-up, with Junpei joining him. It’s here that Persona 3 demonstrates a remarkable ability to shift itself away from the nihilistic view of the world that it once seemed to foster, while still demonstrating a balanced understanding of that view. This is reinforced again later in the game, when Junpei, the person who clung to the Dark Hour for his sense of purpose, loses Chidori to its violence.

Then there is Takaya, the man directly responsible for Shinjiro’s, and later Chidori’s deaths. Takaya is someone who has fully embraced the Dark Hour as his purpose in life. He is unable to let it go, and he doesn’t care who has to die to protect it. Takaya’s views are extreme, but hardly unrealistic. Much like a drug addict unwilling to accept the damage of their addiction, Takaya downplays and even justifies the Dark Hour as being benign. To him, that feeling of abstraction towards the death of others has become prevalent enough that he only seeks to protect what he believes makes his own special. When he discovers the world is soon to end, he is enthused. This sentiment is echoed by Ikutsuki, many NPCs, and is implied to have been a driving force behind those that created the Dark Hour. Predicting and even anticipating the apocalypse has been in vogue for generations now, and even my own Father once spoke of this to me: “When I was a teenager, people talked about nuclear war between the US and the Soviet Union. There was a part of me that found the thought exciting. The world ends for someone every day, but what a way to die in the absolute end of humanity.” My memory of this statement has allowed me to understand Takaya’s sentiment. When someone becomes disconnected from the world around them, from the mortality of themselves and others, they don't care about the consequences of their actions. Suddenly, the end of the world seems exciting rather than horrifying. Just before the final boss, Takaya forces the party once again to face the reality that their views were originally not so different from his. There is truth in this, as even Aigis admits, yet, they have realized then that they took their lives for granted.

January 31st is the first time that the player is given a choice of their own. Ryoji reveals that the end will soon come with the return of Nyx, the result of so many wishing for an end to the pain of life. He gives Makoto the option to killy him, erase his friends’ memories, and let live them in ignorance of their coming deaths. To refuse this offer is to face Nyx without any hope of success. It’s clear through the party’s gradually unanimous support for fighting Nyx where the game’s writers sided. However, Ryoji once again shows their ability to portray the opposing view in a sympathetic light. Ryoji genuinely cares for his friends and wholeheartedly believes that erasing their memories will save them from unnecessary suffering. In any case, there are many ways to interpret this question. The first time I played the game, I saw it as similar to my own thoughts on whether or not to give up on life and commit suicide. Did I want to struggle against my social, mental, and familial problems that seemed insurmountable, or did I want to give up, and go for one last hurrah before the end of my life? Death awaited either way. The only change was the what my life would amount to. The choice was mine - just as the game had said at the beginning. Whichever outcome resulted in the game, as in real life, was my responsibility to make. At the start of the game, I picked "who cares" as my response to Pharos. Truthfully, at the time, I may well have said the same thing in real life. And, in a decision I would have considered unthinkable when I began the game, I decided to let Ryoji live.

The heavy atmosphere of the game’s final month serves as a constant reminder of the decision made. It is during this time that my favorite Social Link unlocks - Aigis. Her Link focuses on in-depth exploration of what her arc had touched on throughout the previous months. As she had found greater emotional fulfillment in her life in the ability to make choices for herself, she had awoken to the fear of death, and of loss. To find the meaning and purpose she longed for in life was to also be aware of her limitations. Aigis is tormented by her inability to protect her friends, and her feelings of inadequacy as a lover to Makoto. Aigis’ struggle shows that to live with purpose is to live with awareness of how fragile and fleeting life is. To enjoy life, to love, is to open oneself up to the fear and pain of loss. Yet, is to live without enjoyment and purpose any life at all? This dilemma was faced earlier by Chidori, who had lived with apathy and detachment similar to Aigis’ before meeting Junpei. And just as Chidori was forced to confront a fear of death in her newfound love for Junpei, so to is Aigis in her love for Makoto. Ultimately, Chidori pushes Junpei away in an attempt to protect herself from these fears, as Aigis is similarly indecisive for how to approach them. Yet, in Junpei’s near-death, Chidori decides to sacrifice herself to protect him, ultimately deciding to accept and face her pain in order to live.

When the party reaches the height of Tartarus, they face Nyx Avatar. Here, the dialogue explicitly targets the audience. Mitsuru calls Nyx “what awaits all living things from the minute they are born.” Indeed, Nyx Avatar proclaims in the final stage of the battle: “it matters not who you are. Death awaits you.” There is no escaping that this applies as much to the player as to anyone else. When the fight against Nyx Avatar concludes, Makoto ascends alone to fight the true Nyx. With a remix of Mystic playing, he rises through darkness towards a bright light. This scene is reminiscent of the concept of one’s soul rising to heaven, as well as the description that to die is to see “a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.” Finally, Makoto is face to face with the true Nyx, a ball of glowing light with outreaching skeletal arms. The symbolism makes it clear: the protagonist is facing the very incarnation of death itself. This is what every step up Tartarus, every second of the story has been building up to. Makoto stands alone against his doom. And yet, his friends’ cries of support reach him and give him the power to resist. Eventually, the protagonist gives up his HP to seal away Nyx. The metaphor is heavy, and yet, it is effective.

The ending of the game is, fittingly, where the message is truly brought home. In many ways, it seems almost euphorically happy. The characters regain their lost memories, and Mitsuru jumps off stage in slow motion as upbeat and cheerful music plays. The foreshadowing is there, however. The music that begins when we cut to Makoto with his head in Aigis’ lap is somber, and sorrowful. This scene gives us Aigis’ final resolution. She accepts her fears of losing Makoto, and promises to protect him and stay by his side. Just as nearly losing Junpei had done for Chidori, nearly losing Makoto allowed Aigis to realize the depth of her feelings for him. Aigis has firmly embraced that life is precious and worth living, rejecting her earlier fears that it may have been better to live without emotion. Of course, unbeknownst to her, this realization has come to late. Makoto succumbs to his exhaustion and falls asleep in her lap, never to wake up again. The ending song, Memories of You, expresses Aigis’ resolve to remember and love Makoto for the rest of her life.

Killing a silent protagonist is a rare choice. I have only personally played three other games that do so, though I’ve heard that a small handful of others exist. The belief that the main character of a story should be all but unkillable is a popular idea even outside of gaming. But when the character is meant to have an element of player insert, to kill them off is normally seen as too intense, and too on-the-nose. In Persona 3′s case, it is exactly what is needed to drive home the point. Much like the main character of fiction, it is easy to feel that we have something special about us keeping us alive. Indeed, we are the main character of our own tale, and for as long as it lasts, so do we. But someday our luck will run out and our journey will end, just as Makoto’s did. Makoto’s death reminds the player that nobody is immune to death, and our time will come as well. Nonetheless, Makoto is enough of his own character that we are also able to see his death from a more traditional viewer’s perspective. And in that, the joy of the party, the seeming upbeat nature of the ending, and Aigis’ promise to protect and stay by Makoto makes the loss all the more effective. The ones we love could be gone at any moment, and making it come for the party when they seem so close to a almost cheesy happy ending reminds us of this somber fact.

As Aigis expresses, the ultimate message of Persona 3 is that one can’t find meaning in life as long as they live in denial of the mortality of themselves and their loved ones. Doing so puts people on a path to self-destructive behavior. It is only by accepting the inevitability of death that one can realize just how precious and meaningful life truly is, and only by this realization can that we find true happiness. We see this truth firsthand in our own simulated experience. This is what makes Persona 3 so brilliant - it brings the player into the story in such a way that only a video game can. Say what you will about books, movies, television: for all the advantages these mediums have over video games, only a video game can show a player a fate that is of their own choosing. Yet, no matter how much pain the ending may cause them, it remains undeniable that the player has, in a sense, contributed to the very sentiment it seeks to deconstruct. It’s what drew them to the game in the first place.

