#anyways enjoy some lore

[beybuniki]

warm welcome

[hinamie]

hhmmmmm uh im dusting the cobwebs off my brain trying 2 come up w something interestinf uhh.......anything non spoiler-y you can discuss w regards to geto in the atla au perchance?

hi rin !!!!! tysm fr sending i hope u r doing well <3

atla geto lore fr u courtesy of sam:

he's a waterbender from the northern water tribe. he can bloodbend but finds it distasteful

he gave gojo the betrothal necklace/proposed to him when they were 20 (all of the adult characters are aged up in the fic vs jjk canon ages)

all of his decisions are driven by a desire to lighten the burden placed on gojo's shoulders

aaaaand atla geto draws fr u courtesy of Me :3

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[math-memes]

[itsmuffiiee]

I was told not to get this close to Jinks for safety reasons but it should be fine right? … right?

Hey.. Sorry I lied earlier- the reference wasn’t for a friend it was for me. @a-clown-with-wings

Silly Nonsense Below ・・・・・★

!! Please enjoy some doodles that didn’t make the cut!! I decided I wanted no tutu sometimes (a crime considering that’s one of my favorite parts of y/n outfit) and a stressed out bug doodle!!

!! We discovered this Evil Anti Jinks..!! so far we can’t tell their motives but they seem pretty cool!! Wonder if there is a Anti Mischief..?

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

The sunlight disorients him.

Usually, he wakes to a blaring alarm. If he has no alarm set, nothing planned for the day, he wakes when he cannot physically stand the taste of his own breath anymore, stumbling out of bed and ambling like a zombie for the nearest toothbrush. (On rare, rare occasions, he wakes to humming – low, drawling, lilting, floating around his darkened room, brightening it. He dreams about those mornings.)

He cannot remember the last time he woke to gentle sun.

Stretching, he takes a minute to catalogue the space as he wakes up, noticing the light curtains over wide windows, small TV tucked in between two double beds, and a desk, larger than he would have expected, taking up the far right corner.

Will is nowhere to be found.

“Jogging, mebbe,” Nico mumbles to himself; tiny, forgotten accent slipping out before he can stop it. Gingerly, he peels off the blankets and pads to the bathroom. Will’s blue-capped toothbrush sits next to the sink, quelling Nico’s ridiculous anxiety that Will, actually, has never been here at all, and Nico dreamed this whole thing up. He smiles slightly at the dorky stickers plastered all over the handle, colour mostly worn away, and the watch forgotten next to the soap dispenser. 

He hears a heavy door open and shut, pausing to make out quiet footsteps over the running water. Quickly rinsing the suds off his face, he towels off and steps back out into the hotel room, watching his friend.

Will has his back turned, hunched over the desk. He wears a hoodie, blue with big white clouds all over it – his favourite – and, of course, horrible cargo shorts. Nico counts seven pockets, and that’s just what he can see from the back. There is a book shoved in two of them, keys hanging out of a third, and an apple bulging from the pocket near his hip.

“Morning.”

Will jumps, whirling around. 

“You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” Nico says, not sorry. He’s grinning. “Were you out for a run?”

“I was out for a run hours ago, yes. It’s, like, ten-thirty, dude. You’ve been sleeping for eight hundred years.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’ve had this argument more times than he can physically count, he refuses to have it again when he doesn’t have the upper hand. He’ll bring it up again when Will’s sleepy again at nine o’clock. “Where were you?”

Will steps to the side, revealing three separate heaping plates of food on the desk, piled high with eggs, toast, a muffin, bacon, and, of course, an entire plate devoted to fruit. Nico descends upon it like a swarm of seagulls upon a terrorized child’s ice cream cone – with fury, insatiable hunger, and endless hubris. He makes sure to ignore the fruit.

Five minutes later, he’s satiated enough to turn a percentage of his attention away from the food. He spins the desk chair halfway to face Will, instead, curled up on the bed with one knee pulled to his chest, watching him fondly.

“How many times did you almost drop this on the way up?” he asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Will’s smile drops, eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

“Four floors, and there’s a good chance you took the stairs to keep the elevators for ‘someone who needs them more’, so –”

“I hate you.”

“– I’m guessing one time per flight of stairs? Oh, wait, there are three plates, definitely more –”

“I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again.”

“– and you have a new band-aid on your knee, so you definitely tripped and dropped it at least once.” He pops the last of the bacon in his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Twice? Three times? If you don’t tell me I’m going to assume six and move on.”

Will’s glare intensifies. He mumbles something.

“Hm?”

He mumbles again. Nico doesn’t even pretend not to be delighted. He knows the smile on his face is wide enough to make him look deranged, he simply doesn’t care. Opportunities to press Will’s buttons this beautiful do not show up every day. He must treasure them.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Hadtogoback.”

