#and that probably prevented his ascension for a time

[fortune-maiden]

I really just want to write all the Pei Xiu + Three Tumors fics.............

The Three Tumors and their emotionally dead errand boy.

Shi Wudu helping Little Pei with Crimes.

Ling Wen recognizing the Pei Xiu really does not like to be the center of attention

Pei Ming being so unabashedly insufferably proud of his descendant and showing him off to everyone

Ling Wen and Shi Wudu also both trying to poach Little Pei for their own palaces before he ascends properly.

Not exactly giving up afterwards.

And just generally the Three Tumors, and especially Pei Ming, being some sort of support for him when they first meet him. He needs it.

[marielle555]

Anti-AA headcanons and gaslighting. Picking apart the online mythology around Ascension. Part 4. A set of clichés.

In previous posts we've dealt with the three most important anti-AA headcanons (“Cazador 2.0”, “Loses his soul”, “Doesn't love Tav”), there are still some of the most common and most frequently used clichés left. I apologize, but there won't be a special picture for each, I suggest you instead just admire Astarion one more time, for pleasure:

1. You continue the “cycle of abuse”.

There is no such thing in the game. In the game, UA talks about “breaking the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago”. And he says it so artificially, it's not like Astarion at all, you can see that he adjusts and says what the “good hero” wants to hear. Putting on a mask. Or he becomes the “mouthpiece of the author”, as if it was written for teenagers who need to be “taught” something.

The notion of a “cycle of abuse” where the victim becomes the abuser, as it is sometimes tried to be presented, seems really offensive to people, who are survivors of abuse and can associate with Astarion for that reason. When it is presented as meaning that if a person has been a victim of abuse, they cannot be loved, they cannot be given “power”, they cannot be accepted for who they are, but must be “fixed” by them, “saved from themselves”, forced to be convenient to others, or else they are “dangerous”, it is certainly inappropriate, stupid and simply tactless. Everyone is different, every situation is unique, and specifically in Astarion's situation nothing like that happens. Astarion does not become an “abuser”, the only thing that happens in the game is that the player suddenly becomes a submissive in the story (suddenly if the roleplay was different before), and there is no “cycle” here, there is only Larian's desire to present different kinds of sexual relationships in the game, and this can be changed if the player wants to, by adding their own roleplay by mods.

What UA says about the “cycle of power and terror” can probably be read in such a way that one tyrant is replaced by another (a rebellious slave), and everything repeats, the history of mankind knows many examples, when after a revolution a new dictatorship emerges (though, our Astarion shows off only in words, but in fact he has fun and leads a hedonistic lifestyle, and in two seconds forgets about the insidious plans to take over the city, if you call him on a journey). And there's no need to stretch pop psychology over the game's plot.

Astarion in the past too, before Cazador, was a magistrate, power-hungry and surely involved in some intrigue, he doesn't even continue any “cycle of terror”, he brings back his old self - an arrogant nobleman (well, a nobleman with a pair of neat fangs) and behaves the same way he behaved in his past life.

2. You failed to save him from himself.

“Saving someone from themselves” sounds like nonsense in itself. There's no such thing. A person is who they are, a person is always themselves. A person can hide their true thoughts and feelings and pretend. A person can change their beliefs and attitude to the world, but the attitude to the world does not change (at least for the better) from the fact that a person was prevented by someone from getting what they needed. Humility - perhaps, but it's strange to claim that by forcing someone to humble themselves, they were “saved” by simply clipping their wings and not letting them unfold the way they wanted to. “Not letting a person be themselves” is what it really means.

Comparing the situation of refusing a ritual to one where someone might try to stop a loved one from doing something that might bring that person harm, also doesn't fit - Ascension brings Astarion only good, a chance to feel alive again, to get rid of hunger and enjoy the sunshine.

Ascended Astarion behaves as he wishes, he no longer needs to pretend, but he has confidence, and he expresses his confidence through the removal of his masks, including testing the strength of the foundation for this new confidence. The trauma, of course, remains with him, but he is already taking the first step toward overcoming it through this confidence. At the party in the epilogue, Astarion behaves calmly and it is clear that his confidence has “taken root” and he has gotten used to his new powers and possibilities. He squares his shoulders, becomes stronger, becomes truly free, and laughs. He laughs sincerely and openly. UA adjusts to the “good” world around him, behaves the way others want him to. ("I'm still nothing, aren't I? Just an expandable frail spawn who will burn to a crisp soon enough.") After Ascension, Astarion truly accepts himself, without regard for the opinions of others. He truly becomes himself, he no longer needs to wear masks, play roles, adjust, he is completely free. Astarion does not need to be “fixed”, Astarion deserves love and freedom, and the freedom to be himself as he is, and he is beautiful as he is.

3. He's trapped forever.

Based on Tav's line: “This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador”. Again, we don't see any “trap” in the game. Just one somewhat high-minded line by Persuasion, which by its high-mindedness masks the lack of any rational meaning behind it. What does “trap of force” mean? Force is a tool, a necessary tool for survival in the cruel and dangerous world of Faerûn. Power can be the bait, the “stuffing” of some trap, but in our case it is not, Astarion is not “trapped”, Astarion loses nothing, there is nothing wrong with his soul, he loses absolutely nothing, he only gains. Traps don't work that way. You don't get a solid profit by falling into a trap. A bargain can work that way, but not a trap. If we think about the idea that Astarion is now “obliged” to use this power, striving for more and more power, “obliged” to weave intrigue and seize power in the city, that this is the “power trap” - that he can't relax and chill now, but must constantly work as an “evil lord”, that's not true either. Astarion himself wants to do it, he enjoys it, he sought even more power in his previous life as a magistrate. And he entertains himself and lives a full life at that, Astarion is a hedonist and he has a wonderful time giving balls and enjoying all the pleasures that this world has to offer him and that he wants to have. Plus, no one has Astarion tied by his ears to the throne of Vampire Lord, he can travel and leave it all behind, if he wants to. Astarion lives the life he wants to live, the life he chooses to live, the life he enjoys.

“But the important thing is I am doing wonderfully. Finally having a life that's worth living.”

4. AA and UA are two different people.

Where this strange story about two twin brothers, who are born from the womb of one pre-ritual ancestor during the ritual (or refusal to do so), and the player has to choose between these brothers, unfortunately, is not clear to me, but such a “version” also exists. Perhaps the reason is the use of the acronyms UA and AA, denoting one or another Astarion's state of affairs in the game, and it may seem to some that we are talking about some “different Astarions”. As if two different people “hatched from the same egg”.

If we mean the difference in Astarion's behavior in the case, when he received the Ascension, and in the case, when he remained a spawn, then it is absolutely natural, that the behavior of any person will be different depending on the conditions of their life. If we imagine a person in a situation, where they have received “power” (conditionally) and can afford to behave as they wish, then, of course, they will behave differently, than they would in a situation, where they are vulnerable and dependent to some degree. But the person will not become “different” from that. If you win a million dollars in the lottery, it's entirely possible that your behavior will change, and that someone will say of you, “They've become a different person,” the moment you're dancing on a table in a nightclub, shouting out: “I feel alive, hahaha!” Just as someone who is bright, lively, and for some in this regard considered “problematic” may fail, become depressed, humble themselves, and stop demonstrating some aspects of their personality, so can people in latent depression, who simply try to behave as those around them expect them to behave, because they themselves, for the most part, don't care anymore. And about this person, too, someone will probably say, “Great! He took the path of redemption, learned and is now a different person, a better version of himself!” Having or not having opportunities doesn't change a person, having or not having opportunities can affect their behavior and freedom of expression, it's what affects the outward manifestations of character, not the personality itself. Astarion doesn't have a UA twin that magically separates from him. Astarion does not cease to be Astarion in any way, Astarion remains himself.

P.S. I personally believe that trying to impose a “black and white” perception of the story is a primitivization of art, and any player is able to evaluate the story themselves and decide for themselves, what they find more appealing, as well as to enjoy all the playthrough options offered by the game. Some game world may have a very appealing “good” and that will be the favorite playthrough option (I still warmly remember Azata Path in Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), some may have a gorgeous “evil”, “evil and fun” path, like the Ascension path for Astarion in BG3. Larian did a great job with the “evil” characters, there's also Minthara, my favorite companion #2. Minthara is lucky in that she doesn't have a Redemption Arc, but she also has less content, Astarion has that arc, but that doesn't mean that this option should be considered his primary or preferred option. Ascended Path can be very happy and bring a lot of joy, especially since now, with mods, we have a near perfect game.

[weirdmageddon]

dave saw how jade reacted to the impaled crow and thought “oh shit shes sensitive to seeing death”

and because he cares about her took care of these in advance from then on; he thought to himself “ok i will keep that in mind so she doesnt basically flip the fuck out”

and then she saw a dead doomed dave, one he hadn’t intended on her being able to see

and that was the one she messaged him about

but the entire time dave was having that conversation with her he knew that in a little while that when hunting for frogs jack would appear and they’d battle and she’d wind up accidentally shooting him to death and have to kiss his corpse to wake him up on derse.

and he can’t tell her that because if he did, he Knows she would prevent it from happening, dragging them into a doomed timeline because its not supposed to go any other way

and he was probably thinking “oh my fucking god. poor jade” especially because seeing him dead was the reason she messaged him like that all freaked out

which is why he said that really cryptic but causality-free thing to her in advance

right after that conversation with dave, jade created jadesprite in the hopes that she’d have becs powers and could go fight jack which quickly deteriorated but yeah this

“anyone you loved” and follows that sentence up by refering to dave specifically.. WAHHHHHH

also i wanna analyze that:

i know love can mean different things, whether friendship or romantic but its clear that she thinks fondly of him at the very least if she felt the need to namedrop dave specifically

as for another person she loves and was killed by jack, there was her brother john (a platonic/friendship/familial love of course) but i dont think she saw jack kill john up-close because her dream self was dead at that point so she couldnt see it happen in the clouds from where she was on lofaf. jade was awake on lofaf when the incinisphere lit up with the quest bed ascension twinklies, and she didn’t even have the spectagoggles yet when john ascended so she couldnt see his corpse anyway. john’s corpse was on lowas and his dream self on skaia became god tier. so jade didn’t see john die directly.

that conversation she had with jadesprite also happened before jade saw dad egbert and mom lalonde killed by jack through her goggles. that means what she said was before rose was killed, because rose was killed after jade informed her of jack’s murder of her mom and dad egbert and she went grimdark. and i dont think jade harbors any affection towards dave’s bro who she saw dead through the goggles enough to consider him someone she loves…she was sad on dave’s behalf though

who else was there at that point in the story she “loved” and was killed by jack besides dave, then? just something i noticed on a reread

and that event was the key reason why dave stopped time traveling. he couldnt handle being burdened with acting casual about his impending death AND while knowing his death will be at jade’s own hands in front of her in person, and that she will have to kiss his corpse without explanation or clarification from dave’s part. he knows she’s sensitive to even seeing dead bodies just through some goggles, so the body of her best friend / someone she “loves” and first live person she meets in like a decade killed accidentally from her own gun would be so much worse for her

[sunderwight]

Thinking some more about why Old Man Viktor would want hextech to be invented, or to specifically be invented by Jayce, such that his meddling involves giving Jayce the rune that he uses to kickstart his innovations, when a simpler way to prevent catastrophe in any given timeline would but to just... not invent hextech at all?

And I've got another theory!

I think Old Man Viktor is actually looking for a way to unfuck his own timeline.

If it was just about saving others, that doesn't seem like it would be all that complicated, and, unless he's failed every prior time (possible) it should probably have a set routine by now. Also, why would there need to be so many attempts? Is he doing this for every single timeline, or is he deliberately creating new timelines and experimenting with the results?

I think it's the latter, given that we see him provide young Jayce with different runes, and that he's presumably used different methods of persuasion and involved other different factors in the process. Again, it's possible -- given Ekko and the reversal rune -- that this is the first time it's worked at all, but I think that Viktor's comment that in all timelines, only Jayce can show him the futility of his actions would in fact imply otherwise. There have been other timelines where Jayce has successfully compelled Viktor out of his plan, or else I think Old Man Viktor would have phrased it more like "only you might show me this in some version of events" rather than "in all timelines, only you can show me this".

So, probably, there have been other timelines where the world is saved by Jayce's intervention.