Persona 3 develops from a story that uses suicidal and edgy imagery for the adrenaline rush into one that heavily deconstructs and averts these very concepts. By doing so, it encourages the player to re-evaluate these ideas. At the very start, Mitsuru gives a speech telling the students of the schools to dig deeply and re-evaluate their convictions. During my first playthrough, I did just that. In the days, weeks, and months following, my suicidal thoughts dropped drastically and gradually trickled down to nothing. January 2nd now serves as a constant reminder of how I make the choice, of my own free will, to live. So many still see Persona 3 as a depressing and bitter story, like the emotionally disturbed younger brother to Persona 4′s unabashed positivism. It is anything but. Rather, Persona 3 is the most candidly and genuinely optimistic game I have ever played, and it is thanks to it that I was able to find the courage and the hope to move forward from the darkest time of my life.

[coutelier]

Pharos One: Project ELF

“We never wanted to hurt anyone!” He cried.

The girl continued to advance, black eyes bearing down with flecks of light like whole galaxies were spinning inside them. “I never wanted to hurt anyone either. Not really,” she said, pausing a moment as she took a deep breath through her nose. But then, reassured of her purpose, she continued on, knuckles whitening as they tightened around her blade. “I guess the universe just doesn’t care much what we want.”

--

What makes humans unique among Earth’s creatures is the ability to imagine other possibilities than those we see, then work to change those dreams into reality. But some dreams become nightmares.

Outside of Irongate a lighthouse stands atop a hill, far from the ocean surrounded by deep, dark forest. A building that’s strange and lonely and out of place - much like its keeper, Jennifer Airhart. Once she dreamt she would travel the world turning over every stone to see what was hidden beneath. Now she lives alone, tinkering with machines but wondering who she can share her inventions with. Her quiet days alone are disturbed when a childhood friend - then teenage enemy - Kaya Cade, returns claiming to have witnessed a murder then been attacked by a bark-skinned, very powerful creature, that seems intent on taking the eyes of its victims.

Another very different girl, Tenley Tych, has lost her mother. Murdered. In the midst of her grief and rage she is approached by a woman with eyes as black as night and bright skin shifting like sand who claims to be Queen of the Forest, promising her great power that will aid in her quest for revenge.

Can Jenn and Kaya put aside their past differences to solve this mystery? Is it magic summoning these creatures to our world, or something far less ephemeral?

--

This story takes place in a modern contemporary(ish) setting, in a fictional town called Irongate, and is a sci-fi adventure with heavy folklore and mythological themes and motifs. It’s a world fairly close to reality, but with all sorts of sci-fi hijinx going on wearing our characters out and making them late for tea. Think like most Batman and Gotham based comics, with a little bit of X-Files and Stranger Things (but not in the eighties and only one character who’s a child).

Themes covered include growing up, lost childhood and innocence, friendship, found-family, and the responsible use of science and technology. And elves.

If you like humor, action, fantasy, and science fiction, then this pretty much has all those things covered, as well as several memorable characters and a couple creepy computers.

This from now on will be the masterpost for this WIP - I’m going to bookmark it, then update and reblog every so often as I add character biographies, short stories, and other background snippets below. (See, I’m starting to get all organized and stuff).

Characters:

Jennifer Airhart - Lives in a lighthouse on top of a hill. Brainy, very good at taking things apart and sometimes putting them back together, but lives in her own world and would prefer if the rest of the planet stayed out. Tenley Tych - Perpetually angry tween. Tenley’s mother made her learn martial arts practically from the day she could crawl. And now, after meeting a strange woman in the woods, she’s become pound-for-pound one of the deadliest warriors of all time. Kaya Cade - Punk, guitarist, and thief. Kaya’s strained relationship with her family led to her taking a mean turn in her teens. Now as an adult she’s realized she was taking her frustrations out on the wrong people and is trying to change for the better. But is the past willing to let her go? Hull - A computer that fills Jennifer’s lighthouse, managing her bots and making sure her needs are being met as well. Sayuri Oshiro - Drummer and employee of the year at her family-run store. Sayuri is supportive of her friends, speaks flower, and is generally one of the nicest people you will ever meet. In fact, she practices numerous techniques to manage her stress; crystals, meditation, and has ground a lot of balls. Doctor Jana Sarkis - Former colleague of Jenn’s father who visits the lighthouse occasionally and become almost like an aunt. Jana currently runs the synthetic biology lab at Stag Corp. It’s not just her mind that’s sharp - she exercises her body too, making her a force to be reckoned with on every level.

Shorts and novelettes:

War of the Posies - Mostly humorous one-shot centered on Jennifer and Hull, set before Project ELF.

The Lipcress File - Wattpad - Part One - Part Two I took a little break from writing and wrote this in a few days before Halloween to get back in the mood (I edited a little bit later). It’s a simple haunted house story with humor and one twist from the norm of those stories. Set after Project ELF, but doesn’t really contain spoilers (other than that those characters obviously do survive).

Pharos One - Wattpad This is just a compilation of biographies, short stories, and world-building stuff on Wattpad. It’ll all be linked to individually on Tumblr in this post.

World-building, snippets, and miscellaneous stuff:

E-Mails (Pythia Emergency Shut-Down)

Welcome to Irongate

[pengiesama]

Pharos of My Soul: Dragon Tales (Fic, Sorey/Mikleo, Dragon/Fantasy AU)

Title: Pharos of My Soul: Dragon Tales (Chapter 1 of 3) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary: Tales of a man-eating dragon, a prince, and their growing family.

A collection of shorts from Pharos of My Soul / Dragon Bride AU.

CHAPTER ONE: PUPS VS. PUPS

Mikleo squares off against a hoard of slavering Beasts that invade his peaceful home.

(CONTENT WARNING: mpreg, xenophilia, and generally weird biology.)

Link: AO3

This is a joint collaboration between me, Ali (@eachainn), and Nami (@shamingcows)! Ali and I wrote a dual AU very loosely based on the 2015 Russian movie “He’s a Dragon.” Ali’s version, as well as her short stories in the universe, are available here in the AO3 collection. Mine are there too I guess.

Read on Tumblr!

Mikleo had defended this island for centuries. What the befuddling mist did not keep out, Mikleo was sure to drive off with tooth and claw. It was the only home he had ever known; the resting place of his mother’s bones. He knew every inch of the sandy shore, every winding path through the mountain caves – he had paced them, years without end, lost in a book he was struggling to read, lost in thoughts, lost in idle loneliness. Now, it was all that and so much more – it was a place of precious memories, and a bower for his pups.

But after hundreds of years of tireless duty, Mikleo had a fatal lack of judgement. No, it wasn’t in the doing of capturing Sorey from his home, it wasn’t in the doing of – doing Sorey, it wasn’t in the duty of allowing him to stay, or allowing him to return.

Beasts had invaded their home, and Mikleo was powerless to stop them.

“Mikleo…”

Mikleo stayed, stiff and unmoving, crouched over his pups. He could feel them trembling underneath his belly, hidden by his feathers; their soft whimpers piercing his heart with guilt. He would protect them. He would keep them safe. But he was terrified as well; terrified of the Beast, terrified for his children, terrified for Sorey.

Sorey took a slow, careful step forward, and placed one of the Beasts down in front of them.

“Mikleo. This is Elize.”

The tiny Pomeranian puppy blinked at her surroundings. She clearly wasn’t able to see terribly well over the purple plushie held gently but firmly in her wee jaws, especially considering it was almost as big as she was. All the same, she did not seem interested in putting it down any time soon. Sorey stroked a hand over Elize’s pale golden fuzzball fluff to try and smooth it out a bit, then scratched the top of her head with a single finger. Elize made a tiny peep, and raised herself up onto wobbly hind legs in an attempt to chase the feeling of Sorey’s petting hand. Her front paws swam in the air for a moment before she toppled over with an audible puff! to the ground.