“Gonna have to speak up, bud.”

“I had to go back!” Will explodes, hands thrown in the air. “I fuckin’ – I dropped the stupid plates, the first time, so I had to fuckin’ – clean it up and – two stupid trips, you jerk, you better appreciate this –”

Nico almost bites through his lip. “You dropped it?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Will says defensively. “I was concentrating really hard but –”

Nico loses it.

“– my shoe got caught on the last step and I didn’t have any hands to catch myself.” He scowls. “Three people saw.”

He can’t breathe. There are genuine, actual tears streaming down his face, burn in his eyes almost as bad as the burn in his lungs, the ache in his belly. He wraps his shaking arms around himself in an attempt to hold himself together, laughing so hard he feels like his muscles might actually rip themselves off his bones. Every time he tries to calm down, he pictures Will, in his dorky flip-flops, egg in his hair, half a muffin crushed on his cheek, bright red, sprawled on the ground, food everywhere. If he could think of literally anything else, he’d be worried about his heart straight-up failing. 

“I hate you. Actually.”

“I’m – oh my God,” he wheezes. He manages, finally, to get an actual breath in, desperately trying to think of literally anything else to calm down. Fucking – bumper to bumper traffic. Bedbugs. His father’s frowning face. That always works. “Holy shit, Will.”

“I should’ve just woken your ungrateful ass up.”

“Probably.” He flicks a grape at him, smiling. Will catches it in his mouth, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Whatever.”

Nico finishes the rest of his breakfast in relative peace, managing to turn away if his mouth threatens to betray the tentative truce they’ve negotiated. He even eats one entire peach when Will starts pelting him with tiny hotel soap bottles and listing side effects of cholesterol-induced heart disease.

The second he finishes the last bite, Will orders him to clear off the desk. Nico mutters about bossiness and how Will is most definitely not in charge of him, doing as he asks. When he comes back – took him a hot second to shove the paper plates into a small enough ball to fit in the garbage can – Will has dragged the desk over to the bed, sitting criss-cross next to it, examining one of the many papers he has covering it.

“So,” he says, gesturing next to him. Nico dutifully sits, peering at the various maps and markings. “We gotta plan part two.”

“Didn’t we already do this?” Nico asks. “Back at Dunkin’s?”

“Not this far. I wanted to Preserve the Spontaneous Road Trip Spirit.” Nico can hear the capitalization.

“So, planning, then.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Nico smiles. “Brief me, captain.”

Will jumps right in, pointing and gesturing and every once and a while catching Nico’s eye to ask, right? Sound good?

Nico just watches him. 

The midday sun shines directly in his face, catching and reflecting on his pale eyelashes, making his eyes go squinty. His excitement is obvious, in his chattering, his waving hands, his bouncing curls; every part of him moving. Even his stupid cargo shorts look endearing, every other pocket bulging, filled absentmindedly with slips of paper or pens or bandaids or granola bars. Nico watches him and feels he might burst.

“You’re not listening,” Will accuses.

Nico jumps back into focus. “Yes I am.”

“What’d I just say?”

“‘You’re not listening’.”

WIll cracks a smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Run over that again,” Nico answers, and grins devilishly when Will does. Not funny his ass.

He listens, though, through Will’s second explanation. It’s not too hard – Will’s always been organised. The wide penciled circle around their location in Atlanta, outlining the area they can drive before their next fuel stop, is pretty wide. But the options are limited, in Nico’s opinion – while he’s sure there is indeed something to do in South Carolina, there’s nothing to do for him, specifically. He’s cool with skipping it.

“There is one place we can go,” Will says. His voice has gone oddly quiet, and after at minute he glances over at Nico, like he’s waiting for his permission.

“Your road trip, dude,” he murmurs, nudging their shoulders together. “I’ll even go to South Carolina if you want to, but no promises that I won’t complain about it.”

That, thankfully, draws a huff out of him, some of the tenseness fading from his frame. 

“South Carolina is beautiful, you know.”

“Says the boy who is currently visiting his third state ever.”

“...Touché.” He taps his pencil on the map, pink eraser thunking somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. “I was thinking – we could try Nashville? Music Row, or Broadway?”

Nico groans. “Oh, of course you wanna go hang out with all the goddamn hillbillies, you fuckin’ country boy –”

“It’s good music!”

Nico groans louder. Secretly, though, he watches his friend out of the corner of his eye, watches as his shoulders slump, relieved, and he knows he’ll spend as long as he needs in lasso-slingin’ Tennessee, following Will in and out of – barns and ranches and cowboy boot shops, probably. Are saloons still a thing?