Which is great, and Old Man Viktor takes it as a win, but I think why he keeps on doing it and what he's ultimately after is the right formula for a means to sort of unbake his cake, if you will. Old Man Viktor's own timeline has already been doomed. He's the only one left, trapped in his "perfect" outcome that has become a prison of (in his own words) dreamless solitude. He can't escape what he's done and he can't rest, and outside of his scant interactions with the Jayces of other timelines, he's alone. His Jayce is gone, everyone is gone. Like the ingredients baked into a cake, the people that he bound together into his ascension cannot be alchemized back into the individuals that they once were.

Or can they?

After all, this is magic we're dealing with. Magic, technology, and the same genius that created the problems in the first place. If there's a way to undo it, who else could figure it out? I think the main cast of the show comprises the people who might and the people who are most likely to influence and inspire them -- Jayce and Viktor, who started the problem. Mel, an incredibly powerful mage. Singed, who taught Viktor and helped engineer his transcendence. Jinx and Ekko, two of the only other people in either city to actually figure out hextech on their own. Heimderdinger, Jayce's teacher. Even Ambessa brings along the Black Rose, who might feasibly contribute something to the undoing of Viktor's calamity.

Viktor is very stubborn, and he doesn't abandon his causes easily. I think that once he realized the folly of what he'd done, and accepted the reality that he had destroyed the world instead of saving it, his next course of action would be to either finally die or else fix it. If he can't die (probable) then that just leaves fixing it. Fixing it for other timelines is great, but ultimately, knowing Viktor and what he's like, I don't think he would be satisfied with that. He'd accept it as a consolation prize and ultimately if that's his limit, he'll find out one day. But if he has infinite space time to play around in, why not aim big? Why not try for the ideal outcome?

So that's what I think he is really waiting for. A lead into the method to truly undo what he did, and restore everyone to themselves. Not just in other timelines but in his own too.

[another-lost-mc]

(Fallen) Angels Round Table Discussion: Fashion

Featuring: A mixed bag of canon and OC angels and some of their fallen brethren.

"So, honest question - who comes up with these outfit designs?"

GABRIEL: Most angels meet with someone from the tailoring guild and they can request what sorts of clothing they'd like.

SERAPHIEL: Clothing is also a popular gift for angels that pass their ascension trials.

"Does hierarchy or rank have anything to do with the types of clothes angels are allowed to wear?"

SIMEON: Not really. It mostly boils down to preference. Certain styles are more practical than others too. For example, most of the warriors choose not to wear robes on a daily basis. I only wear mine for very special occasions.

METATRON: Michael and Lucifer couldn't be more different style-wise and they were both Seraphs.

MICHAEL: I designed a new outfit for Lucifer that was a little bit more...relaxed...but he wouldn't wear it. Asmodeus even helped with it.

LUCIFER: That’s exactly why I refused. You show enough skin for both of us.

"Now that you mention it, is there a practical reason for designing tight clothes with, um, decorative cut-outs?"

RAPHAEL: It helps us stay cool and prevent heat sickness during our hottest season.

HABUHIAH: Loose clothing isn't comfortable to wear underneath armor.

RAPHAEL: I don't think that's much of a concern anymore.

HABUHIAH: You have more faith than I do when it comes to certain demons.

BELIAL: Are you still upset about our little scuffle in the human world? It's been nearly five-thousand years.

URIEL: You mean the pointless war that you started?

BELIAL: It was actually very profitable.

URIEL: You're the worst.

GABRIEL: Shh, darling. Just pretend he's not here.

BELIAL: That's not very nice, Gabe. You haven't missed me even a teeny-tiny bit?

HABUHIAH: You can't be serious.

METATRON: If we have time later, I'd love to talk to you about your involvement in that skirmish. The official records we have aren't very detailed.

BELIAL: Say no more! I'd be delighted to stay as long as necessary and—

GABRIEL: Absolutely not.

"So, back to the whole why angelic clothing is so revealing thing...?”

SERAPHIEL: Right. Well, from a utility point of view, form-fitted clothes usually work best because you still want to be able to move your body freely without any restrictions. Wearing something flimsy like a cloak is a potential disaster too, at least if you're in a fight.

RAPHAEL: Michael learned that the hard way.

URIEL: The younglings were in the garden and got a firsthand demonstration about combat safety so at least something good came from it.

MICHAEL: You set your cloak on fire by accident one time and your friends never let you forget it.

RAPHAEL: That was an accident? I thought you did it on purpose to get out of training that day.

SIMEON: The point is, a lot of those considerations aren't as important as they used to be. Now we simply wear what we like.

AZRA: Are we going to gloss over the other very important reason? That some of us just wanted to look good?

LUCIFER: Riveting input from our resident incubus.

HABUHIAH: What's that gesture Azazel is making with his hand?

SERAPHIEL: I'm not sure, but judging by Lucifer's expression it's probably not nice.

MICHAEL: Their demonic forms are much more impressive than the photos I've seen on Devilgram.

RAPHAEL: Should we try to stop them?

SIMEON: It's more entertaining if we don't.

METATRON: But I don't want anyone to get hurt.

URIEL: Wait, why is Belial fighting now too?

SERAPHIEL: He's upset that his suit got scorched when one of their wayward spells hit him by accident.

GABRIEL: I hope you're pleased with yourself since this was all your idea, Michael. But I have to admit, I expected much worse.

MICHAEL: See, I told you not to worry. It's just like old times!

A/N: Here's something silly that helped distract me from real life stuff that's kept me busy lately. This vaguely incorporates some Celestial Realm headcanons/worldbuilding, and to be honest, I just wanted to throw these characters into a room and see what happened. (Chaos. Chaos happened.)

[thewertsearch]

Additionally, his existence is your responsibility.

Hey, Vriska was the one who turned him into a First Guardian. I guess you could blame Jade for his original ascension, but the present that facilitated it was the Pen-Pal's idea, not hers.

...actually, it wasn't even his idea, was it? The Pen-Pal was coerced into sending the bunny by some third party - and at this point, I'm pretty sure English has his fingerprints all over this subplot, too.

Refusing to venture out to destroy the sun in no way spares anyone from my master regardless. It is certainly true that destroying it will end my life. And it is certainly true that The Tumor you will deliver to its location has enough power to destroy it completely.

Alright, maybe it could happen - but you're hedging a little on whether it will happen.

I've been thinking about other ways to neutralize Scratch, in case the Tumor is a dud. Unlike Jack, we can't really trick of manipulate him. Abusing the gaps in his knowledge is technically an option, but they're kind of difficult to plan around. We'd have to know when and where the gaps will present themselves - and I'd advise against using the cueball, considering what happened last time.

There are a few other options, though. Bec was essentially erased when he merged with Jadesprite - and even if Scratch survived a prototyping, his personality would be compromised by whoever he's sharing a kernel with. We don't currently have any spare kernels, but it's something to keep in mind if he's still a problem in the reboot session.

He’d probably also be destroyed if he was present in a doomed timeline when it ceased to exist. Come to think of it, that might be part of why he's so big on Rose initiating the Scratch - because if she kills him via timeline erasure, the Green Sun will remain, and English can abuse it again.

To be honest, I'm still not sure we want the Green Sun gone. I'm obviously not against breaking the game, but we should really know what we're messing with before we start ripping out cables.

Instances of myself have spawned in countless universes, and my objective is always the same. I have never once failed to complete this objective, and I never will.

So there are other corrupted Guardians.

English's attack method is becoming a little more clear. When he sets his sights on a universe, he arranges for Gamzee's code to be injected into a Sburb session there. This code worms its way into the First Guardian's genome, turning it into a HONK Guardian - a corrupted demigod, compelled to summon its master.

...and I was just fretting about Bec's genome getting messed with. Great.

There is nothing noble about taking a course of action you believe would prevent his arrival, because that is impossible.

Are you sure, Scratch? Because it certainly sounds like something that'd get your death tagged as 'heroic'.

Anyway, this 'inevitability' shtick is the same spiel he used to manipulate Vriska. It was dubious then, it's dubious now, and defying Scratch's is only impossible if you believe it is.

Unfortunately, Scratch is a very convincing man.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I've been following your Heretic updates and I've been wondering, are the Hours akin to forces of nature - or they beings with desires and fears that are simply too alien for humans to comprehend?

They are beings with desires and fears that are for the most part completely comprehensible. Mother White is the only alien one. They are also forces of nature. The Hours are the aeonic powers that hold the universe together, and maintain an order in which life and the pursuit of apotheosis are possible. Their passions, rages, promises and burdens configure and power the architecture of the universe.

You know what, let's actually run through them.

The Madrugad (the First Hour) is the Hour of the Passage. She ensures that one side of a doorway connects to the other. She also presides over the passage from life to death (and back, if she allows it). She is invoked for summonings and resurrection magic. She attends the Sun-In-Rags in hospice, preventing him from passing into death. She is remote and solemn but broadly benevolent, though not necessarily generous.

The Queen-In-Chains (the Second Hour) is the Prophet's Hour. She presides over all causality and the organization of time. She is completely insane, but probably knows everything, and can act with searing and bewildering precision when she launches some petitioner on a called shot through the butterfly effect.

The Stranger (the Third Hour) is the Hour of Deception. She presides over everything that is unknown, and protects the secrecy of everything which should remain unknown. She's one of the three gods of the Wood, and is generally a real jerk. Trickster gods are almost universally manifestations of the Stranger. Her sister is the Ring-Yew, and the pair generally cooperate when called upon to do so. She is engaged in a friendly rivalry with the Black Captain.

The Rending (the Fourth Hour) is the Hour of Annihilation. He is the destroyer. Rage, cruelty, and pestilence are his offices. He wants to hurt you before you die. He loves the Sunflower King, and inflicts endless torments upon him to express his love. Doesn't really have a bone to pick with any particular other Hour. He intends to kill them all equally.

The Kithmark (the Fifth Hour) is the Hour of the Inner Reach. He maintains the boundary between 'you' and everything that is not 'you.' A lot of yogic practices get into Kithmark veneration. Mostly keeps to himself but if you end up fucking around in Idless at all you'll probably become a big fan of him. He is working very hard all the time to prevent you from being colonized by invading intelligences.

The Pyre-Hawk (the Sixth Hour) is the Hour of Exultation. His office is purification and ascension. He's absolutely 100% of the time in a state of ecstatic joy, and you will be too, if you pursue his favor for long enough! Nobody has beef with the Pyre-Hawk. He's the life of the party and we're all thrilled he's here.

The Sunflower King (the Seventh Hour) is the Hour of Triumph. It is by his will that your will has the power to reshape the world around you. Even the physical laws of the universe give way before the will of the Sunflower King. Proud and resplendent, haughty and flensing, in his kingly greatness he submits to be Rended to spare all of creation from facing the same scourge. The most beloved of the Hours for the greatness of his sacrifice. The Madderblade is his guardian and knight. All hail.

The Madderblade (the Eighth Hour) is the Hour of Conquest & Reconciliation. The fusion and fission of every atom in the universe are only the echoes of her towering victories in both love and violence. She is glorious. She is always serving. She is the first force that ever slew an Hour. Her blade bit the heart of Mother White. The Black Captain wants to fuck her so bad it makes him look stupid. She loves him too. They've been in a state of relentless war ever since acknowledging their passion, to prevent themselves from committing the calamitous Sin of the Sky.

The Bent Minstrel (the Ninth Hour) is dead, which is very bad. He was the second of the three gods of the Wood, and presided over the movement of nature. People who know about this sort of thing generally speak well of his memory, although often in the same way that they call the fairies "the good neighbors." Wild Hunts and horned gods aside, he was the right Hour to pray to if you wanted your harvests to be plentiful and the weather to be good. He also inspired art & music, which he perceived to be just more manifestations of the weather. Mother White ate him.

The Ring-Yew (the Tenth Hour) is the Merciful Hour. Every lucky break you've ever gotten when the chips were down was thanks to her. She is the particular protector of children, prisoners, slaves, martyrs, animals, and the lost. She is the third god of the Wood, and by far the nicest one. Fortunate is he who glimpses the edge of her silver hand in his moment of despair, because a path to peace and freedom is about to open up before him. She is completely incapable of any kind of violence.

Mother White (the Eleventh Hour) is the Hour of Vibrance. Hers is the vital force which allows life to multiply and which reanimates the dead. She is constantly hungry and has no other motivation that anyone has ever been able to determine before she ate them. It's hard to even tell if she communicates, or if she's just mimicking communication in order to entice you to come close enough that she can get her jaws around you. She's an awful grub and probably unkillable, but who knows what she'd pupate into if she could ever get enough to eat? Maybe something that wouldn't be so alien and dangerous.