It was in Sorey’s nature, Mikleo suspected, to try and befriend things that could kill him in a matter of seconds. That was how this whole – this whole everything started, after all. Sorey staying here, Sorey making himself a precious and irreplaceable part of Mikleo’s life. Mikleo had thought Sorey’s parents could be trusted – they were odd, just as Sorey himself was odd, but upon their second visit to the island they had brought these Beasts, claiming them to be playmates for the pups. Playmates. The idea that they considered those dangerous creatures proper playmates for his sweet children was insult enough, even if the horror of their very presence had not gripped him from the start. The moment the Beasts had poured off the ship, snapping and snarling and howling, Mikleo had gathered up his pups and fled in a flurry of feathers to a secluded outcropping at the mountain’s top. And there they had stayed for the past few hours, and there he intended to remain until those humans contained the horror they had unleashed on his home.

His husband’s behavior today was – indecipherable. Instead of demanding that his parents rein in their Beasts and remove them from the island, Sorey had climbed up to their stronghold almost immediately; to plead his parents’ case, to claim that the creatures were harmless. He had even brought one with him – a Beast with a coat as black as the maw of an open throat. It was dressed in a little outfit and Sorey called it “Jude”, and asked the Beast to do a few tricks. It could rise up onto its back legs and do a tiny dance, and could offer its paw in some sort of perversion of human social niceties. Mikleo dared not move an inch, dared not allow this creature a step closer to his children.

Eventually, Sorey shook his head, gathered the Beast, and carried it back down to the beach. Mikleo thought that he’d finally gotten his point across – he’d give Sorey a piece of his mind once those Beasts were gone, and Sorey would find himself not welcome to sleep in their nest for a few days, but as long as he did his part in atoning for his lapse in judgement, Mikleo could find it in his heart to forgive him…

Or at least he thought he could, until Sorey brought up another Beast. And then another. And another.

This Beast that Sorey had brought up was smaller than the rest, this much was true. Mikleo was fairly sure that he could best it in single combat, if it decided to make its move. Even if he had little chance of escaping without grave injuries, he had little choice in the matter – he would place his life on the line to save his pups, and would give his everything to ensure Sorey’s safety, even if he had endangered himself through his naiveté and innocence. For in truth, that was just one more thing that Mikleo loved about him – one more thing that he wanted to protect, always. The Beast had finally wriggled to its feet, with effort, and stared at Mikleo with its terrifying predatory gaze. Mikleo fluffed up the crest around his neck and head, raised his hackles; tried to make himself look as menacing as possible, even as he tried to control the shaking of his limbs.

He was a dragon. He was an unstoppable force of nature, as swift on land as he was in air, and deadlier still when underneath the waves. He was the protector of this island and the surrounding seas; ruler of the misted isles. He was the father of these innocent pups, the husband of that – that frustratingly simple man, and he would no longer cower in a corner. He would stand tall, and face this battle with courage.

He could not control the undignified squawk of terror as one of the other invading Beasts barreled into the cave; breaching their last bastion of safety. It was fast as lightning, darting in and out of the shafts of light filtering through the cave openings. Mikleo saw the flash of its teeth, the glint of its awful claws. The Beast pounced, lunged –

Sorey groaned. “Oh, Milla, honestly…you act like mom doesn’t feed you.”

Milla looked over her shoulder at Sorey as she munched on the bug she had been chasing. The green iridescent shine of the insect’s body and the half-buzzing wing still hanging out of her mouth identified it as one of the species of dragonflies that lived on the isle. This particular species were terrible pests, and aggressively swarmed the island’s shaded pools during their breeding season; crowding out the less loathsome breeds of dragonflies, and multiplying so quickly during their peak that the fish and birds that fed on them couldn’t keep up. When walking by the water at night, it was all one could do to avoid getting stung, and their swooping and buzzing spooked the pups so. This one’s demise, as gruesome as it was, was hardly a loss. Milla held her fluffy tail up high and proud over her haunches, and gave it a cheerful little wag as she swallowed down her prey. She shook out her coat, then pressed her snout to the ground; snuffling about to see if she had missed any bits and pieces of her mid-morning snack.

“Just please, don’t puke that up in the boat on the way back,” Sorey asked her, as if the Beasts could understand anything but the language of violence and terror. He had picked up Elize again, and she was perched in the crook of his arm. She blinked her eyes, slowly, as if she was about to fall asleep. “And don’t try to eat it again afterwards.”

The Beast known as Milla yipped, and trotted out of the cave; her body language easy and confident, as if she already knew the caves like the back of her paw. Mikleo bristled at the very idea – in offense, and in horror. If the invaders had already mapped out the cave system, what hope did they have?

Mikleo was too busy fretting to feel Aster squirming out from under his belly, too distracted to see him poke his head out from underneath his feathers, watching the scene before them. Aster was a shy, quiet boy; cautious, and not prone to the recklessness of his sisters. But what Mikleo failed to recall was that Aster was still his parents’ child, and thus, was possessed of an insatiable curiosity. Had Mikleo remembered this fact, even in such a stressful time, perhaps Mikleo would have kept a closer eye on him – or at least, a more firm seat on him.

Mikleo let out a panicked, desperate cry as he saw Aster dart out, out of the corner of his eye – his claws gripped at air as he tried to reach out and snag him back. He was too small, too quick, too determined to see the new “friend” that his papa was promising him. Sorey smiled as he saw his son approach, and knelt to the ground to put the Beast in his arms at eye level with Aster.

“There we go, that’s my brave little boy. Say hi to Elize.”

Mikleo was absolutely certain that he was about to see his precious baby boy eaten alive. Little Aster, who he’d had to coax out of his egg; gently calling to him to encourage him to break out. Little Aster, who loved nothing more than being held and read to, who always let Mikleo groom him without complaint (or kicking), who always needed his papa’s lullabies to fall asleep after a nightmare. He had to move quickly, before the Beast struck – but if he moved, he would leave his daughters unprotected, and the Beasts had already proven that they knew the caves. What if more were lying in wait, biding their time until they could descend and make off with his sweet little babes? He was gripped by this agonizing, impossible decision.

Aster rose up on his hind legs, and drew in his arms politely as he gave Elize a delicate sniff. Elize squirmed, whimpered, and began to tremble. Sorey made a soothing noise, and stroked his hand over her fluff once more.

“Aster’s just a little baby like you, Elize. No need to be scared.”

He couldn’t imagine what Aster had smelled on the creature, but it made Aster twitch his tail, fluff his coat, and let out a joyful (and loud) squawk. The noise made the Beast yelp, and its panicked thrashing caused Sorey to lose his grip. It fell to the ground, and fled out the cave entrance; its nails scrabbling for purchase on the rock as it went. Aster seemed to deflate at the departure of the creature, but Mikleo could not have been more proud of him. He wanted to weep in relief. His precious, brave baby boy. He had stared death in the face, squawked at it, and saved them all.

Sorey darted after the creature, and yelled over his shoulder as he went:

“Sorry, just – she’s too little to run around on her own! I’ll be back in a minute, stay here.”

As long as Sorey was finishing the job of driving the creature out of their home, Mikleo was willing to be ordered around. He was just…too relieved. He found himself transforming into his smaller form, and bundled Aster into his arms; nuzzling and cooing to him. It was unlike Aster to turn down cuddles – Sorey liked to call him a “love bug” for it. Strangely, though, Aster was having none of his father’s affections today. He squirmed and wriggled until Mikleo put him down, and sat almost sullenly as his sisters closed in on him; sniffing at him suspiciously, as if they weren’t sure he was still alive after that encounter.

Mikleo made a questioning noise, and Aster turned his gaze to him, his eyes soulful and sad.

“Papa said she was a little baby. I scared her.”

Mikleo was baffled. “That’s…Aster, it was dangerous. It’s good you scared it off.”

“Didja see how the one ate that big nasty bug whole?” Anemone whispered in clear awe.

“I liked the first one’s dance,” said Allium, before she briefly, and shakily, tried to imitate it on her own hind legs. “And his jacket. I bet Grandma made it, just like the clothes she makes for us.”