He has a feeling that there is more to Will’s hesitance than a fear about being judged for his Marty Robbins obsession. If Tennessee is where he’s gonna get answers – well. He’ll brave the goddamn sea of cowboy hats.

A knock at the door startles them both. A voice calls hesitantly through the door: “Mr. di Angelo?”

“Wrong door, probably,” Will whispers after a moment. He looks to Nico. “Right?”

There’s another knock. “Mr. di Angelo?” 

“Yeah.” Nico rolls of the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt. “Another room with a Mr. di Angelo.”

He creeps towards the door, keeping low as if whoever’s outside can see him. After a moment, the bed creaks, and Will’s quiet footsteps pad behind him. 

“You think it’s room service?” Will whispers, plastered to the opposite side of the door. Even ducking, his hair brushes the edge of the peephole. 

Nico shoves his head down, pinching him when he squawks. “Be quiet, tall person, I need to see.”

“Get a stepstool then, jerk! Stop using my neck as a lever!”

“What part of be quiet are you missing! God!”

“Mr. di Angelo, please open the door.”

The voice on the other side of the door sounds amused. Face flaming, Nico shoves Will somewhere behind him, still bitching, and swings open the door. 

“Good afternoon,” says the man in the hallway. He’s dressed very smartly in a tailored black suit, nametag reading Eric. “Are you Mr. di Angelo?”

Nico clears his throat, trying to stand taller. “That’s me.”

“Good. I’m with Hotel Administration. We received a fax for you this morning?” He hands Nico a manilla folder. “First page says confidential, so we put it in the envelope. We tried to call this morning but didn’t get any response.”

Vaguely, Nico remembers a ringing phone. He also remembers yanking the plug out of the wall in sleep-deprived rage.

Oops.

Ignoring Will’s snickering, Nico thanks the man, closing the door and sitting on the nearest bed. Will scooches over to make room for him, tossing and catching a pillow. Nico leans back against the headboard, crossing his leg over Will’s.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“Checking now.”

The envelope is the cheap kind you get in a box of fifty; speckled brown, thin, machine-cut. It’s not sealed and so Nico flips it open easily, sliding out a small stack of papers. The first is a huge CONFIDENTIAL, printed diagonally across otherwise blank paper. The second is a bank statement. 

Nico shoots upright.

“What? Nico, what’s –”

“Mr. di Angelo, we regret to lose your business,’” Nico recites in a shaking voice, “‘but appreciate your time with us and wish you all the best with your future banking.’”

Frantically, he scans the document again. Successful cancellation. Expedited closure date. Transferred affairs to –

– parent account. 

“–co? Nico? Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

The air pushes out of Nico’s lungs like a crushed balloon. “Fuck.”

“Nico.” Warm hands press on his bloodless cheeks, fingers sliding in his hair. “Nico, look at me.”

He gasps. Will squeezes gently, eyes dark and stern and kind, thumbs callus-rough and dragging across his cheekbones.

“Good. Again. There you go, you got it.” 

Nico grabs his wrists when he tries to pull away. Will takes the hint, sliding his hands under Nico’s free one and knocking their shoulders together.

“What’s wrong, Nico?” 

Instead of answering, Nico sets the papers on the bed between them. Will squints, and for a second Nico prays that he’s wrong, that he’s mixed up the words. That it doesn’t say what it knows it does.

Then Will inhales, quick and sharp, and the hope is dashed.

“Your card…”

“Next page,” Nico says softly.

Niccolò,

The papers rustle as Will flips them, and this one he takes much longer to read. 

Vorrei sapere che ho fermato un caso di frode alla radice.

After a minute, he holds it out, shaking his head.

Un criminale ha rubato la tua carta di credito, e l’ha usata per comprare una stanza d’albergo in Georgia. Qualche spacciatore, non ci sono dubbi.

“It’s a little formal, I can’t –”

Ho disattivato la carta, naturalmente. Ti darò quella nuova appena ti vedrò.

Nico takes the scanned letter. Vaguely, he registers Will’s hands brushing up his arms as they move two wrap around his face again, this time forcing his jaw to unclench.

“Power play,” Nico snarls. His clenched fingers wrinkle the pulpy paper.  “He knows exactly where I am. If he wanted to drag me home, he could drag me by the fucking –”

“But instead he’s forcing you to call him,” Will says softly. “Oh, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

The hands drop from his face again. It knocks the cloudiness right out of Nico’s head, and he snaps up, frowning at Will’s crooking fingers, the bitten lips. He won’t meet Nico’s eyes.

“Why are you sorry my father’s being a haughty jackass who suddenly cares what I do with my time?”