The Stone Beggar (the Twelfth Hour) is also dead, but it seems unlikely that he'll stay that way. He was the Hour of Inevitability, and presided over the turning wheel. His name is still invoked by revolutionaries, and cursed by those who would try to cling to power beyond their appointed time. It is thanks to his kindness and to his cruel indifference that the wheel always turns. He was noble, quiet, and implacable in war. Mother White ate him too.

The Uranian (the Thirteenth Hour) is the Hour of Daring. Alone out of all the Hours, he was once a mortal man. His offices are magic and the movement of the spheres. Kind of a dick tbh, very into backstabbing your way to the top. The kind of guy who would actually say "don't hate the player, hate the game."

The Black Captain (the Fourteenth Hour) is the Hour of Satisfaction. It is by his will that oaths, vengeance, and victory hold power. He used to be the greatest of the stalking kings of Mithra, before the Madrugad summoned him into mundus to defend her domicile (in which the Sun-In-Rags takes sanctuary) from the ravages of Mother White, during the War of Intercalation. Dutiful, cunning, ruthless, and skillful. He's the sink to the Madderblade's source, you know? The Romans were really into him.

Those are all the currently seated Hours. There are more beings you can petition: like the Ecdysiast, the Wakefire, the Flayed Widow, and the Hanged Rider, all of whom were killed during the War of Intercalation and their Thrones have subsequently been taken by others (the Madderblade, the Pyre-Hawk, the Uranian, and the Black Captain, respectively). There are also Great Leviathan and the First Ant, neither of whom have ever been Hours, but are sufficiently titanic beings that they have a lot in common with the Hours. But you get the idea. They're not incomprehensible at all, except for Mother White.

[wormstar]

making wc ocs for like the first time in years. positing a challenge to myself to make characters themed around individual tmv songs.... planning to make a good couple of clans that live around the galapagos islands. more info under cut

these guys come from flowclan, a clan living near a mountain known as the cloud cliff. stories of the cliff bursting and unleashing fatal viscera have been passed down through multiple generations, though such a phenomenon has gone directly unobserved for decades.

sniffstar is an old old man and unfortunately (in his opinion) the current leader of flowclan. a former healer-turned-warrior and part of a political coup in his youth, he aided in the assassination of the previous leader, blossomstar, who was planning to send out a patrol of cats to make the week-long journey into dustclan territory as a feint to encourage war between the two clans. following blossomstar's death, his deputy finchtail, who was a spy for the coup, ascended to leadership and elected sniffstep as her successor. sniffstep supported finchstar's somewhat more just rule, though often butted heads with her for her laissez-faire attitude toward external clan affairs, as he believed that the only way to live in good conscience was to unite the island clans into one. following a bout of sickness, finchstar lost most of her lives. sniffstep secretly snuffed the last one and became leader himself. moons and moons have passed and his diplomatic ideals have become somewhat of a joke among a good sect of flowclan, and especially among the other clans. dustclan is the only clan that has agreed to form a 'connective alliance' with flowclan to honor the coup preventing a war. becoming jaded in his age, sniffstar has become much more meek, especially in the face of other leaders' aggression. these days he is honestly just waiting for starclan to take him.

i have much less for snakebird but vague idea is that she was accused of heresy against starclan by the leader of another clan and was abducted and executed and posthumously mutilated. she was buried far from clan territories to avoid her ascension to starclan, though this was not distant enough — various spirits eventually reached her within the course of a moon and, miraculously, managed to resuscitate her. she made an arduous journey back to flowclan territory and resumed her position, is probably training an apprentice and keeping undercover, restricted to flowclan's camp

[ughhwhyyyyyy]

ernest? menville?? 🎶

Takin a break from the ladies, its guy time now

I'm just gonna go in chronological order, discuss briefly some stuff about Ernest laid out in the songs, then do a summary on my character analysis to conclude. Easy peasy.

That Was Then, This Now

Ernest is a very negligent partner (but so is hel)

These two would actually be a really good pair if they were more focused on each other just because of how similar they are. They're both sensitive and tend to fall out of reality, and I could see them recognizing that and helping to ground each other. But instead they obsess over Mad, happens to the best of us.

they compliment each other in the worst way possible, they’re both more concerned w how the person they’re in a relationship with makes them look rather than the actual person they’re in a relationship with, and because of this they were kinda doomed from the start

Ernest’s Real Vows

Ernest is fickle, superficial and mostly thinks with his libido.

He wants “the perfect woman” to marry, not a person who he gets along with and is good for him

What’s interesting is that he likes Mad for similar reasons that Hel liked him for: “you make me feel awakened like my life can finally start”/"Now I'm healed, even keeled now that Ernest Menville's found me" they both see a prospective future in their new partner

“opened up my heart” yea she probably opened up something else in him too

he barely keeps w his promise that he'd be Mad's til death, he is such a ho

Til Death

drunk, self pitying shell of a man

The sad, whiny trumpets this song starts with that contrast against the heartfelt strings in Ernest's Real Vows give me life

It's obvious that this song parallels Ernest's Real Vows in many ways, a fun music theory thing that I love is the emotional difference between Ernest's diminished fifth drop on the lyric “til death” in this song from the octave ascension on the same lyric in Ernest’s Real Vows. When he goes up an octave, he resolves on the home note showing his contentedness with marrying Madeline at that time and signifying how Mad elevates him. But when he drops a diminished 5th, he leaves the home note showing his loss of contentedness in his decision and his mental and emotional decline since he decided to marry Mad.

“isn’t it a wonder how the choices that you make can haunt you, how everything you lost was the cost of your free will” He thinks his current predicament is the consequence of his free will when it’s actually the consequence of his lack of resolve and self absorption, he doesn't know how to actually take accountability

“so you pour yourself a drink until your brain goes blank (wee) that way you don’t have to think about who you have to think (mee)” And he keeps drinking himself away from accountability which prevents him from acknowledging what his actual issue is

“and it only took you 10 long years to tell that this life you chose is truly worse than Hel/l” he acts like staying with Hel would’ve kept him away from the craziness but it absolutely would not have since Hel was still more focused on Mad than her relationship w Ernest

Tell Me Ernest (Reprise)

Him agreeing w little pushback with Hel when she blames Mad for everything that happened between them

Not much else to say here, i think it’s funny how Hel is basically making fun of both of them w this song, you can hear it in her voice when she says “i must be boring you senseless” and when she makes her “come” joke

Let’s Run Away Together

another example of Ernest thinking w his PENIS and blatantly ignoring insanity

it takes basically nothing for him to agree to do a murder

From these first act songs featuring this man, I get the sense that he thinks that he is the main character of this story and this is very funny to me. The main thing factoring into his decision making is whatever looks/feels good to him. Mad appears to be the perfect woman so he'll marry her instead of Hel. Mad turns out to be the worst person for him to marry so he gets drunk all day instead of acknowledging his own issues. Hel shows back up looking super hot with the promise of getting rid of Madeline so he signs up to do MURDER because she grabbed his penis.

He is a field mouse, constantly running toward pleasure and away from pain.

I gotta break this ho up, the post would've been entirely too long

edit: music theory technicalities

—

Masterpost

erst. menvin.->

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Stone Heart AU: Jafar post-Overblot

Jafar is unsurprised but disappointed that the system has remained unchanged in all his time and even after his ascension to djinn. Jamil does not have the Red Hand brand of his ancestors, thank the ever-evolving sands, but that does not mean it doesn’t hurt when he sees him make himself small.  

But, and it’s noticeable, and he makes an effort to remember for fear of falling in resentment, Kalim is so different from Sultan Hamed. At the beginning they were frightfully similar. Childish, arrogant, playing naive, playing stupid and harmless when they are the most dangerous man in the room. Kalim was all of this. But Kalim has learned and changed, recognized his privilege, and has made efforts to change the very system that oppressed both of their potential. Kalim’s potential by not giving him any actual challenges and Jamil by releasing him of mediocrity.  

But the road to progress is filled with pitfalls. He can pull these two out of the quicksand before they fall too deep, if he is mindful. Jamil certainly won’t take orders anymore, not even from the Great Vizier. Kalim would, but to do so mindlessly would bring them back to the captured tail in this twisted Ouboros.  

No, it had to end carefully. Gently.  

But somebody has to say it. He has been slipping it into the girl’s thoughts, a drop at a time, for weeks now.  

I feel you, she thinks, and I know. But they’ve both made so much progress, wouldn’t this take them back?  

It is to prevent them from going back to this point at all. He answers, supplying a vision of red eyes glaring down. It must be known, both of their power is dangerous if unchecked.  

Yuu cannot tell if those red eyes are Kalim or Jamil’s.  

That’s probably Jafar’s point. Clever bastard.  

Yuu glances at the door. Jamil is back in the kitchens cooking for all three of them. Despite the changes, he is still Kalim’s handler, there are still roles expected to be filled. Kalim, bright eyed as always, works more diligently on his assignments than ever before. Jamil would be out of earshot, for once. 

“Hey Kalim, can I ask a personal question?”  

You have an option Ouboros. Bite down or let go.  

“Of course!” he chirps, twirling the pen in his fingers.  

“We’ve talked before about how mind control works, right?”  

She isn’t saying it to hurt. It’s going to hurt, but this isn’t a crack in the jaw.  

“Yes,” the pen stops, settling on top of the papers, “But Jamil hasn’t used his magic on me since the incident. We are good!”  

“I get that.” She says, reaching for the silk of the shawl before stopping herself. “But he can’t pull something out of somebody that they aren’t capable of.” she shrugs, looking down at her own paper. “Like, he couldn’t order me to do a handstand and me actually do it.”

“Well...no. But if you want to learn, I could teach you!”  

He is deflecting, the way he always does.  

“So he couldn’t make you act in a way that wasn’t already there. The orders, the cruelty, the long work hours...it’s already in there. Isn’t it?”

Kalim’s easy smile slides off his face with a sigh, leaning back on his hands.  

“Well. Yes.” He closes his eyes. “My Father, well, he cares. He is a good man. He can be a good man. But his temper is...dangerous. I understand why Jamil’s parents told him to play dumb. Father is a final sort of person. It doesn’t take much for him to go with the most severe punishment.”  

“I know that I am capable.” Kalim continues, opening his eyes to trace the patterns on the ceiling. “But I choose not to. I choose to see the good in people. I choose the bright side of situations. I choose to see the beauty and wonder in the world. It’s more of a challenge some days,” he shrugs, “There is plenty of awful and scary things. I’ve had enough attempts on my life to know that. But if I let those things rule my decisions, then haven’t I let them kill the most important thing of all?”  

Yuu tilts her head.  

“Hope” he looks at her. “They won’t kill my hope. That we can change things for the better, for everybody. I don’t have to be cruel or aggressive to do that. I just have to be aggressively kind.”  

“Besides,” he stretches, shaking out his hands, “Isn’t it more fun when everybody is smiling?”  

He flops over, catching Yuu off guard with a yelp. The echoes of his laughter ring in the room as easy as music. 

Outside the door, Jamil stands white knuckled grip on a cart of steaming food, counting his breaths.  

[inchidentally]

Crown Prince Lando AU idea based entirely on his appearance today in Italy for his trophy and Lawrence writing about how every team is courting Lando

okay so I wrote this rly fast on the work laptop and you have to just ignore the weird interpretations of how royalty and inheritance etc works. and completely fucking with how things went down in F1 history. it's an absolute mess and possibly unreadable but I literally couldn't stop myself.

if you're a fic author then pleaaaaase have a look and see if you can take this and actually make anything out of it even if it needs a lot of changes.

Crown Prince Lando has been fought over by nations since he was seventeen years old. His parents had retired from royal duties to live quietly in the countryside but a series of deaths and lack of heirs resulted in Lando living most of his life being prepared for ascension to the throne. His parents did as good a job as they could to keep Lando humble and "normal" while having to live a kind of sequestered monastic existence.

As he grew so did his future subjects' love and adoration of him. They loved his humor and his cheeky treatment of the solemn institution surrounding him. As he grew into being a beauty the country took endless pride in him and watched his exploits as a touring royal closely.