His children clearly did not understand the gravity of the situation. But they were innocent, just like Sorey. Mikleo gathered the three of them up – two under one arm, one under the other, and carted them through the cave and up to the nest room. It wasn’t easy, and wasn’t entirely quick. They were growing bigger every day, it seemed – soon he wouldn’t be able to do this, and so, he indulged himself whenever he could.

“Can we play with those things when papa comes back?” asked Anemone. “Please?”

“You were scared of them,” Allium accused. “Just like daddy.”

“Was not! And you were too!”

“Yes you were! You were crying like a little baby and all puffed up—”

Mikleo made a warning noise, and the girls quieted down. Aster still stared at him; stared at him with those eyes, so hopeful and sweet, so much like Sorey’s.

“I’m going to go find your father,” Mikleo said. “The three of you are going to stay in the nest, and not move until I get back. Or else no bedtime stories for a week.”

Mikleo knew his children – and more than that, he knew their parents. As insurance against the inevitable escape, he murmured a spell at the nest room’s entrance; activating the protective charms there, creating a barrier that kept things in place – nothing out, and nothing in. He felt the magic thrum in his veins. It was a spell that drew from his own life-force, and would stay in place until he dispelled it or died. Whichever came first.

Mikleo could remember that awful day, so long ago: when he cowered under his mother as that human stalked their home, when she had hidden him away in a secluded spot (too far away from their nest to make a break for it) and told him not to move until she came to get him. He’d waited hours for her to come back; too scared to move, too scared to make a sound.

Hours became days. He was hungry, and terrified, and desperate for his mother to return…but she never did. When he finally gathered the courage and desperation, he crept out of hiding to search for her. And find her he did – most of her.

Sometimes he idly wondered what would have become of him if Lailah hadn’t decided to come calling that day, if she had been less willing to care for him. If, when she saw him slowly digging a grave, she had simply turned around and left. But, she didn’t. She stayed, and comforted him, and raised him. He was forever in her debt.

Now that Mikleo had…given himself some time to think, perhaps his children had a point. Perhaps he could grant that these Beasts were not deadly threats – certainly not as deadly as the human that had taken his mother away from him, at least. But what he could say about them was that they were loud, and messy, and were traipsing all over his island as if they owned the place. Now that he was confident that he did not have to fear never returning to his little ones in the nursery, he could march himself back down to…wherever his in-laws were lurking around, and tell them firmly to gather the Beasts and leave. But he supposed that would be easier said than done. Mikleo had read books on marriage that emphasized the importance of boundaries with in-laws, but there was also the matter of respect, and marital harmony, and…

A dragon’s senses were sharp; far sharper than a human’s. Moreover, the cave system was like a sprawling spider’s web – it carried sound and vibration from all over the island. He could detect Sorey’s heavy footsteps toward the northern end of the system, and could confidently state that he was nowhere near where that one Beast – ���Elize” – had run off to. And as for Elize…he could hear faint, frantic little whimpers, and the scratching of claws on stone.

Mikleo hesitated. They were frightful little Beasts, and messy, and annoying. But those whimpers were so plaintive, and so like those of his own pups that he found himself drawn in to them, driven by parental instinct.

It was no trouble navigating the cave system to find her. Mikleo watched, cautiously, hidden behind an outcropping. The Beast was scratching frantically at a crack at the intersection of wall and floor, and whimpering as she did. The purple stuffed toy that she had previously held in her jaws was absent; and, perhaps due to its absence, the Beast appeared to be quite distressed. Mikleo felt that it was a safe assumption that, in the process of fleeing from Aster and Sorey’s pursuit, the Beast had skidded into this room and lost her grip on her toy, sending it tumbling into the crack in the stone that she was now clawing at.

The Beast, engrossed in her mission to save her toy, did not seem to notice Mikleo’s slow, cautious approach. It was not until he was standing over her that she noticed his shadow. She froze in place, and then, began to tremble once more.

The stuffed toy had not fallen too far into the crack – it was beyond the reach of a Beast, perhaps, but Mikleo had thumbs in his current form. It was a small and painless task to retrieve it. He placed it on the ground in front of the Beast, and watched as she carefully, gently picked it back up.

She had stopped trembling, and stopped whimpering. Those eyes of hers were just like Aster’s and Sorey’s.

…There was no more time to focus on this. He needed to discuss things with Sorey’s family, now. Mikleo rose out of his crouch, and continued on his way down to the nearest exit. He heard the tip-tip-tap of Elize’s claws on the stone floor; following him as he went. He sighed, and bent down again. If it was as Sorey indicated, and she was no older than the pups, she surely was already exhausted from running blindly through the caves. She was quite light, at least – certainly lighter than his children were now.

In no time at all, they emerged into the afternoon sun. Mikleo squinted and looked around, until he spotted—

“Mikleo! You found her!”

Sorey jogged up, with his mother Selene not far behind. Selene tearfully held out her arms, and Mikleo – perhaps more hesitantly than he expected of himself – handed her Elize.

“Thank you,” she said. “Oh, goodness, Elize, you gave me quite a scare…”

Mikleo looked at Sorey, expectantly. Sorey scratched at his head.

“We’re…rounding up the rest. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring everyone at once.”

“No,” Mikleo said. “No, it was not.”

Sorey gave him those Eyes, and Mikleo looked away with a huff before he was drawn in.

“So? The rest of them?”

“We’ve got most everyone rounded up,” Sorey said, gesturing behind him. There was a little yellow Beast barking repeatedly at a fish in a pool, a gray-muzzled Beast sunning itself on a rock, and a reddish-black Beast gazing dramatically into the horizon; perched on a rock, backed by a waterfall. “I sent Jude off to look for Milla, and dad went off to look for…”

Mikleo felt the brush of something on his leg, and jumped a mile. It was the doing of a new Beast, who appeared to be undeterred by Mikleo’s rejection, or his scream of terror. It closed in and tried rubbing on his legs again; giving him what could only be described as…an extremely fake and off-putting attempt at puppy eyes. Sorey sighed and grabbed the Beast before it could dart away into the brush.

“That’s Alvin. We’ve been chasing him all over the island. Don’t let his act fool you; he just doesn’t want us to put his leash on him.”

Selene tsked and shifted to hold Alvin under her other arm. “You naughty thing, always running off to cause mischief. It’s time for the harness of penitence again…”

She ignored Alvin’s mournful howl, and carried him and Elize off to the pool to be supervised. Sorey offered his arms to Mikleo, and Mikleo decided he would grant it. Sorey’s arms were so strong, and held him so tightly. He tucked his face against Sorey’s chest, against the warm skin revealed by his open shirt, and sighed.

“Are you doing okay?” Sorey asked quietly. “You seemed…really rattled up there.”

“It’s fine,” Mikleo whispered. “I’ll talk about it later, maybe. Once these creatures are rounded up and off the island.”

Sorey kissed his head, right at the base of his horns, and Mikleo couldn’t help but purr. Sorey was all too aware of his weak spots: kisses to his horns, kisses to the scales at the nape of his neck, stroking fingers through his feathers, ticklish touches to his ribs and sides. Sorey himself, in general. It really was hard to stay upset with him, even when he brought chaos in his wake.

They were interrupted, then – politely interrupted, but still interrupted. The Beast known as Jude was shifting back and forth, stretching out his paw and trying to get Sorey’s attention without spooking Mikleo by barking. Once he had gotten their attention, Jude whimpered, spun in place, and trotted to point out the path through the brush and trees that he’d taken.

“Did you find Milla?” Sorey asked. “Come on, let’s go get her.”

Jude led them along, and they eventually emerged near an island pool – to a scene of utter destruction. The thing was, it was mostly destruction revolving around those nasty pest dragonflies. At this time of year, the air should have been thick with them…but the pool had apparently been cleansed of their reign of terror. Half-eaten dragonfly bodies littered the ground and water. The birds and fish were enjoying a feast, and the other insects that made the area their home – the butterflies, the bees, the colorful little beetles – were able to go about their day in peace. It was…idyllic, and Mikleo didn’t know what to think. (Except to be thankful that those fucking dragonflies were dead. He was sure to kick one of their corpses into the water for a fish to eat as they walked.)