“And his money.” Will picks up the bank statement, reading over it again, and again, like it might change. Like Nico’s credit card will magically become un-cancelled, like they will suddenly become un-stranded. “This whole stupid thing is my fault. I never should have dragged you into it, Neeks, I’m so –”

“If you apologise again I’m going to push you off the bed.”

“– sorry.” 

“Will.” Nico snatches back the statement, shaking his head. He waits until blue eyes meet his then smiles, as reassuringly as he can with such a pit in his stomach. “My father is –” He sighs. “It’s not about the money. You know he doesn’t care about the money.”

Will shrugs. It’s true – Nico has made dumber purchases. When he was twelve, he bought a trampoline, just to see if his father would say anything. Fifteen, marble statue. Sixteen, a car.

Then he stopped trying.

“How far can we go, on the gas we have? How many miles?”

Will shrugs. “Three and a half hours? Four, if we push it?”

“And on a full tank of gas?”

“Almost six.”

“And then we’re stuck.”

“And then we’re stuck, yeah. Unless you got Greyhound money hidden somewhere.”

Nico sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what he wants, Will. He doesn’t care about the – about the stupid money. He wants me. He wants me to ask, rather, to pick up a phone and beg him to come get us ‘cause we have no other options. He wants me to admit I need his help.”

The first time he ran away, he’d had to avoid every cop car. He knew he was being looked for, he saw his own face plastered on news screens. It had only been a matter of time. The second attempt was – easier. Much easier. He’d hardly even had to hide his face. By the third time, he’d waited a week, waited almost a month, before he was cold and hungry and walked to the nearest social services building himself. The car ride home, the humiliation so potent he could taste the bitterness of it, had made the cold, rainy nights with nothing but the same ratty hoodie he’d worn when he left worth it. He swore he’d never subject himself to that again. 

And yet here he is. 

Out of options. 

“You know what? No.” In a swift, unstoppable movement, Will snatches the stack of papers, ripping them into four pieces faster than Nico can reach an arm out to stop him. “We’re not doing this.”

“Will – what –”

He throws himself off the bed, stomping over to his backpack. A folded pair of socks goes flying over his shoulder, a book hits the ground with a heavy thunk. His muttering grows louder, cursing interspersed between every word.

“What are you –”

“We are not dealing with this right now.” With a frustrated finally, Will yanks a bag of something out of his backpack, stomping back towards the bed. He throws a Ziploc bag onto the duvet, and it bounces once, twice, three times before splitting open and spilling quarters everywhere.

“What the hell is –”

“You already payed for the room, right?”

Nico snaps his jaw shut. “Yes.”

“And it’s Saturday.”

“I – it is, yeah.”

“Not a business day.”

“No.”

“Well.” Will nods. “Bank’s closed. Hotel can’t process anything, and they have no reason to suspect your card, which worked just fine last night, is gonna bounce. We’ve got a day of breathing room, at least, and I don’t want to think about it.”

He holds up a hand when Nico starts to argue, grim set to his mouth giving way to something a little sharper, a little more dangerous. 

“We might not be old enough to gamble, but when you’re in Atlanta, you do as the Atlantians do.�� He meets Nico’s eye, grinning. “You still any good Street Fighters?”

———

next chapter

[joowee-feftynn]

"You're going to brazil" isnt a threat, its an inevitable fact like carcinization. All roads lead to rome? Wrong. Brazil

Pedro Álvares Cabral arriving on Brazil thinking he'd end up in India:

[misiahasahardname]

*throws this mikey from a scrapped au at you and runs*

[aceghosts]

1- Write about your ship cuddling into bed together after a long and tiring day. + Rooney and Yori?

Thanks for this one! This turned out rather short but very fluffy.

[Prompt List]

Summary: Rooney and Yorinobu cuddle in bed and chat after a long and tiring day, especially about dinner with some old friends. Words: 1.2k words Content Warnings: No warnings apply. This is just straight up fluff.

Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @sergeiravenov, @alexxmason, @voidika, @imogenkol,

@strangefable, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @tommyarashikage, @theelderhazelnut, @carlosoliveiraa,

@cassietrn, @direwombat, @derelictheretic, @cloudofbutterflies92

Rooney sighs contentedly, staring at the warm, comfortable-looking bed adoringly. They had been looking forward to crawling into bed all night. “If I did not know better,” Yorinobu teases with a soft smile, “I would think you are only with me for my bed.”

 “I might be,” They tease back with a smirk on their face, crawling into the bed on the left side. Rooney always takes the left side, closest to the door, preferring to put themself between Yorinobu and any points of entry. Between him and anyone who might want to hurt him.

The mattress is far softer than they’re used to, far softer than they normally like. (After many years sleeping on a cot or in uncomfortable places in general, Rooney prefers a firmer bed.)  But Yorinobu prefers his mattresses soft like he could sink into them, and considering this was his bed, Rooney wasn’t going to argue with him. What really matters is that he is getting into bed with them.