Fernando Alonso was the first to pledge his troth to Prince Lando because he could see the promise in Lando of one day becoming a truly beloved ruler - a quality he himself had found wanting in his own slow gathering of power. However he was persuaded early on by his advisers and Lando's parents to withdraw due to his 'already advanced age'. Lando's debut at court was postponed by his parents to prevent any other establishment attempting to lay their claim before Lando felt comfortable and ready.

The powerful Sainz Vázquez de Castro family swooped in next and arranged a series of public meetings between Prince Lando and their wicked (meaning "experienced") and devastatingly handsome son Carlos Jr. His charisma and dark eyes charmed Prince Lando immediately and a wedding date was set for the following year. Lando's debut at court was hastily arranged to happen mere days prior. Probably should insert something here about Lando being made to live this period of life in a guarded tower and attendants being present whenever he was with Carlos because chastity being required for marriage. And the only way to keep Carlos' dick out of Lando was the threat of a priest's guard cutting it off. But lbr they manage to sneak around well enough to do everything else.

Unfortunately the royal courts of Europe were shaken by a quick series of upsets: Sovereign Prince Lorenzo of Monaco abdicated the throne in search of a quieter life - his heart had never been in it since his father, the former sovereign, had become ill and abdicated. This left Lorenzo's unwed brother Charles to be hastily crowned Prince Regent at the tender age of 22 (and unable to become sovereign himself due to being a second son, again my weird rules). As a result Charles suffered the loss of his long-time suitor, nobleman Sebastian Vettel, who couldn't bear the thought of being sovereign let alone of a land that wasn't even his own.

Enter the Sainz Vázquez de Castro elders siezing the opportunity and negotiating a deal with Monaco in private conclave with the Papal State (??) to wed their son Carlos to the Prince Regent. Carlos is ashamed at giving in to the temptation… to not just be King Consort but to be Sovereign Prince, to rule over the vast wealth of Monaco and by extension the Holy See, to have the coveted beauty Charles in his bed. So he agrees to be spirited away to Monaco and the ugly business of dissolving his betrothal to Lando is left to members of church and state.

But Carlos experiences a complete conversion when Charles is on his knees in the cathedral - looking up at him with docile green eyes as Carlos' fingertips touch the warm red roses of Charles' lips as he holds the chalice of holy wine for Charles to drink. Carlos was almost hard beneath the ermine and velvet robes in a house of God when the crown was on his head and Charles next to him - and slightly below - smiling up at him with filaments of gold hanging from pendants on his chaplet, framing his achingly beautiful face. If Carlos feels his immense happiness and prosperity darken whenever he sees Lando's picture or encounters him at one of the courts then no one need know.

Prince Lando is of course too heartbroken to consider other suitors and his court is demoralized by their own failure to seal his future. Only brash American tycoon Zak Brown keeps the faith that Lando's appeal as he grows will land him a better match than any Euro old money looking to aggrandize themselves and take advantage of Lando's youth to displace his rightful future as King.

A stroke of genius is the arrival of commoner Daniel Ricciardo whose rise up the ranks of society has hit more than a few speedbumps over the years. He's in the perfect position to act as placeholder and a sort of 'playmate' for the young Prince Regent. Daniel does the job of squiring Lando around and cheering him up beautifully. So beautifully that Daniel begins to see in his charge's wide eyes a future that he had only ever let himself dream of before. He begins to publicly push the boundaries of propriety with Lando like holding hands, embracing him from behind, dancing scandalously close together. The dam begins to break when Daniel opens a public social media account and begins posting adoring and fairly intimate videos of Lando that prove to be a massive hit with the public… and that fan rumours of the Crown Prince breaking with tradition and marrying a commoner.

Exeunt Daniel Ricciardo.

(Yes I know this isn't remotely his role but go with it) Newly appointed Lord Chancellor Andrea Stella proposes that only a candidate the same age as Lando - or ideally younger - should be considered to ensure that his claim to the throne be safeguarded. Because Lando hasn't spent the intervening years doing nothing but swooning over a succession of suitors, he's perfected his role and learned his court and won over the hearts of his people. He's effected harmonious relations with rival kingdoms seemingly effortlessly. The royal coffers have never been so full and trade is booming. Lando and his court all know that Lando could easily rule alone. But the fire that the now King of Monaco had lit inside him refused to go out. It begged to be fueled and to burn brighter.

Then one day Andrea hears a murmur of controversy happening in the middling levels of the aristocracy. The scoundrel Alonso had construed a match between one Oscar Piastri and Frenchman Esteban Ocon as a means of effecting his (Alonso's) escape and aggrandizing the Alpine dynasty. There were further details about a drama between Ocon and countryman Pierre Gasley but all that interested Andrea was that young Piastri had ordered a direct pronouncement be made against the match and any further association with Alpine. He had already rejected the opportunity of being presented at court and clearly had plans for his own future that would not depend on the protection or condescension of any other power but his own.

Imagine Andrea's surprise when Zak Brown announces at the next privy council meeting that preliminary arrangements had been made with young Piastri to be the Crown Prince's companion for the following season. A pretense at Piastri having an interest in royal politics was to be given to everyone, including Piastri himself. But Andrea and Zak shared a knowing look across the mote-stained light straining through the high windows of the old chamber. The Crown Prince barely even hears the details as he wearily signs off on the public notice along with the other endless papers at his elbow. He doesn't even dream that a wildcard is being played for his future happiness.

The eldest son of the prominent and noble Piastri family from Tuscany is suitably beautiful with the characteristic straight brow, fine pale features and soulful deep amber eyes of his people. He is tall and still growing with an effortless regal bearing despite his youth. The first few meetings between him and the Crown Prince are cordial and with a promising warmth. Andrea is encouraged by the pink that rises high on Piastri's pale cheeks whenever he shares smiles with Lando but he's even more encouraged by the steady intensity of his gaze when Lando isn't looking.

For the first few months, Piastri remains a faithful but distant part of Lando's royal retinue. They interact often enough and clearly like each other. But it also comes at a time of unrest in Lando's kingdom as a result of the ascension of an ambitious and possibly ruthless young King in the Netherlands. Lando proposes a visit to Castle Toro Rosso and asks Piastri to accompany them due to the Italian affiliation with the Dutch royal house. Something about Piastri's calm and quiet confidence helps stabilize Lando and he needs all the support he can get.

The visit is strained and the Dutch court is intimidating - and rather grating - in it's brash opulence and show of dominance. The young King is more of a mystery, seeming cold and aloof but flashing a wry smile at Lando's well-known charm and humor. The tide turns entirely in Lando's favor at the tourney. Lando has been barred from jousting following his formal presentation as crown prince due to some finicky archaic British law and it eats away at it him to have to sit and watch while the Dutch King was allowed to ride for himself. More than once Lando moodily pushes at the circlet that keeps slipping over his curls and can feel himself being increasingly bratty and short with his attendants.

Piastri was already reknowned for his prowess in jousting and was automatically given the seat to represent the Crown Prince. When he appeared mounted on a blood bay charger that gleamed almost golden and black in the hot sun (MCL colors kinda??) Lando has A Moment when Piastri tips his visor open and addresses him formally and those intense brown eyes behind the cold armor make him look so much older. Lando causes a stir when he descends from his seat and gives Piastri his favor in the form of a ribbon from one of his full sleeves. They have one of Those Looks between each other before Piastri turns to take his place. He bests every one of his opponents and isn't unseated once.

Then the Dutch King Max Emilian appears and strangely shuns any pageantry associated with a knight's entry, let alone a king's. His Lady sits in his place flanked by both her own and the King's powerful families and court. Lando finds himself suddenly flooded with fear because what would happen if Oscar lost? What would happen if Oscar won? When had he become 'Oscah' and not just Piastri?

The collision unseats both King Max Emilian and Oscar and they draw swords. The fight is precise and clinical and breathtaking. Perhaps it was because of having more to lose or perhaps it was the press of the Crown Prince's lips against the silk ribbon he gave as tribute but Oscar suddenly anticipates a step too far ahead for the young King and a unified gasp is heard when Max Emilian's body hits the dirt. It's instinct that has Oscar's sword held at the King's throat. But when Max Emilian throws his visor back his bloodied mouth is stretched in a wide toothy grin. He barks out a series of high cackles and ceremonially begs mercy. Oscar breathes out in a rush and claps his armored hand around the King's and helps him to his feet. Max Emilian flicks Oscar's visor open for him and lifts his hand declaring Oscar's well-earned victory. Lando forgets himself and leaps up yelling and cheering as his court smiles ruefully over at the stiff, formal "celebrations" coming from the stands opposite.

Holy god I've written way more than I meant to but let's have it finish off with Lando whispering to gain access to the tent where Oscar is undressing and cleaning his wounds. Perhaps his armor has been removed down to the hips the way driver's drop their race suits down after a race. Oscar startles when he sees Lando alone with him and rushes to kneel to him. Maybe Lando puts his hand under Oscar's chin and tells him to rise up and oh maybe seeing Oscar sweaty and dirtied with a cut to one cheek and a few bruises on his body makes him forget himself. Maybe he surges up and kisses Oscar and maybe Oscar is shocked but also feels exactly the same way and kisses him right back. Then probably Oscar decides to make his boldest move yet and says that if Lando doesn't want him then he'll quietly go away - but if Lando does want him then Oscar would welcome the title King Consort, would be proud of it in fact to be in service a king like Lando one day.

Then Lando either passes out because he's been in blue ball hell since Carlos and years worth of arousal hit him all at once or maybe he just whimpers a little and starts wondering how fast a royal wedding can get planned so he can Get That Dick ASAP.

Fin.

[benoitblanc]

hi! what's your favorite episode(s) from season 2 of txf and why? of msr, who do you relate to more? (i am on season 3 right now, my first time watching txf) ❤️

top 5 episodes from season 2:

irresistible (2.13) is in my top 3 eps of the entire show. it's so tightly plotted and so horrifying and so integral to one of the main themes of the show, that the actions of ordinary people can be even worse than the supernatural. add the brilliant character work done with both scully and mulder as they both, especially scully, come to terms with the abduction... UGH. inject it into my veins

duane barry/ascension/one breath (2.05/2.06/2.08). what if you were my entire world so men who wanted to see me fail took you from me in an attempt to break my spirit, but all it did was make me more determined to find answers for you, and then even when i was given a chance to find the ultimate answers i gave it up to hold your hand when i thought you were going to die. codependency baby!!!

colony/end game (2.16/2.17). some of the best, tighest mytharc of the whole show. oh sam how i love you. dead from the beginning of all time

anasazi (2.25). WHAT a season finale. some of the highest stakes in the whole show, but they don't feel contrived. krycek is such a little bitch and it's the best. i also just love scully being a badass, and this ep is one of the clearest depictions of both how and how much she loves mulder. get you a woman who will shoot you to prevent you from being arrested for murder

honestly? probably sleepless (2.04). preacher RULES as a villain, the fuck-the-government plotlines never really miss, and krycek's introduction cracks me up every time. that man should be in a 1940s homoerotic film noir

season 3 is my FAVORITE out of the whole show and i hope you love it. pusher (3.17) is one of the greatest hours of tv ever written. other favorites of mine from s3 include paper clip (3.02), clyde bruckman's final repose (3.04), nisei/731 (3.09/3.10), war of the coprophages (3.12), syzygy (3.13), quagmire (3.22), and wetwired (3.23). the entire stretch from 3.08 to 3.17 doesn't have a single bad episode (although i do have Thoughts about 3.08, but it is overall an objectively good episode).

to answer your second question, i am a five foot three inch scientist with massive expectations for myself set by both others and me, i am terrified of personal and professional stagnation, and i can have trouble letting other people in. so what do YOU think lol

ask my top 5/10 weirdly specific anything!!!

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #338: Taisui Xingjun

if I can say one nice thing about taisui xingjun, it’s that lasengle went out of their way to make him feel very cursed. sometimes waiting for a servant to pop up in their event gives you cool new abilities to work with that aren’t part of their in-game kit, and sometimes they show up at the last second, throw out a vague party buff on for the last fight, and then fall asleep immediately. this time’s the second one.

thankfully, taisui’s not all that difficult a build, at least on the surface. he’s a Divine Soul Sorcerer, and that’s it! though to be fair, that class alone is really kind of mashing together two classes as-is, so he’s still not that simple.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

next up: make sure to like, comment, subscribe, and turn on notifications to see this build first!