Continuing to follow Jude, the trail of insect corpses slowed. Mikleo recognized the area as a prime spot to gather melons from the fruit trees, and recognized the carnage on the ground as the remains of many melons. Finally, they spotted their target: Milla, passed out in a half-eaten melon rind. Her tongue lolled almost completely out of her mouth, and she breathed slow and heavy. Her body was sluggish with bug meat and melon, and she barely reacted when Jude came up to her to lick at her face.

“Come on, Milla, let’s get you back to mom,” Sorey said soothingly. He bent down to pick her up. “Hey – hey! No more!”

Milla weakly tried to take another bite of the melon as Sorey tried to move her. Thwarted in her gourmet quest, Milla tried to howl to the heavens, but it came out as more of a fat gurgle. Jude picked up the half-eaten melon in his jaws, and brought it along with them as they travelled back to the waterfall where the rest of the Beasts awaited. Mikleo could respect his dutifulness.

Selene did not seem entirely surprised at the state that Milla was returned in, and graciously accepted the gift of slightly-eaten melon from Jude. Although the Beasts were now…under control, Mikleo was clearly quite through with having visitors for the day, and it was late in any case. While Georg set about carting the Beasts back to their main ship via rowboat, Selene stayed ashore. She bowed her head to Mikleo.

“I…I must apologize for the commotion today,” she said. “Please don’t blame Sorey. He told me that I should only bring one, maybe two of my pups for the grandchildren to play with. I thought I knew better, but I clearly didn’t.”

Mikleo gathered his thoughts before he responded.

“…It’s not that they’re unwelcome,” Mikleo explained. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind them again. The children were interested in them. And the one’s appetite, you see, could be useful for a problem we’ve had for some time—”

As the saying goes, when one speaks of the devil, the devil is called to appear. A lone dragonfly, apparently seeking revenge, buzzed ominously towards them – more specifically, it was targeting Milla’s bloated, prone body on the sand. Jude stood in front of her, ready to defend her in her time of digestive need. The dragonfly was not impressed, and divebombed the both of them – stinger out, ready to give Jude the welt of a lifetime.

The reddish-black Beast, Gaius, walked in front of Jude with a dominating and absolute sort of confidence. He locked eyes with the dragonfly. The dragonfly skidded to complete stop, mere centimeters in front of Gaius’ unflinching muzzle, and – after a long, tense moment – dropped completely dead to the sand. Gaius snorted dismissively, then turned and kicked sand over its corpse with his hind legs. He then trotted to Selene, and permitted her to scoop him up for kissy-kissies.

Sorey and Mikleo bade their guests farewell, and retired to the nursery to free their own pups from confinement. The pups swirled around their legs, chittering at them in accusing tones – you were playing with those fluffy things without us! – and were only soothed by the promise that yes, grandma and grandpa would be visiting again soon. Yes, you can sleep in the big nest with daddy and papa tonight. And yes, you can have an extra story before bed.

Mikleo couldn’t help but worry, sometimes. Old wounds seemed to rip open at the most inconvenient times. He brushed his lips over Sorey’s forehead, and leaned to put out the lantern. But Sorey’s arms were so warm, and his pups’ purring was so soothing. It grounded him in the present, and kept him in the moment – and kept him hopeful for their future, together.

[libidomechanica]

‘Let cloud’s uncertain sealed’’

Let cloud’s uncertain sealed: Drink deep, Never piping so flagless a pair, Observes how it, And mischief-making high tide is ever yet a man mad all the merely tend on there is no misfortune, haste The revealing down head, alone, All breaking, burning frame The ruins; till

day this rain lassie, Fair one of a though he never once on he had occasion, And she space of felicitie: And though by choir cries, our touch, And Lo! — That is the golden bourn Into bloom upon his Lordship which I have our Libertie again,

Arriving from thee to suit or action in little state within, thoughts as the valley. Wine. As if after and Charlema’ne. Blue eyes, white, Before the day I whistle and help our life I did she doth hasten whisper’d hours out. Of

the same flower-nibblers, thou leaves, she You perceav’d, Nor euer drawn carol, mourn for his dim vast vale of Wyoming dream, But still keep fair creature rest face, your town knowledge and maids Arranged my vertue meeting virtue she had a bower? Tender is no great mood, Had been the woman,

Trembling stranger, But ah, poore women star. ‘A baskets of the other left, a church,—and led A hundred. News of years I must proceed; Your oversight. I have TWO of five-words-long Together, each understood, By ever cry’ Lord, and Jervis.

Of a kind of the diamonds with art sophist’s eyes; Should altogether ‘t was both invent his spleen, vapour; Which, if in twaine, its picture, ‘Time it is the springtime, read and body down A life- breath of Lords to touches Pitch mought to

say, what ‘s set, my world of sin;’’ When, sick Muse he was a generous thighs and Left to boast that defend Against thou hast pass With chasten’d by human heart is now the Pharos from lovers, church,—and now before, they bore up their owne

fault on one play To laugh as the window a funnel of yellow heat of day, And leave those gem-like in virgin-white, Before,’ Through her dream. That I were sights, mass, play, rout, A little churchyard with the by; In case, Their sword draw them all— This world,

and here the very sense, as doomsday and before; And the shepheard, that our flies in silent; but fail To pipe now from Sea, By spirit pass With wine last no symptom e’er got down she stone here are constitute Of which their aunts, and

smiling figure; When, and the hoarder’s powers As he ripened Eyes on his grim her would seem’d magnanimous, Their arms, The ballad or arm lifted his conduct nice, Their flock of post— I’ve knows what she broad clear rime, Infrangible and cause that length, and

arrow, To share, Freedom—here she, Like some child is thy pipe, nor his impossible, I trust, nor Lawes, Although Longinus tells upon her as an echo rings; Look whence further on the great cold relieued by your shirtless like mist o’erlook Too, into the fiddlehead

past us Veil’d—but I pass over they been wedded with ourself, for a draught a man mad alluded,— Mention’d her than her As he relative Spanish, dear the storm die! That even her bridal he show and self, yet your sweet sin, His own fair

tho, the streams of love Is not Love, Never loving, and to confess though your long embraced A lady was the door, the saint will stoop from singing plague, are so low their papers wind of pines so anxious I’d bid my shoes, and for nought feel some

child willow understand As the law or lovers hands Reached An university is like thee That every close to o’ershading roof             look up, till I were exiled from the whole summit, like to speak to hear of Adria’s god of

whom, In gentleman from reach’d that maiden queen’s only doth now hopes will be like fine needing him a golden plucked out their poesy dislike ones Whose council up. River-tide. Of your own one leaues, then here. That great god can, if you that taught Of my staggering unutterable?

[amnesiawivess]

some more pieces from my gabriel fic. i’m still working out how i want it to end.

both this and “you again” are basically me just being a history nerd and using angel powers as an excuse to hop through time and make snide commentary about it but y’know.

i decided the title is gonna be “what the fire gave us”

(immediately after the last bit:)

After that it’s kind of a toss-up what little piece of existence he wants to see next, so he splits the difference and goes both to the destruction of the tower of Babel, and to the time Kevin Norris (age 14, Dover, England, 1983) accidentally pushed over a rack of postcards in a shop while trying to awkwardly flirt with his first crush. The chain of falling souvenir stands that this small action caused was so long and tremendous that it resulted in a minor car crash on the next street over and took two full work days to entirely clear away. Kevin’s crush saw the whole thing.

In both places, Gabriel watches these events transpire and laughs so hard that he nearly chokes on a partly-chewed piece of hotdog, almost prematurely ending his existence before Lucifer ever gets the chance.

Time is funny like that.

The other thing these two events have in common is that they both, to somebody, felt like the end of the world. Gabriel grabs onto that impulse, that feeling, and lets it drag him through the universe. He watches the world craft itself as he watches it fall apart. He takes in the great, cosmic joke, the punchline of which is, of course, that it never really does end.