Yorinobu climbs into bed on the other side as Rooney pulls the plush cream comforter over themself, the weight a soothing pressure. As soon he is underneath the covers, Yorinobu seeks Rooney, spooning with them. His left hand finds its way to their hip, sliding underneath the black fabric of their tank top. He rests his hand in the dip of their hip, thumb lazily tracing patterns in their skin. Meanwhile, Rooney plays with his hair, fingers gently teasing his short black hair. Yorinobu yawns, a content smile on his face as the duo lay in bed, weary from the long day behind them. “How did your meetings go today?”

He frowns. “Too long. Too boring.”

Ah, it was that type of day. “I’m sorry,” They sympathize, “that really sucks.”

“It does,” Yorinobu confirms, “Some like to hear the sound of their voice, never getting to the point. Or they repeat the words of my father, marionettes on a string.”

Rooney winces in sympathy. “Oh, Yorinobu…”

“Enough. How did your day fare?”

“Frustrating.” Rooney felt like a dog chasing their tail, every lead they followed seemed to fizzle out, “None of my leads worked out.”

“You will find them,” He says it so sincerely, that Rooney is tempted to believe him, “You always do.”

“Yeah, I hope sleep will give me a new perspective.”

Yorinobu smirks. “If sleep does not help you, perhaps I can.” Rooney groans affectionately at his innuendo, rolling their eyes as he laughs.

Silence permeates the room, and Rooney relaxes, this being one of the few places they could. They close their eyes, weariness weighing down on them.

“What did you think of our dinner with Alexandre and Marion?” Yorinobu asks, Rooney opening their eyes as he breaks the silence. Alexandre and Marion Garnier were high-ranking members of the Arasaka Corporation, specifically in the European branch, and allies of Yorinobu. Alexandre was a former French General while Marion had worked in diplomacy, easing tensions between Europe and Japan. Yorinobu continues, “They were delighted to see you.”

Delighted was an understatement. Rooney had few fond memories during their time at Arasaka, Yorinobu occupying most of them. However, Rooney had missed Alexandre and Marion, and the Garniers had clearly missed Rooney too. Rooney first met the couple when they were attending a dinner party with Yorinobu, early when the two were straddling the line between friendship and something more. Alexandre and Marion were distant at first, polite, but not overly friendly either. The Garniers most likely assumed that Yorinobu would tire of Rooney quickly, and it wasn’t worth getting to know them. (Not that Rooney could blame them. Yorinobu wasn’t known for his long-lasting relationships, something he had in common with Rooney, for very different reasons.) At the dinner party, Alexandre began a discussion on a recent military conflict. Rooney, naturally, jumped into the conversation, excited to talk shop.  Alexandre and Marion stared at them in curiosity, only to monopolize Rooney’s time for the rest of the night. Rooney enjoyed spending time with the Garniers, discussing politics, history, military strategy, and other topics.

 “Delighted?” They quip, running their hand through his hair.

Yorinobu laughs, a pleasured shudder running through him. “Alexandre and Marion always adored you. I thought they would ignore me the whole night.” Rooney remembers the way Alexandre and Marion lit up at the sight of them, ecstatic smiles as the duo got out of their chairs to greet Rooney. Marion hugs them tight, telling Rooney how good it was to see them again and how much she missed them. Alexandre shakes their hand firmly, but Rooney doesn’t miss his misty eyes as he gives them a fond look. When Yorinobu and Rooney are finally able to take a seat, Alexandre and Marion immediately assault Rooney with questions, mainly about what Rooney had been doing after they left Arasaka. (There had also been a few pointed questions about Rooney and Yorinobu’s relationship, mainly if the pair were back together.)

“I was afraid they were going to do that too.” Although, Rooney couldn’t be too mad. It was nice to talk with Alexandre and Marion. Every time they look over at Yorinobu, he watches them with fondness, a slightly smitten smile on his face, arm resting on the back of their chair, hand on Rooney’s shoulder. It makes their heart melt a little, knowing they feel the same way about him. “I really did miss the Garniers.”

“They missed you. Alexandre and Marion were devastated when you left; they wanted to find you. I threatened them to leave you be.” Rooney looks away guiltily, knowing the Garniers had not been the only ones devastated by their departure. They still remember the heartbroken look on Yorinobu’s face as he watches them choose the military over a future with him. “Rooney,” Their eyes meet his brown ones, “What did Alexandre say to you before we left?”

Rooney remembers the way Alexandre beckoned them over, out of earshot of Marion and Yorinobu. ‘Shepard, it is rare to get a second chance,’ Alexandre looks away from them, towards Marion with love in his eyes, ‘especially when it is with someone you care about. Do not be a fool and make the same mistake twice.’ “Alexandre said that I had second chance, something that most people don’t get, and I shouldn’t make the same mistake.”