Ancestry & Background

if we were being more objective taisui’d probably be a custom lineage, but it’s our build and I want him to be able to turn into his big form at will, so he’s a Changeling. with that, he gets proficiency in performance and persuasion, and his plastic presentation makes him a Shapechanger as well, so he can turn into any small or medium race as long as they have the same number of limbs, and you can’t turn into anyone specific without having seen them first. on top of all that, you get bonuses of +2 Charisma and +1 Dexterity.

finally, your background. you literally just sit there the whole event until like three deus ex machinas pile on top of each other to summon you into a vaguely human body, so that sounds like the Book of Many Things’ new background, the Rewarded, to me. that nets you proficiency in Insight and Animal Handling, as well as the Lucky feat for literally free. why anyone would ever pick a different background ever again, I don’t know, but now you get three luck points a day, and you can spend them forcing a reroll on any d20 roll directly affecting you and pick the better option of the two. whomst’d’ve the fuck thought putting that on a background was balanced.

Ability Scores

your highest score is your Charisma, because you’re basically skating by on your good looks and hoping that’s enough to make people farm the ungodly number of Cons needed for all your ascensions and NP levels. it is, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. second highest is your CON. yep, there’s a buncha them in there. third is Dexterity, because you don’t wear armor. like, at all. honestly this should probably be lower considering how easily you get eaten, but I’m trying to make a build that’ll survive level 1. after that comes your Intelligence, because the Con are quick studies at least when it comes to construction and video games, so they’re at least a little above average. that means your Strength is nothing to write home about- you’re a god, but you’re a kid, and your arms are kind of noodly. finally, we’re dumping Wisdom. as the Con you’re easily swayed, and as a god your tired ass isn’t helping anyone on watch duty.

Class Levels

1. as mentioned before, you’re a Divine Soul Sorcerer, which gives you Spells you cast using your Charisma. before we go into those, you also get Divine Magic, letting you pick spells from the cleric spell list as well as the sorcerer’s. you also get Inflict Wounds for free for your spooky shadow hands. I know taisui is technically true neutral, but his god form’s a god of curses and retribution, so I’m saying at the very least his powers are evil-leaning. speaking of, you’re Favored by the Gods, so if you fail a save or attack, you can add 2d4 to it once a short rest. whether being favored by this god is a good thing or not is anyone’s guess.

so then, spells! for cantrips, Blade Ward will keep your body in once piece for now, Morgan worked hard on that, while Chill Touch is another kind of spooky hand that prevents people from healing, which is pretty cursed in my book. you can also whip out your bell and Toll the Dead, dealing extra damage to injured targets, your you can curse someone with an Infestation, forcing them to move in a random direction if they fail a constitution save.

for leveled spells, Bane is a light cursing for a first level spell, forcing up to three creatures to make a charisma save. if they fail, every attack or save made for up to a minute gets a d4 taken away from it. we’re also giving you Mage Armor for +3 AC because we’re not that sadistic. even if taisui is.

oh, speaking of saves, you have proficiency in Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. you kind of are a god, after all.

2. second level sorcerers become a font of magic! rn that just means u can cast another first level spell every day, like your new one, earth tremor! most of you is still down there, after all, just twitch a lil.

3. congrats! you survived long enough to get second level spells! now you can feed your party parts of yourself to aid them, giving them a bigger hp bar for the day! you also learn metamagic this level, so now your font of magic actually does stuff that’s important! you can spend your sorcery points to make a spell heightened, giving your target disadvantage to their save, or careful, automatically making the save for some of your friends! taisui’s got kind of a yin-yang thing going on between his feeding and his cursing, so this is the best of both worlds!

4. since ur kind of a nega-jupiter, you’re now a scion of the outer planes! yaaaay! since your god’s evil, you get resistance to necrotic damage, and you get chill touch again!

you can also cast mold earth to cover yourself up again, and you can cast wither and bloom! with this spell, every creature you choose takes necrotic damage, and one creature you choose can roll a hit die and gain hp back! it’s literally everything you do in a single spell!

5. fifth level, you have magical guidance, spend sorcery points to reroll checks, whatever! the important thing is now you can bestow curses! the phb gives some suggestions, but really you can do anything your dm lets you get away with!

6. sixth level divine souls have empowered healing, so whenever you or someone next to you heals someone, you can spend a sorcery point to reroll some of those dice, once a turn! i’m not sure if that works for life transference or not, but either way this spell makes feeding yourself to someone a lot more visceral. you take damage, and then someone else gets healed for twice the amount of damage you took!

7. you can now give urself an aura of purity, making friendly creatures in it immune to disease, resistant to poison damage, and they get advantage on saves against a buncha common status effects too!

8. at eighth level you get another ASI, so now you’re a Baleful Scion. that rounds up your Charisma and lets you pull people into the Grasp of Avarice- once a turn, you can add some necrotic damage to the damage you deal, which also heals you for that amount. your best healing spell so far uses your HP, so you need to fill that back up somehow.

you can also summon a Spirit of Death for an hour, making a floaty medium boy you can ride around on! you don’t even need to spend any actions commanding it or nothin’. it can only attack one creature at a time, but it’ll lock on to them and let you know where they are the whole time!

9. you can now make an insect plague! don’t misspell that, trust me. now you can make a 20’ radius sphere of locusts that obscure the whole place, and everything inside it has to make a constitution save or get piercing damage!

10. tenth level sorcerers have another kind of metamagic like extended, doubling the length of a spell you cast, up to an hour. you can also cast resistance to protect someone from a saving throw-related dangers.

speaking of saves, you can cast the most messed-up spell in the game, Contagion! if you hit your target, they have to make a constitution save at the end of each turn, working like death saves. after three successes, the spell ends. after three failures, you can curse them with a terrible disease for seven days.

11. at eleventh level, you can cast sixth level spells like Heroes’ Feast! after casting this, you can feed yourself to up to twelve creatures, curing them of all diseases and poisons, immunity to poison and being frightened, and they had advantage on all wisdom saves! on top of that, they gain extra HP, and all for a full day! just… maybe don’t tell them what the feast’s made of.

12. twelfth level, another ASI! bump up that Con for more Cons! it’s health, you’ll get more health. this is retroactive, remember, so you get an extra 12 HP this level.

13. thirteenth level sorcerers get seventh level spells, and its time to get real curses! with Divine Word you can hit any number of creatures within 30’ of you, forcing a charisma save on all of them. depending on how many HP they have, they’ll become deafened, blinded, stunned, or even straight up dead if they fail a charisma save. this also banishes any celestial, fey, or fiend if they’re not from around here, so that would make Dagon a real cakewalk. also, on the “instantly killing people” front, this gives you more than enough room to take out some poor bastard’s whole extended family.

14. your Angelic Form is a lot different than most people would expect, but you can still use your bonus action to fly around on your curse lump, with no limit on flight time!

15. eighth level spells! you can now Regenerate your allies by forcefeeding them a whole Con, giving them a healthy amount of HP immediately, with a trailing 1 HP per turn for an hour afterwards. two minutes into the spell any missing limbs grow back, though they can also instantly be reattached by just slappin ‘em back on if you got ‘em.

16. another ASI, another Con for more HP.

17. you can now use twinned metamagic, turning a single-target spell into one that hits two creatures!

speaking of single target spells, Power Word Kill’s a hell of one, ain’t it? if the chosen target has 100 HP or less, they die instantly! no saves, no nothin’.

18. you spent so much time putting Cons into other people, we almost forgot to get some Cons into you! with Unearthly Recovery, letting you spend a bonus action to regain half your HP once a day! big heal energy.

19. one last ASI before the build finishes! with the Tough feat, it’s like you ate two Cons at once, giving you an extra 38 HP now, plus another two next level.

20. at level twenty you get the sorcerer’s capstone, Sorcerous Restoration! every short rest, you get four extra sorcery point!

…yeah there’s a reason we usually multiclass.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

you have an amazing Con-stitution for a caster, giving you way more HP than most would expect of you. having a healer that doesn’t die easy is super helpful. this also means you have great con-centration. your more powerful spells don’t need it, but dropping a spell always hurts.

not only are you a great healer, you’re great at making other people heal too! you also have access to some strong defensive buffs like heroes’ feast, aura of purity, and resistance. also, being able to grow back limbs can be pretty useful!

you also dish out devastating debuffs, destroying enemy defenses with divine words, curses, and disease.

Cons:

yep, there’s a lotta them in there.

(but seriously, a lack of direct attacks drags fights out, the sorcerer capstone sucks)

[yoonkinii]

We Were Human

Pairing(s): Ascended!AstarionxReader

Part 3:

Synopsis: Astarion died as soon as he became something the world has never seen before. No one noticed the damage before it was too late and the Astarion everyone loved was lost to the new one. No one could notice when the turn was slow and silent. He slowly lost the playful glint in his eyes. Lost the love he gaze upon me with. Lost everything that made him the man I loved. Oh, how I would give anything to get him back. I would gladly give up my damned soul for him.

Aka you are transported back to the past in order to prevent ascended Astarion from losing himself the only problem? You don’t have a lot of time.

-

Warnings: Gore, blood, cruelty, cursing, death/murder, mentions of using oneself unwillingly, abuse. Its ascended astarion, prepare for the worse.

Note(s): For the sake of the plot- Astarion will not automatically be damned from the start. In this world, Astarion becomes lost to the ascension overtime until he becomes the ascended vampire we know him to be in the game. Another note that should be highlighted is that this story will be told from the first person perspective since it benefits the story more than any other perspective.

You will also notice various things being different from the game. For example, Karlach will be able to stay in the ‘human’ world and she fixed her heart. (I love my girl, I’m not sending her back), Szaars palace has a different layout cause the one in the game was stupid. There will be more that you will notice in the future so beware.

Thank You.

-

“Soldier, are you sure about this? I can always come with you.”

Karlachs pouty face watched me as I looked over at all the supplies we packed for the hundredth time. I mentally went down the list of essentials we would need for this trip. Dammon grins over at Karlach and I, popping his head out from the canvas covered wagon.

“Karlach, you and I both know she can handle herself. Plus, she’ll have an Ascended Vampire with her.” Dammon waggled his brows at Karlach. I rolled my eyes playfully, handing Dammon the final essential we would need- our tent. 

Our plan was simple, we would set up camp at a safe distance away from the goblin camps. Once that was done we would scout the camps and try to locate the generals that run the place. Once they are out, everything will fall apart. Or so as Minthara stated. 

“Karlach, sweetie, my dear, the light of my life-” The more cheesy names that flew out of my mouth, the wider her grin stretched, thinning out the worried lines on her forehead. “I’ll be fine.” I said sincerely, taking her hands into and I prayed that my eyes conveyed what I said. She would never let me leave if she found out that I was beyond scared. I only had one chance to save Astarion from his own death but I had no idea how to stop it. I only knew something occurred while he was out and nothing more. I had no idea what to look for or how to even stop it. 

Karlach sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, “You’re right.” She said with a small nod of her head. She released my hands, taking a step back to look at me like this was our final farewell. Only the subtle flicker of her eyes looking behind me gave me any warning. A cool cheek was pressed against my own, tufts of hair tickling the skin. Arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a chest. 

“Is there a reason why you are making heart eyes at Karlach, my dear?”

The low rumble of his voice sent shivers down my spine. I pretended to be in thought, drawing out a hum as my pointer finger tapped against my chin, “Probably cause she has my heart.”

Astarions grip tightened around my waist, almost trying to keep me from going to Karlach. Karlach laughed, her hands resting on her hips and head tilted to the sky. After calming down from her fit of giggles, she shook her head, “You’re asking for trouble, soldier. Fancy pants looks like he is going to skin me alive right now.”

I feign confusion, placing my hand over my heart in dramatics, “You do not believe me? I am devoted to you, my beautiful lady-” I suddenly yelped as a white hot pain pinched against the left side of my neck. My mouth fell open as the pain turned into something else- something sensual. I wanted to curse Astarion out for doing this to me; for making heat pool low in my stomach. The nails of my fingers dug into the skin of his forearm, his arms still wrapped around my waist and keeping me from moving away. I don’t know how I didn’t feel the absence of his cheek against mine as he angled it to get near my neck. I wanted to curse him out but not only did I deserve it- I could not formulate the words I wanted to speak. Just when I thought it was going to become unbearable, his lips released from my neck. I shuddered as his tongue trailed against my skin, running over the two wounds- not only closing the wound with his saliva that could do just that but also lick up the droplets of blood that ran across my skin. I knew my face was flush beyond belief even if my skin was always pale, my ears burned and my cheeks felt like they were the color of apples. 