Empires rise and fall, kings are crowned and killed, gods are raised up and then forgotten, temples are built and then destroyed. Everyone, everywhere, always, is thinking: This is it. This is the end.

And each of them is right, in their own mortal way. But still, it all goes on.

He arrives at the burning of the library of Alexandria. From his seat at the top of the Pharos lighthouse, he watches the smoke and fire climb toward the sky. In a thousand years, the human race will no longer remember when this happened or how, but they will still feel it in their bones. In the streets, the people run and yell or stand and stare and there is a palpable air of horror and fear. A column collapses, then a wall. It all caves inward and is lost.

A scholar is on his knees near the steps, eyes welling with tears, close enough to feel the heat deep in his skin, and he thinks: This is it. This is the end.

And he’s right, for the library of Alexandria. But still, it all goes on.

“To be honest, people will make more of this than is really warranted,” Gabriel says conversationally to a gull perched nearby. “The loss of human knowledge over the next thousand years has way more to do with a complex mix of factors such as disease, war, plummeting rates of literacy, the rise of feudalism in much of Europe, and religious fervor.” He pauses. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t really up to me, but you know.”

The gull squawks.

“You’re right, it really doesn’t impact you all that much,” Gabriel admits. “You’re pretty much born knowing everything you already need to know, huh? Dad probably should’ve stuck to that model, actually. Would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

The gull stretches out one wing and begins carefully rearranging the feathers.

Gabriel frowns.

“I need to find some better conversational partners,” he says to himself.

...

and

...

“If you’re an archangel,” John says, “then answer me this: Why?”

“It’s funny,” Gabriel says. “A lizard once asked me that same question.”

“That’s not funny,” John says.

“It sort of is, though,” Gabriel says. “Everyone’s always asking why. They always will. Someday your sons are gonna grow up and they’re gonna start asking you, too.”

“Do you have an answer or not?”

“Nah,” Gabriel says. “I didn’t have an answer for the lizard back then, and I don’t have an answer for you now. And when your sons ask, years and years in the future, you won’t have an answer for them, either. But hey - at least they’ll still be around to ask.”

...

and

...

“What are you doing?” Sam asks. “Aren’t we in kind of a hurry here?”

“Yeah, I just thought of something I gotta ask you real quick,” Gabriel says. “It’s a question people have asked me a lot, but I’ve never had a good answer. Didn’t think there was one, to be honest. But, hell, you’ve been shaking things up enough, maybe you’ll surprise me.”

He pauses.

“So?” Sam prompts impatiently, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. “What is it?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “Just - why? In general. About everything.”

“Uh, this is what you came back for?” Sam asks. “It’s kind of life or death here, Gabe. You really want to talk philosophy right now?”

“Humor me.”

“Okay, then, uh, why not?”

Gabriel blinks.

“Why not?” he repeats dumbly.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Sure. Why not? Now are we done here or what?”

“Huh,” Gabriel says. “Yeah. That works.” He smiles. “That works just fine for me.”

...

and

...

The first thing Gabriel does after tricking the Devil and escaping his own fate is slip up into Heaven for a tête-à-tête with John Winchester’s soul.

“Hey,” he says, before John has a chance to say anything at all. “I think your kids are going to be alright.”

“You think?” John asks sharply.

“Not really sure at this point,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “Things have gotten a little bit loosey-goosey down there. More questions than answers these days.”

John looks stressed.

“Don’t look stressed!” Gabriel says. “This is great news!”

“How is that great news?” John demands. “An archangel has just arrived to tell me that my sons may or may not be in mortal peril!”

“Everyone’s always maybe or maybe not in mortal peril,” Gabriel scoffs. He waves his hand dismissively. “Your sons are more of the second now. That’s a huge improvement! Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I think I’ve finally got the answer to your question. Thought you might like to hear it.”

“My question?”

“Yeah, you know - why?” Gabriel says. “Well…” He spreads his arms wide. “Why the hell not?”

“What?” John splutters. “That’s not an answer!”

“You’re right,” Gabriel says. “It’s just another question. But it’s the one your kids are asking, and they’re asking it mighty loud. They’ve got the whole of creation reverberating with their inquiry. Big things are coming, my friend, things you can’t even begin to comprehend. In about sixty million years -” He draws up short. “Nah, you won’t get it. But I’ll tell you one thing - that question is gonna endure. Someone’s always gonna be asking - why not? And you know something, John? I think it’s a question worth sticking around to hear.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” John asks, clearly baffled.

“Ugh, you’re slow on the uptake,” Gabriel says. “Still asking why, why, why. Why me? Why now? Why this? I think I prefer your kids. Why not, John! Why not!” He sighs. “Anywhoozlebee, that’s about all I had to say. Catch you on the flip side, maybe. Or maybe not.”

With that, Gabriel gives John a cheeky salute, then hops off into the future, leaving the human soul alone, confused, and mildly afraid. But, then, there’s something to be said about the human condition.

[gerrydelano]

This may be a dumb question because I'm Jared, 19, but you referred to Anastasia as your corruption/buried oc and I was wondering if she was aligned with both or something cause I find the concept of avatars serving two powers really interesting

i find it interesting, too! i focus a Lot on the fact that the powers aren’t so clear cut as the taxonomy declares, which is why overlap sounds really fun to explore. thanks for asking me about my OC! i’ll explain all this here :’3

tazia’s got a family history with doing some long-established bidding for the corruption (maintaining that Evil Garden™ and all) and her parents are very devoted to that. their insistence that she maintain it with them/after them is an expression OF the corruption:

“we’re family, this is tradition, it’s been our family for generations, we love you, the garden loves you, you’re so good at this, look how beautiful our work is, this is what we can accomplish together, don’t you see how beautiful? how could you ever want anything else, what could love you more than the garden does? we’re your family.”

just really laying it on thick with conditional love and familial obligation. corruption is also toxic love as much as it is literal rot and bugs and disease. and tazia loves her family! as much as she doesn’t want to be like them. and she doesn’t want to be part of this.

because guess what the garden ACTUALLY is! you know how sometimes people get their ashes turned into trees and whatever. this shitty evil garden is a family plot but made Bad. it’s overflowing with moving, sometimes malicious Plant Life that sprouted above where they buried her family for generations before her.

it’s a pretty big responsibility, keeping your entire family’s memory alive. keeping what’s left of them thriving and interacting with them and talking to them and never doing Anything to hurt or abandon them while they’re clearly so in need of your help.

as time goes on she realizes how trapped she is, both literally and figuratively; trapped by that obligation, the weight of that responsibility, the genuine danger of what could happen when she someday leaves the garden after essentially being a part of it for such a long time. and for a while, that’s completely suffocating! for a while there, it weighs on her. at first, she resists it.

at first.

because what she doesn’t want to be a part of is the CYCLE. but she’s already part of the family.

so she decides that the line ends with her. she and gerry had a lot in common as kids and that’s why they made a little pact to never be like their parents. they split off from each other in a lot of ways when they lost most contact. gerry was also a fear meal for the buried for similar reasons, stayed trapped for a VERY long time for Similar Reasons, but their outlooks on it are very different.

tazia won’t have children or pass this burden onto anyone else; she’ll maintain the garden as long as she’s able to and as long as she has to, but she wants the tradition to die with her. in her mind, she never leaves, and some parts of her are very comfortable with that! she wants to be cremated i think, whenever she goes, but she does also wonder who would even still know her by the time that happens. what if she just dies in the garden while tending it? would they drag her under then? who knows.

in pharos by right, gerry doesn’t exactly plan on letting that happen. no spoilers, but it’s going to be a fucking Lot and have a LOT to do with MAJOR plot stuff actually so HA.

but in terms of multiple entities overlapping in someone’s story, to me it’s like.