“What did you say to him?”

“That I won’t. I don’t make the same mistakes twice, and I’m going to make the most of it this time.” Rooney’s hand leaves his hair, tracing the edge of his face. Alexandre was right; they should not be so foolish this time around. “Yori, I love you,” a swell of affection rises within them, “I want this to work; I don’t want to lose you again.”

He smiles, letting out a genuine laugh. “You and I got the same lecture tonight,” He pulls them closer, his leg slotting between theirs, “I love you too.” He presses his lips against Rooney’s lips, a soft kiss. He tastes like the wine the group drank all night and the tiramisu the pair shared for dessert. Rooney deepens the kiss, pouring all the unsaid words into the kiss. Rooney is going to make this work; they can make it work. They’re going to find a way to protect Yorinobu and save V from the Relic. 

[meli-meliai]

When Seth was a child, he wanted to know about everything.

How humans had first came to be, who the mysterious God that his parents so often whispered about on nights when they didn’t think that he was awake, why his mother always flinched whenever she caught even a fleeting glimpse of a snake. Why his father went out of his way to hunt down every snake he saw. Who decided that the trees and grass should be the same color in vaguely different shades.

It wasn’t just mere, childish curiosity, either. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable. But books weren’t invented yet when he was young; so instead he focused on listening to as many stories as he could.

His beloved mother, though an eternal burden weighs upon her shoulders, took it upon herself to weave the young world’s very first stories. Before the Son of the Lord had walked upon the Earth, gentle Eve held her son in tired arms and spun tales that no one but him would ever hear, parables of virtue and morality, her melodic voice floating in the cool, nighttime winds whistling past the orchards that could never compare to the Garden of Eden. Though she was exhausted-a feeling that she could never quite get used to, no matter how many times she has experienced it- she had never failed to scoop her son into her arms and hold him close as she spins another new story out of thin air.

“My son, have I ever told you about the angels who fell from eternal paradise?”

”No, you haven’t! Tell me!”

”Of course, of course…but before I tell you, do you know WHY they fell from paradise?”

“I can’t know ANYTHING if you don’t tell me! Why did they fall?”

”…I don’t quite know either! But… I might have a guess.”

”What is it, mom?”

”…”

Eve still had dreams-or rather, nightmares- of the beautiful angel who held out the tantalizing red apple out to her- his soft, sultry voice promising her an eternity of knowledge and a vast sea of answers. On some nights, she woke up shivering, swearing that she had felt a feathery wing envelope her back and raise her up, up, up… to a light so bright that she felt as though she might burn if she rose any further Funnily enough, though, it wasn’t his beauty that she remembered. That part was wispy around the edges, blurred and faded like a memory of the wind.

No. It was the promise. Of freedom, of knowing. For what is life without the crisp, sweet satisfaction and reward? What is humanity without automity?

Sometimes the taste of forbidden fruit lingers on her tongue, the crisp sweetness unlike anything she had ever experienced. Yellow-gold snake eyes watched her as she bit into the crisp flesh, and a part of her wanted to kiss it. To thank it for giving her a choice, the freedom, the knowledge that she could make decisions by herself.

Knowledge was a beautiful thing, for if she hadn’t eaten the fruit, she wouldn’t have seen the way the snake’s eyes softened in turn. And for a moment, she could see an angel behind it.

Then she and her Adam were promptly kicked out of Eden.

Her Adam…

”Mom! Are you okay??”

”…Oh! I’m so sorry, Seth. I was just… lost in thought.”

”About what?”

”Nothing, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

Seth looks so much like his father, but also…so much like him. The fallen angel that she never had a chance to understand.

“…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my son? Are you tired? I can put up your bedroll…”

”No! I just wanted to ask, how did you come to love Father? He’s so…”

Frigid. Bitter. Demanding.

She couldn’t imagine a day where she wasn’t in love with Adam.

“I was created for him, Seth. I was born to love him.”

”Yeah… but what about him? Do you think that he loves you back the same way?”

Eve wasn’t sure. Before the fruit, before she got them both thrown out of Eden, she had never questioned her purpose or place in Adam’s life.She was literally created from his bones, shaped to be perfect and his love, his constant companion. But… he had another one, didn’t he? Before her. She never learned the woman’s name, but Eve wonders if she left because of the same reason that the snake tempted her with.

Knowing. Freedom. Something more out in the world.

She wonders about this woman, would love to talk with her about all the answers of the world. She wonders if she is as beautiful as the angel of her dreams.

“Of course he does. If he didn’t, he would’ve left me to face the consequences in the Garden of Eden.”