Astarion pressed a kiss on the wounds, unwrapping his arms around my waist and pulling away. 

“Know who you belong to, Pet.” was all he said as he left me to feel like my body was overheating with Karlach who was grinning at me like a fool. Swiveling on my heel, I watched as Astarion headed to the front of the wagon, checking on the mules that would be dragging the wagon. 

A hand slapped in between my shoulder blades suddenly causing me to jolt forward a step before I regained my balance. I looked over my shoulder to glare at Karlach, nose wrinkling in distaste. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that, not when your face is as red as mine and that's saying a lot since you’re usually pale as a ghost.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as I walked away to busy myself with anything. The echoing sound of Karlacks laugh followed me as I walked away. 

-

The setting sun was beautiful but blinding. It’s warm and bright hues creating a view I have forgotten about. It was simple things like that that I forgot about- the sun's rays bouncing off water, bleeding through the openings of tree leaves, colors painting the sky. It all seemed so new to me even though the sun had always been around. 

“I think this is a good place to set up camp.” The voice of Astarion tore my eyes away from the sky. We had been riding for a good few hours, out pace slow but necessary so we didn’t tire out the mules. I had been sitting beside Astarion the whole time on the seats of the wagon, our thighs pressed close together. We spoke to each other the whole way, only stopping every now and then to relieve ourselves before continuing on. We talked about anything and everything, even about the things we knew about each other. It was almost surreal hearing him speak so freely to me, to not look at me with disdain or as if I was an object. Seeing him be and treat me so normally was almost scary to see only because the lingering thought of how I could lose him lurked in the back of my mind. 

Astarion looked up from the map he was holding that marked where we should stop and set up camp- a gift from Wyll that he handed us right before we left the city gates. Astarions brows knitted together, a question forming on his lips just as I snapped back to reality and pushed myself up from sitting on the wagon. 

“Thank the gods!” I sighed with relief, stretching my arms over my head. Astarions lip quirked up into a smile, standing from his seat and stepping off the wagon. He didn’t wait for me as he took out the supplies we needed to set up camp. I only watched him for a moment before setting out to help him by unhooking the mules from their wagon harness and leading them to graze the area. I wasn’t worried about losing them, they were trained to not stray too far. I mentally thanked Halsin for speaking with the mules to ensure they wouldn’t run away from us as we did this mission. 

Only after making sure the mules weren’t hurt or anything, I rounded the wagon to find that Astarion had finished pulling out what we needed and was already setting up the tent. I rushed over to help him, 

“You could have waited for me. You didn’t need to do this yourself.” I softly complained, my hands making quick work of setting up the tent; trained from the various times I had to set up my own tent before helping others. 

“I know I didn’t have too but the sooner it gets done, the better I can lay down to rest.” Astarion replied with a yawn. I raised a brow at the action. Astarion being a high elf didn’t mean he had to sleep and in my ‘previous’ life he rarely ever slept, not that I saw him long enough. 

“You don’t sleep though?” I questioned, lips pursed together. Astarion looked up from where he was squatting, securing the tent to the ground, 

“My dear, do you not remember the habit I had started before I ascended?”

My brows knitted together in thought, searching Astarions gaze for an answer he would not give. He tilted his head, giving me a knowing look. It suddenly clicked. My mouth fell into the shape of an ‘O’ as I remembered a small but sweet fact about Astarion. It started before he ascended and turned me into his consort. When we weren’t sure about our future together and clung to every moment we had together. Since I was human, I needed to sleep which killed Astarion since he had no need to sleep and felt like the hours that I slept was precious time wasted. I once mentioned to him that he could always try to sleep with me even though there were no benefits with doing so. After multiple times of sleeping beside me, it became a habit his body got used too. Even though it didn’t benefit him, his body was so used to it that he would even feel tired when in reality, it was just his body wanting him to stop moving for a while. 

“I take it you remembered?”

I nodded sheepishly, avoiding eye contact as I finished setting up the tent. It was just in time as the sky had gotten a lot darker since we started. The enclave we were in was surrounded by trees and various bushes, almost creating a barrier between us and the outside wildlife. Which was ridiculous to think because we were in the wild but the flat land padded with grass contrasted greatly against the heavily wooded surrounding areas. 

“How about you go wash up? I hear a river nearby.”

Glancing at Astarion, I nodded. He had peeled open the tent flap and was setting up our bedding for the night. I raced off to the stream after pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, which resulted in him grabbing me in order to kiss me directly on the lips before releasing me to go wash up. 

I had promised him that I would hurry and wash up since he hated the feeling of being dirty. I tried my best to hurry, using the moonlight to guide me to the stream and to wash up quickly. I was sure that I didn’t take too long but as I returned to our camp, the tent flaps were closed and only the soft glow of a lantern shined through the tent fabric. 

Gingerly pulling back the flap of the entrance, Astarions name dying in my throat as I saw him already laying on the ground, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I blinked in surprise- he really was tired. I quietly laid beside him after putting my soiled clothes in a burlap sack, pressing my chest against his as I nestled close. His body seemingly reacted on its own as his arm came to rest across my waist, my leg hooking across his own. I laid there for a while, listening to his breathing and the sounds of nature until keeping my eyes open and straining my hearing to detect anything amiss became too much and the familiar embrace of sleep overtook me. 

-

Pain bloomed in streaks across my back, the crack of the whip blending in with my pleas. I didn’t need to look in order to know that the back of my dress was in scraps, hanging loosely off my shoulders. I heaved a shaky breath, tears falling off my face and to the floor. Another broken sobbed racked through my lungs as I was struck again, and again, again, again, and again. My own blood pooled on the floor, soaking my garments. 

The assault stopped and I tensed, afraid of the silence. Silence was worse than the air of pain, I had no idea what to expect with silence. 

Hands harshly grabbed my cheeks, jerking my head up so I wasn’t looking at the dirty floor stained with my bile, tears, and blood. Instead, I looked at him- there was no remorse on his face, only pure annoyance with me as if hurting me beyond belief was troubling him. 

He tutted his lips as he frowned at me, “Oh pet,” He said in such a soft tone would’ve caused anyone to believe he actually loved me. “Your face is ruined.” He complained, his grip on my cheeks tightening, digging into the bruises and cuts that littered my skin. I knew I looked horrible; he always made sure I knew. I wasn’t allowed the ignorance of my appearance from the lack of my reflection, he always told me how I looked to him. 

“No matter,” He continued, letting go of my face but not without pushing it away like I was the one forcing him to hold my face. “It is not your face that matters to me but beauty would’ve been a bonus.” 

I stood in silence, pretending that his words weren’t as painful knives. Pretending that his words didn’t leave invisible scars on my skin. He used to tell me I was the most brilliant thing he ever set his eyes on. He used to kiss the skin of my body when it felt clouded by others' judgment. 

“Lucinda,” He called. Lucinda appeared immediately, most likely standing in the hall and listening to my cries of pain. 

“Yes, my Lord?” Her voice was filled with confidence she didn’t have before. 

“Assist my dear concort with stripping her bare.” His voice litled as my title left his lips, mocking me even further. . 

“Of course.” 

I couldn’t fight her off even if I had the chance to do so. My body pulsed with pain, vibrating through my whole body. I didn’t know where the pain began and my body ended. I was almost lifeless as hands guided me to strip, obeying while fear coursed through my veins, mixing with the pain. 

My skin pimpled as it became exposed to the cold air of the punishment room. I stood bare before him, my scar covered body decorated with blood open to him. I couldn’t read his face as he store at my body, his eyes racking up and down my flesh, bile rising in my throat as he met my gaze and recognized the look he had in his eyes. 

“On your knees.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please no. 

I must’ve lost my mind as I chanted that single phrase over again. There wasn’t any other explanation as my head shook in disagreement as these thoughts raced through my mind. I didn’t have a chance to bed for forgiveness before pain shot through my face so hard that I collapsed to the floor. Perhaps there was a time when a slap across the face was nothing but with my mind and body weak, I crumbled. 

“No?” He questioned, my head snapping up to his direction, eyes blown wide in fear. “How dare you? You are ungrateful. I provide everything for you. Everything!” He yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. “You are my consort. You live to serve me, to please me. Your very existence is to ensure I am satisfied. You kiss the ground I walk on. You gulp down the air I breathe out. You sit there and look pretty for my gaze. You are nothing more than that.”

My mouth opened to say something, anything to calm him down but it never came- not when a metal tipped shoe collided with my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. I curled around myself, arms covering my head as I was kicked harshly repeatedly. His voice seemed blurred and muffled in my ears, my own eyes releasing tears that become more common to me than anything else. I couldn’t do anything other than squeeze my eyes shut and not cry too loud. He would become angrier if I did.

Please. Someone help me. Please. Please. Please. Please. Ple-

My body snapped up straight, choking on air I couldn’t get enough of. Sweat coated my skin, my hair sticking to my neck as I took in heaving breaths. Darkness greeted me, the buzzing of insects and chirps of crickets pulling me back to reality. 

A dream. It was just a dream. Well more a memory than a dream. I felt sick to my stomach as the memory flooded my head without permission. Things happening like that were a norm for me but to wake up in the past and dream about my old life was mind numbing. 

I inhaled deeply, letting the night air cool my nerves. The pounding of my heart subsided after a few breaths and I laid to close my eyes and try to grasp onto much needed rest. Laying on my back, I was greeted with the sounds of mumbling. Sitting up again, I reached over to turn the lantern on again, the light immediately brightening the tent. 

My heart seized in my chest as I looked at Astarion. His entire being was shaking as though he was unbearably cold. He was laying on his back, hands clutching at his own skin, nails digging as if he was trying to tear it off. His face was scrunched in pain, brows pinched and lips curled into a snarl, his fangs peaking out. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, his voice too low. I flinched as he suddenly bit down on his bottom lip, fangs puncturing the skin and blood immediately budding. 

“Astarion.” I said, shaking his form slightly in hopes of waking him. I repeated his name, shaking him harder when my first attempt failed. My brows furrowed as he still laid asleep. 

“Astarion!” I yelled, desperation digging its hands into me. Both of my hands shook his form harshly. “Astarion ple-” 

It happened suddenly. His eyes snapped open and one moment I was shaking him awake, the next I was pinned under him. My chest heaved as my gaze met with Astarions- no his eyes. The ruby red was darker, clouded by something I could never understand. His lips pulled back into a snarl, a low rumble sounding from his chest. 

“Astarion-” I began, rallying up the courage I didn’t truly feel, “Please, stop.” I begged but my pleas fell on deaf ears. My whole body tensed and shook as he leaned in closer. He had me pinned to the ground by the shoulders, his nails dug into them as he leaned in. 

I winced at the pain, “Astarion! You’re hurting me!”

It was as if those words were magic themselves. He blinked and his gaze was no longer clouded, the anger falling away from his face. He stood frozen, wide eyes darting all over as he took me in and what was going on. 

“Oh Gods,” His voice cracked at the same time mine did. “Oh Gods,” he repeated, quickly getting off of me like touching my burned him. He sat beside me, breathing deeply. His hands fisted tightly into his hair, tugging harshly at the white strands. His chest raised and fell way too fast to be considered normal, the sound of wheezing escaping his lips. 

“Astarion-” I called out, reaching for him. He flinched away from my hand freezing in the air, a mere couple of inches away from him. “Astarion.” my voice was soft against the tense air, “Look at me please.”

He didn’t answer, his chest heaving- weighed down by panic he didn’t know how to get rid of. His gaze flickered over to me, his mouth slightly parted as puffs of laced filled panic left his lips. Since he turned, my hands were now grazing over her skin. Seeing that he didn’t flinch I gently cupped his cheek in my palm. I was slow, patient to see if there was any hesitation in his eyes. When he didn’t pull away, his eyes holding my own, blown wide in fear, I cupped both of his cheeks. His breath grazed my wrists, alerting me just how fast he was breathing. 

“It’s okay.” I mumbled, guiding him closer and closer until I laid back, his face pressed against my chest. “Breath with me.” I instructed, running my hands through his hair soothingly as I inhaled and exhaled deeply. He followed, his chest stuttering a little in the beginning before smoothing out. His arms came to wrap around, pulling himself impossibly closer as he calmed down. The air was silent but my thoughts raced. 

Just how long has this been happening to him? Why hasn’t he told me about them? How have I never noticed this before? Is this the first step to Astarion becoming  him? 

Panic seized my heart as a thought entered my head, 

Am I already too late?