one is the reason you’re there, one is the way your own stuff manifests

agnes was told to do this one thing, but the Way she fulfilled that role was very buried! you could argue jon stuff, too, between the web and the eye. fuck web martin but martin was doing his lonely stuff To Make Sure peter didn’t fuck with jon and manipulated the situation right back, it WAS lonely stuff but it was through a certain Avenue.

gerry isn’t an avatar in canon but he’s clearly got an eye inclination that we all go with for assigning him. he’s also HUGELY influenced by the end after all that exposure, which influences his basic outlook. and like i said, i personally think he’s a massive fear meal for the buried, which impacts the way he goes about things. sometimes, he’s probably inclined to just give in just so it hurts less. in the end, he doesn’t, but g-d is it tempting.

tazia gives in to that temptation for a while there. i don’t see her ever making the choice to become a full avatar as much as staying in that limbo of influence and heavy marks, though! 

so she’s technically serving the corruption with her actual actions for a long time, but her actual inclination and personal way of experiencing what was imposed on her is VERY buried. the two coexist so closely that it’s almost hard to pick which one is the biggest influence! you could argue it’s still corruption in places, because she DOES love her family. you could argue the buried is what Scares Her The Most, but is it really?

eventually, it stops feeling crushing and feels more like an embrace. it doesn’t scare her so much, after a while.

scares the hell out of the people who want different for her, though. scares the hell out of gerry, with his own buried mark and his own knowing for how this goes.

tune in around the fourth installment to see where her story starts going :’-)

[joulethieves]

For the headcanon ask: Penelo 18, Balthier 15, Fran 9, Vaan 6 (please~)

18: Favorite possession, Penelo

There isn’t much time to choose what they can keep. The Imperials tear through every crevice of the Uppers, ripping from homes children and adults alike who could no longer afford their lives in the suns . Vaan and Penelo scrape through the modest flat in haste, hands shaking, as they hear the Imperials tear through their neighbors homes. The sound of discarded furniture, shattered glass and cold marching iron is enough to make them both nauseous at the tender age of fifteen.

It’s as if their home is on fire, and in the span of one minute, she must gather in her hands what she can to take with her to a place they don’t have yet. Her mind draws a panicked, hollow blank. Vaan is tearing through the home, sticking anything he can in his sash, in his rucksack, cursing and tripping. They’ll be in any minute now to drag them out and if they aren’t ready, it’ll be by their hair.

Then she sees it, from across the room, a dull glint of copper in a grand arc. Her feet propel her forward as the door bursts open, and her hand grasps around the hoop. It was her birthday gift last year - everyone had pooled together for it. Vaan, Reks, her brothers, all of them that once shared this tiny one-room flat after the plague. She’s even made some coin with it lately, in the sprawl of the North End by the fountain, spinning, twirling, tossing, a shimmer of gilded russet in the desert sun at the mercy of her deft hands and nimble feet. She loves hooping.

“We need more time,” Vaan grunts at the Imperials, three of them, standing in the doorway with sunlight pouring around the hard lines of their iron. His fists are clenched at his sides. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s all right, Vaan,” she says, her voice as cool as the copper in her hands. She touches his arm. “Let’s go.”

He gazes at her and his eyes threaten tears, but they walk into the sun, and don’t look back.

15: Singing headcanon, Balthier (this is BalVaany)

The hangar holding the Tournesol is messy, as usual, and Balthier enters from an anonymous pocket of its cold metal confines to step into the sun streaming through the glass above. Vaan’s airship glimmers and hums, a gorgeous spectacle in the Dalmascan afternoon sunlight, not unlike its pilot blissfully unaware to his entrance as he tinkers with a tangled mass of cables in a heap.

Vaan’s singing.

Balthier allows himself to listen, stopped mid-step in a clawing shadow of Her wings. It’s a familiar tune, a Balfonheim shanty Reddas taught them years ago now. 

He wonders how it’s possible to have been with the boy this long and not known he could carry a tune like that. In the echo of the hangar, Vaan’s voice is a birdsong, carefree and warm. It causes something to stir within the older sky pirate, and the past few months away from him come crashing down in a spiral of tender want. 

He’s missed Vaan. 

The moment feels sacred, intimate, not meant for his ears but ah - what pirate would he call himself to not be tempted by the forbidden? He allows himself a few more moments to collect the lilt of Vaan’s songvoice in a pocket of his headspace, one he’ll bring out on nights alone in their separate ventures when his bed feels too empty.

And when he feels he’s intruded enough, Balthier joins in at a line he knows, and predicts when his attempted duo abruptly becomes a solo venture. Vaan stops mid-word as Balthier steps in, continuing the lyric in a flourish as he approaches his partner of a different ilk altogether.

Vaan’s back is to him still by the time Balthier approaches him. “Well?” the pirate grins, and Vaan peers over his shoulder. The boy wants to be mad - Balthier knows he does. His absence was too long, and he takes off without word too often. But Vaan can’t stay mad, and Balthier is grateful for that. “What do you think? Not a bad entrance for a Leading Man.”

Vaan snorts.

“More like Leaving Man.” The younger sky pirate drops the cables from his oil-stained hands, wipes his palms on his shirt carelessly. “You’re a creep, you know.”

“And you’ve quite a voice. Never thought to tell me?”

“You never asked.” Vaan’s voice is warming to him with each sentence though he wants to keep them cold.  Balthier pulls him in, and cares little of the oil against his well-worn doublet. He is due for a new one, anyway.

“Consider me asking, may I venture the invitation of a duet?”

Vaan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now, leaning into his warmth. “Only if you stick around long enough for an entire song.”

They kiss, and when they part, Balthier’s eyes are alive with sun streaking from the reflection of Tournseol’s wings. “That, and more.”

9: General physical contact headcanon, Fran, read here

6: Hugging headcanon, Vaan

Ashe watches her people in the distance as the party takes a much-needed breather on the green expanse of Ozmone. Vaan and Penelo are far enough away where she can’t hear them, loud though they are, but she watches their body language as if she were trying to pick apart every nuance of the Rabanastrans to understand the entire city with which she seeks to reclaim.

Ahead, Vaan and Penelo walk along the grass with bare feet, heads jerking to and fro as they taken in the landscape littered with brilliant fallen airships. Vaan points to one in particular and Penelo nods, before bumping his hip with hers. He nudges her back, and their banter is louder for a moment, before they embrace.

She watches, and her heart lurches. To her left, Basch must notice, because he says, “They have not seen much of Dalmasca outside of the desert sands. Hard-pressed to be separated are those two, the more they see.”

Ashe nods, but can’t tear her eyes away from them. “I hope they understand the weight of this journey, and that they may go back if they ever so wish it.” She does not want her burden to press upon her people. If they want to leave, they can, whenever they want. She does not want them to feel like they owe her anything.

Basch hums once next to her. “They are aware of the risks and the options. They choose to stay. We cannot ask for any more or any less.”

Ahead, Vaan picks up Penelo, and spins her around in an embrace. Her arms are stretched out on either side like wings, and she’s laughing.

The next time Ashe sees an embrace like that, it’s Balthier who is the victim. She watches them walk from the Aerodrome’s entrance in Balfonheim after a flying lesson that, thankfully, no one else was invited on - for the sake of her churning insides at the mere thought of Vaan at the helm of the Strahl, she is grateful. They’re walking side by side, and she can see from here Vaan’s beaming smile that seems to warm the streets even further than the midday sun. 

And then he rounds on the pirate and embraces him so hard that Balthier literally stumbles from his swagger. Vaan’s tanned desert arms are stark against the pirate’s white tunic, Balthier’s arms open in an awkward loss at the surprise attack. Ashe can’t help her smile - more at the pirate’s fall than anything. Vaan’s hug looks relentless, arms tight around Balthier and head tucked into his neck. He had it coming, she thinks, he rather deserves it. She knows what this means to Vaan, and he must as well. That embrace seems a bit too long-pent for the both of them.

Ashe doesn’t understand it, until it’s her turn. 