Seth frowned, scrunched up his nose. His mother always seemed distracted whenever he asked these kinds of questions, but never doubtful. He saw the way her warm brown eyes (the only part of her appearance that he had inherited) stared wistfully into the trees, as if she was reading something that wasn’t- and will never- be there. Waiting for answers that will never come.

And he hated it. He hated leaving questions unanswered. He hated the twistedness of guessing, of having to wrack his brain over and over again just to find a puzzle piece of the uncompleted whole story. What was the point of breaking God’s rule to consume knowledge itself, only for it to be twisted in a labyrinth of confusion? He was only a child, and he had hundreds of years in front of him to figure everything out- but he wanted to know now.

But he loved his mother. He inherited her eyes, her smile, her craving for knowledge. Her desire for something more. But unlike her, he would never have the chance to satisfy his curiosity until long after his death. And his fate will be far, far more cruel.

To him, at least.

”Hey…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my dear?”

”If you don’t know exactly why the angels fell, can you make up a story about it?”

Eve smiled, and in that moment the tiredness from her face faded. She nuzzled her son and placed a kiss upon his silvery-white hair, and her heart felt light and content. It was as if she had never left Eden. In fact, she felt even happier, somehow. Would she have had her wonderful children if she never ate the Fruits of Knowledge? Would she have had the joy of holding her bright-eyed son in her arms and making up lullabies to sing to him every night? Motherhood was suffering, but what is joy without it? Light and color would’ve never existed without darkness. And, though she knows that she should disagree, a part of her felt like she would never have it any other way.

If only she could’ve done the same for Abel and Cain…

If only she could’ve saved both of them.

But she was powerless to her own consequences, the first seeds of sin taking root in her own children. Holding Seth close so that he wouldn’t see his failure of a mother blinking back tears, she whispered a feather-soft prayer into the nighttime wind, that none of her children would ever suffer the same fate for as long as they lived. Otherwise, if anything happened to them because of her idiotic mistake, trusting that damned snake’s honeyed words and false promises…

She felt like crying. What kind of mother cries in front of her own child? She felt like a failure of a mother, unworthy to be the forebearer of humanity. For was the purpose of humans simply to struggle, due to her choice? Did she bear her children only to have them face the same fate?

…No. It won’t be like that again.I’ll get them right this time. She thought, as she wiped her face and lifted her face to smile at her son again, unaware that he heard and saw everything. But Seth has always been good at hiding his true emotions, so he gave her a smile that mirrored Eve’s own. He felt her hands tremble against his back.

She could still see the blood that coated her son’s dead body, could still feel the rasp in her voice as she screamed and screamed and screamed as Adam came running to see what was wrong-

No. It would be different this time. It would never happen again.

Her smile faltered a little bit as she looked at her son. So much like his father, but so much like her. Forced to carry such a burden at such a young age… but he never would’ve been born if not for that burden. Truly, a gift from the omniscient and omnipotent Almighty, sent as both a consolation and a reminder of what she had done wrong. And if not for that gift, she would’ve never been here, singing lullabies and weaving stories to tell him. And so, she began a new one, her ethereal voice carrying in the cool airs of the wind, the stars twinkling overhead mother and son as moonlight enveloped their silhouettes. The creatures of the Earth held its breath in anticipation of a new story:

“There was once an angel, the most beautiful out of all the ones in Heaven… he was God’s favorite, until the day he fell, both from his home and from grace.”

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Okay ... now, then! If you happen to take a peek at my "romantic" list, I have added two characters--Niko because I love the little fleeting crush dynamic he and Sherry have in Canto IV (I think they have a bit of witty banter and flirting that makes Heathcliff a bit jealous), and Hubert because ... uh ... I don't believe I ever mentioned him?

So, to catch you up to speed: Hubert was a character introduced in TimeKilling Time, which--if you remember my last blog--has been my favorite event so far because of how much lore it gave me. He tags along with Dante, Hong Lu, Rodya, and Ryōshū while they investigate the case of TimeKilling Time, and he's a very chatty individual, talking about inventions and time a lot (since time is a crucial part of District 20's culture). At the end of the event, we learn that he's actually the Chief Executive Director of T. Corp--making him a particularly powerful individual.

As for Sherry ... seeing as District 20 is based off Victorian London (one of my favorite time periods), it's safe to say that she, being a woman, would have been married off by her family for the sake of keeping appearances--and, given Mycroft's ties to T. Corp, as well as the Holmes Family's position within the Nest, Sherry and Hubert happened to be introduced, and it wasn't long before Sherry's grandmother was pressing for marriage.