[rain-world-headcanons-2]

This is a long one, so bear with me here.

Saint is NOT the TTA. Based on the dating sim (I can't believe I'm using this for a hc), Saint is looking for the TTA. Why would Saint be looking for it if he is it? Saint could have been made by Sliver to help her find the TTA.

Saint went home one cycle, found Sliver’s ascended body, and left to go figure out how she did it. At some point Saint decided to try to find the TTA in ascension, realized it wasn’t there, and echoed.

Because Saint echoed, maybe there is leftover void fluid inside of him, and after getting max karma, or attunement to the other echoes, he can use that void fluid to ascend things (which is also why there's a cooldown after doing a lot of ascension blasts in a row; Saint needs to the void fluid in them build up again).

Sliver did actually ascend based on the dating sim. In one of the eggsplosion endings Inv can find presumably Sliver in wherever ascension is (rubicon?), who talks about how she thought she would see another iterator here first, not a slugcat, and asks if Inv wants to become her apprentice.

If the egg is the TTA because it ascends you without using void fluid (aka without the chance of echofication), Sliver could have found some sort of other version of it (or just made the egg) and accidentally ascended herself with it.

Even after echofication and being able to ascend things with his stored void fluid, Saint isn’t the TTA, because it still uses void fluid.

The reason he needs karma 10 to do it is because he needs attunement to the other echoes and by extension the void sea to be able to use his stored void fluid without it just ascending him on the spot.

Because Saint wouldn’t have been born until much later after Sliver’s ascension, the Saint we play as is probably a reincarnation (and has most likely reincarnated many times before). Saint probably echoed in this current body, based on the fact that when going to a new timeline after escaping the void sea, he starts where his campaign started. He echoed and his echo was tied to that spot, but because of his attunement he is able to leave that spot and just gets sent back there whenever he goes to a new timeline (as I also hc the end of his campaign is just him going to a new timeline).

Intriguing! A very in-depth interpretation of how Saint is capable of ascending others. I love the HC you have of saint being filled with void fluid in some way. From that angle, it is almost like a firebug egg in nature. Something technically capable of ascension, but still derivative of the void sea (and thus subject to the pitfalls of void fluid, preventing it from serving as a true triple affirmative). Interpreted from that lens, Saint serving merely as a vessel to move void fluid to the surface is almost tragic. It isn't a breakthrough solution to the unsolvable problem, it is just the next facet of a very old system. The pilgrimage to the depths, the filtration system, the saint.

[strelles-universe]

Spark the Light - Chapter 3: The Hunt for the Galespun

Allegiances | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Asterdawn wasted absolutely no time, marching them furiously through the forest and calling for a meeting the second her whiskers crossed the threshold of the gorse tunnel. She was already sitting atop the highrock when the rest of the Kirkyard group slipped in after her, taking grim seats at the base as the those who stayed behind sleepily stumbled into the main clearing, confused but panicked. Obviously they remembered the last time their Storm had called a meeting directly after a meeting had been to announce the ascension of Scornedclaw to leader of the Fennyield and how he’d forced territory from the Shorerisen’s paws. 

“There seems to be trouble brewing with the Shorerisen and the Fennyield,” the molly explained, recapping the entire meeting portion of the Games. 

“But didn’t they back down?” Wolfpaw asked, slightly confused. “The Styrman even apologized.”

“That was the most insincere apology a cat has ever given,” Cardinalfire told the cadet gently, ignoring Urchintail. “He probably only did it to save face given his stand-in lieutenant clearly didn’t agree with his decision.”

“He's right,” said Asterdawn, eyes flicking to him before returning to her seniors. “They were just on opposing sides for most of the meeting but when it was brought up that the Galespun rightfully deserved to be returned to their territory, they each expressed displeasure.”

“Nightrattle I understand,” scowled Callastorm, his long and feathered tail twitching with open agitation. “Though he is more ambitious than I thought when I extended that moon of peace to him.”

“Don't claw yourself,” Asterdawn told him kindly. “It is clear that the Fennyield have grown comfortable with holding more land than they can even patrol. If they wish to take advantage of a deal offered with good intentions, then may the souls judge them accordingly as the ahaliim sets in.”

“But why would the Shorerisen want the Fennyield to keep the uplands?” Nadderpelt inquired, Lynxpaw staring up at her drillmaster. 

“They want them to keep them?” Chaffinchpaw demanded, a tone of confusion entering her voice.

“When Nightrattle mentioned the moor, not once did the Styrman attempt to claim them for his own faction,” Nadderpelt explained. “He just got angry at giving them back.”

“Perhaps he means to take them from Nirghtratthe directly?” Cardinalfire offered. It was a reasonable question after all - he wouldn't personally fight for an enemy to keep a large slab of territory that put them closer to their own border… “if the Fenns keep the upland, their border brushes the Shorerisen. Then they could reasonably dispute the border.”

“That would let them claim whatever they could defend of it,” Nadderpelt agreed. “But that doesn't explain why - the river is the most stable source of prey in the forest. When everyone else starves, the Shores remain strong and plump.”

“...geese,” Quietpaw said, likely pulling from what they'd been told. “Osierstream said she was promoted fighting off a few geese that stuck around.”

“Geese alone shouldn't be enough, we must be missing something,” said Asterdawn before shaking her head, as if to dislodge any thoughts she was still considering. “Well, we can't read the minds of the Shores and we can't prevent the Fenns’ growing greed - all we can do is guard our borders and prepare for the possibility of a Shore-Fenn alliance against us.”

She flicked her tail allowing Callastorm to quickly rattle off, “So Wildheart, Chickadeechitter and Pricklestripe, head out as the moonpeak patrol and mark our border with the Shores. Everyone else, rest up - we’ll have to be on high alert.”

With the meeting clearly over, Cardinalfire didn’t hesitate to follow after Jackdawstripe with a yawn, slinking towards the comforting warmth of his nest. He was asleep almost before the thick-feathering of his larger tail had draped itself comfortingly over his back.

| | | |

He chased the squirrel swiftly, unable to suppress the laughter attempting to bubble up from his chest as he swiped tauntingly at its bushy tail. He wasn’t hungry for once, not really intending to catch anything merely seeking to burn away his additional energy. The squirrel went up a tree at the same time he caught the clear scent of a mouse and he turned on paw, sprinting into the messy fallen leaves with a tom-ish snicker. He caught sight of the little brown rodent, rifling through the leaf litter and branches, launching himself onto the tiny creature’s back.

Just as he released it, intending to start the chase anew with whatever else he could find, his body seized up and a familiar ashen scent filled his nose. 

I’m dreaming, he realized and the brilliant, cloudless blue of the sky immediately flashed blood-orange as a starless night-sky began rapidly crawling above his head, almost like it was devouring the very sun itself somewhere on the horizon. 

The petrification of his dream vanished, invisible shackles dropping at his paws and Cardinalfire took off. His eyes flicked down briefly, his paws flashing between a gentle lilac and his usual ruddy coat. The comforting heat thudded powerfully in his chest to the beat of his heat, like Ashara’s Hearth had taken up a happily humming residence within his lungs. His paws stung lightly with the force of his pawsteps as he cleared the distance between the glade he was in to- to- he wasn’t sure, his paws were tugging him on like they were possessed by an outside spirit of some sort. All he knew was an growing sense of urgency, a distant but painful sense of panic urging him to move faster, move faster, you’re moving too slow-!

He burst from the bushes he doesn’t think he was running through before, chest heaving as he staggered onto the deer-trail with achy paws. He whirled around, searching desperately for whatever it is that had drawn him here, what had called him to the trampled grass but there was nothing.

What’s here? I have to find her- find him? What am I looking for? I’ll deliver this message - what message, what delivery- I-

A sudden shriek of pain erupted, seeming to come from every direction at once at the same time agony exploded through his body. He staggered, collapsing to the ground and tried to pull himself away, crawl away from the strange sourceless pain like claws shredding through his skin.

His paw slapped a pile of ashes, embers raining down around his head not burning his skin but blurring his vision and when he raised his ash-covered paw, he was stricken with horror at the crimson sheen it had taken on.

| | | |

Cardianlfire’s eyes snapped open as he scrambled as quietly into a sitting position as he could, releasing a panicky startled breath. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the legionary’s den but that was alright, because with ever deep and distressed breath he took in, the calmer her felt. Slowly he was able to make out the shape of various legionaries curled up in their own nests, dreaming peacefully with a few empty - a dawn patrol most likely. There was no blood here, no ashes to smear his fur - there was only the soft snoring of his denmates, the intermingled scents that made up the Stormborn concoction and the tattered remains of his nest scattered beneath his paws.

He took a shaky breath in, sheathing his aching claws back into his paws and started grooming.

There was no way that he would go back to sleep after a dream - a sight - quite as horrible as that one, so he might as well clean away the scents of fear and discomfort drenching his fur, making it stick out in various random directions.

Maybe Spottedholly will have something to help me, he mused. The grooming was already working wonders - with every swipe cleaning away the upset trying to stain itself into his fur, he felt his nerves beginning to settle down. His breathing returned to its normal pattern and when he was finally presentable, besides his thoroughly mangled nest, he’d be surprised if anyone could tell what had  happened.

The growling of his stomach that he’d been ignoring finally coaxed him out of the den and into the steadily cooling sunlight. He squinted at the brightness, blinking furiously as he half-stumbled to the ukennva with awkward steps. He sniffed blearily at the pile, snatching a pair of mice for them to eat together and fumbled the rest of the way to the healer’s den. He did his best to avoid looking too traumatized or ruffled as he peered in. Much to his relief, the healer was already awake and seemed to be getting a head-start on sorting between dried, useless herbs and the dried, ‘can be stored for later’ ones. 

“Spottedholly?” he called out, clearing his throat a little when his voice got stuck.

Her ears perked up and she twisted around to look at him, her expression immediately becoming concerned, “Hey Cardinalfire, it’s early.”

He stalked in, dropping the mouse in front of her and sitting down, “I brought a snack.”

“Cardinalfire, what’s wrong?” she asked gently.

“Ka mamanku,” he murmured, lowering himself into a crouch and took a half-hearted bite from the prey. He shuddered a little - the taste of the blood washing through his mouth bringing his dream back to the forefront of his mind. He gagged a little at the thought while Spottedholly quickly mirrored his pose. “...I… had another Sight. Vision.”

He watched her expression slowly morph from confusion and sympathy at his exhausted state to alarm and concern as he recounted the dream - from the panic, the pain, the ashes turned to blood and how he’d sat in the destroyed remains of his nest before finally making his way to her. She draped her tail over his back while he explained, offering a sympathetic purr when he stuttered in a few places.

“What do I… do?” he asked tiredly at the end.

“What you do is rest,” Spottedholly told him. He gave her a confused expression and she chuckled lowly, passing over one of the piles of herbs she’d been sorting. “You’re here now and you’re safe - with no blood, no fire. You’ve told me about the dream - it seems like someone might get hurt on the deer-trail, so I’ll stock up on herbs and review techniques for handling those injuries.”

“Can’t we stop the accident from happening?” he fretted.

“Maybe and maybe not,” Spottedholly told him, pushing the herbs more insistently to him. “We can warn our cadets, exercise extra caution around the trail and teach cats what to look out for but in the end, all we can do is prepare. You’ve done your part Cardinalfire, now try to get some sleep - a tired legionary can’t prevent anything while he’s tripping over his tail.”

Cardinalfire nodded mutely in acceptance, tiredly chewing through the herbs she’d offered him before pushing himself back to his paws. 

“Your sister mentioned you used to share nests - see Jackdawstripe will share with you,” Spottedholly suggested. “It might help you sleep better to have another body.”

He made a jumbled sound of confirmation and walked back to the legionary’s den - the sun was already starting to climb higher into the sky, it would be a very not-fun battle fixing his sleep-schedule back to being away during the sun-peak period but that wasn’t something he would worry about for now.  He just ducked into the den, opening his mouth to subtly wake Jackdawstripe only to pause.

His best friend was already sitting up in his nest watching him with sad, yellow eyes. The remains of Cardinalfire’s nest were gone, while Jackdawstripe’s seemed to have doubled in size and a Cardinalfire-sized space had been left at the tom’s belly.