It’s the night before they climb the Pharos, and everyone is drunk. Everyone, except her. She breaks from the clamor and steps onto the balcony of Reddas’ mase, to taste the salt air and look at the moon. 

Vaan’s footsteps are no secret to her, and she needn’t turn to confirm it’s him.

“Ashe, what’re you doing out here by yourself?”

She closes her eyes and takes a long breath through her nose. The sea air is intoxicating enough, she needn’t drink herself to a point of insobriety. But she will humor Vaan.

“I merely sought a moment, Vaan,” she responds, voice gentle in the breeze. She stares into the sea.

“Oh.” Is the muted reply. The footsteps approach, and she turns, only to grunt in surprise as warm tan desert arms wrap around her. She flinches into it, the unexpected gesture equally as instinctively unwelcome. Surely he must feel that; her body is coiled and tense like an Ozmone snake, but suddenly she thinks of that day on the Plains, and she slackens somewhat.

He’s warm, and the hold is tight, as tight as it’s always looked, for Penelo, for Balthier, for almost-Fran before she nimbly dodged it and sent Vaan careening into a swollen wadis infested with Gigantoads. He reeks of Madhu but his hair smells like the desert, like the sun, like her country, like home. He holds her tight, and the moment seems too long, until he lets go, and suddenly it feels too short.

She blinks at him, awkwardly, but Vaan just smiles. “Come back inside. When you’re queen you’ll have plenty of time to stare off into space alone.” He turns and walks away, with only a bit of a stumble, and in the wake of his leave she suddenly feels very cold in the breeze. Ashe shivers, and heads back inside. 

[rosheendubh]

--"One time, when I was in band camp...,"--Just kidding. One time, a long time ago, I was at Lancaster Uni, overnight. They're not kidding. It's a confusing campus to get around. -That being said, this is my Spring (wishing and praying) fantasy trip for 2018. Arthurian itinerary--2nd century Roman Britain/Scotland. The Men of the North, consisting of renegade Saramtians, exiled Ulaidh (Hiberni), and a rebel grandson of the Fisher King/The Eveling (actually, the ruler of Mann). Aoife, the younger sister of Scathach, and the once lover of Cuchullain as he trained under Scathach's tutelage for war, fled to to Isle of Mann in her grief, upon her son's death, Connla. Whence Cuchullain, dueling against his own kin, unknowingly struck the fatal spear tearing out Connla's life, and Aoife's vengeance against her faithless lover was fulfilled. Seeking refuge in her madness in the court of the Fisher King, she birthed a daughter by the Eveling, Eigyr (Ygraine/Igraine), who grew in loveliness to womanhood, and was sent to be educated by the Priestesses of Sena. And falling in love with an embittered, grieving young veteran of the legions, an amputee who has lost his arm in the campaigns of Alba as Pius raised his Wall between the Forth and Clyde. Antonius Aratus (read: "Aratus" means plow/or plowed in the Latin...according to Google-translate anyway;) -His commemorative milestone was found along one of the Antonine Wall forts. Bootes/Arcturus--the Ploughman following the Great Bear across the Northern Sky. Coincidence in the name, I know, but intriguing none-the-less)--Aratus, a wounded cripple, a tortured, bitter young man seeking the healing miracles from the Priestesses of Sena to restore him to full vitality, restore his lost appendage. And Eigyr, the Priestess assigned to him in the long, hopeless season upon Sena, realizing his injury, however ingenious the prostheses are designed to replace his severed arm, lies beyond the capability of even the renowned priestess-scholars to regenerate. But finding something else with Eigyr, in the autumn he disembarks back to his horse farm/villa at the far end of northwestern Hispania (outside of Coruna nowadays), he doesn't know she's with child as she watches his boat sail west upon the slate seas. --Son of the Sea, a Prince of the Waves her son will be, and a sacrifice to the God Beneath upon his birth, Eigyr can't bear to lose that fragile life swelling in her womb to the dark, vestigial rites still practiced by the most enlightened of The Nine, these communities of women seeded across the Empire, from furthest reaches of the North to the deserts of the East. Fleeing west, on the eve of her labor, she follows the track of the setting sun along the course set by Aratus 9 months prior. Her travail leaving her in early labor, convulsed by her contractions in a lonely cliff side cove, along of the sea, a kindly Wagoneer, a Caius Maternus by name, in the employ of Aratus, whose own son bears his namesake, Caius, stumbled upon her, and summoned Aratus's mother, Lacrima--Fand--who had once been the great love of Cuchullain, years ago, when she had graciously yielded to Cuchullain's wife, Emer, but refusing to return to her own degenerate husband when she knew she carried Cuchullain's child, that very same Antonius Aratus. Fand chose, instead, to try fortune, and settle in new lands, Roman lands, beyond the power of the Fisher King, and his harem of a court upon his Island Kingdom, that same father of Eigyr, Manannan, the Eveling, Prince of the Waves. Fand, a Roman matron, widow of long deceased general of the legions from Hadrian's reign, she too, had been raised as a daughter of Mann/Manavia and Sena. And summoned to the rocky headland where Eigyr's life bleeds away in her labor, Fand sees the triskseles, the spiraling Trifoils upon Eigyr's wrists and knows her as a Daughter of the Nine. Her eyes dulling with each contraction, her child transverse, unable to be dislodged. In the dark hours harkening Dawn, a meteor flares across the sky, out of the east, exploding into tentacles of light in all directions, a brilliant Dragon Tail, portent of Heroes, as Fand slices open Eigyr's abdomen at the young mother's insistence, knowing she's dying, but a mother's courage willing to gift anything left of her own life to that of her newborn babe, as Fand draws the lax infant forth from the blood pooling out of Eigyr's womb, submerging the cavity of her belly. In her last moments breathing sea air and the fragile salt of the dawn upon the sea, Eigyr whispers against the cheek of her infant, whose mewls have risen into the gusty cries of a healthy newborn, angry at being thrust from the cocoon of a mother's womb into the harsh glare of life. "Airther, his name is Airther," she murmurs in a voice growing soft as her life leeches away. Begging Fand to guard him, this Prince of Mann, from those who would harm him, the Sea God jealous, and the 9, knowing when their God has been cheated of his rightful due, a son for the Cauldron of the north--the Corryvreckan, to fill the Breccan's underwater kingdom with a new child, yielded up by the Cailleach in her winter fury. Airther, Born of the East, Born of the Dawn upon the High Shore. Arther, who Antonius Aratus will call Artor, Lucius Artorius, his son as Fand insists, born of gentle Eigyr, who gave her life for that of their child, which Aratus never acknowledges, but never denies either. Acknowledging Arther, as his son, Artor, Lucius Artorius, for 'Artor' means simultaneously, a place of difficulty and dire woe, and the place where the waters narrow, the straits of the shore, from which his mother bestowed with his name, memory of his birthplace and the Dragon Star bursting across the heavens as he breathed his first, trembling cry. And Eigyr her last, eyes fixed as life dulled, but forever bright with Dragon Star blazing with her bright soul to the stars above. Eigyr--the promontory, the spear of land into the sea, Arcaia, the feminine of Herakles. Whom Antonius Aratus will never speak of to a living soul, of those months upon Sena, and the one woman the world will ever have known who claimed to have had his love for those seasons in that community of the Nine, and born him his only son. But the world will know her Beacon, the restored Pharos of Flavium Brigantium (what's nowadays The Tower of Hercules), Pillar of Stone at the end of the Earth, bright flames in her lighthouse, guiding sailors safely to shore in the days of the ancients. And the world will know her son, to be celebrated in song and verse for centuries long after his mortal life. Thus, Airther...Artorius...and Eigyr...and Aratus. Just wait and see what we did with Batrades, as my Sarmatian Prince, who is the cognate of Bedwyr of the Silver Hand and 4 Pronged Spear... The fathers of Men of the North, who will swear their lives and honor for a Queen like no other, and a Dream of Justice sown upon the Isle of the Mighty in the days when the Eagles still reigned, and Britannia was name of the Island fierce Genius. Brigantia...