We all know Sherry dislikes the idea of being tied down, so she was certainly against the idea from the start--even though she did (and still does) like Hubert. They do have a few differences in opinion, I believe, but if you put the pair in a room together, they could converse for hours--and it's rare Sherry finds someone like that.

Thankfully, they did part on positive terms, but you can imagine Sherry's eye twitching and teeth clenching throughout TimeKilling Time when she has to spend so much time with her former suitor ... especially since by that time she's started to become aware of how she feels towards Heathcliff, and she's separated from him for quite some time during this stretch of the story--she's a bit distracted, worrying about what he might think if he found out about her ties to Hubert.

Oh, and she goes through the entire event without naming him until the end. She's going to play the game of keeping everyone in the dark because she's just like that. /lh

[psychomusic]

so. I've been reading some posts on the jedi order tag AND i won't talk about my opinion on "are jedi good or bad discourse" BUT i wanna point out some lore to everyone who's complaining about the jedi taking kids into their order: (in the EU) it wasn't always like this.

if you take swtor era (more than 3000 years before the prequels) there were many jedi who joined at an older age. like, for example there was a guy who broke his engagement to become one. most jedi remember their families because they were old enough when they decided to go.

THEN in darth bane's book trilogy (circa 1000 yesrs before the prequels) there is a passage where two sith lords are talking about taking bane, already an adult, to study at korriban. one doubted him because he was too old, ans the other told him he sounded like a jedi, and that ONE DAY jedi will have to accept only kids into their ranks if they really want to find "pure" people that can learn their lessons quicker.

one day!! so it wasn't always like that!! the ongoing wars with the sith, who corrupted and killed many of them, had pressured them into taking always younger people into their ranks.

also, consider a thing that this video explains super well: training to become a jedi is not like exercising, because there is a transformative lesson at the end of the training that changes everything. you can't just do as much as you can, but not finish.

the transformative lesson, as the video explains, is that through the force, everything is the same - from rocks and ships to life and death. at the end of the training you have to understand this fundamental truth.

yoda says "you have to unlearn what you have learned". during times where they were constantly killed off or corrupted by the dark side (and if you haven't learned this lesson you are more susceptible to this corrupting), younger people were taken in to actually finish their training (a training that was ultimately about being a good person AND that you could leave at any point if you weren't sold on that, too)

(remember that for the sith failure = death. like. that was the alternative for force sensitive kids. it's not like sith had any moral problem with taking kids away without consent. sith don't have moral problems: they believe that them being stronger in the force means they can do whatever they want as long as their strong enough to go and do it. there are MANY passages in many different star wars stories, even in different mediums, that say this out loud)

AND (this is more of a critical thought than just stating the lore) the fact that they started doing it out of necessity doesn't mean it's 100% good BUT you know. the whole set up of the prequels is that we're starting off the story in a period of crisis and decadence all around. most of the systems of the times were about to fall. OF COURSE they had problems. if they didn't, we wouldn't have the story to begin with.

that doesn't automatically mean jedi = bad and sith are better, tho. you wouldn't take the last, chaotic and decadent period to jugde something, would you? it's like deciding that the athenian democracy sucked because people at the times of Demosthenes failed at recognizing the new schemes in which the world was evolving into, and still believed that their city would be important as it had been in the previous century. They just didn't fucking expect the Macedons would conquer half the world known and more, and have the subsequent political power. Still, their experiences in the 5th century with democracy were very good, even better than ours on many fronts, if you contextualize a little. the jedi had flaws, and most importantly, they didn't fucking know the future and everything that ever happened, ever, so they made mistakes. that doesn't automatically make the system ill, or bad, or not-working. systems can have setbacks when the world changes. (just like athenian democracy had one when they lost the empire that was funding the democracy. they even had a tyranny for a while and then fixed the problems. that doesn't diminish retrospectively their democracy)

[chroma-imp-draws]

Hope in The Air - Laura Marling

gotta post this before the cringe sets in uwu

[mossy-paws]

I think I’m gonna make this guy one of my new biograft oc’s, I imagine he lives with vinestaff or something,,,, plant themed name ideas appreciated

[taiyami]

Decided to draw out a Mic tattoo ref for my own needs... there are some things I might change since his design is still a w.i.p but it's not like I'm using this design outside of my own needs so !! Self indulgent to the max !!!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

one thing about me w/ creative freedom is that in all of my Personal Lore i will make dragons so People. they are a People. yeah yeah animalistic dragons dragons that are beasts we've all seen it. what about the very intelligent dragons. dragons with their own cultures and societies and languages. dragons who belong to a higher form of existence too. what about them

[raymoo--hackery]

Redraw of an old Spinel beast I created back in 2019

I would show some of the old art for comparison, but it's very embarrassingly edgy :,)

But just trust me when I say I've improved a lot