“You have nightmares a lot and Asha said sleeping together makes them less intense,” the dark-gray tom admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you but, um…”

Cardinalfire’s eyes stung as he trotted toward the nest and gingerly stepped inside. He turned twice in place before settling down, allowing Jackdawstripe’s massive, fluffy tail to settle over him. The russet tom shuffled backwards, instinctively cuddling into the thick, gray fur and releasing a soft sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Jackdawstripe asked him quietly.

“...I think I am now,” Cardinalfire murmured back sleepily.

“Okay - sweet dreams, Cardinal.”

| | | |

“Cardinalfire? Hey, Cardinalfire.”

“Mm…?” the russet tom grumbled, tugging a paw up to cover his ears.

He heard a little laugh, “I know, I know, you’re tired but Our Storm wants to see us, surindi.”

Cardnalfire groaned and forced his eyes back open, feeling like he’d barely even closed them a moment before. He blinked tiredly at the gray paws filling his vision, a half-eaten squirrel resting between them as he drew his gaze upward to Jackdawstripe’s fond, amused expression. It took another moment for his brain to properly decipher what he’d heard before he sighed and slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position. A yawn broke free from his jaws as he shook his head.

“Surindi?” he said, trying to force the tiredness from his voice as he moved to gulp down the rest of the squirrel.

The thin skin of the larger tom’s ears turned red with obvious embarrassment as he looked away, “Sorry… it slipped out.”

“S’fine, what’s it mean?”

“It’s a name maam calls me sometimes,” Jackdawstripe admitted sheepishly. “It means ‘little bird.’ I can stop.”

“No, it’s okay,” Cardinalfire tells him. “I don’t mind.”

But now I have to come up with a name for him, Cardinalfire told himself. A good name too, something as sweet as ‘little bird.’ He stretched, trying to wake himself up even a little more though given how tired he still felt - this was probably the best he was going to get. He shook out his pelt then quickly licked down the worst of the stray patches to make himself look presentable for his leader. Seeing that Cardinalfire was done with his usual ‘pre-leaving grooming,’ Jackdawstripe led the way from the den.

“Thanks for last night,” Cardinalfire murmured as they stood in front of the entrance to the leader’s den. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the tom said, his ears going red once more. “I used to do the same for Ravencroon… before…”

Cardinalfire licked his shoulder, conveying his sympathy and gratitude in the same motion. He turned and released a soft ‘meow’ into the den, announcing their presence to Asterdawn. There was a brief moment of silence before another echoed back, granting them entry.

Cardinalfire climbed in first without hesitation, used to lounging in the den with his ex-drill master. His paws sank lightly into the thin layer of moss and baby-grass that lined the inside of the log-den, the small bit of dew built up on the blades feeling cool and comforting on his own warm pads. He waited for Jackdawstripe to join him, the larger tom having to shake the draping lichen and ivy from his back and releasing a soft ‘mrrow’ of pleasure at the soft feeling on his paws.

“This den is reason enough to want to become the next Storm,” he whispered, making Cardinalfire snicker.

At the back of the den, Cardinalfire was slightly surprised to see three figures waiting for them. Asterdawn’s presence on a smooth warm rock, soaking in the last rays of sunlight on her pelt was a given - this was her den after all and Callastorm, with the remains of a rabbit piled a short distance away from where he laid on his belly wasn’t too surprising either because he was her lieutenant. But Quietpaw, slightly ruffled and shuffling in-place with her tail lashing back and forth across the ground was an unusual sight.

The two toms exchanged a glance before pressing on to sit before them.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Asterdawn said. “You have an important mission ahead of you.”

There was a brief pause, as if she was letting them think before she concluded, “The two of you will be joining Quietpaw in the quest to find the Galespun.”

“I- really?” Jackdawstripe blurted out while Cardinalfire blinked with surprise. He’d understood the implications from the Kirkyard meeting that it would be the Stormborn’s sole responsibility to return the moor-cats back to their rightful places but he’d assumed that his Storm would choose more senior legionaries - like Wildheart or Cedarfur.

“It will be a true testament of your skills,” Callastorm added smoothly. “You’ll likely be crossing through hostile territory and the Galespun has likely left faction-territory altogether for their own safety.”

“Why not Cricketleap?” Cardinalfire suggested.

“Because I trust you two,” Quietpaw said firmly, drawing their eyes back to herself. “Asterdawn says you’ve met my Gale and you’ve always been against Scornedclaw from the beginning. I’m only taking cats I can trust with me on this mission and the only ones I’d want are you and the others are cadets.”

“Aside from that, we need our largest and strongest legionaries to remain guarding our borders,” Callastorm added. “Scornedclaw expressed intent of revenge and I wouldn’t put it past him to attack us just as ahaliim starts thinning the prey.”

Cardinalfire exchanged a look with Jackdawstripe before they nodded together.

“Alright Quietpaw,” Cardinalfire said. “Let’s find your faction.”

“Good,” Asterdawn said, approval and pride for their decision ringing through her voice. “Go to Spottedholly - she’ll have some traveling herbs for you to take and some basic herbs to bring along. And remember, once you cross the borders you represent not just the Stormborn, but all four factions in your words and your behavior.”

| | | |

Thing moved pretty quickly from there - Spottedholly had already been alerted that a party of three would be leaving for a long trip and handed over the herb bundles with a kind set of well-wishes. Quietpaw led them from their territory and directly to the Kirkyard, her paws finally moving through the forest with the grace of a Stormborn cat with every careful leap and bound. Even the few times she stumbled didn’t slow her down, the molly still moving like the gods had given her wings and the ability to float over all mortal obstacles. By the time they had made it to the moor, they were all panting lightly from the unexpected sprint and Cardinalfire shook his head.

Forgot to pace myself, he panted while Quietpaw sniffed the edge of the land. 

“I smell the stench of Fenn and Shores,” she grumbled, tail lashing with open frustration. “We need to be careful.”

“Okay,” agreed the two toms.

Quietpaw immediately took off again, seemingly alternating between striding tall and unafraid in her own territory and skulking cautiously, worried about enemy warriors. 

“Ugh,” complained Jackdawstripe, squinting across the wide array of grasses and brush. His ears were pulled back against his head, faced screwed up from the force of the wind. “Is it always so windy up here?”

“There aren’t enough trees to stop it,” Cardinalfire said. He was faring a bit better than his best friend, his eyes well adapted to handling the smoke from the Hearth that billowed from the cub’s clearing though the way the wind dried out his eyes still wasn’t pleasant. “I guess that’s why this is the gales.”

“The factions were named after the founders,” corrected Quietpaw. “Ours was named for Fading Gale by Nimble Breeze herself.”

“Still don’t know either of them would step onto this scraggy patch of land and think ‘wow, I sure do love the way my whiskers are whipping my muzzle!’”

“We wonder the same thing about Rumbling Storm walking into your land and deciding, ‘stars you know what would make my day? Pricking my paws on eight different thorns.’”

“Well I think you’re both crazy - ‘oh yes, let’s sleep in the cold instead of near a hearth.’” mocked Cardinalfire.

“You kingdom cats are crazy for sleeping near fire,” scoffed Quietpaw good-naturedly. 

Quietpaw led the way through the brush, her amused and joking manner fading away the closer they got to the Galespun camp. The deeper they got, the worse it looked - with torn up patches of grass and dirt, broken bushes and clawmarks scraped into the various rocks and earth. Drips and spatters of dried blood became ever more visible, what Cardinalfire had initially thought were dandelion tufts dancing through the air ending up being bundles of underfur.

Cardinalfire could hardly bring himself to curse out the tangled gorse that lined the dip leading into the Galespun camp, too distracted by the clumps of blood and fur tangled in the thorns. 

“Gods…” Jackdawstripe whispered, looking in horror around the camp

Cardinalfire agreed. Even if the Fenns had wanted to deny what they’d done, it was too obvious what had happened here - there was bedding scattered throughout the open camp, torn up and half trampled in front of the various little tunnels. Even more smears of blood and claw-marks gouged into the ground, this time accompanied by the scores and marks from Magpietail’s spark. He could only imagine the confusion, the raw terror that must have overwhelmed the elders as they were dragged spitting and shrieking from their den, the fear and distress of cubs as their parents fought furiously to defend them in the nursery.

Jackdawstripe nudged him, still staring in muted horror as he pointed his whiskers toward a corpse laying splayed on the ground. Cardinalfire felt his heart sink as he took in the mostly decomposed shape swarming with flies and crawling with maggots and beetles, long limbs and ears identifying the lump as a likely Galespun member. Worse, the carcass wasn’t very big even with the chunks missing, likely from scavengers coming across the body.

Quietpaw walked quietly toward the body, lowering her head to touch noses with the corpse.

“Volepaw,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry…”

Jackdawstripe slunk forward, draping his tail across her back in silent support of their friend while she grieved her faction.

Did the Shores come this far down? Did they see what was done here? They couldn’t have or else they would agree that what happened wasn’t right…

“We should bury him,” Jackdawstripe suggested. “Put his spirit to rest. Where do you bury your cats?”

Quietpaw gave a bitter laugh, “Doesn’t matter, he’s too far gone to move that far. We can bury him here, in the camp - at least he’ll still be able to see the stars.”

The toms started digging without saying anything else, just scooping out earth to create a hollow large enough for the little body. They pushed the body carefully, clearly in agreement that any movement too hard would have the body dissolving and falling to pieces like cobwebs in the rain. The hole was shallow, not nearly as deep as they would usually bury a body but the shape it was in made Cardinalfire inclined to believe the scavengers had already gotten as much as they wanted from the young tom.  They took a moment to pat the small grave down, Jackdawstripe solemnly planting a stick up-right in the earth to mark the location before Quietpaw dragged herself away.

“Over here,” the molly murmured, gesturing to a tunnel that Cardinalfire knows he would’ve walked right past. “It’s an escape tunnel.”

“How come the Fenns didn’t find it?” Jackdawstripe asked, sniffing around the edge.

“There are others - so we can evacuate the whole faction at once,” she said blankly. Her tail flicked to another spot, a large pile of dirt and rocks lumped up seemingly at random. “They noticed and started collapsing tunnels. Even when there were cats in them. So many cats drowned in earth…”

A shiver ran unbidden through her body before she turned and slipped into the den. 

Cardinalfire shot his abashed looking friend a scolding look - now was not the time to ask those sorts of questions - before following the slender molly into the darkened cavern.

He coughed a little as he breathed in. The scents in the camp had been so stale, so faint that without the signs of a battle, Cardinalfire could’ve been convinced that no one had lived in that little camp at all but the cavern was different. His lungs were flooded with the pungent scent of terror and fear of Galespun cats fleeing a massacre in their own home. There was more than just drops or spatters of blood here but rather, fully formed dried brown pawsteps and blood streaked across the tunnel walls like cats had been dragging their open wounds across it.

He made a strangled noise in his chest as he stepped over a tiny crushed and mutilated body - a cub trampled as the faction fled, yet another life wasted.

How long did she stay in this camp before the Fenn-patrols made it unsafe to say?  Cardinalfire wondered, frazzled. How is she just walking through this like she doesn’t see it?

He was glad suddenly that no one else would see this, that none of his faction-mates would ever have to see the Galespun brought so low.

He tried to be discreet in the way he sucked in a breath of fresh, non-stale or fear drenched air when the tunnel curved upward toward the surface. 

“There’s another route they could have taken but… it goes out of Empire territory,” Quietpaw noted, her tail lashing slowly with discomfort. She twisted, looking over at the two toms. “So if either of you are ready to bow out-”

“No,” said Cardinalfire said firmly, Jackdawstripe straightening up in agreement with him. “We’re going to go find them.”

“Aside from just being the right thing to do, we have friends in your faction too,” insisted Jackdawstripe. “Hornetpaw and Tumblepaw were our friends - and if… if they’re gone… well the best thing we can do is bring their kin back home.”

Quietpaw looked between the two of them and then sighed softly, an expression of relief dawning on her face.

“Thank you,”  she said softly. “Come on, the sun is setting so we can rest in one of the Escort Outposts.”

/ / / /

Faction Translations

Ahaliim | The cold season before it starts snowing (lit. falling eye)

Ukennva | the place where all recently caught prey is gathered to be eaten at leisure (flit. fresh-prey)

Surindi | An affectionate pet-name passed down through Jackdawstripe’s family. As the word for wren (rindi) can be used as a catch-all word for ‘seed birds’ it vaguely means ‘little seed bird’ or simply ‘little bird.’ (lit. little-wren)

Sivake Translations

Ka mamanku | I’m (currently) exhausted

/ / / /

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